While I’d like to say that I’ve spent lots of introspective time walking in the woods or drinking coffee at daybreak, my reclaimed continuity is not so picturesque or even overt. In reality, the peace I’ve found is invisible to the naked eye. And I’m not always as disciplined as I’d like—nor as Zen. But still, I’ve definitely seen an increase in things like reading, listening to music, and a lot of experiencing the moment.

For me, the insipid nature of the smartphone (and a lot of times, social media) is in the way it preoccupies the mind and the small moments. These are the times I notice most often. Waiting for the train the pass. Standing in the checkout line watching people. Zoning out on a short walk. It’s partially the observations or thoughts I’d been missing by racing to check in on the iPhone, but partially it is the cognitive reset. I was overstimulated and overheated—so now that I’m allowing myself to just be in those moments, I find my thoughts to be more even, my feelings more available, and my self more centered. I have noticed all sorts of things about myself and my habits that I had been missing.

Beyond myself, I experienced my wife and child in a way I had not been. I think gadgets and a lot on the Internet are rationalized as discovery or communication—when they are plainly escape. The stresses and routines of both marriage and parenting a toddler definitely require patience and focus, and by putting down the phone, I have felt more present and able to experience the exquisite moments, as well as to be accountable for the more mundane. Domestic life isn’t always thrilling, but it is worthwhile and rich (if you are there for it).

While I have in no way transformed into a Henry David Thoreau, I have had countless realizations about self, about the world, and about human nature… realizations I don’t think I would have had otherwise. As someone that observes the world and communicates for both a living (public relations) and a hobby (songwriting), it’s hard now to understand why I’d allow myself to be hypnotized to the point of really being numb. I guess it happens slowly and becomes gradually acceptable so you just sort of get lazy or indifferent to it. But I can plainly see now, that it was diminishing my creative abilities.

I hesitate to write about this next observation although it is one of the most frequent and apparent contrasts. At the risk of sounding like a righteous ex-smoker, the primary thing I notice now that I missed before is how a good number of people around me are just sort of checked out. I started The Off Switch for me and—like my vegetarianism—have no interest in imparting those views on others… but sometimes I do want to pull a Louis CK and shout people down, “Hey! The fleeting, finite miracle of life is rushing by. Get your fucking face out of your phone!” But I don’t because a) that’s not my business, b) that was me a year ago and still is me on occasion, and c) that’s not my nature.

Still, I have to say that it is almost overwhelming how much people in the world, sitting across from one another, over dinner, at home on the couch, in parks and in cars, are avoiding true connection, evocative conversation, enlightening observation, and sublime sensation in favor of whatever random task they tell themselves is demanding their action online. I’ve come to believe that Facebook and smartphones are the opiate of the masses. It’s like something out of Idiocracy or 1984. I don’t think there’s much sinister at work, but it is harmful nonetheless. People are wasting big chunks of their days jumping down internet rabbit holes or grasping their ‘precious.’ I’m not judging but I am staying vigilant for myself. There’s so much out there to see, hear, smell, feel, and taste and really… there’s not an app for that.

I have a confession: technology does not bring out the best in me. That may seem like a big DUH given the nature of this blog, but I guess what I mean is that even when I limit my access, I don’t exercise enough self control. It’s like the saying “guns don’t kill people, people kill people.”

This was brought into sharp focus recently when a series of texts, their timing, and content threw me into a world of doubt about myself and the textee. It happened over about a 24 hour period, maybe 10 texts in all (including replies) but what was said and not said altered my perception of the relationship entirely.

When all was said and done, I realized that the technological tools and access to one another (and lack of it) was facilitating an exchange that was not helpful or healthy. Ten years ago, before I had a cell phone, I would have slept on it at least twice before saying anything. In that time, I would have gotten a little perspective and the conflict would have seemed far less important. Even then, though, I remember the new phenomenon of saying things in professional email that I would never have said face to face. Perhaps it says more about me than it does about technology.

