Really, the site is a nightmare: The headline on the home page in a font large enough to be read by the legally blind, its wording as hysterical as its architecture. The lack of aesthetics - too much information, too little white space, enough distraction to keep me on the couch in my underwear until the next season of Mad Men. 

Down the left-hand side of the page, articles by serious columnists beckon. I scan the topics: gun control, terrorists' use of technology, the quaint notion of a 'loyal opposition' and Google getting it on with Verizon. I decide to read one, but before I have made my choice, I glance to the right, where I am invited to take a poll on Jennifer Aniston's mini dress or read about the latest Republican caught doing something wonderfully gay and/or kinky. Plus, someone, somewhere, has stripped naked in public. 

I don't have all day. I have to go to work. I need surgery that even with health insurance will cost a few grand. I have children in college. 

Hovering above the celebrities, an undisclosed company with a penchant for moving objects exhorts me to take a quiz. The last time I succumbed to one of those, I had to move my junk mail filter to "aggressive" for a year.

I became addicted to The Huffington Post during the 2008 campaign. At first, it was so satisfying. Just by opening my laptop, I could be transported to a group of people just as terrified by Sarah Palin as I was. Of course, that was true of many sites - including, obviously, this one. But The Huffington Post felt like a pack of rabid dogs with language skills. In the lead up to the election, when the stakes seemed so high that I couldn't open my computer without sending some progressive group another $35; when I made myself go door to door even though I was terrified someone would be mean to me, the hysteria mirrored my own.

Besides, during the Florida primary, I knew if John McCain stripped down to a thong and wandered off into the Everglades, drooling and humming a little tune, The Huffington Post would have it on line in a nanosecond. This thought alone caused me to be personally responsible for 1/6 of the site's hits during a one month period.

I told myself I could quit after the election, and for awhile I did, or at least I cut back. But I had become addicted to the format of  OHMYGOD!LOOK!WHAT'SHAPPENING!NOW! And then there was healthcare.

How easy it is, in the internet age, to be hooked on the circus of American politics. I wring my hands and gnash my teeth over the mainstream media's lack of meaningful discussion of the issues. I read thoughtful, funny, insightful articles, particularly on Salon. But I am still fueled by the drama, the us-versus-them, the anger at those I consider ignorant and worse. Giant fonts and inflammatory adjectives and stupidity exposed, oh my!

Pornography comes in many guises, most of them not involving exhaustingly frequent sex with period costumes and a trapeze. It is zappos.com's 41,200 styles of women's shoes, it is Guns & Ammo magazine, it is feeding a constant state of outrage. There is no limit to our opportunities to whack off without intimacy and feel slightly bad about it afterward.

It would be easy to blame technology, but that's like a poor workman blaming his tools. If someone spent seven hours of every day gossiping on the telephone, would I diss Alexander Graham Bell? Some of my peers bemoan the younger generation's connection to one another, and the world, through electronic devices, just as my own alternative, back-to-the-land parents railed against television. How quickly this becomes another soap-box to climb on, another emotionally charged megaphone to wield. 

The solution is simple the way meditation is just holding still. In other words, really fucking difficult but getting easier with age.

I need to pay attention - to myself.

I know when I need to put on my shoes and take a walk. When I've reached the point where, closing the screen, I feel a deep sense of relief that tells me I should have done it an hour ago. When I need to go see a movie in my local theatre instead of in front of my own marvelous screen - to hear a new laugh, to be devastated by a story with strangers. 

Stepping out of the loop, I go outside, into the soothing constancy of nature. This time of year, the birds are so vocal I feel like I live in an aviary.