Hasty Tortoise Crochet

This blog is an ivy covered, ramshackle construction, with cracks in the foundation and a soundscape of crickets. … Yeah, it’s been a minute since I’ve been here. Why? Because I hate what the internet has become and I live my life as offline as possible. 

I also cringe at my previous posts: boring, formulaic, and not even my real voice because I was trying to be “A Crochet Blog,” like all the other boring cookie-cutter crafting blogs. (Which, honestly, most blogs are useless today because the second I open one I’m bombarded with ads like a confetti canon to the face, rendering their shallow, AI-derived content even more unreadable.) 

Am I bitter about the cess-pools of social comparison into which we’ve turned our online spaces? You bet!

Am I bitter about what this is doing to our social skills, relationships, and the fabric of our society? So bitter!

So what do I do about it? Frankly, nothing useful. I just crochet a lot, among a smattering of other solo hobbies. It’s probably become its own pacifier at this point. I’m lonely and I just don’t know what else to do with myself. 

It’s a surreal experience sitting alone in a cafe or a park, crocheting, perfectly aware of my surroundings, while the other humans slouch phone-faced, their eyes dull and faces alight with the glow of nonsense juice being pumped into their bowed heads.

Every day, I feel like I’m rattling around in a world surrounded by zombies plugged into a constant i.v. drip of Cheap Imitation Social Supplement. 

I have visions of dressing like Morpheus from the Matrix and running around, just ripping peoples’ phones from their hands to “wake them up.” (Like that would end well.)

Then why would I hypocritically contribute to the online noise right now with this very blog post? … I don’t know. Because “I love lamp,” that’s why. I honestly don’t know what else to do. 

I’ve tried making friends offline for years and people have seriously gotten so flighty and flakey. I think people are weirded out by me having NO social media presence. They can’t research me from a safe distance. They have to actually go through the social friction of getting to know me. (Remember that… social friction? Sounds like a bad thing, but it actually builds stronger, more resilient and honest relationships.) 

Also (because this is supposed to be a crochet blog), are we also relying entirely on frictionless entertainment? Isn’t it so easy to just turn on Youtube or Netflix and mindlessly soak it in?…Scroll, click, repeat. 

Here’s my bid for trying out a craft, whether it’s crochet or something else: it will challenge you! It’s hard to learn a new craft. There’s an inverse relationship between convenience and significance. If you try something hard, work at it, and end up with tangible results that you can be proud of (however imperfect!), then it will matter to you more! 

Scrolling and clicking for hours just leaves you numb and grouchy. When was the last time you felt proud of the results of hours of your time online? What results do you really get from scrolling, posting heavily filtered lies about your life, and liking other peoples’ embellished stories? 

Put your phone down and go get face-to-face with someone’s real unfiltered face. Try something new together that’s tangible and creative. It’ll be tough, and it’ll feel great, and it will matter to you, no matter what you’re making! 

Seriously, if you see one of us offline weirdos in public with a relic, like a book or yarn and hooks/needles, you should introduce yourself. We’re actually interesting to talk to and probably not faking whatever it is we’re doing just for Instagram likes. 

If anyone is reading this, I’m sure you’ll have many criticisms that you’ll self-righteously hammer into the comments section from the safety of your screen-shield. Well, come say it to my face, you cowards. I’ll be the lady in the cat-teeshirt, sitting alone at the coffee shop, crocheting hats for my cats.

I openly welcome you to sit down across from me, and disagree with me face-to-face. Maybe the social friction of a little healthy in-person discourse will grow us into good friends (as long as you’re not a dog person.)