Tuesday 3 March 2015

Back to the future

I show it off to anyone who'll listen. "Look, it can store 50 phone numbers!" I exclaim. "One day I'll be able to set my video to record using one of these!"

I'd long been a fan of watches, but this one really was something. The year was 1992, and I, in the midst of my formidable inner circle of mildly interested schoolfriends and bemused but encouraging aunties, was proudly at the forefront of wearable technology. The phrase wasn't around at the time (npi) of course, but if Casio and I had teamed forces back then, well, who knows where we'd both be now?

But I digress (when don't I?). 

Fast-forward to 2015, and (occasionally to even my own amazement) I haven't bought a smartwatch. I've got a smartphone, a tablet and half a laptop (it's really hubby's but he graciously refers to it as "ours"), but these days I enjoy a watch that simply, elegantly, tells me the time. Just because something can do more doesn't mean that it should

That said, it certainly shouldn't do less. I recently saw the film "Mr Turner", and was impressed with the set and the costumes. I liked the cast. I smiled at the dialogue. But the fundamental component, the central tenet to any good performance (for me at least), was missing. There was no narrative! Plot, storyline, sequence-of-interconnected-events - call it what you will; it was nowhere to be seen.

So this got me thinking: implant yourself in the right environment with the right clothing, and you'll be accepted. Befriend some great people, and you'll be well on your way to a good life. Speak with authenticity and eloquence, and you shall delight those around you. But if your life has no compelling story, no tale it strains to tell, then the rest is just credits. 

I think the key lies in the "interconnected" part of the phrase I used above: rather than living from event to event and drawing often thin connections after the fact (what did we do during the week / in between holidays etc.?), the stories of our lives are so much richer when we handcraft those connections for ourselves. Or in other words, when we write our narratives in real time. One doesn't need to have a week in Spain booked to attend Spanish classes, for example - why not study the language for its own sake, and see where that learning takes you? Too old to be a tennis pro? Perhaps, but who's to say you won't enjoy it when you pick up the racquet? Not worth talking to the new person at work as you wouldn't possibly be friends? Really? Are you sure?

So poise your pen, dear reader. (Or your stylus.) I've checked my watch, and it's time to start writing.


Saturday 3 January 2015

Slow down; you move too fast

Three. That's how many sources of entertainment we typically have at the dinner table. Each other, the iPad, and the food itself. (Yes, ever since I observed our new baby boy's steady focus whenever he drinks his milk I'm classing eating as a form of entertainment.)

Now granted, aforementioned infant is barely two months old and so can only pay attention to one thing at a time, but it got me thinking: why do we (non-infants) seek out several sources of distraction at the same time? After all, it's well-known that multi-tasking isn't truly doing several things simultaneously but is in fact the frequent chopping and changing of our attention from one thing to another, lingering just long enough on each one to ensure we can afford to drop out again. So why do we cause ourselves the bother?

And it's not just a hassle for the multi-tasker: I'd go so far as to say it's sometimes downright offensive to the initial source. Sure, if the worst that can happen is that the radio feels left out while we read the newspaper then of course there is no cause for concern, but my true issue is when people - real life, 3D people - become just another channel we can flick past for a moment as we rely on the (shaky) belief that we can simply press the trusty "Back" button when we're ready to re-engage. I'm sure we all think we're never guilty of this, but consider this scenario: you're out with a friend - let's call him Neil. You and Neil are in the middle of an interesting conversation, and your phone rings. It's Dom - another friend - and you've no reason to think it's urgent. Do you answer it? I bet you do (and I do too). But if Dom were instead to approach you on the street and deliberately interrupt your conversation, you would (I hope) light-heartedly put him in his place and ask him to hang on a minute while you finish the sentence you were partway through to Neil. 

Or another one: you are sitting chatting with a group of friends, and the conversation is flowing. Your phone beeps with a text message. Do you attend to it immediately? Would you do the same if that friend had appeared and called your name? Or my personal favourite: would you start talking to the person on your left, or perhaps actively listening in to what she was saying, whilst in the middle of a chat with the person to your right - the physical equivalent of crafting a text message or checking email respectively while you're in a conversational situation?

I've been guilty of it. But having been on the receiving end and realising just how rubbish it can make one feel (I'm clearly not interesting enough / my friend doesn't care about what I have to say / this person is just killing time with me), this year I'm vowing to do my best not to dilute my focus on the people right in front of me. Friends, despite the internet getting faster please bear with me if I'm a bit slower at electronic communications from now on. The real world is going to start getting my full attention - the digital one can wait.