My Analog Summer
Restoring Memory Lost in Digital Life
This month we focus on the importance of re-engaging with our non-digital lives and offline pleasures.
As summer rolls out I’ve been noticing strange…behaviors.
I make a point of watching beloved series with my daughters — well, with one of them anyway; the other one is too distracted by her ASMR videos on YouTube. We’re currently switching between Gilmore Girls and Downton Abbey, though we recently made our way through the John Hughes film lexicon and all seasons of The Great British Baking Show.
I’ve wondered why I’ve insisted on watching Every. Single. Episode of series I’ve already watched, even asking my daughter to play a scene back if I missed a line.
“I thought you watched this show already,” she said to me numerous times. “Don’t you know what happens?” In truth I’ve plumb forgotten many of the plot lines.
The Optionality Origin Story: Sharing this recent highlight, where Jory talks with HumanizeHer founders Erica Lockheimer and Elizabeth Wendorf-Bloesser about all things Optionality, from the career crossroads that inspired it to the struggles (and joys) of living it. It was quite the romp through all the “threads” of Jory’s early media career from couch-surfing in NYC to co-founding BlogHer, to building and advocating for the Portfolio Life.
I’ve also been re-reading hardcover books cover to cover, reigniting joys and insights I experienced the first time I consumed them. Who knew, all the insights I’d missed the first time reading a book? Maybe I need to adopt a new approach to reading, one my manicurist would approve of: At least two applications and a “top coat” of a final skim to prevent my retention from chipping.
My other daughter, obsessed with Y2K music and fashion, sifted through a collection of old CDs I’d gathered since the 90s and made a Spotify playlist of her favorites, which notably corresponded with my preferred songs. I’ve gone off and listened to it alone while driving or washing dishes, re-relishing the music as if hearing it for the first time.
Given our shared interest in The Smiths and anything vintage, she’s enlisted me to be her shopping assistant at local thrift stores, sifting through reams of castaway jeans, looking for gems: a pair of True Religions, or even a more recent pair of skinny jeans that can be repurposed into shorts; jersey tees to slouch up a la Jennifer Beals in Flashdance; a clean, woven handbag with embroidered flowers for days she’s out shopping with friends and wants to kick her look up a notch.
Meanwhile my Facebook account remains untouched, save for a day earlier last month, when realizing it was my birthday that week I wrote a group ‘thank you’ to friends who may have thought me an asshole for not acknowledging their well wishes on my 53rd trip around the sun.
I mean, what the actual hell?
Why do I gravitate back to earlier eras, when media existed, but not tech neck? When I’m more inclined to watch chefs making Spotted Dick on Netflix than a tutorial on YouTube? (That window has been open on my laptop for months now).
I am discovering clues. And making some realizations.
Fractional Execs, Small-Business Owners, Solopreneurs: Think like a Startup Founder and develop a personal Go-to-Market strategy for the Product of You.
Maybe we don’t need to track, post, document everything to the cloud.
My daughter recently commented on how interesting she found it visiting her aunt’s home in the Chicago suburbs, where kids “just, like, rode their bikes around in the middle of the street and hung out at the park,” without ‘ary a cell phone in sight. It seemed the point of these excursions was not to actually go anywhere so much as be together. How would THAT look on Strava, to go for a bike ride with no elevation, power numbers, or Personal Records (PRs) to share with one’s followers as proof-of-existence?
It sounded to me as if my daughter actually liked the concept of NOT tracking every step, ride, accomplishment, and it made me re-think my whole “enrichment at all times,” strategy to summer scheduling.
With boredom comes discovery.
With the few exceptions of already-planned trips and activities, I’ve left summer scheduling for my kids to my kids. The experiment is still playing out, but I’m finding it interesting seeing where they gravitate.
One has been working on a short story she intends to publish, brushing up on violin, training for her upcoming bike racing season, and making all sorts of culinary concoctions including dried curry chick peas, rosemary-infused pasta, and tofu Alfredo sauce (sounds positively gross, but she pulled it off).
The vintage lover wakes up anytime between 10am and noon, mosies over to the local convenience store for alternatives to our selection of snacks, watches entire creator libraries on YouTube in one sitting, practices her own skin care and makeup tutorials, rearranges her boudoir and schedules multi-day sleepover events with her friends, where I suspect she engages in many of the same activities, just at other peoples’ houses.
Basically, she does what I used to do at her age during the summer. And while I have my hangups, I like to think I turned out a relatively well-functioning adult.
We need human affection; even if we don’t know it.
On Father's Day, we met up with family to celebrate, and my husband’s aunt joined us. She’s a grandma at this point, but still far more aware of the proclivities of late-Gen Zers than I am. When she approached the teens and tweens in the house she asked each one, “May I hug you?” resulting in either a quick embrace, awkward mutual back-patting, or outright refusal.
Of course none of this surprises me in the post-COVID era, when nearly anyone of school age spent their formative socialization years on Zoom and Roblox, but it still made me sad. And it gave me insight into why I insisted on re-watching Gilmore Girls, where young people had their issues but also looked each other in the eye, got caught making out with real people — not by proxy on TikTok, and didn’t call everyone, even their grandparents, “Bruh.” (Actually, I don’t think I've ever seen anyone making out on TikTok, which could be why my kids fast-forward “boring” love scenes and why young people, in general, are having much less sex.)
We need to snap out of our isolationism.
Seeing my own family’s social anxiety made me realize my own. Recently while at the airport enroute to a conference I encountered a good friend. Not just a "person-I-see-at-industry-events" friend, but a "went-to-my-wedding-and-spent-holidays-with" friend. It so happened she was going to the same event as I, through the invitation of a shared mutual contact. Seeing her initially I wasn’t sure how to respond: After all, I was in work mode, and extremely stressed out by a number of recent personal events that this trip was uncomfortably wall-papering. I felt like she could see the lumps in my smooth exterior: She asked me about work, my family, me, and I cracked open.
For the next three days we talked — in-between boarding calls, Ubers, and conference sessions we talked. Our conversations formed the glue between our work and personal obligations, as they did when we worked in an office together so many years ago. And I realized I needed more in-person connection in my work life. I’ve been hiding online, afraid of being seen in my real, imperfect world, enabled by virtual work culture (which I wholeheartedly endorse, but which also has resulted in me neglecting to maintain my roots literally and figuratively). And I’m teaching my kids to do the same.
HR professionals Maria Delgado and Laurie Halsey share a load of tactical advice for when the unexpected strikes. Bookmark this post for when you need it!
Summer seems the perfect time for a coming out party; a time when we can practice both unvarnished fun and restorative retreat. For me that has meant walks with friends, lunches, live events, “Hangs” coordinated by text but otherwise occurring offline, punctuated by books, movies, cooking while listening to this thing called The Radio; puzzling.
Most of these analog events I’ve failed to document, let alone post online — you’ll just have to take my word for it they’ve happened, like everything used to happen in the summer: In Real Life.
Do you have to digitally detox first to truly enjoy the analog summer? Asking for a friend…