Oftentimes, following and ill-advised texting or email bender, I feel like “where the fuck did that come from?” I know better, but I must get something out of it. When I’m in my most honest moments, I have to admit that it’s my core desire to be liked and to see myself as likable that sends me on these tech binges. Usually, there’s some sort of cliffhanger involved. It’s 5 o’clock or Friday and I think someone is mad or misunderstands me and I get obsessed with showing them otherwise. I want to fix it asap. When I find myself checking Facebook frequently or spending more than a minute or two on it, that’s a similar thing happening. It’s satisfying to see people liking or commenting on a post. And while that’s fun, it’s not all that healthy. But that’s a whole other blog entry.

So, for me, learning to enforce my technological boundaries starts with accepting my personal ones. Next time I find myself trying to effectively fix a relationship or my image of myself with a text message or an email or a status update, I think I’ll not.

As previous posts chronicle, my personal level of desired connectivity and lack of distraction has led me to using my older iPhone with a month-to-month SIM card from Pure Talk USA (no jail breaking/hacking required). This means I have no data plan and can’t access the Internet unless I’m in a wi-fi zone. Even then, I chose to stay away from most apps and to disable most notifications. Here are my tips for configuring the iPhone for minimal bother:

Distraction: There’s an app for that
While the App Store has hundreds of thousands of apps for download, there’s no reason you have to. On my iPhone, I only installed the Remote app that lets me control the music in my house. The rest of the apps that tend to be a waste of time (Mail, YouTube, Safari, Weather, etc.) I just tuck away. I don’t even have Mail set up.

Alerts: They can wait
For me, one of the most incessant aspects of a smartphone is how it tugs at your sleeve for attention constantly like a needy toddler. Web-enabled apps (especially the social media ones) buzz, ding, and display a “badge” with a number of messages each time something happens related to those accounts. What most people don’t realize or aren’t motivated to investigate is that shutting them off is simple. Within the Settings app, there is a Notifications panel that lets you choose which apps notify you and how that will happen.

Sounds: Silence is golden
You can customize even further by going in to the Sounds panel and silencing anything that normally bothers you. And here’s a tip: unless you are waiting on important news—like from an organ donor—put your phone into Airplane Mode when you sleep. Alarms still work but the phone, text, and Internet portions are temporarily disabled so you won’t be jolted awake by a retweet.

Mail: Leave your work at the office
I’m 38, but I can remember a time not too long ago when there was no interest or expectation of being on work email nights, weekends, or on vacation. If you were needed, somebody would pick up the phone. Now, thanks to the readiness and ease of technology, we’ve collectively slipped into the bad habit of checking and sending work emails from the moment we open our eyes until our heads hit the pillow—and often in the middle of the night. One of the best things I did for myself was to discipline myself to just turn off work email when I got home and then not turn it on (barring a truly time sensitive work issue) until I get to my desk in the morning. I’m a small business owner and I do public relations, and even still I have found that there are very few urgent emails that come after work hours. If someone needs something… they will call.

These are all quick, easy and reversible fixes that—for me at least—made a huge difference. I recommend giving some of them a try. You’ll thank yourself.

There no need to recount the changes I made and the realizations and meanderings I encountered along the way, because they are all chronicled here. If you’re interested, just go back. But I did want to reflect on my sense of self and peace that has resulted.

A year ago, I was a full-on technology addict. I was constantly pre-occupied with checking emails, social networks, and websites to the point where I was not myself. I was not living the life I’d envisioned. Just as significantly, my commitment to technology was snowballing and I was finding that there was no longer a social standard to keep me honest. The compulsion toward devices and the Internet had and have taken over, and my only hope was to just put it down.

Now 12 months in, I’m pleased to report that I feel at peace. By identifying and working toward a personal ideal, I have reconnected with myself. I’m not saying that I’ve arrived at non-technological nirvana. But I’m actively in pursuit of a better life that doesn’t involve the buzzes, dings, apps, and distractions of constant connection. And for that I am thankful.

Lately, I’ve been wondering what’s next. What’s next for this blog and for my own assessment of technology + me? No idea. But I’ll let you know when I find out.

Admittedly, part of why I started this blog nearly a year ago was to be accountable to someone other than myself in my personal quest to abstain from what I know is an easily justififyable and widely accepted set of bad habits. That said, people seem to miss the point: I am not anti-technology or against digital communication or even social media. What I have taken a personal stand against are the myriad needless distractions that happen when we give ourselves over to devices with no boundaries whatsoever. No more, no less.

