Anyways, this movie really made me think about the difference between loneliness and being alone. I think as humans we often have a hard time distinguishing between the two. Living by myself in the Valley gives me many hours of alone time--but it's not until this year that I have felt lonely. Granted, I am an introvert, I avoid social engagements at almost all costs (unless the group is limited to two or three), and when I tell people this information they are always confused as to how I ended up being a teacher in a classroom full of thirty students all day. Back to the point--I love alone time but I don't like lonely time. And these days, where do all of the lonely people go? To their phones. I'll be the first to tell you that I am on my phone a great deal of the time checking emails, answering messages, and doing...whatever--because I am lonely. I am not saying this so that you will pity me because I will also be the first to tell you that not answering my phone and talking to people (leaving my phone in another room...) doesn't make me anxious or feel like I am somehow missing out on some part of the world happenings around me. To be frank though, those moments only really happen when I am home, with my family, in a community full of people who already know me--those I am not afraid of. Most people who know me will tell you that I'm friendly, outspoken, loud, and a talker--those things are only true to those who know me. I'm generally not rude but I won't go out of my way to be your friend. If I am in a group of people I don't know, I won't speak my mind unless I am certain it is for the better of the group goal (and even then I reconsider five times). I am pretty quiet...just my thoughts are loud and most times (unless it's to my mother--or a topic I am interested in) I am not too much of a talker. I would rather read a news article than go to a group outing. I would rather sit on my couch than at a bar. I would rather spend an hour with old friends than days with new ones. But after watching "Her" I question--is this because I have underestimated the power of intimacy and only long to be reassured in my endeavors?
Is this world meant to be affirmed by a timeline or posts on a feed? Are we meant to post our happiest moments in photographs for all of the world to see? Ten years ago if you asked someone what they would take from their house if it was burning, they might have said the family picture on the mantel--but now that picture is a cover photo on Facebook--would the picture on the mantel even matter? If my house was burning to the ground, I would want to save Reggie (my schnauzer companion of seven years) and my copy of "Paradise Lost" from my junior year in college. I have a stack of pictures on my end table but those moments don't even exist in my memory--do they matter? At this point, I think we walk the fine line trying to define what is human and what is robotic. Our phones have a switch that we never power off and our computers have a battery that we never let die. What happens when we stop and consider where all of the lonely people go?
