Here's another technique I use to make gadgets less manipulative and addictive, in addition to perpetually using Do Not Disturb on my phone and smartwatch:
I use Focus mode on Android during work hours. The feature disables apps of my choosing during the specified time frame. It's actually not quite as helpful as it might seem, largely because Google allows the user to work around it very easily, almost encouraging the user to stop using it, but it's one small piece of a larger puzzle. I'm sure iOS has something similar, and perhaps it's not quite as self-defeating over there.
As part of my ongoing effort to share techniques for making modern devices less addictive and manipulative, here's another trick I use in addition to perpetually using Do Not Disturb on my smartphone:
My smartwatch is always in Do Not Disturb mode. It only makes noise when an alarm or timer goes off, and it never vibrates. There are no other exceptions because Wear OS apparently doesn't allow them. (I wouldn't mind getting a buzz from FitBit when it's time to move, but configuring that does not appear to be possible.)
Some might wonder why I have a smartwatch at all. It's a good question. Aside from knowing the time, I mostly use it to track my sleep. I honestly don't care about most of the other features.
edit (2025-12-14): Some time after writing this blog post, I sold the smartwatch and got a mechanical watch, which I recommend! I track my sleep using another app, and I honestly don't even need to do that. I don't need sleep tracking to know what worsens or improves my sleep.
I can become absorbed by technology like anyone else, but the nature of my absorption sometimes looks different because I work hard to make my gadgets less addictive. Over time, I'd like to share some of the techniques I use. Here's the first one, which I've mentioned before:
My phone is always in Do Not Disturb mode. I don't get any beeps or buzzes, except for emergency alerts, alarms, calendar reminders, phone calls within certain parameters (close contacts, repeat callers, etc.), and Slack messages from colleagues. I almost never need to be immediately alerted about anything else; I check my phone often enough already.
Interestingly, this isn't very easy to configure. Modern devices mostly require that we opt out of distractions, rather than opt in. Put another way, if the mode that respects our attention is called Do Not Disturb, what is the ordinary mode called?
“If you take on a role that’s beyond your capabilities, you not only disgrace yourself in that one, but you’ve also passed up the role that you were capable of performing well.”
—The Enchiridion of Epictetus, as newly translated by Robin Waterfield in The Complete Works
I don't care about likes, comments, and shares. I don't care how many people subscribe to my blog.
Sounds pretty bold. Of course, it's a lie. We're all human. We all want to be liked.
I don't want those metrics to change my behavior, however. I don't want to be manipulated, however subtly, by algorithms and the faint praise of fake online friends. I'd rather be underappreciated than sell out. I'd rather be ignored than say things I don't believe.
Never say of anything, “I have lost it,” but, “I have restored it.” Has your child died? It is restored. Has your wife died? She is restored. Has your estate been taken away? That likewise is restored. “But it was a bad man who took it.” What is it to you by whose hands he who gave it has demanded it again? While he permits you to possess it, hold it as something not your own, as do travelers at an inn. —The Enchiridion of Epictetus
Some might find these comments on death to be callous and blunt. I find them helpful. The default is nothingness. We are lucky to have others while we do. Moreover, reality is what it is, whether we like it or not. We can either fight reality, an impossible task, or we can find some way to live in harmony with reality. It’s easier said than done, but it’s our only real option.
Tagalong (Taggy) passed away on the last day of July. She was 15. Her health had declined suddenly the previous day after receiving bad news from the vet just a few days prior. It all happened so fast. She passed peacefully with her momma by her side, which is all I could have asked for.
In the past, I wrote that we may need a digital equivalent to the awkward pause. At the time, I couldn't find the blog post where I first encountered that idea, but now, almost exactly one year later, I've found it. It really stood the test of time. I couldn't agree more!
Imagine you're at a dinner party, and you're getting into a heated argument. As you start yelling, the other people quickly hush their voices and start glaring at you. None of the onlookers have to take further action—it's clear from their facial expressions that you're being a jerk.
In digital conversations, giving feedback requires more conscious effort. Silence is the default. Participants only get feedback from people who join the fray. They receive no signal about how the silent onlookers perceive their dialogue. In fact, they don't receive much signal that onlookers observed the conversation at all.
As a result, the feedback you do receive in digital conversations is more polarized, because the only people who will engage are those who are willing to take that extra step and bear that cost of wading into a messy conversation.
“What are human beings without animals? If all the animals ceased to exist, human beings would die of a great loneliness of the spirit. For whatever happens to the animals will happen soon also to human beings. All things connect.”
—Chief Seattle, from an inscription at the Frederick Douglass Greater Rochester International Airport
