Finding My Pre-Internet Self

As I sit in this white-washed Danish-inspired café with carefully curated succulents in handmade copper pots on the bookshelves I stare across the room at a bearded man sipping his (just guessing) almond milk Cortado. He is handsome and I look like shit today so I try to keep the staring to a minimum and focus on the book I brought. The book which I am currently completely neglecting and instead just scrolling through my lit AF (kidding) Instagram feed. Which, by the way, contains just as many succulents, neon art and lattes as this café, so what is even the point.

This is what we do though right?

The other day a good friend of mine mentioned that he missed running through the woods as a boy. He said this to me as he managed to eat a vegan salad the size of a small child in about 3 minutes. The act of shoveling tofu steaks into his mouth while explaining the grief he felt for a bygone era was impressive, to say the least. I had to give this more thought. The years he missed were during his pre-internet days. I miss those days too, very much as a matter of fact.

I write this while sitting in front of a computer listening to music on YouTube so obviously I haven’t done anything about it yet but… I’d like to.

So, how exactly does one get back to their pre-internet life? How do I be me that doesn’t have a daily updated form of self-portraiture floating around on the www? I sit back and consider what exactly I’m trying to find. And what it happens to be something I am 100% romanticizing right now. It’s that beautiful simple point in our lives when we were just young bodies. We experienced nature naked in our knowledge and priorities. There was no second thought, or photo taken to prove you were there, you just were.

The chilly fall wind numbing your ears as you went running, climbing and viewing life as a whole new experience. Why do we lose the freedom of adolescence and how can we hold on to it for longer? Perhaps it’s the internet, or maybe it’s just the insular community of adulthood. The community that dictates what is normal what is grown up, and depending on your circle how many coffees and bikini shots you can acceptably post on social media.

Do you remember having something in front of your eyes that wasn’t a backlit screen? Once upon a time not long ago just before iPhones actually (which FYI was only in 2007) Our eyes beheld sights we could not personally adjust the lighting on for better viewing pleasure.
We had to squint because watching the sunset over the ravine behind our parent’s house was just too bright and the colors too vibrant. What happened to that feeling? So much of what I do now is based on social media, a computer, or just doing boring things like getting coffee. What if for once I didn’t allow myself that as an option when seeing a friend? Could I force myself and my companion guinea pig to experience the joys of not having a plan or anywhere to go in the same way my 12-year-old self experienced it? Into the woods for lack of an expression that fits more exactly and perfectly.

Perhaps playing the last Father John Misty album on loop all day has me feeling these feelings but I do think we should all move to the woods – a weekend trip there would be beneficial at least.