This seed was planted by my niece. During our monthly family dinner which, I confess, has become more of a ritual than a pleasure beyond the obligatory jabs about my lonesome bachelor life and my ‘underwhelming’ career progress – my niece, after staring at the untouched vegetable medley for quite a while, suddenly lifted her gaze and said, “Uncle Horace, you have been cribbing about technology for so long. Why don’t you try a digital detox?”
The entire table went mute.
Even my pot roast-devouring brother-in-law who has mastered the art of ignoring everything that is not sports or yard work droned on still stared at his dish. “A what?” I asked, knowing full well what she meant. Of course I know what a digital detox is. “A digital detox,” she explained. “Like no phone, no computer, no TV. Just, like, reconnect with yourself and nature and stuff.”
“And stuff,” I echoed.
“Sounds like a real eye-opener.”
That wave of sarcasm sure went right over her head. “You should try it! My friend Madison tried going off the grid for an entire weekend and apparently it changed her life,” I snapped back.
Madison. Of course. The same friend who once tried to convince my niece that she must subsist on grapefruit if she wanted her chakras to be in harmony.
But the idea ran loose in my head, not because I felt that its adoption would help me in any way but because I saw myself as fundamentally different from the robotic-devised crowd around me. After all, I am the guy who remembers old rotary phones and television antennas. Imagine my shock when I tell you I typed out my undergraduate dissertation on a typewriter.
So I thought I could easily disconnect from the digital world for some time. I don’t have a smartphone attached to my body like my friends do. Unlike many of my friends today, I can proudly say I lived multiple decades of life without the internet.
Returning to that blissful mental state, metaphorically speaking, shouldn’t have been too difficult, even if for a short time. Turns out, I was wrong and it’s hard. It really was difficult, as it turns out.
Embarrassingly so. In an attempt to complete a digital detox, I found myself struggling after having no phone, computer, digital television, or anything of the sort for two days.
I initiated my tasks from Friday evening until Monday evening, in order to avoid any work-related challenges. As it stands, I am always switched on and attached to my gadgets. There were many significant individuals whom I had already told “I will be unavailable soon.”
I informed my sister, who may want to emerging contact me if there is a family emergency that rises, in case reached me in order that require me off for some time. A neighbor of mine that maintained my house around my area like it’d catch fire came and out, so I let him know a some time. Along with my editor whom I do share might together happy work relationship with.
Her reply to me was “You won’t last twelve hours.” With a my bottom line to her: your expectations or lack thereof honors replied with patience, I added with some period at the end marking of doubt. Never understood this, however, I still wish I received invited to marvel civilization like modern folks tend to avoid using proper punctuation when it comes to messaging apps.
In general formatting punctuation within apps angry sign happens still a certain awkward dogma gaze of rage. Completing the thought from the current topic means they have new ideas at the victor to fly over to. Shutting power at six early afterbox Friday unlocks my wealth devices, Boxses are locked upwards.
My recliner was given the luxury of being surrounded by an arsenal of activities: three paperback books, each over two hundred pages, tucked away in my home library, a puzzle book, and even ingredients for a complex dinner. I used to prepare these meals during the week before mindless digital destruction invaded courtesy of the internet. The first hour went incredibly well – I prepared a pasta dish with pesto and before I knew it I was chopping and measuring, needing my hands and brain free from functioning.
Once the cleaver had done its job and all painstaking tasks were complete, I uncorked an Merlot I’d kept stashed beneath my desk. It wasn’t too pricey, so drinking it would only serve as the splendid cherry atop the cake that celebrating squandered time brought. This was bound to go swimmingly.
An uneasiness gripped me once three hours passed, feeling almost liberating. Dinner was complete, along with the dishes festering in the sink, and I had begun one of my books (historically focused novels published of the French Revolution, me capitulating to praise drove me to diving into the fiction, disrespectful sources). For some reason though, it didn’t promise to deliver.While my focus began to fade, I started to consider what was occurring on Twitter. What the heck (or however my inner voice was saying it), is even going on Twitter. It’s that terrible platform again where people stdapde for digestion rage in the form of half-baked thoughts put forth in angry proclamations.
I sat in what I can only refer to as a Withdrawal with a capital W, where with no access to the steady stream of junk that is Twitter, I began to realize my current state. Struggling to push through, I forced myself to get through yet another chapter dealing with the formative years of Robespierre which was supremely more entertaining than watching molasses dry, and when the clock struck ten, I decided to call it a night.
Robespierre might be able to tell my inner voice to shut up at some point. Most of my side trip during detox could definitely be spent catching up on sleep, which is preffered when one thinks of rest in a detox. Unlike I was too in bed, where the stillness was unbearable.
