Disconnected

I didn’t have to be Amish for long. The power came back on, and thus far no elderly zombies have risen from their earthy graves, stumbling forth in search of brains or grains.

So I guess I dodged that bullet. But of late I’ve been faced with another nearly insurmountable challenge in this 21st century world—for the past few weeks—nay, months—our internet has worked sporadically, at best.

Sure, you could argue that it’s in fact our neighbor’s internet that has worked so sporadically, but potato, potato, I say to you. The truth of the matter is, there have been nights and days I’ve been left with nary a connection to the outside world.

(Except, you know, my cell phone with its internet, and the ability to go outside, and stuff.)

What do you do when that connection is cut, however briefly? I do occasionally get internet fatigue—I spend all day at my job in front of a pair of computer screens, flitting between the internet and a bevy of Microsoft Word documents, after all. There are nights I come home and the last thing I want to do is stare at a screen any longer. But truthfully, I spend much of my home life with my Macbook on my lap or at least within typing distance. Our stubborn connectedness is the curse of my generation, constant information the albatross around our collective necks.

So what happens when the cord is cut? How do you handle it?

For the sake of argument, let’s say leaving the house isn’t possible. I’m not talking about those evenings when you’ve got errands to run and friends to see; I’m talking about those times when you’re flat broke or feel gross or just plain don’t feel like going anywhere.

I know what I usually do. After cycling through a few stages of grief, and repeatedly checking the wireless connection like an insane junkie in need of a fix, I may relent for a bit. I’ve been reading more lately, which would be better if I were reading Crime & Punishment rather than my recent diet of YA Lit and Anthony Bourdain, but it still feels productive to me. Bourdain is pretty badass, after all.

Then what? Well, without real internet, I’ll admit I spend a fair bit of time checking Twitter and Facebook on my phone. What can I say? I get antsy without constant updates by the likes of @drunkhulk and @docpemberton.

Oh, and there’s always TV, isn’t there? Well, there’s not Netflix, not without internet. But without the novelty of streaming, there are still DVDs to be watched, entire seasons of TV shows to be viewed and reviewed. A Buffy marathon is never out of the question.

The paradox, of course, is that whenever you can’t have something, you want it even more. So whenever that sweet stolen internet connection is cut, however briefly, I’m sure to want to stream a specific TV show or pen an epic blog. I can crave the company of a book all day long, but as soon as I’m home and I can’t get online, it’s all I want to do.

Maybe one of these days I’ll really learn to rough it. Turn off all my glowing screens and fill my time with activities that people did just a few short years ago, when all these connections weren’t yet available.

Maybe one day. For now I’m going to go check Twitter and see if anything good’s been posted to reddit. Maybe do an online crossword or download a new podcast to listen to. Roughing it can't be all it's cracked up to be. Can it?