They suck because they make you want more than you need.
They make you feel you need to access to your email/twitter/facebook/tumblr all day, every day. The truth is, the world will keep revolving just fine if you have to wait, but the temptation to absorb your consciousness into the tiny infinite world housed in your pocket is so palpable it can cause real, physiological stress.
The damage from these devices would be minimal if it ended there. If we were satisfied with checking for new messages and, upon finding none, then replaced the device into our pockets. But we have arrived at a time in history when our minds need to be amused every spare second of the day. No longer do we have to sit uncomfortable and alone with our thoughts on the brief Metro ride home. God-forbid our mind be blighted by old-fashioned boredom when we can be blissfully swiping our fingers across a glass face at words and images that are not really there, miming the actions of social interaction substituting a cold machine for flesh.
I long for the good old days - which in actuality were pretty rotten (see: polio) - where we had to believe in a world that still existed when we closed our eyes. The devices we have grown dependent on shroud us in a constant fruitless anxiety that we are missing out on life, or, even worse, deluding us into thinking sitting in front of a screen can substitute for living it.
They make you feel you need to access to your email/twitter/facebook/tumblr all day, every day. The truth is, the world will keep revolving just fine if you have to wait, but the temptation to absorb your consciousness into the tiny infinite world housed in your pocket is so palpable it can cause real, physiological stress.
The damage from these devices would be minimal if it ended there. If we were satisfied with checking for new messages and, upon finding none, then replaced the device into our pockets. But we have arrived at a time in history when our minds need to be amused every spare second of the day. No longer do we have to sit uncomfortable and alone with our thoughts on the brief Metro ride home. God-forbid our mind be blighted by old-fashioned boredom when we can be blissfully swiping our fingers across a glass face at words and images that are not really there, miming the actions of social interaction substituting a cold machine for flesh.
I long for the good old days - which in actuality were pretty rotten (see: polio) - where we had to believe in a world that still existed when we closed our eyes. The devices we have grown dependent on shroud us in a constant fruitless anxiety that we are missing out on life, or, even worse, deluding us into thinking sitting in front of a screen can substitute for living it.
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