Writings in the Sand

I Am Not a Cat

I am running a little late this morning. I think I will need to make a second cup of coffee before attempting this blog entry.

There. The nice thing about blogging is that I can leave the room, go make coffee and you can't tell that I have been gone. Just one more reason to blog instead of doing Facebook Live or something. There are other reasons, too, but they are similar - like blogging in your pyjamas or the freedom to be incognito and unseen.

I have been doing social media for a long time, but I generally stick with those platforms that are designed to let you share in text rather than pictures. I know Facebook allows one to post endless selfies, but it's not necessary to do that in order to use it successfully. I don't go to Instagram, for instance, because I don't record my day in photographs or video. I don't take pictures of myself and nothing in my life is interesting enough to bother filming.

Worse, I have seen what Snapchat and other apps do to you with their filters. Sure, it's funny if you use the bunny filter because we pretty much know you don't have long, floppy ears or whiskers. But those glamour filters are more deceptive. I have come across photos of relatives in which they appear much younger than they were the last time I saw them. And there's something magical, yet disturbing about their eyes. A little like Polar Express but with more twinkle. These filters lie to the world about you. They are also addicting. Once people use them, they can't stop because returning to their real images would be such a let down for those whose eyes don't really sparkle or contain an exact replica of the Milky Way.

Also, we've all seen how a random Zoom filter nearly derailed an attorney's appearance before a judge when he appeared to be a fluffy, white cat. That's embarrassing.

Now, I am not going to say that I am perfectly content with the sight of my aging self. So much less potential for improvement, however, makes it easier to resign oneself to. I know that no matter what I do, how I diet or exercise, I will still be old and wrinkles happen. Plastic surgery is expensive. Filters erase the wrinkles and smooth the ravages of time, but they are creepy. I am just going to stick to being invisible and let my words stand for me. If not for hiding behind, I have no idea what the internet is for.