Not Bored But Lonely
My attempts to "be on that phone" less often represent well-trod territory for this blog, so I'll keep this one short. Basically, I was thinking about why it is that I reach for my phone at any given time. Obviously, there's a whole exhausting conversation to be had about habit formation, reinforcement, dopamine, this, that, and the other. That's all well and good I suppose, but it's somewhat outside the scope of what I'm getting at here. Basically, I think the intuition of most individuals when they start tapping around on their phones is that they are responding to feelings of boredom. And, indeed, I have noticed a lot of chatter about whether cell phones and social media and the like have gravely compromised our tolerance for the beauty and serenity of true blue boredom.
I have operated under roughly the same intuition myself for some time, but I'm increasingly finding that it's not really accurate to my situation. The fact is, I have all kinds of ways to occupy myself, and they run the gamut from wholesome–bordering–on–ascetic to downright hedonistic and reward center-stimulating. I could be having an absolute ball, but I still might reach for my phone after a while. In that moment, what am I really hoping to see when I unlock my screen? In the best case scenario, it's a call or message from a friend. Even if, not seeing such a message, I wind up looking at something dumb on Instagram, I am drawn to my phone initially by the promise of human interaction.
The kinds of things I do on my phone when nobody is calling or texting me are often themselves increasingly desperate attempts to replicate a kind of human connection. All things being equal, I'd probably have the most fun going down Wiki rabbit holes, but reading god-awful comments sections (besides its role in my OCD-related compulsive behaviors) gives more of a sense that there are other people around — even if they're people I can't stand. Likewise, the appeal of YouTube's infinite slop buffet (also called the "recommended" page) is that many of the videos center people talking either to me or to others about something in which I've demonstrated at least a passing interest. Even videos that don't quite fit this description but at least contain spoken dialogue are deceptively appealing in that they can stave off the realization that I am alone. Worst of all, proper movies don't quite work because I consciously approach and consume them as pieces of art rather than as tools for my own self-deception in the face of an unmet social hankering.
I am particularly susceptible to this pattern of behavior, I think, because my social needs seem to be somewhat above average. I always want to be around people who "get" me, and I never really want to say goodbye. I can monologue at my friends, listen to my friends monologue at me, or go breathlessly back-and-forth with those friends for hours on end. In recent years, I've been grappling with some really substantial (largely geographic) barriers with respect to this kind of companionship, so I often don't come even remotely close to achieving social satiation.
Having this realization has been good for me though. I'm more conscious now both of the magnitude of my unmet need and of the way that my current coping strategies have been stealing away precious free time I'd much rather spend doing the things I truly love, even if I'm too often condemned to have my fun in solitude.
Can you relate? Or perhaps you have your own ideas? Drop your local blogger a line at asksycamore [at] mailbox [dot] org, and let me know what you think!