Jesus Jones, "Right Here, Right Now"

A woman on the radio
talks about revolution
when it's already passed her by.
Bob Dylan didn't have this to sing about.
You know, it feels good
to be alive.

Sometime in the latter half of the 1980s, my paternal grandmother bought my siblings and I our first Walkmans (which, regrettably, is probably the plural). They were our Chanukah presents.

The Walkmans had AM-FM tuners. They were metallic in color. The tuner dials were in the upper right quadrants of the devices.

It was on my Walkman that I learned about a coup in the U.S.S.R. that overthrew Mikhail Gorbechev. I didn't understand what that meant – the end of the Soviet Union. The end of the Cold War.

I knew it meant something, though. Even then, I understood energy.

I was in the basement of my maternal grandparents' house, across the street from the house my paternal grandmother owned.

I understood better a few years later when on cable television we got to see the Berlin Wall come down.

What I understood then: People matter. People make change.

Well, I saw the decade in,
when it seemed the world could change
in the blink of an eye.
And if anything,
then there's your sign
of the times.

The thing that's stuck me most over the past 20 years – from the fall of the Soviet Union through the murder of Benazir Bhutto – is how quickly everything changes.

One morning, we're sitting at our desks, and planes crash into the skyscrapers we're working in.

Another night, we're sitting down to dinner with out families, and someone launches a "shock and awe" bombing campaign against us.

Some afternoon, we sit down to lunch, and nothing happens.

You never can tell.

Right here, right now,
there is no other place
I want to be.
Right here, right now,
watching the world wake up
from history.

There are all sorts of warnings about history. History repeats itself. Those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it.

The real warning should be this. Those who don't learn how to interpret the connections and evolution of historic events are doomed themselves to become history.

One morning, we put the bread in the toaster, and by the time we're done washing our faces, the toast appears on our plates, exactly the color, texture and temperature we like it, buttered and jammed to perfection.

One afternoon, we sit down to lunch, a server points a pen-like device at our eyes, and our bank accounts are debited for the amount of lunch plus a 17.5% gratuity.

One night, we climb in bed, and tomorrow passes us by.

Another reason to unplug: The DTV transition

It's seemed so far away for a long time, but the transition to digital TV is happening in 2009, and that's coming up soon.

"Wait, what transition?" I hear you cry.

Exactly. Half of American television watchers aren't aware they'll need new television sets soon. The full report is here (PDF).

With so many television stations, radio stations, cell phones, wireless networks and emergency systems using our airwaves (what's called spectrum), Congress has mandated that television stations stop broadcasting over the airwaves and instead use wires.

That's why, if you own an older television, the picture on some of your broadcast networks is starting to look a little choppy.

If you own an older television, you won't be able to pick up digital signals. You'll have to either buy a converter, or buy a new TV set.

At this point, I'm not really inclined to buy either.

Unfortunately, I'm in a small minority.

But, better TV has to switch to digital than to force some other industry to do it. Can you imagine if police and fire departments had to re-tool?

Unplugging at home

My life has become ridiculous kinds of complicated lately. I've been putting in overtime at work; I'm joining local organizations to boost my civic engagement; I'm doing more Web design and paper editing projects.

In my office job and in my freelance work, I spend a lot of time in front of a computer screen. When I was going home, I was spending more time in front of a computer screen, time in front of a television, and sometimes time in front of both.

I stopped writing entirely, and any time I sat down to write, I'd be distracted by e-mail, blogs, and a football game.

So I unplugged.

I called the cable company, and asked them to disconnect my television and Internet service. And my home phone, but that was secondary.

It's a lot more quiet in my house. I've been reading a lot. And I'm starting to write again – this here is proof of that.

And here's the kicker: I'm being more social. I have to be. I don't need to be online to write a blog post or design a Web page, but if I want to put either on the Web, I do have to be online. And now to be online, I have to go to a cafe. And that means that, even if it's one person, I have to talk to someone. So that's good.

If I want to watch a sporting event, I have to go to a bar that's showing it, and talk to people there.

If I want to watch a television show, I have to go to a friend's house and share it.

I could still plug my TV back in and watch a movie if I want, but I haven't wanted to.

What I've noticed in two weeks:

• My eyes aren't suffering as much strain as they used to
• I have less frequent headaches
• I'm talking a lot more softly and hearing a lot more loudly
• I'm listening to music
• Listening to radio shows and sporting events on the radio, I'm forced to use my imagination more, and that drives creativity
• I'm getting more exercise
• I'm exercising more will power
• I'm sleeping better
• I feel more in control over my body and my mind

Also, I'm saving about $120 a month, which can't be a bad thing, though I haven't had a month without that bill yet (the cable company swears my refund is coming for unused time, but I'm not holding my breath).

And you? How are you these days?