the digital delinquents

Just yesterday, a closer colleague commented, “Lennie, has anyone told you that you’re a very different person now since you got your iPhone? Like… the first thing you do when you go to places is to check in.” 

She wasn’t complaining; she was just comparing to the person I was only a month ago—the loser one without a smartphone. Indeed, I will readily and happily admit that the iPhone 4 has revolutionised my life as I allow it to keep me “connected” most of the time. In many ways, it feels brilliantly liberating—for example, I’d never have imagined myself using my phone as a modem, or freezing time on a frame almost whenever I like. But is it really liberating? And at what cost?

I moan if I can’t get a line or if my Internet connection keeps breaking off. I get upset if a cafe’s WiFi is down but I’ve already bought my overpriced coffee—cover charge for loaning a table and chair, the aircond and WiFi. I unconsciously allow Foursquare app crashes to deepen my frown lines, when I can’t check in to show that hey, I have a life too, guys! I’m just like you! I go to work! I go out for lunch! I occasionally visit a mall! Now where are my points for doing all these things? Hrmph! (Game mechanics - that’s altogether a different post.)

My point is, mentally and physically, I’m constantly tired these days because I haven’t been able to “switch off”. There is a compulsion to keep up with where your friends are and what they’re doing; not because I care so much, but more, I suspect, because I now have the tools to do it. I’ve acclimatised myself to instant updates, news on the go, camera apps that let me post immediately to Facebook. Even playing the guitar happens on my phone through an app called iShred. I’m so sucked into my 4.5-inch iPhone screen in my free time, and my 13-inch Macbook when I’m working. My life is starting to look like Steve Job’s projected profits for next quarter. I have very little negative space. 

I need to pause and disconnect. I need to find a park where I can take leisurely walks. I need to check in to that quiet, Internet-free spot in my life, and steal back its mayorship.