This radio is simliar to the boom box I have.
With 13 minutes remaining on a computer housed in the children’s section of my local library on 6th and Girard, I thought I’d dash off a blog post. Going offline was not my choice, but going on week 4 of not having a computer, I don’t miss it that much. I admit my social world has shrunk to include people who have comfort with using the telephone. But my 20 minute check ins on public computers has been sufficient for everything, including IM.
It’s hard to convey deep thoughts when the clock tool bar says 10 minutes remaining and has a green counter pulsing the seconds. I don’t like to write under time pressure.
Not having a computer has freed my time for mingling with people. Now that the baseball season is over, I am occupying my time with thrift shopping, searching out new foods at my local supermarket Cousin’s, and finding excuses to call my friends. I have NPR on in my apartment so much I actually have heard radio shows twice in a day. I get agitated by the endless stream of commentary about the Afghan war, no job’s created recovery, and the latest senseless act of violence. But I am soothed by the endless stream of talk.
Instead of reading from a computer screen, I listen. First, to my pounding heart and shallow breath. Then, to the stream of journalists and artists who spill their thoughts onto my living room carpet.
