end to end.

It hit me the other day right after I saw, for the first time, a 3D ultrasound. I was reading through my "Top Stories," as I do every morning, and there it was. A little alien-looking creature with its face pressed up against its mothers uterus. The father is an friend of mine, and for a second I felt happy for him. After that, though, I realized I don't even know the girl and here I am looking at her genitalia on the freaking internet. That was three weeks ago. 

Yesterday, I saw someone's obituary in the very same feed, which brings me to today. Are our real lives really just a timeline on the internet from beginning to end? And will I ever have the urge to post my unborn baby's picture on the internet before they even have a chance to protest? 

Then again, will I ever actually have a baby? Probably not, and maybe in some small way because of this. Because while we're busy experiencing the most important times of our lives, we're distracted by the nagging urge to post it on the internet before, during, and after we experience it. And in the case of an unborn child, the very most important thing we could do  is shamelessly posted on the internet, most likely for good. No eraseys. 


I'm not saying it shouldn't be done, but I have to question the intent and the good sense of it. Sometimes it forces me to take a long hard look at my internet lifespan and whether or not there's enough content, and whether or not I'm a good enough person to be as happy as everyone looks. I wonder why I don't laugh more than I do, and I wonder when I'll start playing music again, and I wonder if I'll have time before I go to delete my profile completely so no one will turn it into a makeshift memorial for me. 


All of this makes me want to make my life and everything I make of it more tangible. I find myself wanting to mail birthday cards using the U.S. Postal Service (gasp), or wanting to write letters to friends and relatives at least once a week. I want to take a yoga class and not take pictures with my camera that doubles as a phone. I want to play my guitar more often, often when no one will hear it, but sometimes where they can, in which case they can feel free to take a picture and share it on the internet. As long as it's flattering. Because there's no real way to escape it. Even if I don't have a profile, someone else will, and that someone else may want to prove to the world we were really there together. Maybe.


All of this simply led me to one true reality that I decided to post on the internet. I want to live, not distractedly, but wholeheartedly, and the only friends I'd like to share pictures of my uterus with are the ones with whom I'm willing to share the better part of my life with, in person.