In fact, I am very interested in consumer technology and think it can be a very positive thing. While I’ve bemoaned things like Facebook as the modern-day opium, the new boob tube – full of rabbit holes and distorted mirrors – I was recently reminded of the beauty and possibility of technology.

In 1997, after graduating college, I set out on a 3-month backpacking trip through Europe. I went alone and envisioned napping in the back of hay-filled trucks through the countryside. What I hadn’t anticipated was the homeless person status I would strap on my back each day and that the novelty of seeing the sites on a dime would quickly give way to general isolation and sort of wandering the streets, sleeping on trains, etc. It was a privilege to go, but not all peachy.

After a particularly hard day in Brindisi, Italy where I was nearly mugged by some locals my age, I met up with another American who was boarding the overnight ferry to Greece. On the ship, we hooked up with two Australians and two New Zealand girls and disembarked on a little island called Corfu. And so began 10 days of fun and lighthearted madness at a time when I needed kinship and levity more than ever. A few cities, many drinks, and a dyed/shaven head later, we went our separate ways.

We exchanged mailing addresses and I even met up with one of the Aussies in New York several years back, but for the most part, the memories and the connections faded. This was before digital cameras, smartphones, and social media were commonplace, so I hadn’t so much as seen a photo of that moment time in over a decade. Email wasn’t even widely used, so while somebody may have mailed me a few photos, I only had a couple of snapshots, postcards to my now wife, and some songs to commemorate that golden time.

Cut to 14 years later – about two months ago. One of our crew created a closed Facebook Group called “Freebird Tours” – the tongue-in-cheek name we’d given ourselves at the time. Quickly he hunted all but one of us down and everyone was rediscovering one another. We posted photos, journal entries, song lyrics, and even video one of the Aussies had captured. It was nothing short of magical. In an era when we can – on whim – search for video clips or obscure quotations then share it with hundreds of acquaintances, here was a digital wormhole back to a single moment in time from our coming of age. Back to the future!

Then talk of a reunion began and we found a way and time to create a 5-way video chat connecting us from the US, New Zealand, and Australia. With some coordination and IT troubleshooting, we were all smiling at one another once again. 14 years on, everyone still looked wonderful to me. Kids, pregnant, engaged, writing books… there we all were for a little over an hour. We held up photo albums we coaxed pregnant bellies and kids into the frame, we sang songs, we laughed heartily.

As someone in the group pointed out, the whole affair was the best possible use of technology and Facebook. Instead of endlessly getting pinged about others’ comments on vague acquaintances’ daily updates, we were seeing and being reminded of distant memories in a way that would not have otherwise been possible. Gazing at one another in real time, we were each transported through time and space with a touching affect. Now we’re planning on a rendezvous next year. We’ll do our damnedest.

So, I guess my point is: Too much technology… bad. A little technology… good. A little more technology sometimes… even better.

I got rid of my laptop. I neutered my smartphone. I banished work email to 9-6 on workdays and all things digital away from sleep times. The effect has been very positive, but there is still one big distraction I have yet to curb: Facebook.

I joined the ubiquitous social network about 3 years ago as a way to explore other avenues of business development. I soon realized that this is not what personal profiles were meant for. Combined with my iPhone and a new baby, I soon became addicted to the new thing to check and update—which gave me a seemingly endless stream of yummies in the form of comments and friend requests, each of which buzzed in my pocket as if to say, “we like you!”

It is no secret that Facebook has taken over. It is now the most visited site on the internet. It is something that I not only use personally, but it has become a stand-alone service for the PR/branding company I own with my wife. We offer social media strategies and administration for several clients at a time. It’s a fun part of public relations.

Still, enjoy it as I may, I can no longer ignore the negative affects it has on my life.

Like many people, I have come to accept Facebook as a necessary evil like TV or cell phones. It is something we need to communicate with the world—I tell myself. It is a part of my job. If not for it, how would I keep up with my friends, get invited to some events, and find out about all those goofy news stories and videos? Some of this is true, but a lot of the behavior Facebook encourages in me and others has me troubled and so I’m looking for a way to prune it way back.

