Lonely? Bored? Or something else?

"Lonely people have a natural affinity for the internet. It's always there waiting, patient, flexible, suitable for every mood..."

"What do lonely people desire? Companionship. Love. Recognition. Entertainment. Camaraderie. Distraction. Encouragement. Change. Feedback."


So says Roger Ebert, the film critic turned prodigious blogger, in a weekend post ("All the lonely people") that is getting a lot of attention in the blogosphere and hundreds of comments in response. And deservedly so. Even if you don't agree with his premise -- that there's a fine line between loneliness and boredom -- it's a heckuva post: thoughtful, analytical, provocative, self-reflective.

I was drawn to the piece by the headline and first sentence, quoted above. Is that me he's talking about? Is that why I blog? Is that why I've joined Facebook?

I've never thought of myself as lonely, though I enjoy doing things on my own. (Which is not to say I don't treasure the companionship of my wife and family, because I obviously do.) What I'm saying is that I enjoy running, swimming, reading, listening to music -- all of which can be done by one's self.

When I set up this blog nearly two years ago, I listed "solitude" as among my interests. To me, the word means "time spent alone" and has no negative connotation. You can enjoy solitude on a neighborhood walk, on a morning bike ride or at a coffee shop with a novel -- and I've done all of these.

Yet Ebert's piece had me scurrying to the dictionary. Is "solitude" a synonym for "lonely"? This is how Dictionary.com defines the word:

1. the state of being or living alone; seclusion: to enjoy one's solitude.

2. remoteness from habitations, as of a place; absence of human activity: the solitude of the mountains.

3. a lonely, unfrequented place: a solitude in the mountains.

Readers can judge for themselves if there's a difference between the two words.

But back to the other question...Why do I blog? Why do others create posts, comment on others and link to whatever strikes their fancy? For that matter, why do people join social networking sites? Why do they tweet?

Is it just lonely people -- or those of us who enjoy solitude -- who have a natural affinity for the internet? Couldn't you make an opposite argument? That it's exhibitionists and people who like living out loud who are drawn to cyberspace? How else do you explain the millions of self-indulgent posts and photos out there, along with the hourly status updates?

I think Ebert is a great writer and thinker and I'm especially glad he took on this subject. His words have given me a lot to think about. I may be an introvert, but I think I'm going to plead "not guilty" to being driven to the internet by loneliness.

I'd sure be interested in other people's takes on his essay. 

Photo: http://www.therubicon.org/index.php?s=graffiti

The first one up

The clock said 6:37 when Otto let it be known he wanted out. Rising that early on a Sunday to let the dog do his business wouldn't be my first choice but I have to say, it's not all bad.

As the first one up, I get to take in the silence and solitude that are so elusive during the week. The neighborhood is still asleep and Mother Nature has taken a brief respite from the near-constant rain of the past week. It's peaceful and I hope to carry that feeling with me throughout the day and as far into the week as I can. Listening to some classic Joni Mitchell while I type only reinforces the feeling of mellowness.

As the first one up, I also get dibs on the papers delivered to our front door. And here's something worth sharing: A lovely piece by our Metro columnist, Steve Duin, on the first-ever prom at North Portland's Rosemary Anderson, "an alternative high school previously known as the collection basket for castaways, false starts and broken promises."

Read the piece here: "As advertised, a night of 1,000 dreams"

May each of these kids (above) find their way in a world that too often rewards family connections over individual pluck and persistence.

Photograph by Motoya Nakamura, The Oregonian