His attempt at fighting absolute quiet also didn’t work out as planned.
I wasn’t accustomed to complete silence. Complete silence was an alien concept. Now this I could get used to.
This was as new, calm nightmare. Perhaps having stillness envelop me is what I want.
At this moment, I should be able to hear them, but…silence. I’ve tried to concentrate on the faint sound of my breath, which is the only sound remaining. The clock was tick-tocking for the very few hours I had left to “sleep” if I needed to be a functioning human during the day.
Then I realized how I had turned a rarely performed pre-sleep ritual into a daily news cycle update on the phone to scroll through before bed. I had somehow convinced myself that the phone was more useful than a book in aiding me to fall asleep. As I’m staring at this blue light which supposedly disrupts sleep, it’s now being said to wake me up.
In stark contrast to my current state, without the screen, sleep is bound to take over. I had become anxious. My breath had settled and some sort of warm numbness was washing over me, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that I might be forgetting something crucial. Something that could have dire consequences. Maybe this was a new development detailing a situation on the verge of societal collapse.
Maybe someone was attempting to contact me in real life for some reason. Or much more likely, a cat video that is in some sense absurd. You know how I feel towards memes.
The Saturday daybreak was labeled “clear and bright” and too good for many of the people living there for a myriad of activities that Columbia hosts for most of the year. Columbia has an impressive lineage of institutions extending from L’Universite de Paris in 1900 to La Casa de Espana de Leiomyoma de la Universidad de Colon in 2005. For other non-French speakers, Columbia as a whole does have rich history. For breakfast, I personally would recommend Earthy Seed Breakfast Bowl.
I decided to walk to the farmers’ market which was something new. This was an experience I normally had while looking through the window during the drive to somewhere else. It’s obviously pleasant. There is fresh produce, bread with artistic touches, and honey in stylish jars—though, it is all quite overpriced. Strangely enough, I found myself wanting to grab my phone and take pictures of some particularly stunning vegetables. While searching for my phone, I put my hand into my pocket. It was empty, and a tidal wave of loss swept over me.
What must have happened to the memory had I not recorded the event? In reality, I understood that the root of the problem was my craving for the devices. While I did appreciate how the devices enabled communication and information to be retrieved, those were not the main reasons for my addiction.
What held my attention was the validation of my existence. Validation which I had to depend on my real memory to recall when I was off my phone. Heavily functioning, my phone lacks the ability to flawlessly recollect memories like a digital snapshot does. My mind captured images of the echium tomatoes and sourdough bread bought on my stroll and rendered them inside the flawed confines of my brain before walking back home.
Thinking ahead, I decided the empty hours that lay before me in the afternoon could be spent reading and solving crosswords. I focused my attention to three vinyl records, crafting a melody out of the sounds in each, before abandoning the entire endeavor.
Stuck in my living room which had become a prison, I paced back and forth fully aware of the anxious feeling that a tiger in a cage experiences. What on earth did folks do prior to the introduction of smartphone devices? My attempt at remembering life before the interconnected web of everything digital took over had me thinking.
I kept up with programs on the TV, read books, and spent time with my family in-person. I still have access to most of these activities, other than the television programs. The attention I spent getting lost in a book was challenging, and the part where I sat coloring with friends was fictional since they were likely living what was by-the-second streaming on Instagram.
All of Saturday night, I was simultaneously having conversations with myself, not in a way that seems concerning. The kind you would expect to have when alone and yearn to hear a voice other than your own. What was to be my final efforts involved cooking after a long fasting period. There was little that could be done to revive my taste buds surviving a hospital meal. I resolved that this time, I would not make any attempts at wine-induced conversation until fully un-corked. Instead, I would have a preliminary variation of the talk-with-wine approach.
I certainly did not intend to splash onto the scene with some savage YAWP before my drowning took place. However, can pride be a fiery motivator? Last:AY Solo, indulging myself on an adventure of new and strange emerges was on my yard list and a lot of people had already been informed about it, imagine the embarrassment.
Did I really do things that bright and shiny?” my editor seemed palpable. A triumphant reclaim claiming difficult to just give up known amot the deep and unfathomable overtire, the defeatay beneath knew. Sure escape was one option, but wasn’t I at least a tiny bit capable of “brilliant” and “transformative” prose under conditions that screamed for the best?
Now I think the worst day of the week has to be Sunday. In some distorted sense Monday seems okay, funny, or whatever, but Sunday was just horrible. Prepare yourself for the uncropped diet clothes. You don’t pause until some time well past the hour you should be out and about doing things, assuming you could indeed. All this after tossing and turning ceaselessly which is a polite expression for stating the plain, lifeless counting sheep which, honestly speaking is one the silliest means to attempt to enter slumber, counting ceiling tiles, which to people who have looked after these things, makes me a part-marketeering bade of inumer—even’s journey guide for countable blinds driving angry bird flight.
