Friday, March 23, 2007
Shutdown Day
Two Montreal residents are challenging people to shut down their computers and go offline for a whole entire day, just to see what might happen. The idea sounds sweetly innocuous to me, like if a four year old asked what it would be like if everyone shared their crayons, and might not the world erupt in laughter and shaking hands, and beautiful days at the park?
No matter how taken aback I’d be at a four year old who used the word “erupt,” I’d have to retain both my skepticism and practicality and ask him a question best used by children, “Why?”
But really, why? I live and breath these machines, my laptops, my treo, my reliance placed square on computery things and the goodness they bring.
Would I decide to stop using toilet paper for a day? Would I resist using electricity because eating room temperature fruit and having long chats with people sitting next to me are going to flood us with appreciation for the Old Ways and a new resolution for how to not get lost in this mad, modern world?
Candles are nice, but I like that my phone doubles as a flashlight when I drop something in a dark theater. And they don’t set newspapers on fire two tables over in the restaurant when I’m having my birthday dinner.
I just came back from vacation, one gloriously free of too much work-demanded computer time. But I researched the trip, compared rates, booked hotel and air travel, google mapped, learned cap fares, figured out money and language and time changes all on the computer. I don’t want imagine the pain and expense of having done it any other way.
Once there, we used wireless networks to find poker tables and restaurants, and to decide how far was farther than we were willing to walk. Sure, we didn’t wake up and sit right down at the machine as per usual, but we didn’t take it to the beach either. That’d be bad for the laptop, I’m just guessing.
Surf that morning was much rougher than the day before. We stood and scanned back and forth looking for a point of entry. The kiteboarders were gone and the seaweed had gathered in a large red mass. Mike said something about this being no fun and me being crazy. It’s fine I said, it looks calmer over there, without so much of a trough. I was a lifeguard I said. I’m an excellent swimmer he said. We went in and immediately began screaming, me with cold and him with laughter. Waves poured over our heads and rugs of sand pulled out from under our feet. Rolled by the foam and scoured by the undertow, I gave up my purchase and treaded, trying to push out past the waves. Mike went out further and we bobbed there, constantly swirled back towards the beach. As though he were on a motorcycle, I would yell, “Look out! look out!” before he or I was pushed under. You don’t hold your nose, he said. I wish I had, I said. I gave up and floated, it takes nothing for me to float. I don’t need a board to boogie, I just rode. We danced around with the waves, got scrubbed against the beach, and rolled again, scraped and laughing, backflipping. Show off, he said. Totally, I said. For at least an hour we didn’t really talk and only laughed, harder than any time we could remember. We coughed and laughed and wiped our eyes, swimming towards and away from each other. We washed up on the beach, having lost where we were, laughed and found our limbs, my treacherous bikini top. Today is more fun than yesterday, he said.
After the beach, we used the internet to google how to safely remove sand from our nooks and crannies, and learned that no medical attention was required. How could we have then closed the laptop and slept easy, had we not had this modern miracle to protect us from the wild ravagings of the sea?
It’s not that I don’t get it. Sure, shut down the machine, get more from “life”. But computers are not what come between us. They’re just a tool misused for that too, same as anything other distraction, demand or excuse to which we have easy access.
My revolutionary advice for enjoying a lovely Saturday is this: no need to shut down, just stay in sleep mode longer.
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