Just the other day I was chatting with an older woman about this exact thing. She’s retired so she enjoys going on almost-daily walks around her neighborhood and the surrounding neighborhoods. Well she told me that it was really weird that in the newer constructions where the younger families live, EVERYONE has their blinds closed all the time. In fact she can tell a younger family lives in a house based on the simple fact of whether or not their blinds are closed in the middle of a sunny day. It’s to the point where she can’t even tell if they’re even HOME and available for a visit to welcome them to the neighborhood!
When she said that, I realized that I do that too when I live in a more publicly visible apartment. I told her that I think it’s because of the internet. Younger people feel like we’re constantly being watched, observed, and JUDGED for merely existing. So when we’re home, we just want to be alone, unbothered, and unobserved because it’s the one place we can control that. She was very surprised to hear that I felt like that and she was VERY concerned for us young folk (and to be honest after talking with her I became pretty concerned too…)
People from her generation will have their blinds open all day, hang out on their front porch, and randomly visit/enjoy random visits from neighbors and strangers. If a stranger knocks on my door it’s scary and if they want to stay and chat? It’s a huge inconvenience and it feels super awkward and weird and I’m stuck wondering why exactly they’re talking to me, when just a few decades ago welcoming someone new to the neighborhood was just what you did! In fact to not do so was rude!
It made me really worried that as the Panopticon sinks its teeth deeper into our psyches, we are losing the very essence of what makes us human and got us this far as a species: community. I find that being on the internet for hours a day tends to almost trick my brain into thinking “I’ve been social all day, my social need is full” when in reality I’ve only talked to one, maybe two people I know from my real life all day, and only for short bursts, not REAL conversation.
I find it hard to have the energy to invite friends to hang out, and when I want to I feel like I’m a big inconvenience for asking them to take a break from their busy lives for me (not that they would ever say that’s the case, but it’s this nagging feeling internally). I feel like while we used to be a series of large islands of local community, our islands splintered apart and started drifting away from each other. Now your island is just you, your immediate family, and maybe a couple close friends. Those living physically closest to you feel like they’re miles away and unreachable, to the point where you might as well not even bother.
I guess I just have one question for you: Do you know the names of your next door neighbors?
That makes me think about how the rate of paranoia of being watched must be so much higher now than it used to be and must only be increasing, which is very concerning,,
“Hey beautiful,” Steve says, climbing into your room through the slightly open window.
You grumble to yourself while pulling the blankets tighter around your body. Trying to become invisible to the world.
He quickly grabs a hold of the blankets, stopping you from hiding your face. “There’s my beautiful girlfriend.” He says with a grin.
“Please leave me alone, Stevie. I’m not in the mood.” You grumble, trying to get the blankets back in your grip.
He frowns slightly. “Is the depression strong today?” He asks, gently stroking your hair. You simply nod, trying to hold in your tears.
“Awww baby, I’m so sorry.” Steve climbs into bed with you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “I’m here for you, ok? Anything you need. Cuddles, kisses, flowers, food. You name it. I wanna spoil you even more today.”
You smile softly and snuggle into his chest. “Thank you, Stevie. You’re the best.” You mumble softly.
“Well, that’s cause you deserve the best.” He says, kissing your forehead.
As he yanked you back down against him, you let out a strangled yelp, the protest of your departure and the consequential end of your heated make-out session coming as a bit of a surprise to you.
“O-oh, we’re not?” you couldn’t help but chuckle as his grip dug into you like you were his most prized possession.
In between breathless pecks, he uttered, “you made me hard…” rocking your hips down against his for you to notice, the sparks of his excitement nudging against your own blossoming enthusiasm made you shiver, “a problem that you made and one that you need to fix.”
“Well, doesn’t that even occasionally happen when I just smile at you?”
Disappearing into your eyes, he corrected, “you only find out occasionally,” before inching in again to capture your lips, “you fucking siren…”
