The life and times of a creative with an iPhone.
|Let me begin with a moment of transparency: I have spent a whole day and a half not coming up with the story I wanted for this editorial.
Kyle and I just got back from dinner and during this lovely, uncomplicated meal at one of our favorite Lebanese restaurants on Beverly, we talked about the invisible force that has already settled into our lives in the most depressing revelation. We're talking about the distraction of technology - a topic most dissected in respect to our entitled generation - and how after a few enlightened moments with respective swigs of our Malbec, we've concluded that we are literally addicted to our phones...and social media, and texts, and likes, and the number of emojis, etc. I mean, I don't remember the last time I didn't put my phone on the table, face up or face down, when I'm out with company. This entire day, whilst I struggled to come up with the first few sentences of the original subject of Growth for this editorial, I resorted to little breaks of Angry Birds and Instagram scrolling to relieve stress and frustration. I also spent a nice chunk of my afternoon, cozying up in my cashmere, reading Cereal Volume 12 and the latest Gentlewoman with the erubescent cover and the stunning Zadie Smith. But every time my phone vibrated, I interrupted my reading with a glance at notifications, oblivious to what I'm actually excited to see.
The phone is an incessant cycle of distraction and, perhaps, a stifling effect on my creativity. Notifications are like white noise. Swiping down on notifications has become a compulsive reflex. "Multi-tasking" is editing in Lightroom, while tabs of clickbait articles line the top of my screen, and Hulu is playing in the peripheral. I was confounded at how intense of a writer's block I unusually had, and as soon as the words I searched for all day were on the tip of my tongue, my phone pings.
8 years ago, when withdrawal called, I'd slip on my black UGG boots and letters, walk down the street to my best friend's apartment and gossip until we'd take a nap. Today, I'd simply send a text to my favorite group chat that includes my best friends who are succeeding all over the world at the moment. Technology is a blessing and a responsibility, and I've since muted notifications for our energetic group chat, but I'm still wearing the boots.
I'm starting 2017 with a purpose and we can just go ahead and call this my New Year's resolution: more physical media, less scrolling, more face-to-face time, less Boomerang-ing. My passion for telling a story and my commitment to genuine connections are more valuable to me than the little red number on my inbox app.
It's a funny thing - I've written the last few paragraphs so effortlessly on facing the technological contribution to my writer's block. Recognizing the weakness to my strength is the first step to Growth, the original theme of the editorial I couldn't find words to.
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