A lot of really smart people have done some great analysis on social media and what it does to our interactions and to our brains, so this is not bold new territory. But I wanted to ponder on what it does to me personally:

1. It creates a distorted self image. For me, since I am ostensibly in the image business, my own opinion of myself starts being shaped by my profile, my number of “friends,” and the comments people leave there. A perfect example is a birthday where hundreds of people wish me happy birthday on my wall, but very few people call. Naturally, I think, I start identifying more with the more comforting and flattering scenario. Does it feel better to imagine oneself with over a thousand “friends” or just couple of real friends?

2. It fosters a false need for validation. Although this is better now that I no longer do internet-enabled apps, the nature of Facebook is posting and commenting then checking back to see who has “liked” or commented. It is a very narcissistic activity to compulsively look to see how much attention we are getting.

3. It is a waste of time. What I like about Facebook is the ability to share things with people I know and to learn about the people who I know but likely would never hang out with otherwise. What I don’t like about it is the boob tube/rabbit hole factor wherein I just find myself mindlessly revisiting the site throughout the day and even between and in the middle of other tasks—just sort of channel surfing my friends. Like picking a scab, it is hard to stop but it is a really senseless activity.

4. It dilutes real relationships and interactions. This weekend, I went to my high school reunion and found that there was no catching up to do. The people I wanted to stay in touch with where already “friends” on Facebook and so I knew about their kids and jobs and lives. And in everyday conversation, I find that there is often nothing to share because I already know what the other person is up to. Often, people just assume that I’ve been trolling their Facebook wall and know about their lives—surprised to find out I didn’t know…

5. It is addictive. I know that I have an addictive personality, especially when it comes to digital things. Hence, this blog and the reasons for it, I suppose. At times, I’ve been addicted to video games, gadgets, and news sites. Regardless of the back-story, I find myself being sucked into the Facebook realm. I will think about something to post to Facebook in the back of my mind and it will linger there until I post it… then I’ll wonder what people thought of it.

On one hand, I guess I could just shrug it off and accept that this is how things are now and that there is no plausible way to just suspend my account. But my sense is that finding The Off Switch of Facebook is inevitable. I’m not interested in just canceling my account, but—like work emails—I think I could really get a lot out of shutting it off for nights and weekends.

I haven’t decided how exactly yet. Maybe I’ll give myself a Facebook curfew or maybe I’ll find a hack or app that will limit my usage to a number of hours or times of the day. Whatever I do, I am vowing to not only be more vigilant and self-aware in my usage of social networks, but also to take a stand against them in my personal life. I’d like to reclaim that sense of discovery that comes from talking to a friend and learning about their lives.

Something else I’m realizing about myself is that in most things, my approach is to yield. Despite our go go go kill kill kill society, I feel like the wiser route is often to let others go/talk/do first then decide what I do next. But with technology, I feel like I cannot simply trust or yield to it because it has no conscience—or limits. With technology, I feel a responsibility to take a stand and to play an active role in how it shapes my life. Facebook is no exception.

In the time since my last update, I have had a number of realizations about how technology figures into my life and—moreover—how my use of technology figures into the lives of people around me. Initially, the modifications I made to my gadgets and how I used them were driven by the reality that I had given myself over to the digital things and my quest to reclaim myself from them. I was connected to the ones and zeros, but not to myself or my loved ones. The first 6 months (chronicled in the posts below) were spent paring down and scaling back and generally pruning things back to a manageable scale. I was more centered and present than I had been in years.

Inevitably the pendulum swings. At work, we landed a series of very big accounts in the midst of an already busy time. Not only did this cut out much of my blogging time, it meant that I had to work in the evenings and through the weekends to get all of this covered. That’s not to say that I fell off the wagon, but I was forced to reconsider my initial ground rules. Aside from shutting off email at night, I had to face the fact that my phone just wasn’t going to cut it.

