Fear of Tik Tok (or: Facing a Budding Addiction)

What marks an addiction?

A long time ago in my general psychology class, I learned that three characteristics of addiction, whether physical or emotional, were dependence, habituation, and withdrawal. Dependence means going back to the drug or behavior repeatedly, needing that “reward” (a physical sensation in the case of drugs, a psychological boost of brain chemicals for non-drug items). Habituation means getting used to the dose (psychologically or physically) and wanting more, and withdrawal means feeling tension or even physical symptoms when away from the stimulus (again psychologically or physically) From there, continuing the drug or behavior despite bad effects to one’s life, cements the addiction.

There are various psychological addictions that follow this path: gambling, television, and, as it turns out, Tik Tok.

Tik Tok?

I am dealing with the beginnings of the addiction response in my relationship with Tik Tok. Although I’ve only been there a month, and watching content for about a week, I have found myself scrolling through my For You page a few times a day.

My behavior shows:

Habituation, as it takes more and more content to satisfy me;
Withdrawal, as I feel figuratively itchy when I put the phone down.

I’m missing the dependence, the actual part where I continue despite bad effects. This is mostly because I recognize when the process is happening and break the habituation.

The almighty algorithm

Tik Tok’s “algorithm” makes the app more addictive. Although nobody but Tik Tok knows the exact algorithm, users believe that the app provides you with more content in areas where the user lingers in. In other words, if a reader watches certain content all the way through, they will get more of that content, thus boosting dependence. And since the viewer is watching more and more of the same thing, habituation develops.

What saved me

I tend to get frustrated with passive pursuits like television and Tik Tok. No amount of habituation gets past the fact that I’m not doing anything. I like making things happen, and Tik Tok isn’t going to make that happen. I get bored lately, and the content algorithm of Tik Tok doesn’t deliver new content (like educational content) to keep me occupied.

So I think I’ll put Tik Tok up on the shelf for a while and let it tick without me.

Cute Fluffy Wide-Eyed Things That Love You

What are they?

Cute Fluffy Wide-Eyed Things That Love You (henceforth to be known as Cute Fluffies) are multidimensional creatures about the size of a bocce ball but consisting of iridescent, gossamer, silky fluff. They are almost all fluff. They have googly eyes and spindly arms and legs. They weigh nearly nothing (not surprising) and they burble and coo and like to hang around with people, who they find endlessly captivating. Being from an alternative dimension, we do not see them, but sometimes we feel them in a breeze.

Their effect on humans is usually to make people act giddy with how cute they are. Those in the know can elicit this effect in other people by scooping up the invisible critters and throwing them at someone. A person hit by these little puffy creatures is usually a giggle.

Where they come from

They are, alas, a figment of my imagination. I think.

Let me explain. I have never truly grown up. Yes, I’m 57 and hold down a pretty demanding job, but I have a strong sense of play. And when I dated another person with a strong sense of play, we chanced across the Cute Fluffies, and how much fun it was to throw them at people.

The secret to throwing the Fluffies is to scoop them up, pet them, and burble at them before throwing them at people so they know that they have, in fact, been hit by a cute fluffy. It helps to pick imaginative people who will appreciate them. Many people actually giggle and feel temporarily buoyant when hit by Cute Fluffies.

Why don’t I have a picture?

Nobody has been able to photograph a Cute Fluffy.

Better Safe than Sorry

I worried for nothing

It turned out that the irritation on my lip was a chronically inflamed ingrown something. Like a really, really deep blackhead. I went through a pimple-popper procedure with my doctor digging it out with a pair of tweezers and sent on my way.

Yes, I feel a bit foolish. I worried for nothing. I suspect I’m a bit of a hypochondriac.

Yet I don’t regret going.

The area looked like a peeling mole a good part of the time, and I’ve heard that’s A Very Bad Thing. So I wasn’t going to mess with it. If the choice is between looking foolish and getting something too late, I’ll take the former. Besides, I don’t go to the doctor for every ache and pain — I’m pretty reasonable with my worries.

