Experimental Success

My experiment seems to have been a success. In fact, it was far more productive than I imagined it could've been. About 8-9 days ago, I decided that while we were on vacation in the central New Mexico mountains, I would pretend that email and the Internet had never been invented. Given my periodic rants about the Decline of Society and the fact that I have not ever and will not ever use my cell phone for anything involving "data," going Off-The-Grid would seem to be easier for me than for most people. And it was. But the ease with which the experiment was conducted is not nearly as impressive or important (to me) as the realization that it spawned -- namely, that I am rarely more useless than when I am sitting in front of a computer.

Several people have written about the downsides of the Internet in general (and social networking in particular) far more eloquently than I could manage, so I will leave that cabbage singly chewed. What I will note, however, is that these things truly are, as Bill Keller notes so beautifully, "the enemy of contemplation." The speed with which my 15 year-old daughter compulsively swipes through Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, and Facebook posts, tapping whatever needs to be tapped in order to assent to the amazingness of whatever status update or bit of cleverness or ridiculously filtered picture is posted is astounding. In a very real sense, it is the crack of this generation. Is it as harmful? Not explicitly, no. But it is an addiction. And it is a productivity (defined in many different ways) killer. And I believe that the second-order effects -- e.g., the utter decimation of people's attention spans -- will play a huge role in pushing us down the path toward Idiocracy.

In Hadley's defense, she spent a considerable number of her vacation hours reading, playing cards, hiking, and even simply playing outside at the park down the hill ("OMG Dad, I can't believe you are embarrassing me like this"). All four of the kids, ages 10 to 20, were similarly involved. In fact, it is one of the greatest reliefs of my life that whether our travel plans involve two days at the beach, a week at grandparents, or a month in the northwestern US or Canada, everybody is always totally on board, eager to do whatever we're doing and not at all happy when it is time to return home. The boys are far less tethered to technology than Hadley is, but even she comes around pretty well within a day or two. Although I don't believe I am in any way responsible for this "sanity," I do appreciate it.

Where does this leave me? My job pretty much requires me to sit in front of a computer for most of the time on most days. Even if I wanted to embrace the Truman / Eisenhower era entirely, it would hardly be possible for me to do so where my work life is concerned. But I can, with no problem, do away with social networking (particularly since Twitter has long been my only guilty pleasure). I can also check email a lot less frequently. And finally, I can greatly reduce the time I spend in front of a computer when I am NOT at the office. I spent my non-hiking downtime this past week reading books, writing this entry (longhand), jacking around with the kids, playing the guitar, and just thinking. Imagine that.

Is it really necessary that I alter my behavior? Probably not. But it seems like a worthwhile venture, given that I was more at peace this past week than I have been in a long, long, long time. The mountains and cooler weather always help with that, but I do believe that the complete absence of digital distraction was almost as important. So ... henceforth, I will be working toward preserving at least some semblance of that absence in my everyday life. I'm not ready to part company with Cotten Music and Umanov Guitars and Drakes of London, but most of my other "friends" will need to get their mouse clicks from someone else.

As a final note, if you're on Twitter and I don't have your email address and you WANT me to have it, let me know. I think I have most of you covered but a few might have slipped through the cracks ...

Peace,
Mike