If you’re getting this message, please send help. This is day four without the internet. Time Warner says they’ll be out today, but sometime between 12 and 4 pm feels a lot like anytime between alpha and omega, the beginning and the end, childbirth to deathbed.
Note to self: If you’re moving in the next six months, please, by all means, for the sake of everything good and holy, give Time Warner plenty of notice.
Ask any geneticist and they’ll tell you, something about being disconnected from the world prompts the DNA to default into strands of Ted Kaczynski. My hair looks like it’s been combed with the ribs of a fish, I tend to wear aviator sunglasses all day, and the first thing I’ve pulled out of any moving box is a hoodie. I mean, I didn’t even have to spell check his name. DNA.
Don’t worry about the rest of the equation. I’m way too lazy to go to the Post Office. In fact, what are stamps?
The reality of being without internet and cable has made me amazingly productive. No longer am I constantly refreshing a screen to see what’s going on in the world around me. Instead, I spend a majority of my time asking the guy at Lowe’s where I can find picture hangers that I’ve seen on TV (my awkwardness transcends real life). Without internet I’m influencing the world, one Ikea check-out lane or Chipotle chicken bowl at a time.
Without the internet at my disposal, I’m reminded that books are wonderful. The Kindle for iPad is my new concubine. It keeps me warm, fuzzy, and doesn’t demand things of me like the many apps with friends do. It’s like stepping into a warm sauna on a chilly evening. Reading a book is the indulgence of solitude. It’s perfect.
If you and I were to play Trivial Pursuit, March 26-29, 2012 edition, I don’t stand a chance. If Buffalo Wild Wings trivia is more your speed, consider me roasted. Like John Malkovich, my iPhone is the only portal I have to a world full of self-loathing status updates, facebook game requests, and overabundant opportunities to waste time.
With a new perspective on an unplugged world, I’ll be saddened this evening to learn Snooki’s baby is now the size of a grapefruit. There’s a lot of information we just don’t need to process. I’m sure the guy at Lowe’s, the server at Chipotle, or the cashier at Ikea will tell us when something is important.
On second thought, maybe I need the internet after all.