It’s Time!

Daily writing prompt

How do you know when it’s time to unplug? What do you do to make it happen?

Well, I think I take a lot of breaks from the internet, I have my life arranged by these pauses, to be honest. I know that it is a time to unplug when my brain is on fire, I literally feel like it is sizzling on the frying pan, then I disengage from this activity usually. I take a lot of breaks while doing things, because by some mystery, even though I’m attentive to details, still I have a very short attention span and I’m distracted easily.

Actually, when I compare myself to other people, I think I don’t spend so much time on the internet, and I’m definitely not addicted to it. I know it is a tendency nowadays to connect all of your life with the social media, showing off constantly, and I’m aware that it is even considered to be a spiritual thing on FB, when you spam it all with your photos at different poses and angles and write everything about yourself including your name, surname, weight of your children, your house number and the password to your credit card, but it is not my approach to life.

I don’t judge these people, I know that they do it because they are addicted to positive emotions they gain from the attention of others. We, as a human kind, are easily obsessed with anything which helps us to feel better and valued, help us to experience tremendous surges of emotions, it always was so. Once these were public executions, now it is the internet. We feel better than others and thrilled. And some people are more prone to these things.

But it is easy to overcome with inner discipline, I guess. And I have some.

What to I normally do to have some rest from being online?

I go for a walk almost every day, with music though, but it is still a difficult task to navigate the internet while practicing intensive walking.

I always find time to read in the garden in the evening. I meditate, I also practice drawing, which also requires taking my attention off the internet, and do some domestic chores (I admit, with earbuds again), and it is another reason to unplug.

I also do some work in the garden, but this is a more rare occasion 😀
This is tiresome, but very replenishing at the same time.

It’s time! I’m heading to my garden to read 🙂

PS: All pictures are generated in WP AI Picture generator

May 31, 2024 11

Do I remember the time before the internet? Yes. Do I miss it? Not a chance.

Daily writing prompt

Do you remember life before the internet?

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I remember these times, sure, as we got an internet connection in our home by the time I was 13 years old. Was it such a good time, though?

People write about “real connections,” playing in the sand and running around with true friends, calling each other and talking all night… I was “different,” lonely and separated from others since a very early age. I don’t want to write another tearful post; I simply didn’t feel this togetherness. I played alone, confined and lost as always in the mesmerizing realms of my imagination.

I was that kid who played with imaginary friends, that’s true. We all had superpowers, and traveled to different, better worlds, having adventures together…

I never played on the playgrounds unless my mom forced me to. Actually, my best memory of that is how I ran away from other kids and made a ship out of my handkerchief, making it swim in the large pool. My mind turned it into a great boundless sea.

I definitely preferred sitting at home, in silence, lost in imagination. A real dialog between me and my grandmother back in those days:

‘What are you doing sitting all alone there?’

‘Please don’t bother me, I’m thinking.’

I was out of my mind with Disney cartoons (there were also some post-socialistic ones on TV; I admired Czech Krtek the most, but still, Disney was my best choice). In all honesty, I could be ill and out of power, but they would heal me in an instant. That was real healing power/restoration magic!

I was curious and inquisitive, so I loved the channels about nature, history, and similar stuff. Once a big fan of Sailor Moon and Pokémon (Aleksandra and Laura know), I remember how furious I was when my father called this ‘nonsense.’ He always “knew the best,” of course.

Bookworm – that’s who I also was! And I still am! Since I learned how to read, it was difficult to pull me away from books. But in those so cherished times without the internet, all these books were expensive. My family members were initially relieved because why invent some other present for my birthday? There was already a perfect one! But I read all the children’s books I found on the shelves, then all the adult novels, and there was a problem because I had nothing to read.

Than my grandmother took me to the library.

How I hated that place! First, I always finished reading books before the term had passed; second, why would I want to part with something I treasured so much? I wanted all these books to be mine! Only MINE! My preciouuusss. I mean I’d willingly work there, but I hate, when the books are not mine and my reading habits depend on someone else.

I read all the time. I read even in school during classes and recesses to hide from loneliness, pressure, and bullying… The books were my comfort zone. At a certain point, teachers started (and never finished) complaining and trying to punish me by depriving me of reading. I was the only one whom they prohibited from reading, instead of forcing me to do it, like they did to other kids

Also, before we had the internet… I actually don’t remember how it really was, either my grandparents bought me a computer, or it was commissioned by my mom’s work; still, it stood right in front of me, square and white. There was an Aladdin game there, which I played all the time instead of doing math 😀

Later, I added The Sims, Heroes of Might and Magic, Warcraft III, and so on to my collection. These games circulated in our class, and I had a friend (only one, and she was constantly mad at me for something, but we also had nice discussions while drinking tea) from whom I borrowed them back then.

