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when I’m no longer 64

It’s 8 a.m. and I’ve had my first (bitter) laugh of the day – Bruce just sent this wonderfulness:

And just because that didn’t provide enough frustration, I called Bell again – half an hour, talking to one person who transferred me to the “varied wire control centre” – isn’t that a great name? – where a nice woman called Daya assured me that she would send my issues to a manager called Jay who would send my issues to the Engineering Department. Who will throw them in the garbage.

I told Daya nicely that I am writing all this down in detail on my blog and won’t stop until the problem is fixed, so though they are hoping otherwise, I’m not going to go away. And thanked her for her help.

Stay tuned.

I watched a CBC documentary last night on our over-connected age – people wearing data-gathering wires in their clothing (this will soon be common, we were assured), people who digitally track every detail about their bodies and their lives. Hello, I wanted to say – I’ve been doing this all my life, it’s called a diary! But no, they do it all with apps.

What interested me most was “digital detox” – people having to learn how to disconnect. Silicon Valley folk go to a place called Camp Grounded – “disconnect to reconnect” – where they are forced to put all devices away and actually talk to each other. There’s a “human powered search engine,” which is a giant billboard replacing Google – when people have questions, they post them on a piece of paper on the billboard, and someone else answers – in pen. There’s a “typewriter range” where they can type – “learn to express yourself unedited” – and an Inbox, a giant cubby where they can leave letters and notes for each other. We’re going back to the Fifties!

So on that note, my beloved friends – I have decided to take a radical step. Part of my day is spent thinking of you, of what to write here, and then sitting down to do so. And perhaps I need to detox a bit too. I would very much like to share the next few days with you, preparing for my birthday on Saturday and the small gathering of my peeps, as they say, on Sunday. I have to tell you about that. But on Monday, I am going to struggle – and it will be a struggle – not to write here for a few weeks. Just to live my life, without chronicling it.

Except for my battle with Bell. THAT I’ll write about. But otherwise, I’m going on a brief digital diet, as they said in the doc. It’s not that I don’t love doing this, I do. But it’s good to change things up sometimes, and August is a good time to do that. I’m going to focus on other kinds of writing. Please don’t go away forever; I’m a born chronicler and won’t be able to bear not reporting on life on a regular basis.

This is my last day as a non-senior person. 64 – the absolute oldest that the young Paul McCartney could imagine. Tomorrow, I’ll be older than that.



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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

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