B.B.O.

Somewhere in this Muddy Estuary we call a city, a typical morning has begun.

After waking up from a morning slumber, she goes directly to the Macbook which has found a permanent spot on her dining table. In a desultory manner, her mind wanders to the blogs that she has to visit today. "What ever happened to her baby?" "What interesting story is on offering today?" "I wonder if she has updated anything since two weeks ago." "I do hope she's feeling much better." "Will he crack another joke this time?"

After experiencing what she affectionately terms as B.B.O. - Blog Burn-Out (and not to be confused with Bad Body Odour), her thought flits to her favourite online newspaper forever on the lookout for articles of interest.

And there is that 'social utility tool' narcisstically called Facebook which is haunting her day in day out with its various applications. Honestly, she couldn't really fathom the purpose to which they serve. But they still manage to bait her, hook, line and sinker.

As the day finally winds down to the bedroom, she even checks the Net on her cellphone, thanks largely to the 3G she's been subscribing to. (Or NO thanks to?) Ironically enough, it was lying down in bed reading this article on her trusty Sony Ericsson that she realised the magnitude of her problem.

She's a techno addict. And sadly, she is none other but me.

To exemplify the severity of my addiction, let's compare with these several lines:

Yet I had developed the habit of leaving a laptop next to my bed so I could check my e-mail, last thing and first thing. I had learned how to turn my P.D.A. into a modem, the better to access the Web from my laptop when on a train. Of course I also used that P.D.A. in conventional ways, attending to it when it buzzed me.

I think my predicament started after my hubby bought the Mac for his overseas studies which had in turn enabled me to blog freely at home. This by the way took place after I quit my job. My Net-dependency got worse when we settled in Holland, what with the fast, 24/7 access at home that comes virtually free! (The cost came together with the apartment rent)

So when we came back to Malaysia, almost a year later, I whinged about the relatively slow and unreliable (believe me, it's worsened after we left) connection that is available at home. Feeling downtrodden with the inability to surf as often and as fanatical as I did before, I resigned to the fact that I would only peruse the blogworthy reads but without the almost compulsory practice to leave a comment every time.

And now, I believe I have come at a crossroads with respect to the internet. No, I would not abandon it completely, nor would I find myself feeding intravenously through a makeshift modem. Like the article advocates, I will exercise, once or twice weekly, a Secular Sabbath.

...Thus began my “secular Sabbath” — a term I found floating around on blogs — a day a week where I would be free of screens, bells and beeps. An old-fashioned day not only of rest but of relief.

Yes, the tried-and-true way of liberating myself from any facets of technology which has become cumbersome to keep up with. Instead of 'bringing people closer,' I'm stuck with the sadistic impulse to be at its beck and call. So no more e-mail, text messaging or internet on this Secular Sabbath day (or THESE days if I've survived ONE day)!

Naturally, the chances of regressing back into habit are quite high. My hubby might even say it's insurmountable (well, he might say something less wordy but you get the idea). But I'd better start somewhere than staying put in a Techno rut. And this method is a 'healthy' compromise. As Mr. Bittman puts it:

Increasingly, I realized that there is more to the secular Sabbath than an impulse, or even a day off from e-mail. And there are reasons that nonsecular Sabbaths — the holy days of Christians, Jews and Muslims — have rules that require discipline. Even for the nonreligious, those rules were once imposed: You need not be elderly to remember when we had no choice but to reduce activity on Sundays; stores and offices — even restaurants — were closed, there were certainly no electronics, and we were largely occupied by ourselves or our families.

Thus, in order to be successful in this particular endeavour I have to be disciplined. After all, without discipline, anything could be abandoned at our whims and fancies. I must adhere to a set of rules of 'engagement' if I were to emerge triumphant. Err, what are these rules again?

With this epiphany, I find myself now agreeing to the long-held Sunday tradition of closed shops in Delft. I used to complain about the Dutch's lack of enterprising spirit (read: loafing off) on the day when consumers want to go out and shop. On hindsight, this arrangement allows them to immerse in a state of complete relaxation. Time to recharge the old and tinker the new.

I thank God for the opportunity to live in an idyllic town which is none too busy, nor is it too boring. It was well, quaint and refreshing. And if we really need to escape for a bit of shopping, there is always a train ride away to Rotterdam or Den Hague. If only I could live in a town like that back in Malaysia...perhaps then I won't need the internet every so often.

So dears, if you don't hear from me over the weekend and on a premeditated date, fear not me lads and ladies as I will hop back on the bandwagon as soon as Secular Sabbath draws to an end. In the meantime, try to leave a message with the hubby (and I'd like to stress on the word try ;) ).