The smartphone is a digital pet
Lately, I find myself in a virtuous cycle of trading the smartphone for sensible alternatives. Apps for tools like paper and pen and timers. Will be interesting to see the long-term effects of this, if any, but for now I’m feeling lighter.
The smartphone has a very real weight to it. Like the One Ring. It calls to you, even if it’s just sitting there, blank. It whispers “come, pick me up, I’m a window to all that there is”.
When did we decide that we need everything, everywhere, all at once? Was there a glaring need for a device like the smartphone? A computer in your pocket, always on, always connected, built to vibrate and make noises in response to all sorts of stimuli: reminders, emails, messages, likes, hearts, retweets, reports, alerts.
Forget the Tamagotchi: the smartphone is the ultimate digital pet. It demands your constant attention. And it is aggressively personal: you give it your contacts, your logins, your notes, your tasks, your every move. In doing so, it becomes an extension of you. No wonder some people wear their phones around their necks. It’s a means to connect and to escape. A portal to anywhere but the here and now. Ultimately, a way to keep you busy at all times.
When did we decide that we must be busy at all times? When did we decide that reaching for the smartphone and start tapping, touching and scrolling away should be the default idle animation for the human being?
I’m glad to be making an effort in the opposite direction. Paper doesn’t demand your attention. It’s perfectly happy to sit there, waiting for its time to be useful. I appreciate its silent companionship. And I appreciate being more aware of myself, of others and of the world. There’s a depth to everything that demands to be explored, and anything that gets in the way of that pursuit should be put in its place. My smartphone now rests in the hallway by the front door, to be picked up only when absolutely necessary.
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