When talking about weekly routines, we usually concentrate on tangible actions; beginning, perhaps, with the unwilling swinging of cold legs out of bed or (if there's time) springing from under the covers to make coffee. Then there might be travelling, working, reading, resting, making, watching, talking, eating, sleeping. These verbs are the markers that define each day. But threaded through the warp and weft of our habits there are screens. You’re reading these musings on one, either compressed on a Smartphone or stretched across a tablet, laptop or computer. The internet is the chain stitch that not only hems our lives, but increasingly loops itself right through them.
Sewing is a curiously apt analogy, whether we compare the hours spent online to pockets of time existing in a strange halfway state between being present and being somewhere else, or whether we acknowledge twitter, facebook, blogs, tumblr, pinterest, instagram and other sites as fibres now tightly wound into each day. What I find intriguing is the way in which we slide so easily between two worlds or modes of being. I still make a differentiation between online and ‘real life’, as do most people. And yet it’s hard to know where exactly that boundary lies.
The internet is a tool for entertainment, discovery, learning, work, creativity and the forging of connections, but sometimes I resent how much it seeps into and consumes time that could be spent doing other things. What have I gained from continual trawling from site to site, or from the desire for an update of any kind - leaving me feeling slightly hollow? The contradiction between being grateful for the opportunities that the internet continues to provide, and the limitations it instates can be tricky to unravel. It was only after I had an enforced and unplanned separation from the internet on my phone and laptop this week that I realized how rarely I spend an evening without my face being lit by the glow of a screen. Unsurprising, considering the hub of multiple possibilities always on offer. If I want to write something, look through or edit photos, listen to music, do research, talk to friends, respond to emails then the laptop is my means.
Technology condenses things down. I’m not complaining. The map function on my phone is a brilliant tool for navigating around unknown parts of London. Having emails readily accessible means that I can use spare moments to respond and catch up. However, the proximity of one thing to another can lead to blurring. It now takes a certain amount of exertion to focus entirely on the document that's in front of me; easy to take flight to the safe refuge of twitter if I hit a tangle in my text that requires some hard work. The intensity of being so immersed in the act of creating that nothing else is relevant is a rare feeling. Even as I type, my finger itches to scroll away and onto facebook. There's no rational reason to do so. I’m not expecting any messages; have no need to contact anyone. It’s merely the vaguely compulsive prospect of there being a little red icon. And if there’s nothing there, easy to just check another site or two. Part of this is neurological. Apparently receiving an update releases a shot of dopamine into the brain; specifically to the ‘pleasure centre’ area, thus creating a pattern of gratification leading to further cravings. The same process happens with addictive substances such as nicotine. A habit is created and subsequently needs to be sated regularly.
Interestingly, the relationship between dopamine and sugar has also been much-documented. Ever had that moment after a single square of chocolate where the rest of the bar suddenly looks intensely desirable? To me, certain aspects of the internet occasionally feel slightly like a selection of sugary snacks. Easily consumed. One click is rarely enough. Instead there are little bite-sized chunks to hop between, each satisfying some internal craving for a moment or two, a hunger for the new notification or the affirmation that you, yes you, exist and someone has proved it by commenting on your status.
Nonetheless, there are so many extraordinary and astonishing aspects to the age in which we live that I'm unbelievably grateful for the opportunities I've been able to seek while sitting at my desk. How else would I have met or communicated with so many wonderful people of varying ages, locations and professions? What other mediums or other times could have afforded any seventeen year old the possibility of constructing a platform with a global reach? The tapping of keys has (if you’ll forgive the image) unlocked plenty of potential, with much more ahead to explore.
The conclusion should be, perhaps, one of balance and moderation (though more easily observed than enacted). Surprising how I consider it an act of willpower now to have written this from start to end with only a single pause to look up and clarify a reference point. But in the last few days Spring has unfurled. I've started reading Crime & Punishment, sketched several portraits, gone for an exhilarating walk in the warm breeze of twilight, had intense face to face conversations over wine with friends, begun the process of revision by way of intricate, inky spider diagrams, visited bookshops and enjoyed the Saturday morning pleasure of coffee and newspapers. There have been a few social media interludes between. Most have been thoroughly enjoyable. But if I can keep them in the shadows of free time rather than the main focus, adding to my days rather than framing them, then that will be pretty wonderful progress.
I thought the location in the photos - a set of crumbling houses tucked away in the Welsh hills - illustrates how quickly things have changed in the last century. The isolation of such a place contrasts with the continual inter-connectedness of modern living. To wander among the stones and trees I wore a vintage velvet Principles dress over a vintage Jaeger wool jumper, with men's leather loafers and second hand accessories. Every item I'm wearing (apart from the tights) was bought from a charity shop.
I thought the location in the photos - a set of crumbling houses tucked away in the Welsh hills - illustrates how quickly things have changed in the last century. The isolation of such a place contrasts with the continual inter-connectedness of modern living. To wander among the stones and trees I wore a vintage velvet Principles dress over a vintage Jaeger wool jumper, with men's leather loafers and second hand accessories. Every item I'm wearing (apart from the tights) was bought from a charity shop.
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