Is it just my imagination, or is everyone extraordinary these days? Innovative, visionary, simply amazing. We’re all trying to have the most Likes, the most Retweets, the most Friends. To have our blogs optioned for books. To lead memoir-worthy lives. To have our videos go viral. It’s not enough to knit our days together with simple things like calling friends, taking a walk, noticing sunsets, admiring clouds that will never come again just so, loving Fridays, making bread without taking its picture, learning something without the need to be the best at it, honoring beautiful boring dailiness. No. We must be Commented on, gold-starred, entrepreneurial, singled out, TED-talked. We crave recognition. It’s our designer drug. I’m not immune to the addiction, but I try to remember what life was like when I was not instantly uploading it, sharing it, starring in it. When information didn’t substitute for inspiration. When the moment at dinner when our minds clicked over wine was more indelible than the Instagram of that moment. When the full moon was the whole show, not the photo that proved we saw it. When life just unfolded before our eyes without being curated.