The Winter of Our Discontent
On Tuesday I sat next to two guys from Ottawa at a technology conference. Soon as they heard I was a San Diegan, the gushing began. Oh, you’re so lucky to live in this weather. I told them that, sure, it’s great, but there’s a downside to an endless summer.
Constantly good weather leaves no natural downtime. Your grass never stops growing; neither do your outdoor plants. That means you either devote considerable time to maintaining mandatory well manicured yards or pay someone else a tidy sum to help you keep up appearances. Those weekly gardener’s fees eat into household budgets already stretched by unrealistic housing costs if you had the misfortune to move here within the last four years. Your car gets dusty almost daily from months without rain. Gotta wash and wax it far more often than in other parts of the country. Gas prices are outrageous compared to everywhere but Hawaii, and because the weather’s always great, you’re more inclined to hit the road. In a county the size of Connecticut, you could drive quite awhile just to join friends for brunch. Maybe this Saturday it’s the mall and the movies. And Sunday it’s the beach or a mountain hike, followed by dinner down in the Gaslamp. The options are endless; the weather rarely interferes. There’s nothing but an empty wallet to stop you, and Californians pretty much have cornered the credit market. You also wear warm weather clothing year-round -- that means no hiding a sudden weight gain with loose sweats, unshaven legs with dark tights. Feeling sick? Better pop a vitamin ‘cause somebody’s depending on you to join them for a golf game, yoga class or backyard barbecue. And you want to go. You want to do it. You want to take advantage of the gift Mother Nature’s provided.
Don’t get me wrong. I do love the weather here. And it does dip into the 40s at night, signaling it’s winter. My point is that such monoseasonal surroundings provide few excuses to change the pace, let alone experience the spiritual enlightenment from a change in scenery.
Yeah, I know. The Canadians weren’t buying it either. They didn’t see any therapeutic value in digging out from snowstorms and being cooped up because of bitter cold. For months.
An hour later, though, I found an ally.
Conference speaker Linda Stone, a writer and consultant, talked about how our quality of life is being compromised by technology. Years ago she coined a term, continuous partial attention. It’s an extension of prolonged multitasking, in which we now focus on one thing but remained attuned to better options in the background. We’re more connected than ever thanks to e-mail, IM, blogs, Blackberries and Web-enabled cell phones. But we’re also overwhelmed and overstimulated, with no clear demarcation to our days. “The 24/7 thing isn’t feeling so good and more people want to feel better,” she told the audience.
Stone noted that artificial worlds mimic the natural one, and that the imbalance we’ve creating by trying to remain “a live node on the network” comes at social and personal costs. That level of activity and attention can’t be sustained. It’s like living where no one slows for a season.
“If there is no winter,” she said, “then there also is no spring.”
Constantly good weather leaves no natural downtime. Your grass never stops growing; neither do your outdoor plants. That means you either devote considerable time to maintaining mandatory well manicured yards or pay someone else a tidy sum to help you keep up appearances. Those weekly gardener’s fees eat into household budgets already stretched by unrealistic housing costs if you had the misfortune to move here within the last four years. Your car gets dusty almost daily from months without rain. Gotta wash and wax it far more often than in other parts of the country. Gas prices are outrageous compared to everywhere but Hawaii, and because the weather’s always great, you’re more inclined to hit the road. In a county the size of Connecticut, you could drive quite awhile just to join friends for brunch. Maybe this Saturday it’s the mall and the movies. And Sunday it’s the beach or a mountain hike, followed by dinner down in the Gaslamp. The options are endless; the weather rarely interferes. There’s nothing but an empty wallet to stop you, and Californians pretty much have cornered the credit market. You also wear warm weather clothing year-round -- that means no hiding a sudden weight gain with loose sweats, unshaven legs with dark tights. Feeling sick? Better pop a vitamin ‘cause somebody’s depending on you to join them for a golf game, yoga class or backyard barbecue. And you want to go. You want to do it. You want to take advantage of the gift Mother Nature’s provided.
Don’t get me wrong. I do love the weather here. And it does dip into the 40s at night, signaling it’s winter. My point is that such monoseasonal surroundings provide few excuses to change the pace, let alone experience the spiritual enlightenment from a change in scenery.
Yeah, I know. The Canadians weren’t buying it either. They didn’t see any therapeutic value in digging out from snowstorms and being cooped up because of bitter cold. For months.
An hour later, though, I found an ally.
Conference speaker Linda Stone, a writer and consultant, talked about how our quality of life is being compromised by technology. Years ago she coined a term, continuous partial attention. It’s an extension of prolonged multitasking, in which we now focus on one thing but remained attuned to better options in the background. We’re more connected than ever thanks to e-mail, IM, blogs, Blackberries and Web-enabled cell phones. But we’re also overwhelmed and overstimulated, with no clear demarcation to our days. “The 24/7 thing isn’t feeling so good and more people want to feel better,” she told the audience.
Stone noted that artificial worlds mimic the natural one, and that the imbalance we’ve creating by trying to remain “a live node on the network” comes at social and personal costs. That level of activity and attention can’t be sustained. It’s like living where no one slows for a season.
“If there is no winter,” she said, “then there also is no spring.”
