I’m currently taking Sociology 167, “Virtual Communities,” taught by Professor Edwin Lin, and one of our assignments was to essentially go “off the grid” for 36 hours, meaning I couldn’t participate in any forms of social media, online interaction, or texting whatsoever.
At first, in my knowingly dramatic state, I felt the utter terror that would befall me for those 36 hours. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to see what all my friends were up to on Instagram, scroll endlessly on TikTok, or even text my mom back (that definitely would have her worrying if I suddenly wasn’t answering) was scary.
As I write this, I’m currently on hour twenty-four. By the time I wake up in the morning, I’ll only have to wait until noon before I can finally click on my favorite social media apps, text back all those who had contacted me during my “disconnect era,” and feel the satisfaction of making my presence known to my virtual communities.
I will most certainly do all these things by the time the clock strikes 12, but at the same time, I somehow feel lighter, happier, and appreciative of this fun little experiment my dear professor allowed me to experience (though, I will have to write a paper on this, which I’m not exactly looking forward to).
Being disconnected allowed me to appreciate everything that was always right in front of me. While I was definitely bored a lot of the time, the ability to feel bored was invigorating as I picked up hobbies I hadn’t touched in years. The problem with social media and digital entertainment is they’re so easily accessible that you forget to find true meaning and appreciation in them because you always have them at the tip of your fingers.
Throughout this experience, I really began to question why I’d spend almost five hours, not just scrolling, but skipping more than 50% of the TikTok videos on my For You Page. Most of the time, I was just trying to find videos to cure my boredom, but when I’d look at the clock and realize how much time passed, I’d feel guilty for wasting so much of my day being unproductive.
Instead of spending hours scrolling on my phone, sinking deep into the depths of my couch, I opted to bake recipes I’d been wanting to try for months. I went on walks around campus and journaled. I made bracelets. I drew. I read books. I went out thrifting. I went to the gym and tried a Pilates class. And of course, I did my homework most efficiently because I knew my phone wasn’t going to be a source of distraction for me.
On my disconnect, the days felt longer, but I felt productive, and began to see the world — with all its big and little things — for what it is: truly special. At hour 10, I remember feeling like I was going a little crazy. The urge to click on Instagram and text back a friend who’d finally responded to my delicious serving of tea was making my stomach bubble in ways I didn’t know it could, but I held myself back. If I couldn’t restrain myself for 36 hours, I’d have a real problem on my hands. So, to preoccupy myself, I went for a walk on campus.
Normally I listen to music, and while I do have songs downloaded that technically wouldn’t break my disconnect, I wanted to see the difference it’d make simply carrying myself throughout my walk. It felt weird at first. My ears craved their constant consumption of Faye Webster’s “Jonny,” Peso Pluma’s “Solicitado,” Blood Orange’s “Bad Girls,” or Steve Lacy’s “Like Me” to keep them entertained, but I realized that the beautiful people of Berkeley did exactly that for my precious little ears.
Telegraph is my favorite noisy street. As I walked up to Sather Gate, I heard the honking of cars from terrible drivers, the gossip and laughter from groups of friends getting boba from TP Tea, the click of heels from women I admired for their effortlessly cool fashion choices, and the noise that the six bus makes when it stops and opens its doors to pick up students — like a big sigh of air, tired from its job of circling Berkeley.
I heard everything for once and appreciated every single detail. I almost forgot how capable I was at picking up the smallest of noises and was surprised by how loud a sudden bang would hurt my ears. Good or bad, I took it all in.
There were so many other things I began to appreciate during my disconnect. I forgot that it was even an assignment. I know when these 36 hours come to an end, I’ll eventually want to do this again, but I don’t think I’d call it disconnecting. It’s ironically quite the opposite — a reconnection to the real communities that’ve been there all along if I just put my silly phone down.