Anne Lamott, in her marvelous book, HELP, THANKS, WOW talks about the how much time, effort and attention go to "fixing our toys." It's so true, and it's such a luxury problem to have that A) I have toys, and B) I have the time and wherewithal to either fix them, or arrange to have them fixed. That being said, it feels like that is all I really do anymore. It's enough to make me want to go off the grid, live in seclusion, away from the Internet and 3G, away from voicemail, email, text messaging, passwords and comment verifications, away from remote controls, alarms, reminders, alerts, DVRs, anything with a battery, cord, or button. I fantasize about holing up in a remote cabin with a fire, candles, a good (real, hold-in-your-hands) book, and a cozy blanket. I want only to hear the crackling of a fire, and not the buzz of technology.
I think the next up and coming professions will be those that help people break and/or recover from technology addiction/overload. Don't get me wrong, I love at as much as the next guy, I'm all over my Smart TV with the Netflix button on the remote. Next episode of "Scandal" ready and waiting for me at my command? Yes, please! I want to marry my iPhone. I adore text messagine. Emojis? Delightful. But when I walked with Kathleen this morning and we caught up on our weeks, all I could really report on mine were Comcast and Apple stories that I'm sure, bored her to tears.
I don't really know where I'm going with all this, other than to say technology is both a blessing and a curse, and on a continuum. To strike that perfect balance where it's working for us, not against us, where it's making our lives simpler, not more complicated, where it's connecting us in an authentic way, not inauthentic, manufactured, made-for-Facebook sound bites, that's the challenge.