So now I have a big sore bump on my lip, and if it doesn’t clear up in 4-6 weeks, I go back to the doctor.

Better safe than sorry.

A Trip to the Doctor

The sore that doesn’t heal

I will visit my doctor today, who squeezed me in to her schedule to look at a sore on my lip that doesn’t heal. It’s on my lip, and I do worry a bit. Not so much about whether it’s cancer, but whether they’ll have to do a biopsy that may make my lip lopsided or something.

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

It looks like nothing to worry about

It’s like a scab that forms on my lip, shrinks, comes off (without my assistance) and there’s an open wound underneath, like a picked scab, and maybe I’ve been doing the facial scrub too vigorously.

It looks suspicious

The scab is very thin and brown, and to a casual observer, it looks like a mole. So if this is a mole whose top conceals, say, an open sore, it could very well be suspicious. I would say “it’s just a scab” but it’s been doing this for over a month and shows no signs of shrinking. I’m doubtful that it’s anything to worry about.

Smart enough to drive myself crazy

This is why I get worried when I get something like this happen. On one hand I think I’m making too much of a little thing and annoying my doctor. On the other hand, I have to go to the doctor because WHAT IF. So there’s worry that it’s bad and worry that I’m going to cause my doc to do an eyeroll, even though she’s taken three suspicious moles off me previously and would the large one off on the side of my face if it weren’t on the side of my face.

Takeaway

You should always get suspicious sores, moles, bumps checked regardless of whether you think you’re making too much of it. My sister’s father-in-law died of melanoma that had been undetected for years and had metastasized. Something we all should avoid.

Thunderstorm

Where have all the thunderstorms gone?

Until today, they’ve curved around the south of us. Sometimes the north. Maryville has the distinction of being the highest point between Kansas City and Omaha. I wonder if this is part of the reason why we haven’t been getting the good storms.

Cue this morning

This morning I woke up to thunder. Close thunder. And rain pattering on the roof. Hours later, it still looks cloudy out and maybe rainy. And we are in a flash flood watch.

Maybe daylilies will come back from their wilting sulk. Maybe the grass will green up.

There’s another peal of thunder. It has been so long since we’ve had a good storm.

The Road Trip and the Dead Bat

Ok, gotta go, bye

My husband and I are driving to Kansas City to visit an intern. He has to take me there because my vision is getting increasingly worse in my right eye due to a cataract (I’m too young for those, so go figure). But first, a trip to the Public Health Department with a dead bat.

Why a dead bat? Because Richard accidentally handled it, which is a bad thing if, say, the bat had rabies. We’ll play it on the safe side, but it’s time to bring the bat in for testing. Poor bat.

The Longest Day

Back when I was a pagan

Yesterday was Summer Solstice, and I didn’t celebrate it because I thought it would be on Tuesday. I should have checked the Internet.

I sometimes miss being a pagan, because I always knew when the turns of the year (the solstices and equinoxes) were, and pagans throw a great party. I had a friend who wanted to have an all-night drumming session around a bonfire, and me and my bodhran (Irish frame drum) would have had a lovely time with that. Except for the fact that lack of sleep tended to (and still does) make me a bit unmanageable — weepy and moody. And drumming all night is more suitable for the Winter Solstice, where one would drum to make the sun come back after the longest night.

I gave up being a pagan because I always felt like an impostor — I didn’t believe we were doing any magic, and I felt the symbolism was borrowed from cultures not my own. I am very personal in my mysticism, so I want the symbolism to speak to me. Nothing, alas, has spoken to me in a while.

How would I celebrate Summer Solstice?

I wish I would have pitched a tent in my yard, and stayed awake till sunset and then slept in the tent with plenty of mosquito repellent and on a camp cot, because I’m well over 40. I would have kept the lonely night company. (In actuality, I would have climbed out about 10:30 and gone inside because of lack of sleep. I know myself by now.)

