Last Friday was our daughters’ school skate night at Classic Skating. As is our tradition—for the past umpteen years—we loaded the Suburban with kids, scooters, and stroller and headed out. Once there my husband and I blatantly ignored the sign suggesting that those over age 25 NOT skate, and we got our wheels and laced up.
Soon we were out on the floor rolling to such classics as YMCA and Thriller—just like they played back in the day when we were the students. Of course I’d made sure to wear my glow-in-the-dark white, and when the lights were low, my husband and I linked hands for the Snowball skate. Ahhh . . . memories.
Perhaps that’s why I always have fun at skate night. It reminds me of a time when life was simpler. A time when I communicated with my friends via the avacado green telephone in our kitchen. If I needed privacy while talking, I stretched the spiral cord around the corner and into my bedroom where I could sit on the carpet with my back against the door.
This was also a time when TV was free. We simply pushed the “On” button and turned the knob to one of five channels.
When it came time for writing the dreaded term paper, I sat down at our IBM Selectric typewriter. And while I typed, I stuck a cassette tape into the boombox on top of my dresser.
Yes, life was good—and simple. At the tender age of twelve I could operate every electronic device in our home, including our brand new microwave that took up approximately three feet of the kitchen counter.
Life is good now too, but it isn’t so simple anymore. Now, along with the two cordless phones in our home—phones that are always dead and can never be located, as our children don’t seem to understand the concept of hanging them up—I have a cell phone, where my family can reach me at the worst possible times.
“Mom, rehearsal got out early, and the director is locking up the building. Can you come and get me right now?” As I’m 3/4 of the way through the grocery shopping on the other side of town.
“Mom, I slipped at recess and got mud on my pants, can you bring me some new ones?” When I’m in the dressing room at Penneys trying on pants—pants I desperately need, by the way. If I fell in the mud I’d be in trouble with only one pair that fits right now!
“Mom!” Uncontolled sobbing into phone. “I—need—” More sobbing.
Me–“What? What do you need? Which child is this?” While cars behind me beep because I haven’t moved and the light has been green for ten seconds.
See what I mean? Cell phones, while a blessing, have also really complicated my life. Occasionally I forget to bring mine with me when I’m out. The result is usually two hours of uninterupted bliss, during which I actually accomplish what I went out for in the first place.
Along with communicating by phone here, there, and everywhere, I have an email account with 2400 unread messages (and no, I’m not exaggerating. As of this morning the exact total was 2426). It isn’t that I never respond to email—I do every day. It’s just that a lot of good info comes my way from the various links I’m on (writing, parenting etc.), and I feel the need to read them . . . I’m just not sure when that will happen.
As if keeping up with email I already had wasn’t too much for me, I joined Goodreads a while back. At first I thought it would be great fun, rating books I’d read and getting reading suggestions from others. Wrong! Aside from the fact that I haven’t found the time to rate the books I’ve read these past few months, I can’t begin to keep up with all that my friends are reading. Just the subject line on several of my unopened emails is enough to overwhelm me.
You have 64 new updates from your friends . . .
For a while I kept a notebook next to my computer and jotted down books that sounded good. When the list reached five pages I threw it out—and quit opening my Goodreads mail. It was too depressing. Even as fast as I read, I’ll never be able to get to all those great books.
Then my previous editor, Angela Eschler, asked for a recommendation on Linkedin. Because Angela is so awesome and truly a brilliant editor, I was happy to accomodate her request. But I had to join Linkedin to do that. Little did I realize that other people would want to link in with me. And it’s not that I don’t want to—it’s that I have very limited time at the computer. And I most often choose to use that to write . . . except not on this blog.
Which is yet another technilogical wonder I both love and can’t seem to handle. Blogging is such fun . . . blogging eats up the time I should be working on that troubled chapter. My friends on Writers in Heels all seem to blog on a very regular basis and they write more books each year than I do. I’m not sure what my problem is, but if I blog once a month these days I’m doing really good.
Unfortunately my technology overload syndrome extends beyond the computer. Our telvision requires four remotes—one to control the TV, one for the satellite, one to run the DVD player, and one for the VCR (yes, we still have one of those)—and I can never keep them all straight. Good thing probably, as that keeps me from wasting valuable time watching the 100+ channels that came with our media package. I pay for this media package via automatic bill pay, which I do love, though online banking is something I now make time for each day.
My husband has also been trying to convince me of the merits of other online venues. On Valentine’s Day, when we were out to dinner with family, my sister-in-law shared with us some of the latest Facebook posts from our oldest daughter. These—in particular one about a party at our house when we were going to be out of town–prompted my husband to get with the program and get on Facebook. And within a few days’ time, I had a third teenager staring at the computer for hours on end.
“You’ve got to try this!” Dixon told me. “Look who’s on here. I haven’t seen him since high school.”
“Great,” I mumbled, thinking that I hadn’t seen the bottom of the laundry basket for about six weeks and that ranked a little higher on my priority list.
Thinking he was helping me out, my husband signed me up for Facebook. He, along with several authors I know, assured me it would be great for networking and promoting my next book. And I’m sure it would, if I had the time to write on walls and all that. As it is, I’m acquiring even more emails now—emails that I could simply erase if not for the fact that they involve people I know and therefore feel compelled to respond to . . . or at least save on my email until too many months have passed for a response to make sense.
And so the emails, like my laundry, continue to pile up. I’m forever behind both online and at home. I’m not sure when it will get better. I think I’ll cry if it gets worse.
My husband recently suggested we get TIVO, so we can watch all those shows we think look good but we ultimately miss because prime time at our house is help-with-algebra-and-biology-homework time.
Are you crazy?! was my thought process after this suggestion. If we start saving television shows I’m really sunk. If I miss something now—too bad. But if I know it’s waiting for me, it’ll be one more thing on my long to-do list. So I’m putting my foot down this time. There will be no more new technology in this house for a while. Perhaps I’m living in the wrong century, but you’ll have to drag me kicking and screaming into this next one because I want to live–away from all our gadgets sometimes. Like right now, when I plan to take my son out of his motorized swing and hold him in my arms while I sit in our old, creaky rocking chair.
At least I know how that works.