I know I have a love-hate relationship with technology.
It doesn’t help that Alan is addicted. I mean, he has a whole seperate relationship with the internet, and gadgets. When boys come over, they take a moment to review the HD on his TV together, politely, they put their heads together, quite seriously, like surgeons conferring on a patient’s diagnosis. I really can’t tell the difference, except that it’s taken over my mantelpiece on which I used to balance Christmas cards. He spent months researching the variety of options available as well as upcoming deals. I mean, he could have started a company with all the time he put into this big black box that stole my space. For the first month we had it, he used to roll over in the mornings, and looking me dead in they eye, would whisper “do you think it’s still here?!”.
Alan adores technology, like I love cosmetics. He reads the news online several times a day, signs up for news alerts and is always on top of email.You can never break any news to the guy.
I differ greatly. To me, email, the internet and the phone all steal my time. I absolutely get their importance, am not in any way intimidated by them, but know that when I am being sucked into their atmosphere, I am not truly living. Like someone really smart once said, TV is chewing gum for the mind.
I suffer from that daily feeling of being overwhelmed. I study people who manage their time well, and note that they all share one technique. They control their time spent on technology. This way, they have an extraordinary amount of time to buy, write and mail meaningful Birthday cards. They do beautiful, personalised Chritsmas cards with newsletters tucked inside. Their gifts are always special, and well thought out. They have t he time for gestures. It’s like they have all that hard-earned time I lose in that big, black hole for their leisure. Time IS money. I truly resent getting stuck, as an alcoholic I am shamed by all-night benders.
My wise mother claims it is the very speed and efficiencies of today’s technology that have stolen our hours. She says that the month we would gain by writing, mailing, and waiting for a letter to a loved one to arrive at its destination, the recipient to enjoy it, then craft a reply and mail a response is stolen in the seconds it takes one to hit reply to an email. But I do love the efficiencies and luxuries the speedy movement of information affords me. This moroning, I could log on and know in an instant that my cousin in London partied till dawn, an old friend had a little boy last week, and my mentor is “in a state of grace”.
So, as a sore loser, I am willing to show my own grace, by appreciating my victor’s gifts and generosity.
