Yearbook photo proves I continued to like closet-like spaces in high school. For the past couple of weeks, I've been using a little piece of software called Freedom, which shuts off your Internet access for as much time as you request. Buying it ($10) was just a desperate gesture of HELP ME FOCUS, PLEASE, but I had a funny experience when I first turned it on: the room felt suddenly much quieter, and I had a strong sense memory of shutting myself in a closet to read as a child.

I liked closets because I am the oldest of six, so reading in peace was not on, first of all, ever. Also, when you're the oldest and findable, your parents will put you in charge of something, or your siblings will tearfully hand you something half-broken or inextricably knotted. So the closet meant the lovely sensation of everything still out there, lively, buzzing, reachable, but beautifully, beautifully muffled.

And me inside this quiet, private little space, alone and free.

So Freedom! I really like it. It's the freedom of limits (the truly relaxing freedom of writing a sonnet, say) [update: yeah 'cause I wrote sonnets all the time] and the freedom of not being findable and the freedom of the big gorgeous irresistible world a little muffled for awhile.

And I'm about to turn it on and enter my closet, so goodbye for now you big fascinating world.

Katherine Catmull