How To Disappear
How to Disappear
I’m trying to be online less. It’s not going well.
The way Millennials and Gen Xers talk about the internet is like hearing Baby Boomers talk about television. When I think of things like Geocities sites, or Ebaum’s World, or the concept of dial-up, I might as well be shouting we only had three channels! to a bunch of bored-looking youths. The internet used to be jagged fonts and obnoxious color combinations and midi-file music you couldn’t turn off. It looked like something. It was somewhere you could go, hang out for a few hours, and then sign off to do other things. It was a place.
This is how I talk about the internet now.
Waxing nostalgic about the old days is not appealing to me, and “being online” was not a major part of my life as a teen, so I mostly just bring this up as a way of explaining why, more than nostalgia alone, I miss when the internet was a place. Mostly because I used to be allowed to leave.
Technology is creepy to me. I used to say I wasn’t a Luddite, but then I learned more about who the Luddites actually were and I’m fine with that term now. The short version: the Luddites were factory workers who, during the Industrial Revolution, questioned the use of machinery meant to replace their jobs. They protested and were shot down (literally) not only by the factory owners, but also by the British government. And since history is written by the victors, the term Luddite became synonymous with being technophobic and anti-progress. Really, they just feared for their livelihoods and asked their bosses questions. As a writer watching magazines fold and more and more freelance gigs going to AI, I, too, have questions.
Obviously, you are reading an essay I composed in Google Docs via a newsletter that arrived in your inbox, or because I linked to it on my Instagram and Twitter pages. I am very online. I like the internet. I embrace technology when I can see its purpose for my needs or wants, and usually never before that. I’m skeptical of people who do. The ones who jump head-first into a new toy without first asking, "Why do I need this? What might go wrong? Will this, in the end, be actively good, or just different?" In a disaster movie, I would be Dr. Ian Malcolm railing against the scientists who did not stop to think whether they should. Perhaps this makes me a Luddite. Mostly it makes me tired.
There is so much I like about technology, and there are many, many aspects of it I will keep using and embracing. But, I have a headache, and my own reliance on having my phone with me at all times - and never truly being unable to reach - has become troubling to me. So, now seems like a good time to reassess what technology needs to be for me personally. Once I send this, I will very likely continue to sit at my computer. Will probably hop over to Twitter to see the latest mess. Hop back over to my work email. Open up my phone and send a few texts, or play a game, or succumb to some Instagram ad or other. I’m certainly not going anywhere, but lately I’ve been catching myself actively trying, and failing, to log off, so I'm taking that as a sign that I should listen to whatever it is I'm telling myself.
This will be a process. Perhaps even a futile one. I'll let you know how it goes. In the meantime, I'll leave you with a quote from the brilliant Michaela Coel from her Emmy speech that I return to whenever I feel overwhelmed by the pressure to put out content, reply immediate to messages, and be part of something: “In a world that entices us to browse through the lives of others to help us better determine how we feel about ourselves, and to in turn feel the need to be constantly visible, for visibility these days seems to somehow equate to success—do not be afraid to disappear. From it. From us. For a while. And see what comes to you in the silence.”FUN STUFF
What I'm Reading: White Cat, Black Dog by Kelly Link
What I'm Watching: The Diplomat (Netflix)
What I'm Listening To: You Must Remember This: Erotic '90s
What I'm Eating: Just coffee
Sarah Writes Too is a free monthly newsletter of short personal essays written by me (Sarah LaPolla). The best way to show support for this newsletter is to subscribe, share, or leave me a tip. To send questions or comments about my posts, you can reply to this email or find me on Twitter at @sarahlapolla. Thank you for reading!