Eventually, you know what? My life improved significantly since I got the internet. I had unlimited access to books and music. I met lots of like-minded people, and I actually made many friends and could develop my hobbies and passions. I learned foreign languages, drawing, and practiced yoga thanks to this magical thing. I met my husband because of the internet. Finally, I’m sharing all these memories with you because of it 🙂

Do I remember the time before the internet? Yes. Do I miss it? Not a chance.

PS: Pictures are either generated by WP AI picture generator or found in Google

May 27, 2024 28

My Experience With Social Media

Daily writing prompt

How do you use social media?

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To be honest, the only social media I use at the moment are WordPress and my Pinterest. I’m not into using Instagram or TikTok, and as for YouTube, I despise it for supporting channels with animal torture. I use Spotify a lot, though I’m not sure if it’s a typical social media. It features interesting podcasts and audiobooks though, not only music. Perhaps, someday, I’ll also have a podcast there.

I deleted my Facebook account not so long ago, and it was a good, healthy decision. To be honest, I created the FB account for business purposes; I performed magical or esoteric services (like Tarot or Astrology reading, Reiki sessions, Runic scripts, Sigils, etc.) there. But you see, I’m not a saleswoman by nature. I’m terrible at active, pushy sales à la ‘your spiritual guides have a message about which kind of animal you are today’—not the right temperament, I guess, and I generally find it distasteful. In truth, I helped people using readings and magic for free for several years, so the habit stayed with me, together with empathy and moral values.

I couldn’t lie to people by telling them they had a deadly curse (it’s a rare occasion), like others did, because manipulating someone into paying me this way was against my code of honor. I didn’t like the idea of making someone dependent on my services either, especially frightened, depressed, anxious clients. When mentally ill people addressed me, and I saw that their problems were in the area of mental health issues, and no ghosts, demons, and other cute beings were visiting them, I told them politely that I believed a doctor could help them more. I also charged way less than a typical Tarot Reader, Witch, or Magician would, until what had initially been my business turned into a slightly monetized passion (donations instead of set prices or help for help/opinion/verification barter). Yes, I felt frustrated, but at least I can live with myself, look into the mirror without aversion, and can sleep soundly with a clear conscience. And generally, I just love it too much to treat it business-like.

But I didn’t delete my FB account only because of this frustration. I’m out of it because I was constantly attacked by other readers, witches, and ‘spiritual gurus’. I also experienced instances of mobbing because I was different or felt or thought unlike others, and because almost everything that Facebook proposed for me to look into augmented my anxiety, depressive tendencies, and pain of existence. So I decided that enough’s enough; I’m out of here, my mental health is more important. I also didn’t like the lack of privacy endorsed by Facebook. Though, it would be just to add that some groups like Synastry or those about Norse mythology and traditions were full very knowledgeable posts, which helped my self-development. Not so terrible after all 🙂

I’m satisfied with my decision to start writing more on the WordPress platform. First, there is constant motivation for writing, which helps my self-development as a writer, encourages me to draw once in a while, and positively affects my English language skills (I’m not a native English speaker, but looking into my older posts, I see the great progress I’ve made). So, it supports my passions. Then, it broadens my horizons, letting me read all these wonderful blogs, thoughts, poems, impressions, and insights into other cultures. I have the impression that people are curious and generally very polite, intelligent, and empathetic here, which I value a lot. Daily prompts, if used correctly, also help with self-development, and I see a great field for self-reflection while writing or editing my posts, stories, or poems. For instance, I see how I’ve changed and that my psyche is healthier now, I notice my inner child, critic, and over-compensator in my stories, and I think there is a lot of me in my poems, more than if I wrote posts about my daily routine. As for now I enjoy it here 🙂

WordPress can become a bit addictive, though, and I’ve noticed that sometimes it’s difficult to stop navigating the Reader or scrolling through answers to current prompts’ 😀 I should work on that.

April 20, 2024 32

False Memories (Part 4)

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination

I woke up in the middle of the night, full of unease. I checked the time: it was 3 am. I fell back on the pillow, but my nerves were strangely strained, so I couldn’t relax. Something was off all the time: the pillow was uncomfortable, my heart was pounding loudly, I heard muffled noises and movements behind the walls and the door. The very air was filled with a menacing presence.

