One thing, done well
On the quiet joy of devices that only did one thing.
Over the last few years, I’ve found myself becoming more dependent on, yet less motivated, my iPhone. It can do almost anything, and that’s the problem. I used to love finding new apps and services to enhance my digital experience, but somehow the magic has just been lost to me.
Maybe it’s the relentless push to be online, be social, and consume content, or maybe I’m just getting old.
I read on it, listen to music on it, play games on it, message friends, take photos, check the weather, and check emails. It’s remarkable, but it’s also exhausting. Every time I pick it up to do one thing, it offers me ten others. The amount of times I’ve unlocked my phone to do a simple task, yet somehow I get pulled into something else, resuting in me completely forgetting the original task entirely.
I’ve been thinking lately about the devices I used to own that really existed to do one thing, and how that brought magic to that one purpose. Something I feel we’ve lost in so many devices we carry today.
A Kindle is designed to only reads books. That’s it. No notifications, no (real) browser, no way to “just quickly check” something. When I held one, the only thing to do was read.
My aging iPod only plays music. Just you and your music taste, the way it was meant to be heard. As a device it feels precious, like a piece of your soul. I remember being younger and reluctant to expose my music to others, for fear of judgement. And let’s not forget the days of Limewire that were an intrical part of my childhood.
Even my Apple Watch has become to frustrate me. I miss the beauty of a mechanical watch, and if it wasn’t for the health tracking, I know I’d have switched back a long time ago. Now even my wrist competes with my pocket for my attention, and both of them usually win.
It’s only really game consoles that have stood the test of time. I couldn’t tell you why, but I’m not going to complain.
My latest purchase, and what inspired me to put something down in words, was an Anbernic emulator console. It’s small compact form has rekindled the nostalgia in me from the countless hours spent playing Pokemon on a Gameboy Color. I’ve actually found myself excited throwing it in a bag knowing I’ll get 10 minutes on Mario while I wait for a perscription to be ready.
What I actually miss
It isn’t really the devices I miss. It’s what they did to my attention. Each one asked me for a single thing. To read, to listen, to play, even just to check the time. And because they could only do that one thing, they let me do it fully. There was no quiet pull toward something else, no sense that I might be missing out on whatever else the device could show me.
We traded so much for convenience (and sure, most of it was a good trade), and while I don’t want to carry five gadgets again, I do wonder if we lost something when every device became a doorway to everything.
My current lineup
- iPod Classic
- Kindle Paperwhite
- Anbernic RG35XX Pro