When I started all of this, I was determined to kill my iPhone. I was fed up with having this uber distraction machine on my person at all times. It had become a constant source of distraction with its buzzing, apps, and general Swiss Army Knife usefulness. So I found a suitable other phone on Craigslist for $50, put the iPhone on eBay, dumped my AT&T plan, and set myself free. I still had the ability to take photos and post to social media (the latter via text), but mostly the new phone was clunky and something you wouldn’t want to use unless you had to.

I attempted several times to sell the iPhone (3GS) on eBay only for it to be “purchased” by scammers repeatedly. If there were legitimate bidders, they weren’t given a fair chance and I just eventually gave up and vowed to sell the iPhone elsewhere soon. Cut back to March when I got so busy at work. It was a crazy day during the South by Southwest conference that consumes my city for 10 days (formally) each March and I was implicated into the heart of darkness working for two clients on “SXSW” intensely. What started as a seemingly simple request turned into a big realization.

I had snapped a photo on my lobotomized Nokia smartphone and later, a client texted and asked for the photo for a news story that was posting online. Since my phone only had a voice/text plan, I had no way to just email or text that over so—trapped in the tradeshow booth in the convention center, I spent no less than an hour attempting to get the phone to somebody’s computer. I tried bluetooth, I tried finding a cable… but it was useless. Of course, the client did not understand why I just couldn’t send it over even though I tried to tactfully explain my set-up.

This was part of a larger trend for me. Due to aforementioned reasons (work, kid, kid’s diabetes, etc.) I really do need a certain level of connectivity. What I realized that day was that I had isolated myself for the sake of peace of mind to the point that I was significantly putting others out. I was certainly prepared to inconvenience people a little when I started down this path, but I had hoped that in terms of ongoing bother for them and for myself—that it would work itself out. Fairly quickly, I saw that I was investing an inordinate amount of time and energy to make my phone do basic things that were—in the end—not satisfactory.

I know this may seem like a lot of rationalization, but I have thought about it for a few months (before and after) and I don’t believe it is. In the midst of the craziness, I popped the SIM card out of the Nokia phone and stuck it in the old iPhone. Mind you, this is the same month-to-month voice/text card that I had been using. This did not suddenly enable me to access the internet or email on the go or all of the apps. What it did was making syncing my calendar and address book simple again and allowed me to take decent photos of my kid and easily get them off the phone. Thanks to the wireless aspect of an iPhone, I don’t have to plug it in for most things and there’s a lot less crap to keep up with as well. I was, in a word, relieved.

I told myself that I’d try it for a week and see what I thought, but it was just so much simpler I knew instantly that it was the right decision. To adhere to my other rules, I did not install any social media or other distraction apps (which would have only functioned in a wireless network anyhow) and I moved all the built-in) email and internet apps into a folder called “distractions.” Honestly, this change has felt like a really healthy one and I feel like it is progress. Sure, I got a little teasing, but it was just so much easier to deal with. And thanks to my 6 months without it, I had broken myself of the compulsion to check it all the time. And since it isn’t web/data capable, there’s nothing to check.

In this way, I up-cycled what was cast aside to be recycled. And that’s good. What I’m still struggling with is workload and how to manage that within boundaries. I’m happy to say that after a couple of months of working nights, I am imposing that restriction again as much as is feasible. But I’m still struggling with grabbing the iPad just to check on some whimsical factoid or to have a look at Facebook. I’m aware of it and I’m cutting that back slowly as well.

One of the really great things about going to an extreme even for a finite period is that you have a frame of reference. So while being gadgetless in a Zen-like state may not be attainable on an ongoing basis, I am now keenly aware of the bad habits and where the off switch is. For me, at least with the dumbed down iPhone, it is two steps forward and one step to the side.

Just over a week ago, however, I was reminded about what makes the ones and zeros so utterly seductive. For the last dozen years or so, I have been working in public relations—five of those for myself. I did not study that in college (art degree) and generally considered marketing and PR to be a career path of professional liars to sell sneakers or cover up oil spills. That was before I discovered cultural/arts/community PR. It had honestly never occurred to me that one could promote things that were… good.

