It’s Sunday, and I still haven’t achieved digital deliverance…
My phone — with all its apps, all its miraculous reach, its privacy shattering surveillance, its fun little camera, its maps, its distraction, its convenience, and its frustration — blinked out on Friday.
I sensed its brain was scrambled when it wouldn’t update or restore, and so I headed to the Genius Bar with faint hope it could be repaired.
A new phone in hand I resolved (again) to limit my screen time. Yet the first thing I did on returning home was play with the camera’s portrait settings and ham it up to send an Animoji to The Mister.
I was laughing and smiling and feeling as young and happy as the luminous lady pictured above.
So much for my digital detox.
I should take a page from a friend I grew up with, she works in NYC. At one point, many years ago, she brokered the exchange of 60 million dollars in bearer bonds from one bank to another. The bonds were picked up by a courier, carried to my friend’s office where they were counted, and then transferred across town. At any point my friend and the courier could have disappeared to points unknown with a fortune split between them — a bearer bond belongs to whoever holds it — just like in the movies. She never did disappear. Her word is her bond (get it?). She still works in the financial industry, and you can’t speak with her by cell phone. Face to face or landlines only. I don’t know why, exactly. But I suspect it has something to do with the vulnerability of digital communication.
What do you do to wean yourself from the glowing screen? All advice is welcome!