Addict

I have always felt a bit restless – I’m a nail biter, a fiddler. I imagine my life will be better if I lived in New York, Mexico, Vietnam. I wouldn’t be so nagged by ennui. I used to feel jealous of cigarette smokers because they had something to do in awkward social situations. They could concentrate on rolling, lighting, inhaling, blowing smoke rings and – all that nervous energy channeled – they’d have the best conversations at tea break. Or perhaps they weren’t having the best conversations, but it seemed like that was where the party was going on. There would be disclosures. Upstairs we were talking about the weather.

Now I have my phone – I can look at it whenever I feel bored or uncomfortable. The party is there, somewhere – I see evidence of it on Facebook and Instagram, I eavesdrop in Twitter. I read amazing articles about interesting ideas by people I’d like to know. I read interviews with writers; I listen to podcasts with Zadie Smith. I read too many articles. I read ones that make me feel like a bad mother. I read about how I could become more productive, or how I should be less productive. I feel slightly nauseous with all the articles I’ve read, like Oliver Jeffers’ book-eating boy, who consumes so many stories that nothing makes sense anymore.

My whole family is addicted to the internet. Right now Violet and Gus are watching Netflix and Otto is gaming downstairs. At six o’clock we’ve taken to hiding the modem. It should be the only way to stop us from gobbling up data. But of course I have a mobile plan and I cheat.

When I am hanging out with other people I don’t check my phone or the internet so much. When I have a deadline I also suspend my obsessive browsing. But mostly I work alone, or else I am watching children climb trees or waiting for them to put their shoes on (do you know how long that can take?!) and the temptation is too great.

I don’t know what I’m going to do about this. I suspect this is a form of growing pains – what’s the difference between phone surfing and my old days of reading newspapers and magazines? Now at least the music news isn’t three weeks old, having been sent over from England and the US. I don’t think I notice less because I am always looking for things to photograph. But maybe I just don’t know what I’m missing anymore.