Working at the Austin Symphony and Austin Museum of Art, I quickly fell in love with the art of getting the story told of this soloist or that exhibition—through editorial coverage and later social media. Unlike the science of paid advertising where you can throw down your money and buy an ad—dictating it’s size, wording, and placement—”earned” coverage comes with a special thrill as you work to draw out the most compelling attributes of something, pitching it to media contacts, then helping them assemble all the pieces that go into a well-crafted feature story, for example. Then there’s the great fun of reading it, sharing it with the client, and so forth. Even today, it is my favorite part of what I do.

While I can still remember the days of faxing a press release then calling to follow up about whether not it was received, most everything is now done digitally. On any given workday, I might well send a couple hundred emails in correspondence, with an additional 300 to 1,500 if we are sending a small or large announcement out to our media lists. Like any modern day office worker, I’m jumping between email, the server, Google, Facebook, Twitter, Word, Excel, and a few other utilities with a few calls thrown in. It seems kinda crazy, but when I’m in it, it is actually a lot of fun.

Last Thursday, we had a big media and VIP event at the Winspear Opera House in Dallas for client Texas Cultural Trust. For the assembled guests followed by a few thousand media contacts, we were announcing the dozen honorees for the 2011 Texas Medal of Arts Awards, including such notable Texans as Bill Paxton, Bob Schieffer, Barbara Smith Conrad, and ZZ Top. We had been preparing for months and had kept the names closely guarded until the big moment.

Winspear Opera House

We came armed with phones, laptop, and iPad. Media lists and social media accounts were all queued up in advance. From the time we arrived at the venue, we were tweaking and prepping, tweeting and posting, and generally getting amped up to throw the big switch. I found myself feeling almost high from the combination of excitement and technological activity. I was anticipating the coverage we would be getting, hunting down planned and surprise reports, checking email replies moment to moment, and generally reveling in the afterglow of a widespread announcement. We hit the road almost immediately after, but I had my co-worker checking my email on her smartphone regularly throughout the drive. It would have been both impractical and maddening to wait the four hours until we got back. As far as pushing the lever and getting feeder pellets, making a big media announcement is like a feeder pellet smörgåsbord.

I once went to an employer-suggested professional development thing where the ‘facilitator’ used the expression “getting your yummies” – meaning doing or saying things that give you a response that supplies you with a boost of praise or self confidence. I have used the term many times since, and it definitely applies here. In building up for that big media announcement and following the response obsessively, I was definitely getting my yummies.

That’s not to say that I feel like using technology as an implicit part of my job—and loving what it makes possible—is some sort of contradiction to the premise of The Off Switch. As I’ve written in previous posts, it’s the incessant interruptions of smart phones and the rabbit holes of Facebook and the ever-present work mentality of laptops that I am actively trying to escape. But the whole Dallas episode was a good reminder of how complicit my vocation is in the struggle. If I had a job that didn’t involve lots of “urgent” emails and phone calls, I somehow doubt that I’d take issue with the associated technology in my off hours. I feel like incessant phone checking and Facebooking are rampant among most parts of the American population, but I somehow feel that I would not be as susceptible if I were, say, a barista or park ranger.

In contemplating this post, I tried to think of a parallel. I’m not like an alcoholic who can never take a drink again. Nor am I like an Muslim who can’t eat pork. It’s not even comparable to a vegetarian who refuses meat, which I am. For me, this whole paradigm shift is more like a filter that I have the privilege of applying to my life. Like being a locavore or someone who buys only American or a green-living type or a coffee snob (which I also am), this life change is about selectively participating in what’s available—on principle.

Several months back, my wife asked me which I’d choose if I had to give up coffee or using a Mac. I can’t remember my response, but something tells me that I chose Macs. It’s not that coffee isn’t one of my favorite things, it is, but at the time, I couldn’t imagine doing without one. Until recently, I’d even go as far as to say that being a Mac user was a central part of my identity. To be perfectly honest, I felt dependent on interacting with the operating system to feel like me. I know. But now that I’ve gotten rid of the iPhone and my MacBook, and I’m no longer fooling with those interfaces from the moment I wake up to the moment I go to sleep and every 15 minutes in between, it’s not so important to me. I’ll probably be a Mac user as long as there are Macs, but it’s just not that big of a deal any more.

So, while I still get plenty of professional yummies electronically, and will continue to around the big PR moments, these days I’ve been getting more of my personal yummies face to face – over coffee when possible.

