A reunion with boredom: our lives without technology

A REUNION WITH BOREDOM: Charles Simic writes in the NYRB:

Do people still suffer from periods of boredom even with computers, smart phones and tablets to occupy them endlessly? There’s also television, of course, which in homes of many Americans is on twenty-four hours a day, making it harder and harder to find a quiet place to sit and think. Even neighborhood bars, the old refuge of introspective loners, now have huge TV screens alternating between sports and chatter to divert them from their thoughts. As soon as college students are out of class, cell phones, and iPods materialize in their hands, requiring full concentration and making them instantly oblivious of their surroundings. I imagine Romeo and Juliet would send text messages to each other today as they strolled around Verona, though I find it hard to picture Hamlet advising Ophelia to betake herself to a nunnery. 

These and other thoughts came to me as I sat in a dark house for three days in the aftermath of Hurricane Irene. Being without lights and water is a fairly common experience for those of us who live in rural areas on roads lined with old trees. Every major rainstorm or snowstorm is almost certain to bring down the lines, which, because of the relative scarcity of population, are a low priority for the power company to fix. We use oil lamps and most often candles, so our evenings around the dining room table resemble séances. We sit with our heads bowed as if trying to summon spirits, while in truth struggling to see what’s on our dinner plates. Being temporarily unable to use the technology we’ve grown dependent on to inform ourselves about the rest of the world, communicate with others, and pass the time, is a reminder of our alarming dependence on them.

Often struck with similar bouts of boredom, although spurred by events of far less severity, I find myself with similar sentiment. When feeling somewhat fatigued from extended use of technology (let it be known: I spend a potentially unhealthy amount of time staring at a screen each day), I find myself looking for something else to occupy my time. Thanks to numerous online booksellers, I am rarely found in short supply of the printed word, and so the substitute tends to be a book, but even then I feel a strange sense of disconnection, as if I'm missing something truly important. To overcome these feelings, much of my reading tends to be at nighttime. It leaves me a little tireder, but concentration is easier to come by without distractions.

I suppose that's why I could never bring myself to take iPad-based reading seriously. Sure, I can make my way through a magazine article or newspaper without the allure of Angry Birds taking hold, but what about a book? Writing, too, has its challenges in the company of an ever-present internet connection. The author Jonathan Franzen once wrote: "It's doubtful that anyone with an internet connection at his workplace is writing good fiction." In fact, Franzen believes in this disconnected philosophy so strongly, he uses only a Dell laptop for writing, a laptop which has had its ethernet port permanently blocked with superglue. I wouldn't go quite this far, but I occasionally consider the benefits a little boredom might bring once in a while.