Sometimes I wish I could move somewhere where being connected required real effort on my part, where I had to make a conscientious decision to check in and see what's going on in the world. I'm not sure such a place exists, however. I've heard cell phones ring on a spit of land in the middle of the Okavango Delta and in the depths of Bwindi Impenetrable Forest. I've been approached by beggars sending texts. We're nothing if not connected.
There's a lot of noise out there. And at the risk of sounding old, I'm going to say that it's too much and it's too loud. There's Facebook. And there's Twitter. And there's some new Google Friend program-a-ma-bobby. There's blogs of friends and blogs of family and blogs of people I have never and will never meet. There are iPhones and iPads and iDon'tKnowWhatElses. There's CNN.com and WashingtonPost.com and NewsNoOneCaresAbout.com. And of course there's Wikipedia with its bottomless pit of information.
Without putting any active thought into it, with only the twitch of a muscle, I can find out that a girl I probably never even said one word to in high school is going to have sushi for dinner tonight. I can browse the vacation photos of someone I last saw at my eighth grade graduation. I can learn that Reese Witherspoon is now dating someone new, that Heidi Montag (who the hell is she?) has reached the limit for breast implants, and that some jackass Congressman from Texas yelled "It's a baby killer" not just "baby killer" during the health care reform vote.
Whew. What a lot of useless information. The age of information has made us repositories for junk, turned us into junkies for crap. And I'm (finally) saying enough.
Upon turning 29 nearly two weeks ago, I decided to make this a year of taking stock, of cleaning house, of finding focus. I'm cutting out on the things I don't care about, cutting back on things that suck up my time. I want to spend my time tending a vegetable garden, riding my bike, reading good books, making ice cream. I want to live my own life, not be a voyeur in someone else's.
And so today I'm clearing my cache, cleaning out my bookmarks, letting go of bad Internet habits. You'll still find me on Facebook (but only once or twice a day, not every time my cursor is in the address bar). I'll still be keeping up my blogs and checking in on others (though I'm whittling my visits down to the blogs of friends and families and a very few select others). And I'm sure that every once in a while I'll click on a stupid CNN.com article. But overall I'm breaking the bond. The Internet and I have been spending way too much time together recently, and I really don't like where the relationship is going. I just have too many things I want to do here in the real world.
2 comments:
While I agree with the sentiment, demonizing the digital world as not "the real world" is problematic.
There's stuff you can do in one that you can't do in the other, but I don't really think one is more real than the other. Or even more tangible, social, or physical. Just different.
Related to your post, I spent my walk home considering moving away from commenting to student texts on the computer. It really restricts where I can (physically) read the texts and, ultimately, ties me to the computer more than I already am. Responding digitally has its pros and cons, so I'm going to have to spend more time thinking it out.
Can totally relate to this post Theresa. Especially the statements below:
"I want to live my own life, not be a voyeur in someone else's."
It certainly is frightening the level of online activity many people have. Sometimes, I feel I get sucked in once in a while,
I don't have an iPhone and I don't have a Blackberry. I may get a Blackberry soon but the difference is I'm getting it when I'm ready.
Not to keep up with other people.
One thing I've learned and I'm living to the fullest this year is to "just do me."
Not in a selfish, conceited way but rather, getting back to the core of one's self, one's craft, one's voice, and one's path in life.
Not seeking constant validation from others via social media.
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