Mmmmmm

I am here

more—or at least equal—power in an effort by directing it at a very specific area; as in a zip code. Mobile phone app developers have embraced this concept in creating programs that utilize the built-in GPS positioning capabilities of most smart phones to help users find products, businesses, activities, and other people that are nearby. I decided on a different method. I took a walk.

I’ve been an Austin resident since 1980, save 3 years in high school in Texarkana. In that time, I’ve lived in about 14 places in this city. 4-5 were north or around campus. The rest were south. I currently reside in 78704, an area billed as “more than a zip code… a way of life.” Seems to me that people co-exist here in many ways of life, but it’s a nice place to call home regardless. Not too much rampant development. Not too many big box stores. A lot of ‘individuals’ and small businesses, which are probably my favorite attribute of the area.

When my wife and I opened up our first out of the house office in 2008, we looked central and south, but we really wanted to be near our home. We ultimately chose a place about 8 minutes drive from our house on the end of the trendy/funky South Congress district of shops, restaurants, and—more recently—parking lots full of food trailers. It was fine, but a little pricey and a little bit of a schlep, especially when running home for the kiddo or when rush hour happened. As I started awakening from the long slumber of a technology-laden mindset and really began looking outward and inward, I could feel that more changes were coming beyond ditching the laptop and smart phone. I knew that once I shed the omnipresent, omnipresent gadgets I would be suddenly faced with a subsequent  series of realizations about my life and choices. It was thrilling, but frightening.

I think part of what makes technology and especially so-called ‘productivity and connectivity’ platforms, is that they present both a portal for escape and a mirage of superhuman capability. For me, technology has made a lot possible. I was able to start a business with my wife with nothing more than our reputations, a laptop, and a cell phone. As the business grew, I used nighttime and weekend moments to keep things moving forward and to build all aspects of the operation while also servicing client needs. I always knew that my time, psychological agility, and energy would bend—although I was
unsure how far. So, in this way, through real and tele-commuting and by working here and there, I was able to stretch myself beyond what I would call reasonable.

About the same time I started re-assessing my abuse of the internet and it’s complicit hardware, I began realizing that I was becoming one of those who would be on my deathbed, not wishing I had spent more time at work. I had built this life raft to escape from the day job conundrum, but had been so busy paddling it that I hadn’t made time to lay back and enjoy the sunshine. It seemed that another change was in order. Our old lease was up at the end of November, and we started weighing our options. What sort of daily reality did we want for ourselves. Lovely as our old offices were, I found myself feeling as though I had to suit up and get over there 8 hours a day. As I started slowing down, and entering my tech-detox, I began envisioning a new sort of workday. I imagined work at a human scale and a realistic pace. You know… like in a small town and/or 30 years ago. It’s not to say that I was some sort of jet-setter or high-powered so-and-so, but with a PR/branding business in Austin, there is just a number of events, meetings, and errands that are built-in. Then I began looking at the neighborhood around my home in a way I had never done before.

I had always appreciated the small shops and amenities nearby, but almost always at 40 miles per hour as I sped to and from our house. In the recent years since we moved in, a lot of cool things had come in and I found myself extra-interested in seeing them succeed. Recently, I started diverting my nap-time stroller excursions out of our immediate neighborhood to the adjacent commercial areas. Since I no longer push with one hand and stare into an iPhone with the other, I started really looking around and taking inventory. There is a lot in the 4 blocks around our house to be really proud of—and businesses I wanted to know about—and see succeed.

One of the really peculiar things about modern life is that while we have access to a tsunami of information about our communities and friends, we are often so busy running around and “checking in” that we’re generally checked out of actual engagement with our surroundings. As I started exploring these 4 blocks from our front door, I found that it was a place I wanted to be. I wondered if I could be one of those people who walked to work. And so I began a Craigslist search for a suitable situation. After a just a few weeks, I found a place with potential that was literally 8 minutes walk from our front door! Including the street we live on, I can get there by crossing 4 streets—two traffic lights—and the best part is that there is all of this great stuff on the way.

