Avoid the Glow

I'm writing this on a computer. While listening to an astronomy podcast on another tiny pod computer. If I ever get a phone call, my phone-y computer will alert me. And if I get sick of writing this post on this computer, I can always grab my foldy computer and go somewhere else.

This post is about the ubiquity of computers in my life.

I've been troubled by just how much I use computers all day, every day. As a writer, I sit in front of a screen for hours every day. On a good day, I make the clackity noise for a few of those hours and something gets written. But frequently, I instead make the slow click...that repetitive hitting of hyperlinks and compulsive reading of SEO'd effluvia that doesn't help me write, or help me to be a better person. And when I'm done with my computer, I watch TV or a movie...on a computer.

Why do I do this?

Because I'm human. More specifically, I'm a text-loving American who has access to many sources of edutainment and the well-learned inclination to use them. I can make excuses for some of my online consumption: reading local and world news (legit), author-related social media/networking (mostly legit), research (legit for the first three minutes), or a "break" (WRONG).

I know better. I know I should turn off the internets. I should not queue up all my podcasts. I know I should pull away from the glowy rectangles both for my eyes and my mental health.

And before you email me with a helpful suggestion, yes, I know there's an app for that.

I do turn off the connection sometimes, and the writing usually goes well for an hour or so. But then I turn it on again. What if I got a terribly important email? What if someone awesome followed me? What if my wry comment amused someone? What if I got fan mail?

What if the internet needs me?

Well, so fucking what? None of that is real time-sensitive. Or even that significant. So many of those push notifications and obsessive status checks are just cynical tricks to make me "feel" connected while slipping adverts underneath my skin. But every time I check, I can feel my happiness meter ticking incrementally downward.

Here's a secret:

Consumption does not make one happy. Work makes one happy.

What?

Yes. Working well on a meaningful task leads to joy.

For me: Writing a block of 600 words. Completing a scene. Realizing that one thing the character did will make sense after all. Making the clackity noise. These all bring immeasurable happiness.

For you: well, maybe also making the clackity noise. Maybe writing awesome code. Maybe knitting. Weeding. Penning that snail mail to the governor. Mastering the double timed step. It doesn't matter what. Produce something, and you'll be happier.

So why don't we do this all the time? Because production, in the realest, most scientific-y sense, takes work. We spend thought and time and energy to produce. And we told that is hard.

Why work hard when you don't have to?

Because it will make you happy.

I know that I need to make some changes to my routine to achieve work-based joy. I do not intend to eschew computers and write on paper again (if for no other reason than because I'd need to retype the words into the computer anyway). But I need to figure out how to avoid the glow. This means not only reducing online time, but also podcast listening time, TV time, and ad-laden reading time.

I will consider strategies. I will test some of them. I will probably fail hard.

But I will report back.

In the meantime, if you have thoughts, let me know. I'm sure to respond within seconds.