I just watched half an hour of YouTube Shorts. I think I laughed once, at a video of a cat doing the silliest thing that I can’t remember now because it doesn’t matter.
A few of the videos made me sad or disgusted or nostalgic for a simpler time. You know, before we had things like YouTube Shorts to scramble our brains.
Now I’m reminded of that old commercial, the one with the fried egg that was meant to represent my brain on drugs. The egg is still my brain, but the splat and sizzle aren’t caused by drugs. It’s the endless stream of thirty-second videos that numb my synapses and wreck my sense of self-worth.
So I turn off my phone. And I feel the withdrawal. How long until I take another hit? Hook left, jab right, YouTube is beating the sh*t out of my productivity, progress, and peace.
I come in peace, I say to myself, approaching slowly so I don’t startle my battered brain. I am jonesin’ for distraction, just another thirty seconds to take the edge off.
But I do not give in to temptation. Instead, linger on the edge, the cusp, the precipice of self-discovery. The discernment, excitement, curiosity, and activation I feel are explosive. A thirty-second clip could never capture the brilliance of breathing or the comfort of contemplation.
I am an egg, resisting the self-destructive urge to be scrambled or fried, and yet, my protective shell is holding me back from experiencing the thrill of a risk, the possibility of reward.
I am cracking myself open. To see what I am made of. To expose my softer side. I am oozing, shapeless, without limitations. And yet, my soul remains whole. “Sunny side up!” my soul says, reminding me to look on the bright side.
This will not be over easy. If I wanted easy, I’d still be scrolling. That’s one of the easiest ways to waste an hour. You don’t even notice the time ticking by. (Is that why it’s called TikTok?! In honor of all the time users waste scrolling, splatting and sizzling their brains.)
Now, I am very aware of my time. Each minute reveals more work to be done, lessons to learn, and words to be written.
Is it getting hot in here? My blood is starting to boil as I think about the overly ambitious goals I’ve set for myself. If I were still in my shell, I’d be hardened by now, angry and resentful of my inability to break free. The heat is on, but I am still raw. How can this be?
I think about the cats on YouTube and wonder what high jinks they are up to now. My own cat strolls into the room and makes herself comfortable on the floor by my feet. She looks up at me and meows as if she is egging me on. Come on, Chach, let’s see what that brain can do.