I found myself quickly romanced by this idea of ditching my car some days and just sort of taking things down to a pedestrian pace. It took some work, but

My new commute

I negotiated the lease and re-configured our offices into this space. We’re still getting things set up, but I feel so good knowing that I’m supporting my neighborhood and truly living there. Rather than whizzing by the local shops and hoping they survive, I am getting to know the clerks and owners, giving them my business, and have even started to think of ways to work with them in some capacity. There is a certain element of sustainability about it that’s very satisfying as well. While I don’t walk every day, I feel good about the fact that I am driving less and breathing fresh air more. For the first time in what seems like years, I am slowing down enough to pay attention. I’m looking around and not only appreciating, but participating in my immediate community. I am picturing a new reality for myself wherein I create a little Northern Exposure right around my home.

While not entirely, what if most of what I need is right here in a stone’s throw from my house. Perhaps, if I take the time to find out, there could be good friends, collaborators, clients, and more right here. Of course, through the wonders of the internet and airplanes, I can continue to do business all over. But I can focus the rest of my energy right here. As someone recently pointed out, Buddha, Jesus, Gandhi, and other great spiritual leaders did all or most of their life’s work in their immediate surroundings yet had a profound and global impact.

So, that’s my new definition of hyper-localization: living, working, and being in the immediate community around my home and making a sincere effort to be a part of the here and now. To hell with what the smartphone and marketers tell me, I’m going to discover what’s nearby with my own eyes, ears, nose, and two feet. Here’s a short list of things I’m loving about my 4-block world right now:

• My neighborhood – full of decent, friendly, and engaged people
• The Soup Peddler/Juice Box stand designed by Michael Hsu
• Phil’s Ice House/Amy’s Ice Cream – kiddo loves the playground
• Giovanni’s Pizza that’s counter intuitively embedded in the Valero gas station
• Half Price Books
• Rockin’ Tomato Pizza
• Phoenicia Bakery – Mediterranean deli and grocery
• Onion Creek Productions
• Re-discovering the charms of Kerbey Lane Cafe
• Re-discovering the charms of Matt’s El Rancho
• Baker’s Street Pub – a chain, but I’m interested in the idea of a neighborhood watering hole within crawling distance
• A soon-to-open Torchy’s Tacos (which is replacing our beloved Chango’s)
• And a bunch of businesses I don’t have a reason to patronize, but I’m glad they’re there: Tribe Comics, Austin Pets Alive, et al.

View My little neighborhood in a larger map

My little neighborhood

I have to admit that I’m not big on New Year’s resolutions. The mass good intentions and conspicuous timing always make me wary. But this year, having started on a new resolution back in September, I feel ready to embrace the concept. If anything, I’ll re-up on the changes I’ve already committed to and stay vigilant.

Most years since we started our business, my wife and I have taken the week between Christmas and New Year’s off. We may check the odd email or knock out a couple of time-sensitive tasks, but mostly we just do other stuff. Again, this year, we had a sort of “stay-cation” wherein we hung out and generally worked on projects we’d been meaning to do all year long.

In terms of technological involvements, I found myself distracted in the sense that I knew emails were accumulating and that really bothered me. On the other hand, I did better than usual not diddling on the Internet/Facebook and generally not checking in.

I got food poisoning or some sort of raunchy virus on Christmas Eve and was near death for about 36 hours. I totally missed Christmas, but the upside was that I slept for an unprecedented span of time and didn’t so much as text or check email or anything for that whole time as well. It was a nice way to celebrate the holidays, even if I felt like crap. I think I’ll be experimenting with total tech blackouts this year – for vacation jaunts and holidays. Even though I’m not Jewish, I have thought about observing Shabbat with no technology to act as a mental sorbet. We’ll see.

So, here’s my resolution: I resolve to remain aware of the role technology and it’s rising tide of interruptions/distractions in my life and the world around me. In the past 4 months, I’ve already experienced a re-awakening of sorts. I’m more present, less impatient, and generally enjoying life on a deeper level. What’s more, I feel empowered to examine and change other aspects of my life that aren’t working as they should be. Just the simple act of asking myself if this bit of technology or that gadget are serving me well has me asking similar questions elsewhere.

Happy new year to you! I hope 2011 is surprising and invigorating!!