It was shortly after midnight on Sunday when I realized that
going without my cell phone, computer, TV or iPod for 24 hours was
going to be slightly more difficult than I had anticipated.
We have heard how these new forms of technology are essential
but evil. It allows us to be connected to anyone, anywhere, at any
time, but now we don’t know what it is to be truly alone.
It allows us truly dazzling amounts of information and
entertainment at the push of a button, but it has robbed us of the
ability to enjoy the simple things.
We no longer need to stop and smell the roses when we can find
50 pages of information about roses in seconds, or watch aliens
with lasers obliterate an entire field of them on television.
But how hard would it actually be to technologically segregate
oneself for, say, 24 hours? Such a length of time seems
insignificant. But a 2005 survey by BBDO Worldwide found that 59
percent of Americans wouldn’t lend their cell phone to a
friend for even that long.
12:01 a.m. I turn off my cell phone.
12:15 a.m. I shut down my computer.
The first thing you notice, when you’re on a self-imposed
sabbatical from the interconnected world, is the quiet.
The omnipresent hum of the computer is gone. The background
chatter of Conan’s monologue or an iTunes selection is gone,
too. It’s immediately serene and boring at the same time.
Will I pass out from boredom? Will I miss news of cosmic
importance? What will I do if I find myself in mortal peril, my
only recourse a frantic text message ““ “in mortl dngr
plz help thx”?
Almost half of all PC owners say they “can’t imagine
life without their computers,” according to Wired.com.
Most Americans probably feel the same about their televisions.
Nielsen Media Research reports during 2004-2005 show that the
average household had a TV turned on for 8 hours and 11 minutes per
day ““ an all-time high since it started measuring television
viewing levels in the 1950s.
The numbers show that we rely more on technology than we prefer
to think. So I sit down to read a magazine, then go to bed over an
hour earlier than usual.
2:30 p.m. In the stands at the UCLA basketball game, I explain
my experiment to a friend.
“It’s not that hard, is it?” she asks.
I think to myself, what does she know? She spends her summers in
Vermont without TV, Internet or running water. I think they still
barter with maple syrup.
I miss my cell phone.
3:30 p.m. The game is over, and I discuss the experiment with my
roommate. “I’d rather kill myself than not watch
TV,” he says.
I’d better make sure to mail the electric bill when I get
home.
“Our culture is about distraction, numbing oneself,”
David Greenfield, a Connecticut psychologist, told The Associated
Press. “There is no self-reflection, no sitting still.
It’s absolutely exhausting.”
Study after study shows that Americans, and college students in
particular, are stressed out almost all the time.
Perhaps it’s mentally taxing to know that a minute spent
just sitting is a minute ““ in this new world of connection
““ not spent being productive or being entertained. Or to know
that an important e-mail or phone call could come at any time of
day.
It seems, then, that it would be relaxing to remove that stress
from one’s life for any amount of time.
In reality, it’s not. After all, I realize, those
important e-mails or calls could still be coming ““ I’m
just not receiving them. It’s almost more stressful.
I wonder how long it’s been since I’ve truly been
relaxed. Not really knowing what to do about this, and having no TV
or Internet to distract me, I read another magazine and take a
nap.
7:40 p.m. I wake up from my nap and hear the TV blaring in the
living room. My roommates are not making my mental retreat easy. I
decide to go to the library to work on a paper.
8:05 p.m. I arrive at Young Research Library with a realization
““ I can’t check out books for my paper without using a
computer to look them up. I glance at the wall behind the row of
PCs ““ there is an old-fashioned card catalog there.
I haven’t used a card catalog since something like third
grade, and have no idea how to use one. I don’t even think to
ask a librarian for help.
I realize with shame that if there was a brownout on campus I
would be powerless to find books on 21st century Northeast Asian
strategic relations or the history of Belgian musical theater.
I make an exception to my no-computer rule, and I search for
books on the online catalog. I have failed.
No matter how much we may wail and gnash our teeth, there is no
escaping the permeation of information and technology in our
time.
No sector of our lives is sacred ““ 15 percent of Americans
have interrupted sex to answer a cell phone, according to the BBDO
survey. Paris Hilton, it seems, was simply setting the trend.
We may try to cut down on our dependence, but it causes those of
us who aren’t from backwoods Vermont to feel as if the world
is passing us by, or to realize that our noble principles are less
important than having every possible means at our disposal to be
able to turn in a paper on time.
Deciding to categorize my failure as merely temporary, I ride
out the last hours until midnight reading another magazine and
checking the clock.
But as much as I find it to be boring, annoying and difficult to
go for hours on end without checking sports scores or my e-mail, I
decide that it would be a worthwhile venture for all students to
embark on.
They could realize what a hold these technologies have on their
lives, so they can make an effort to re-evaluate what’s
actually important. I enjoy being able to send a text message to a
friend whenever I see a man with a funny mustache, but I suppose
it’s not the most important thing in the world.
12:01 a.m. I turn my computer back on. I have 10 new e-mails.
Seven are spam, and none are important. Maybe I’ll reconsider
moving to Vermont.
E-mail Atherton before he decides to become a hermit at
datherton@media.ucla.edu.