Instagram has been glitchy the past two weeks. About half of you have been unable to access the links I’ve posted there, despite going through all the steps (recommended phlegmatically by Instagram staff) of uninstalling the app, downloading the latest version of the app, logging out and in, etc. In the midst of this, a reader (and fellow business owner) messaged me to say:
“I try to remember that the whole internet is a miracle. I am old enough to vividly remember the before times. I’ll take a few glitches.”
A few weeks prior to that, Caroline Weaver (who has an excellent shopping newsletter hunting down unique, well-designed objects and items for everyday life), wrote: “Some things just can’t be found. And sometimes a suitable replacement is equally impossible. Channel some pre-internet energy and accept that maybe we won’t always be access to everything.”
Pre-internet energy. I’ve sat with the concept a handful of times since encountering it, and it continues to roll away from me like yarn. I can barely (if at all) remember what it was like not to be tethered to the web my entire day.
Is that a bad thing, I wonder?
Personally, I am neither philistine nor luddite when it comes to technology. Though I do fastidiously avoid holding my phone in certain contexts (will not bring to the dining room table; will keep on the table behind me while watching TV; am fairly strict about not looking at it while in bed at night), I try not to exercise too much guilt around my phone usage. I am, after all, the happy beneficiary of a web-enabled world, and most of my creative energy flows through and onto a screen. My livelihood would not be possible were it not for the modes of instant, digital communication made available to me over the past few decades.
I have friends who — by contrast — exercise a kind of asceticism when it comes to cell phones. One of them literally never uses her phone in front of her children. And I mean never. Many of us (I will include myself in this count) fret about the impression we are making on our children, who see us staring at a small plastic square for much of the day, while the activities we are performing on that square are completely invisible to them. We might be responding to a work crisis, or grocery shopping online, or reading a novel, or pulling up a recipe, or checking medical results in a portal, but all of those “healthful” and “necessary” activities are obscured to them. This alarms even me (a declared tech proponent!), as I not only feel that my “labor” is imperceptible to them, and that I am therefore unable to model the action and follow-through I would like them to witness, but that I am inadvertently bestowing importance on the widget in front of me rather than the activities it is enabling. I do not want them to mistake equipment for prowess. On this point, I am reminded of a clever anecdote a read a few years ago: A celebrated photographer attended a dinner party, at which the host commented: “You take such fabulous photographs; you must have fantastic cameras.” At the end of the dinner, the photographer approached the host and said: “You made such a fabulous meal; you must have a fantastic stove.”
There is something sticky about that concept as it pertains to phone use in front of children. I haven’t made much headway with it, but it clings like a burr. The only narrow solution I’ve devised is announcing, audibly, what I am doing on my phone when in their presence and — if appropriate — sharing my screen. “I’m ordering laundry detergent!” or “I’m placing our lunch order!” or “I’m answering a text from your teacher!” These often feel like over-performed disclaimers, but that’s where I’ve landed, with some ungainliness.
Setting that issue aside, though, I am interested by the — what shall we call them? — perceived morals of cell phone use. I have the impression that people find themselves “better than” — cleansed — if they use their phones less than their peers. And, look. I can’t help but admit I feel the same from time to time. Is there anything more off-putting than walking into a room or onto a subway car in which everyone is dialed into his or her screen? Especially on public transit, it can feel slightly garish, slightly post-apocalyptic: we are automatons, programmed to stare into screens. The crotchety old woman inside wants to rattle the cage: “Put down the phone! Interact with people! All romance is gone!” Then again, my phone was a God-send on the daily commute to and from Flatiron to drop off my daughter at school up in Manhattan. I listened to podcasts; I read books; I responded to reader comments; I kept tabs on my son by way of texts from my husband; I jotted down the flotsam and jetsam that might eventually find their way into essays. The phone enabled me to fill my own cup and take care of business during a 40 minute period that would have otherwise entailed staring blankly at the filthy Subway floor while the car light fritzed on and off overhead.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m loathe to draw a hard line. There is a lot of nuance here. And it is OK to admit that “the Internet is a miracle” and also strive to channel “pre-Internet energy.” It has been said that the sign of genius is being able to hold two contradictory thoughts at the same time. I think technology asks this of us. We must embrace it and keep it at arm’s length. We must appreciate its facilities and also cling to the useful habits of “the befores.” I agree, for example, that the Internet has taught us that anything is findable, that anything can be delivered immediately, but much of the actual living of life runs against that grain: in real life, we lose things permanently, and we spend a lot of time waiting. And so we must be circumspect about the habits it is instilling.
Where do you land on this, Magpies?
Post-Scripts.
+I still practice the one-screen-at-a-time rule.
+The concept of a realistic preview has been so helpful to me.
+On remaining interesting to your partner after having children.
Shopping Break.
+Have you used cocofloss before? Trust me when I say you will never go back to the drugstore variety. We just ran out and were appalled that we ever used Glide! We instantly reordered.
+These wide legs are CHIC. Pair with a cream sweater for a winter white moment.
+Just ordered this jute rug for in front of our stove in the kitchen.
+This Sleeper dress is 50% off and I own it in two patterns/colors already — it was one of my favorite styles while pregnant and then nursing thanks to the self-tie waist and button-front.
+Cute scalloped toy bins. (And some thoughts on toy organization here.)
+Speaking of: a round-up of slow-burn toys that have stood the test of time in our home.
+OK, this LWD is perfect. Liesel from Sound of Music vibes.
+I have a few new beauty products from Merit on their way to me: this bronzer stick (which I’ve seen used as more of a contouring stick by beauty pros — intrigued to test?), this award-winning blender brush, and this “complexion stick” which promises to replace both foundation and concealer in your cosmsetic bag?
+Beauty products I cannot live without.
+I accidentally bought my son boxer-briefs instead of briefs and — he LOVES them. I can’t tell you how excited they made him? And they are kind of the cutest thing ever.
+Love this cover-up (60% off!)
+These jeans are on my lust list for the new year.
+This linen romper is so haute couture — so different — and only $115. Imagine with a strappy black sandal. (Sandal look for less here.)
+10 things you need in your kitchen.
+This Pixie Lily dress is on my spring shopping list for mini.
+These jammies are on sale plus an extra 60% off (at time of writing this) — would be cute for a boy on Valentine’s Day. (More VDay jammies here.)