Side note: why am I in a relationship with my phone?
Neither lonely nor bad at texting, this year I strive to be a bit more of both.
There is no single behavior I perform with such frequency as mindlessly picking up my phone. Full stop. And there is no single behavior I perform with such consistently negative outcomes as mindlessly picking up my phone.
And yet, I find myself taking my phone out to ride the elevator up six floors. I sneak a peek when I get up from my desk to get a glass of water. Again at my desk while sipping the water I’ve just filled up. In the back of a Forrest-Fresh-scented Toyota Camry (even though I know it’ll make me carsick). Multiple times on the subway (even though there is no service). During the part of a Zoom when it’s no longer my turn to talk. At the gym between sets. On a Citi Bike at the long red light on Schermerhorn and Flatbush. After we say “just the check please,” but before the check arrives.
If the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, then perhaps I am not insane. Because I do not expect different results. I know, with certainty, that using my phone in this way does not make me feel good.
Phone addiction is such a silly idea. “How the fuck is it real?” But we are basically all addicted to ours. Technology promised to give us back more time, but the fine print was that that time is only to be spent on distractions.
My wise friend Jon Wu said, “Technology has not increased GDP. Societal output remains the same.” He’s right. We just have more time for scrolly scroll and swipey swipe.
A similarly wise John (Mayer) on why he quit drinking: he asked himself, “What percentage of your potential would you like to have?... No wrong answer... I said 100.”
Despite having neither the same quality bar on professional, public output, nor the same drinking problem, there is such a clear gap between how much I say I care about how I spend my time — and how I’m actually choosing to spend it. Does how we spend our time define our lives? Or is it what we pay attention to? What then, if I spend my time paying attention to whatever comes up on my phone?
Note: This piece was inspired by an epic rant from a friend, in response to my sharing this piece in the Atlantic:
The Agony of Texting With Men
Many guys are bad at messaging their friends back—and it might be making them more lonely.
He has done a good job of breaking up with his phone, but is grappling with the cost of doing so. Reply/DM me if you’d like to read his rant.
Your phone is why you don’t feel sexy
This is the type of writing I would like to strive to do more of this year. It’s basically the point I tried to get across above, but much more interestingly framed. I guess you could consider mine the foreplay. —Andrew
Mohawk Mountain
When snowboarding on the east coast—and particularly when snowboarding on the east coast south of Maine and New Hampshire—you need to use a different set of criteria for evaluating mountains. Concerning oneself with vertical feet, snowfall, and the quantity of high-speed quad lifts is a fool’s errand. Time is better spent seeking charm, and that’s something that Mohawk Mountain in Connecticut has in abundance. I’ve been riding at Mohawk for a few years now, but I think it’s only been within the last couple that my family’s deemed it “our home mountain.” The terrain is fine, but what I love is that Mohawk isn’t a small mountain that tries to be a big mountain. It’s a small mountain that’s happy being just what it is, complete with a perfectly quaint lodge serving legit mozz sticks. They also let you skin up if you’re looking to get some exercise. I even love the sign that tells you when to turn off the road. —Justin
Chiclets University
As a kid who grew up loving both hockey and gear, my dream job was to be the equipment manager of the Washington Capitals. (To be honest, it still sounds like a sweet gig.) So I’ve become pretty quickly enamored with this Spittin’ Chiclets YouTube series where they tour the facilities of the top college hockey programs. It’s insane to see the money and resources that are being poured into these spaces and then to imagine what it must be like to come in as a 18-year-old freshman (or more likely with the way kids redshirt and then do post-graduate high school years, a 21-year-old freshman) and have all the toys to play with in order to get better. —Justin