First, I tried to calm myself down, to promise myself to visit the psychiatrist – it didn’t matter how angry I was at Desi, maybe she was right. I must do something with my rich imagination because it was out of bounds to the extent it wasn’t safe for me… I shut my eyelids firmly with an intent to fall back asleep and tried to steady my breath and feel the heaviness of my body, though still, everything about this quiet, moonlit room was disturbing. I felt as if someone was watching me, observing carefully, hatefully, hungrily… I pulled the blanket overhead, trying to drape myself in the warm darkness, to lull my thoughts, to trick my tired brain back into sleeping. Instead, I caught myself concentrating on the leaves I left at my friend’s kitchen, my thoughts instantly full of crimson and gold. Next, I was fixed at how she drummed with her fingers on the table when I asked for her opinion. I suddenly became infuriated at Desi all over again: she never actually knew me! That girl pretended to be some kind of guru when it came to people, but she never saw their true essence. Her constant gossiping is built of classifying, labeling and judging. Why did I even go for Desi’s help if all she knew about me was her assumptions and conjectures? People called that “friendship”? Seriously?!

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March 29, 2024 15

False Memories (Part 3)

Part 1
Part 2
Part 4

DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination

Three weeks had passed since the moment I had this dream. On the surface, life went on as usual: the unchanging routine, the same duties, the repeated actions at a constant pace and at an invariable time. I escaped from the mundane reality on my lonely immersive walks accompanied by music; I needed these shots of euphoria and freedom to keep myself from slipping into insanity, yet I was pretty close to it: drowning deeper and deeper in the bottomless sea of darkness, day after day, hour after hour, second after second.

First and foremost, I had these dreams full of eerie, unsettling, and absolutely obscene scenes. Seriously, I think that no one in their sane mind could dream of something that disturbing, definitely not unless they had watched a pile of sick, deviant horrors right before falling asleep. The worst thing about them was that they were very vivid, very personal, like memories.

Every night, I dreamed or perhaps even participated in deeds that went beyond the forbidden, but there was a touch of ancient mystery to that. What is more, something instinctive, dark, and almost primal filled these rituals. The fact that those things were acceptable in the wild made them innate and sacred for us.

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March 25, 2024 5

False Memories (Part 2)

Part 1
Part 3
Part 4

DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination

And all of a sudden, the alarm went off. I was so astonished I sat up straight in an instant, looking around with incredulity: I was home! Could it all have been just a vivid nightmare then? Somehow, I seriously doubted that. I didn’t remember going to sleep; quite the opposite, I could perfectly recall every bitter detail of yesterday’s quarrel. I sneezed – exactly. I also had no doubts that I was drenched by rain while parading the night streets in shorts and unzipped. Still, I was in my bed, in pajamas, my yesterday’s clothes hanging on the chairs’ back.

In addition to all that, I got a splitting headache. The light – even this murky tender morning light which happens only right before dawn – seemed to be dazzling. I was completely disoriented. I stood up with a moan, and the whole world became blurred and shaky. Besides, my feet were still in pain. I sat down again.

The light was a problem here; I knew that it somehow affected the way I feel, so I decided to pull down the curtains and think. My eyesight was distorted; I couldn’t look directly at any object: my headache immediately returned magnified one thousand times. So I closed my eyes and started retracing yesterday’s walk, or rather my escape from home.

First and foremost – we quarreled. Two adult sisters living together is… hm, a challenging task. If only we had enough money and the place we could go we’d leave each other immediately. But as for now, we had neither choice, nor sources.

We were so different: She and I. Martha was brave and charismatic, always the center of attention. The awareness of that made Her addicted to the admiration of the crowd. My Sister spent all Her time on social media, impressing the public with retouched selfies and generated quotes, forgetting that these were fabricated lies that had little to do with her real self.

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March 17, 2024 3

False Memories (Part 1)

Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination

I guess it all began the moment I slammed the door loudly, causing the tiny rivers and streams of stone dust and chalk to run down onto the floor. I quickly scrutinized the tiny crevices and cracks around the doorframe – eternal remnants of my mood swings and our bitter quarrels… I ran down the steps diving into the silver moonlight that stole all the colors of this world except for black and white…

I could discern the catlike silhouettes in the silver slits of windows. All the voices from different flats were mixed and united in one preaching chorus, and all the graffities and scribbles that casually adorned the staircase during the day now were turned into magical patterns and figures. Like cavemen, we continue on and on to mark our achievements, wishes and feelings, etching them deep into the wall.

The entrance door swung open, welcoming the wet, damp wind to fill the darkness. A few rare cool drops of rain fell on my face, mingling and mixing with tears, calming me, reviving and suddenly filling everything with a sense of hope again. I went out, looking up at the sky and breathing deeply, trying to regain composure. My jacket was unzipped carelessly, my strides were long and bold… It was an attempt to become one with the wind, one with the coming storm, to cast off all formalities, reject the laws of physics, and fly over the earth in elemental fury.

A burning array of yellow windows was outlined brightly against the gray carcasses of the buildings, almost indiscernible in the surrounding darkness… I wish I could say the same about the drunken crowd of people, who were shouting and cursing loudly, while checking out the surroundings with an immense hunger for destruction. So I halted for a moment, praying to become invisible.

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March 12, 2024 14