Screen Time
I'm not the biggest fan of technology. Don't get me wrong, email is awesome for avoiding the phone, and having digital copies of movies has helped get rid of physical STUFF. Oh, and a backlit kindle means I can read in bed for HOURS in the dark while Chris sleeps without him groaning, "Turn off the light!" (assuming I can stay awake for more than a page). However, on the whole, I feel like all the screens in my life detract from it.
I mean, I could go into how Chris's eyes and attention are perpetually glued to his phone screen, but then he'll get mad at me and point out that one time I was checking Facebook while a child was trying to show me something so obviously I'm equally guilty and have no place to talk which is a crock because I have a reputation that will soon be on par with my mother's of never having my phone around me which is why it takes me hours and hours to respond to texts. So, you know. I won't say anything about that.
On Tuesday, I arrived at the office, only to learn that our desktop computers weren't working. At all. Heads popped up among all the hamster wheel slots--I mean, cubicles--and co-workers, like, talked to each other.
It turns out there's very little you can accomplish sans computer.
Eventually, it was time for our staff meeting. This one had a more relaxed tone, as we hamsters weren't so dang fidgety, thinking about all the work we needed to get back to. Because we couldn't The conversation was laid back. It meandered along many tangents. And we didn't feel guilty about it.
After the meeting, the bulk of us shot the shit, talking about nothing for a bit. Alas, I eventually found a way, through the COO's computer, to access a text and print its page proofs and thus became productive. But the whole tone of the day was different.
Which made the obvious more obvious. There is value in having the technology we rely on--those freaking screens screens screens--fail us. Being forced to shift gears and (OMG!) interact with people has value. After all, don't most of us get a little thrill when the power goes out? Why do we secretly enjoy that? Is it because we're forced to be more creative to accomplish certain things? Is it the implosion of routine? Is it the opportunity to more intimately interact with people? Is it all of these things?
But then . . . why must we be FORCED? By tech failure or power outages?
Eh, I don't know. I just hate screens. I'm so aware of their intrusion. Even though I'm staring at one right now as I type.
Okay, enough about screens. On to the printed word.
Lorelei has interspersed some princess stories to with her Room on the Broom reading demands. While I'm sooooo tired of princesses, at least she's branching out.
She also thinks she can read, which is actually pretty adorable. She'll grab a book. "Do you want me to read that to you?" I'll ask.
"No!" she says. "I'll read it MYSELF." And she flips through the pictures, telling herself some version of the story.
Charlotte and I are still reading Unusual Chickens for the Exceptional Poultry Farmer, which is holding her interest more now. Lorelei has recently come along for the reading ride too, though I'm not sure how much of the story she's comprehending. No matter. She provides clucking sound effects for us.
I'm reading Michael Cunningham's By Nightfall, which is good and heady. As Cunningham always is.
And I recently finished Encountering the Book of Isaiah. I had started more than a year ago--maybe even two years ago--and set aside because it's BORING. However, when the adult ed class at church did a series on Isaiah, I revived it. You know, to learn more. Lemme tell you: If you're looking for a book to suck all the life and poetry out of the book of Isaiah, look no further than this repetitive, drier-than-dust text. It has a conservative bent to it as well, which caused many an Ashley eye roll. Oh well. I finished it and it is now in the donation box in the basement.
I mean, I could go into how Chris's eyes and attention are perpetually glued to his phone screen, but then he'll get mad at me and point out that one time I was checking Facebook while a child was trying to show me something so obviously I'm equally guilty and have no place to talk which is a crock because I have a reputation that will soon be on par with my mother's of never having my phone around me which is why it takes me hours and hours to respond to texts. So, you know. I won't say anything about that.
On Tuesday, I arrived at the office, only to learn that our desktop computers weren't working. At all. Heads popped up among all the hamster wheel slots--I mean, cubicles--and co-workers, like, talked to each other.
It turns out there's very little you can accomplish sans computer.
Eventually, it was time for our staff meeting. This one had a more relaxed tone, as we hamsters weren't so dang fidgety, thinking about all the work we needed to get back to. Because we couldn't The conversation was laid back. It meandered along many tangents. And we didn't feel guilty about it.
After the meeting, the bulk of us shot the shit, talking about nothing for a bit. Alas, I eventually found a way, through the COO's computer, to access a text and print its page proofs and thus became productive. But the whole tone of the day was different.
Which made the obvious more obvious. There is value in having the technology we rely on--those freaking screens screens screens--fail us. Being forced to shift gears and (OMG!) interact with people has value. After all, don't most of us get a little thrill when the power goes out? Why do we secretly enjoy that? Is it because we're forced to be more creative to accomplish certain things? Is it the implosion of routine? Is it the opportunity to more intimately interact with people? Is it all of these things?
But then . . . why must we be FORCED? By tech failure or power outages?
Eh, I don't know. I just hate screens. I'm so aware of their intrusion. Even though I'm staring at one right now as I type.
Okay, enough about screens. On to the printed word.
Lorelei has interspersed some princess stories to with her Room on the Broom reading demands. While I'm sooooo tired of princesses, at least she's branching out.
She also thinks she can read, which is actually pretty adorable. She'll grab a book. "Do you want me to read that to you?" I'll ask.
"No!" she says. "I'll read it MYSELF." And she flips through the pictures, telling herself some version of the story.
Charlotte and I are still reading Unusual Chickens for the Exceptional Poultry Farmer, which is holding her interest more now. Lorelei has recently come along for the reading ride too, though I'm not sure how much of the story she's comprehending. No matter. She provides clucking sound effects for us.
I'm reading Michael Cunningham's By Nightfall, which is good and heady. As Cunningham always is.
And I recently finished Encountering the Book of Isaiah. I had started more than a year ago--maybe even two years ago--and set aside because it's BORING. However, when the adult ed class at church did a series on Isaiah, I revived it. You know, to learn more. Lemme tell you: If you're looking for a book to suck all the life and poetry out of the book of Isaiah, look no further than this repetitive, drier-than-dust text. It has a conservative bent to it as well, which caused many an Ashley eye roll. Oh well. I finished it and it is now in the donation box in the basement.
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