Just a Gwai Lo - fun within prescribed limits

In an effort to increase my already copious free time, I've unsubscribed en masse from about 90 weblogs. It might interest some to know that the majority of them could be classified as "Dark Web". A brief scan to save the 'must-haves', then saving a listing of them for a nebulous future date, then a big purge. In part a step towards a more robust 'offline strategy', in part a step towards reading the materials piling up on what's supposed to be my dinner table (before weblogs came along, I was a mild-mannered bookworm), but mostly to release myself from reading and move towards either writing or quiet contemplation or I dunno, hanging out in cool downtown cafes reading snooty literature—is there any other kind?—in an attempt to impress the international students that gather there. It's not going to work, of course, because it's now almost an hourly basis that cool shit comes out.

This whole Internet thing—be it blogging, online dating, 'hookup' sites—never panned out in terms of meeting potential partners with whom to spend a little 'quality time', so I think I want out. Does it help that I keep in touch with most of my friends via IM or email? Or that I work for a company that collaborates almost exclusively online? Or that pretty much my entire life now revolves around my laptop? Do I have any credibility by, within the last week, signing up for multiple of the aforementioned types of sites? Not really, so the line that 'I'm defecting from geekdom' I've been trying out on some people has been met with more than a little incredulity. In order to try to prove them wrong, I'd like to spend more time books, more time in a swimming pool, more time in trails, more time at the park playing basketball, more time hanging out with friends, more time sleeping, although, really, that's never really been a problem. It might turn out to mean more time blogging too, since although there will be little new to read in the next few weeks, there are still old articles that deserve my—and by extension, your—attention.

More time. That's probably asking for trouble. With more time comes more inability to think of ways to fill it. Maybe I can just become a workaholic, since workaholics get all the girls. It would be nice, though, if I actually believed that.