I'm off the grid: Day 3

“Next time you have a thought, just let it go.”

I’m by no means a fan of Comedy Central’s band of redneck comedians, but I recently caught a special with Ron White, in which he jokes about saying that to an ignorant friend who always manages to stick his foot in his mouth.

As I stood in my kitchen and heard him mutter this from my living room TV, it struck me as the most appropriate philosophy to apply to this disconnected social experiment: Next time I have a thought, I’m going to let it go.

Walking to class, I thought about how much I would like to see some designer’s collection strut down the runway to the tune of The White Stripes’ Little Cream Soda. I got over it.

I came across a great news story I felt compelled to share with my roommate on Facebook.com. I clicked on to the next.

In other words, I’m slowly getting over this need to constantly, instantaneously relay every piece of information and every thought I find amusing to the rest of the world. Why, I’ve been asking myself, would they care anyway?

Second only to White’s words of wisdom, the phrase, “Why would anyone care about that?” also has been somewhat of a mantra for the past few days. I’ve realized most people don’t care about most of what I say or find interesting or funny. Shocking, right?

It has become almost second nature for our generation to share every detail of our lives with those around us in public ways, like posting an update on Facebook or some sort of personal blog site. I once read an article that blamed this phenomenon on our parents’ obsession with videotaping all those momentous occasions — birthdays, school plays, Christmas mornings spent opening gifts — and saving the tapes to later look back at as fond memories. This article (which I cannot find after lots of Googling, otherwise I’d love to share it here) also said our generation has a unique desire to publicly preserve ourselves unlike any generation before us, otherwise we feel as if we don’t exist.

Is it a little far-fetched? Probably. “I Facebook, therefore I am,” is not a mantra that has crept into my mind this week and I pretty much feel like I exist as much as I did last week. But there’s this nagging voice that keeps telling me people are wondering about what I’m doing.

It’s incredibly narcissistic and it kind of makes me think, “Who, exactly do you think you are? Are your boring thoughts and photos and daily web-browsings that enthralling?”

Simply put, no, they are not.

It still hurts a little to open up a browser and not check Facebook or type some random thought into that welcoming little box on Twitter that says, “What are you doing?”

But the less I do it, the less I think about doing it. And the less I do it, the more I accomplish as a result. Work goes smoother, there are fewer excuses and distractions to keep me from doing my homework and, honestly, I had time to start reading a new, non-school-related book last night.

I read a book for pleasure for the first time in probably a good two years. It was amazing. I hadn’t realized how much I missed it and how lame it is to say I don’t have time to read outside of school. Eliminating a few minutes of social networking here and there from my daily routine gave me time.

It feels like a new, less-connected day is dawning.

And I don’t care what anyone’s statuses have to say about it.