In which our Heroine gazes back.
For Christmas, Jon and I borrowed a friend’s computer video camera so we could skype with family. I’m sorry to say that the skyping did not work, and now all we have is the little camera sitting a-straddle our computer monitor as the residue of our non-conversation.
It kind of freaks me out.
The socially-smart side of me would like to tell you all that my paranoia fixation is an intelligent fabrication meant to bring out frivolous discussion and smart-alecky conversation. These are worthwhile reasons all on their own but the little eye-shaped lens staring at me right now is proving its point: I am a paranoid freak at heart. I’m telling you, the little thing follows me around the room. My eye is unnaturally drawn to it. I find myself focusing in on it regularly, and trust me—the white wall over the top of my computer screen is not normally one of my eye-resting spaces.
It’s pretty clear that I’ve been watching too many Pixar films. I can easily imagine it sprouting legs and spidering off into corners unknown (where Russian/Iraqi spies lurk, obviously). I can imagine its little round eye hole suddenly blinking at me. I can even imagine it recording my life. Not that there’s anything of a mystery left about me after all this blogging, but talk about freaky right?
And so I launch a series of blog posts about surveillance and its accompanying freakiness. You would think that all this supposed or imagined surveillance would implant me with a desire to perform well for the camera. Instead, I find myself longing for insurrection and subversive behavior. I can’t help it. I have an over-active imagination.