12 May 2020: "I’ve tried to parse what makes Zoom so exhausting for me. I feel like an emotionally bereft alien struggling to comprehend the mysteries of human connection. What makes a meatspace gathering a life-affirming source of intimacy, and a digital one a simulacrum? Hugging my friends is nice, but really, seeing and hearing them—and having them see and hear me—is what I like best about our time together. If I can do that just fine on my computer, why doesn’t it feel the same?"
Christina Cauterucci's piece on Slate, quoted above, feels quite validating. After all, just yesterday I posted about feeling lonely even with a couple of Zoom meetings and chats with folks. But like she explains (even sort of scientifically), it's not the same. And it can be draining.
This part is so good, too: "Then there’s the part where I have to look at myself. In real life, entire minutes can pass by without my thinking about the angle of my chin, the texture of my skin, or the shadows under my eyes. It’s much harder to feel fully immersed in the company of family or friends when my attention is split between the content of a conversation and a moving image of my own face. Each glance to check whether I’m properly framed in the video feed takes me out of the exchange, redirecting some of my scattered focus back toward myself and inhibiting the ego suppression that marks moments of true intimacy."
Cauterucci's article is called "I Will Not Be Attending Your Exhausting Zoom Gathering," with the subheading, "We should take comfort in hating this." I am not prepared to go that far. I don't really hate it. In fact, I'd rather Zoom with my favorite people than not see them.
But still...I just miss people.
No comments:
Post a Comment