24 Hours: Unplugged

Did you miss me? Probably not...I only went "unplugged" for 24 hours, so it only really affected the three people who tried to text me.

My English professor has been lecturing about Postmodernism, and she issued a challenge for extra credit: get rid of the "white noise" of gadgets, texting, and other modern distractions for twenty four hours. Afterward, she wanted us to write a summary of our experience.

Today, I took the challenge. And here is what I wrote:

[warning; this is a slightly longer post than usual. :) ]

I was excited when you issued the challenge to unplug ourselves for twenty-four hours. I reserved the right to call someone on my phone and to work on the computer for school, but I decided that “unplugged” would mean no Facebook, no YouTube, no TV or movies, no texting, no email, no blogging, and no radio. I warned my friends: Don’t text me on Tuesday; I’m going unplugged.

The day started off well, but I had to remind myself that I was not allowed to check my IPhone for the weather forecast. I guess I can just walk outside to see if I’ll need a sweater. It felt a little strange to eat breakfast without checking my email and blog statistics, but as I ate and looked out the window, I remembered again how much I love the tangy sweetness of strawberries. I also left for school on time, which has been rare in the last few weeks.

Between classes, my phone seemed to wink at me from my backpack’s side pocket. My husband and I usually text each other throughout the day, and I had to fight back the urge to send him a message several times. With my hands and attention strangely unoccupied, I began to notice details about my classmates that I’d never seen before. I felt conversational, but most of them were texting and I couldn’t catch their eyes. It made me wonder whether I put off the same vibe of inapproachability when I am fixated on my own phone’s screen.

I went to the library, and there I spent one of the most productive hours of the past month. I chose a table that had no computer so that I would have no chance to “accidentally” check my blog or email. In one hour, I wrote two letters, copied two recipes onto index cards, studied for my next class, and completed an entire Bible study. 

My mind felt calm, sharp, and focused. Usually, I am the queen of multi-tasking. I can cook dinner, do laundry, study for a test and text a friend simultaneously without breaking a sweat. But after Tuesday, I wonder if my mind was designed for single-purposed attention.

I biked home and arrived feeling hungry, thirsty, and restless. I would usually check Facebook at this time of day.  

I feel disconnected from the real world.

A split second after the thought crossed my mind I realized just how ludicrous it was. Here I was, enjoying face-to-face interactions with my husband and the solid realness of my home around me, and I was calling facebook the “real world.” And missing it. When did I make that shift?  At what point did a virtual interface with a blue and white color scheme become more real than the pile of dirty laundry in my closet or the people sitting next to me in class?

Maybe this hurry-scurry lifestyle of production, day-planners and social media has contributed to the postmodernist’s skepticism toward anything claiming to be true or authentic. If they themselves are so enslaved to the busy treadmill, so spread thin that they are unable to give themselves in a genuine way to any one thing, why would they expect something different from society at large?

After a day of being unplugged, I have mixed feelings. 

On the one hand, I enjoyed the calm that settled over my mind in the absence of “white noise”. I felt more productive, more aware, and more relational than usual, and I can see that a constant stream of media and gadget use would almost certainly insulate me from a genuine experience of real life. 

But on the other hand, I felt downright rude to ignore texts from my friends. Unless your phone is lost, or you’re dead, our instant-feedback society has come to expect near instantaneous responses when you text someone. The access we have to any person at any time has become normal—our new reality. To experience the collective reality of our interactive culture, one must forego some depth of interaction with the objective reality, and vice versa.

Since I cannot be a hermit, total absence of white noise is impossible. But in order to avoid the hopelessness and isolation of an in-genuine existence, I am determined to periodically step back, turn off my phone, and taste the strawberries.