It's been about two weeks since put myself on a Facebook, Google-reader, and a few other media outlet fasts.

I have friends who say things like, "I don't know why people do things like that. It's attention seeking" or "Why can't people just practice more self-control, why do they have to make it all fast-hiatus-sabbatical sounding, all holy..."

Heck, I say that to myself.

But it's no secret that I lack self-control—I'll tell you face to face, it's my besetting sin. And in conversations with some single friends, I don't think I'm alone.

Singleness is a good place to be if you want to be lazy.

And I hear you, the mass of single readers, who feel like you've had enough of an emotional pelting for the week what with yesterday being what you call, "Singles Awareness Day" and all that. I hear you. You'd like a little love and wouldn't we all? Wouldn't we all...

(For what it's worth, I love Valentine's Day. I do. I have a hard time with nearly every major holiday for various reasons, but a day just to celebrate love? This I can do. The truth is, I'm pretty hopeless about celebrating love every day, ask anyone. So February 14th is just a good excuse to buy red candies, flowers for my mates, write cards with honest words of love, and who's kidding who, wear sexy underroos.) 

(Don't worry, this will all come together.)

The longer I'm single, the more I need to face the fact that my natural bent is toward laziness. I have no one responsible for me and no one to whom to be responsible. I know this isn't the case for all you singles, some of you parents or grandparents, single because of life circumstances, death, or divorce. But for me and the majority of my friends, it's the case.

We aren't necessarily happy singles, but we sure are free and clear ones.

So, for me, my social and otherwise media hiatus (and the other fasts I'm imposing on myself these weeks) is just a way that I can flip the bird to laziness. I'm just trying to say to mindless navel gazing, to sleep, to wasteful conversations, to food, to unproductive uses of my time, "Hey, Time? You don't own me. I don't even own me. My Father owns both of us and I want to remember that well."

That's all.

When I said sexy underroos, 
this is, of course, what I meant.