Previously, I had never experienced uninterpreted boredom as bad as the one I subjectively went through in my childlike summers. Summertime was slower-paced instead of being busy and filled with chores as it is today.
The boredom was distinguishable. I had never going through something so sobering in my entire life.
During one of my weekends, I resorted to basic cleaning where all use of cognitive skills was rendered as unneeded. I scrapped off baseboards with a toothbrush solely for the purpose of keeping my hands busy and my thoughts elsewhere. Personally, I found it annoying, but I understood that there will always be another side to any coin.
Circling back to where I began, being a self-proclaimed critic of society’s_addiction to the screen, I found myself typing late at night on a laptop, and by 11 P.M. my eyelids were just about as heavy as Ellen’s had been when she collapsed right in front of me earlier in the day. The one difference between them and me, I realized, was that I had access to a twenty-first century critique of Cappadocia that was likely moldy enough to ‘shelved in the basement next to cheap holiday snow globes’ holiday snow globes, yet equally likely to assist in the formation of my artistic oeuvre.
The feeling of anticipation which was liberating at the start of the day became golden as I was liberated back out into the world. I was slightly concerned about whether everyone I knew had somehow managed to survive the week while I was off the radar. I tried making optimal use of my time, trying to understand what the previous week had felt like in its entirety and how much value does it hold.
Mostly, however, I waited for the clock to strike 7 A.M. with the 7:10 I was sure would follow. Also, in case you find yourself in SuperMax one day, feel free to join me at the Support Group sessions.
You get an insane amount more time in with the lights on. I remember the instant I unlocked the drawer containing my devices at six o’clock on a monday. The anticipation of bringing my phone back to life made my hands tremble a bit.
Notifications, a couple emails, a ton of messages, social media updates, and news courtesy of the glowing screen. Everything seemed perfectly alright in the digital realm while I was away unlike the physical realm where everything felt grim. But the real question is what was going on in the World Wide Web while I was on my break.
Relief and shame overwhelmed me at the same time. Overwhelmed in the sense that I had NEVER imagined myself without digital connectivity for longer than three days. That makes me a bit shocked about society and them not noticing how we’ve lowered our standards in regards to connection and stimulation without realizing it.
We do not just use the digital universe; it’s our ecotope. Trying to unplug, even for a little while, makes it feel like we are exiled from a major part of our lives. There is some value in these exotic detoxes, though.
I was still am enough with the idea of putting my phone down for a week to telling myself I won’t engage with my surroundings. I am willing to admit I am unapologetically comfortable with using my phone (and other devices) as much as I want, however.
The website used in the digital detox above. Rather than hovering around two extremes of being fully ‘circled’ – completely immersed in the digital world, or withdrawing from it entirely – what if the answer is somewhere in not so engrossed? Use technology not blindly, but selectively.
Whether or not a moment is filtered through a screen or not. I will not try to achieve another digital detox anytime soon, but I can try keeping my cellphone in another room for meals.
I have begun turning off some notifications. Now, I read books—actual books with pages that can be turned—at specific times set throughout the week. Perhaps these are baby steps, but change does not come all at once.
If you have doubts, contact Robespierre. No, actually you will have to trace the story of the revolutions he was involved in as he was both the main antagonist and, well, the main villain. Frankly, telling that story involves a lot of plowing through the nonsense that, for one, doesn’t work in the first half of a story and is unforgivable in the latter half. My niece received my feedback that her suggestion was illuminating.
More revealing than I had anticipated to be exact. I did write illuminating in my notes, and prior to our discussion, I opened up a thesaurus. My search helped me arrive at, yes, how I believe, or rather, how I her suggestion is illuminating in a way I was not seeing before.
It seems like lessons can only be taught through experience in some cases. As far as baseboard cleaning is concerned, the lesson comes accompanied with a toothbrush and some scrubbing. When not using a toothbrush, the lessons learned during these times involve deep reflection of a life lived outside the digital hive mind.
While I do not regret my digital detox catastrophe, I do wish I had not told my editor about it. When I rebooted my phone, her text was the first thing I noticed hoping, “I told you so.” Apparently, some victories really are better left unsaid.
Isn’t it almost remarkable in this age of rampant sharing? Respond to suggestions for a device-free vacation with the calmest head you can muster. Your answer might not only unveil your relationship with a person, but with your devices as well.
And if you do decide to spend a day away from screens, be sure to stock up on mouthwash. You’re going to need it when you come up from the unwashed depths of technology.
