Swipe, Scroll, Repeat

I Was Just Checking the Weather, I Swear.

I miss the old internet—back when we just overshared and moved on.
Now it’s a 24/7 performance review.
You’re either inspiring strangers, selling a lifestyle, or pretending your lunch is a spiritual experience.
I’m just trying to remember why I opened the app in the first place.

You ever “check one thing” and suddenly it’s 2 hours later, your thumbs hurt, and you’ve watched 11 reels about how to fold a fitted sheet, detox your liver, and become a millionaire using affirmations and a ring light?

Yesterday, I went on to check the weather and ended up watching a raccoon make pancakes.
No regrets. Five stars. Would watch again.

And don’t even try to tell me these devices aren’t listening.
I casually mentioned out loud that I needed new pillows.
Didn’t search it. Didn’t type it.
Two minutes later—ads. For pillows. Every kind.
Cooling pillows. Bamboo pillows.
Orthopedic pillows for folks who turn their head too fast and spend three days walking around at a 45-degree angle.
That’s not marketing. It’s surveillance with coupons.

If I see one more 25-year-old whispering about her “soft life” while applying serum in a robe that costs more than my first car, I’m reporting the algorithm for harassment.
I have a soft life too — mine just includes unfolded laundry and a chipped coffee mug.

And influencers?
Look, I get it. You’re thriving. You meal prep, meditate, and apparently wake up with perfect hair.
Congratulations.
Some of us wake up looking like we lost a fight with a leaf blower.

We’re not “glowing.”
We’re upright. Barely.
We’ll call that a win.

Even the “I’m taking a break from social” people can’t do it quietly.
They need a farewell post with dramatic quotes and three follow-up stories explaining their emotional growth journey.
They’ll be back on next week like nothing happened — reappearing like a soap opera character who fell off a cliff in the season finale and came back mid-season with a tan and a new haircut.

Truth is, none of us really quit.
We complain about social media on social media.

We scroll while we wait in line, while the microwave runs, and while real life is happening right in front of us.
Because scrolling feels productive… until it doesn’t.
It’s mental junk food.
You feel full but not satisfied.

So here’s where I’ve landed on all this:
I don’t want to delete my apps.
I just want to post a picture of a biscuit without being buried in ads for Martha White and Crisco.
I want to scroll without being tracked, judged, or sold to.
And for heaven’s sake, can’t I just laugh at a dog in a cowboy hat without being offered one for $27.99—with free shipping if I buy now?

If you catch me online, safely assume I’m not achieving my peak potential.
I’m probably watching somebody pressure-wash their driveway while the buzzer on my dryer goes off for the third time.
But hey, at least I’m not making a farewell post about it.
Yet.

The Condition — aware, amused, still scrolling.

📱 Made it through this essay without checking your notifications? Very impressive.
Please like, subscribe, and let’s pretend we’re going to reduce our screen time this week.