I celebrate by what speaks to me, what makes for the best poetry. Maybe I have lost my poetry, maybe it was all invested in the crushes I had before my age finally caught up with me.

Maybe I need to celebrate the turns of the year again.

The Heat

Can I just stay inside?

The weather outside is hot. By hot, I mean 105 degree heat index, 100 degrees actual. A July sort of thing, not a June thing. I get sick from the heat easily, so my strategy has been to stay in the air conditioner and NOT. GO. OUTSIDE.

The point of no return?

Photo by Aistu0117 Sveikataitu0117 on Pexels.com

I wonder if we’re past the point of no return when it comes to climate change. If these patches of extreme heat are our “new normal”. Gardens will wither and winters will be frigid and snowy.

My psychiatrist is a bit more sanguine about climate change. He’s a libertarian and a fervent believer is progress, and he believes that scientists will find a solution, just as they did (partially) with the ozone hole. I hope he’s right — I think the wind farms that surround us may be part of the answer.

A reprieve

The weather is supposed to clear by tomorrow, greeting us with temperatures in the 60s and 70s. I will celebrate by going to the cafe and visiting an intern on Wednesday in Kansas City.

How hot is it where you live?

Let me know!

My Everyday Habit

My morning practice

Every morning I write this blog. There are many reasons I do this, not the least because I want that little message from WordPress that I have written the blog X days in a row (yay gamification!) I’ll explore some of the other reasons below.

A morning ritual

I consider writing this blog my morning ritual, along with coffee, music, and getting my hair to behave. The ritual starts with racking my brain with finding a topic to write on. Then I start typing and thinking and typing. And editing as I go.

Warming up for writing

I find the practice of journaling warms me up for writing. Not just the fingers, although by the number of typos I make while typing the blog I guess my fingers need warming up.

Writing the blog warms up my mind. It trains it to write as a flow exercise, a task where time flies past me and I’m in the moment. Admittedly, blogging itself is not a flow experience because it doesn’t go on for long enough. but blogging limbers up my mind so that flow is possible.

A challenge

One of my attractions to my daily ritual of blogging is that it’s a challenge. What am I going to write today? Have I written about that lately? Will anyone care about my blog? I don’t know about the latter, as I have between 11-20 readers on a regular basis and 57 followers, which suggests most of my followers aren’t reading the blog. That’s okay; I still face the challenge every morning.

To my fellow bloggers

How often do you blog? Daily? More than daily? Weekly? Let me know!

Random Observations About Writing

About poetic language vs realism

I notice that the sunrise this morning is not really pink — maybe more of a salmon color, but that’s not poetic, is it? “The salmon-colored dawn.” No. Just no.

“Rosy”, on the other hand, is poetic. And everyone who reads the poem or prose takes the same poetic leap and accepts the dawn as rosy.

Photo by Sebastian Voortman on Pexels.com

About writers and coffee

I’m in a writer’s group on Discord, and the caffeine addiction there is real. To the point where we talk about how we make coffee and what blend we use. And heaven forbid we skip our coffee in the morning.

I haven’t met any tea drinkers, but it could be a small sample size. Do you drink tea?

About that self-doubt

The same group of writers admitted that they too have self-doubt.

About romance categories

There are many, many romance categories. Superhero, bad boy, playboy, alien. Sweet, steamy, hot, erotica. Friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, boy next door, strangers to lovers. Science fiction, fantasy, contemporary, historical.

And because of my self-doubt, I don’t know if I belong to any of these.

Marketing

Right now, I feel like most of my writing time is spent in marketing, and I don’t even have anything on imminent publication. I’m using The Kringle Conspiracy as my hook for newsletter subscribers, so that’s out. This is all a very strange journey and I don’t know how things are going to work this fall when I’m back to work.

What about you?

Do you have any observations about yourself as a writer, or if you aren’t a writer, other writers? I’d love to see you drop these in the comments!