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I Love Technology

Whenever I pick up a call on my watch and talk to my wife, I am happy.

Whenever I scan or tap my phone to pay for stuff, I am happy.

Whenever I click a button on my smartphone to capture the best of the moment in front of me, I am happy.

Whenever I beam my voice to my daughter in another room as if I am next to her, I am happy.

Whenever my lights and plugs switch off on schedule or on my command, I am happy.

Whenever I push a photo or video from my phone onto a larger screen for my family to enjoy, I am happy.

Whenever I watch my dad live as he excitingly shows me a new shirt or a new faucet, I am happy.

I am happy when my phone guides me around a place, known or unknown. Alerts me of road closures or diversions. Reads the text in front of me. Or helps me with my quick queries or requests.

The list goes on.

And I am only talking about the capabilities of the devices on me. I am surrounded by technology that brings a smile to my face every day throughout the day.

I can be frustrated by the things these gadgets cannot do well (or can’t do at all). Or I can be angry with them when they alter my habits against my will.

But just as the technology is at fault for not acting responsibly, so am I for not using it sensibly. When I wish the technology to alter itself to not burden me, I share the responsibility to find ways to not be controlled by it.

Do I have enough levers? That’s debatable. What isn’t, though, is my love for technology.

iPod died, and so did my habits with music

I hate Apple for killing the iPod, as they took down the whole MP3 players industry with it. Sure, the rise and popularity of streaming services have played a hand too. But irrespective, my music listening habits have changed tremendously since. So is the iPod's death a cause or an effect of my dwindling love for MP3s? Like most things post-internet, it is both.

Steve announced the product with a brilliant marketing tagline of 1000 songs in your pocket. Unfortunately or fortunately, it also meant only 1000 songs in your pocket. With my first internship stipend, I purchased an iPod shuffle and fell in love with the device. I carefully selected a few songs I could listen to on a loop. Or day-in-day-out. I built my playlists for the different moods. I subconsciously memorised each of those few songs — the first tune, or the few beats, were enough for me to start crooning along.

My love for owning music goes way back to the pre-iPod days, though. At first, it was with my Sony walkman and the few cassettes that I built a liking for. Even when the computers came, I created a collection of music that I was incredibly proud of. For my friends, I was the guy to visit when they needed a song, new or old. Or when they needed to find the one song which they could remember only vaguely. We sang those songs for hours. In our rooms, in classrooms, in corridors and on trains. We built a liking for the few songs as we made listening to them a habit, a hobby.

That is not the case anymore.

With streaming services like Spotify and Apple Music, I now have all the songs I need in my pocket. And yet the experience has slowly grown hollow. These days, I put on the music more as background static than the immersed escapade that it earlier was. My mood doesn't decide the music I listen to. Some curator on Spotify does so. This thought in a recent Guardian article resonated with me.

Streaming makes the listening experience much more passive. (…) This idea that you can just turn on a faucet, and out comes music. It’s something that leaves everyone to take it for granted.

Passive consumption is not suitable for any form of art — music is an art of the most extraordinary form. Listening to music was a hobby once. People listened to music as an involved activity -- not a medium, to put them in a focused mood while they do something else. Or to mute the background noise. You don't say, "I am reading a book", when you skim through the pages only to fall asleep, do you?

I am reminded of my changed habits whenever I see my daughter enjoy her music. She has a set of some 50 songs which she listens to every day. She plays the same songs even on streaming services. She selectively adds a song to the list and does so only after she has listened to it enough. Just like the pre-internet me, she embraces her music – the first 2 seconds of a song are enough for her to start singing along aloud. Not just the lyrics but even every tune.

Sure, I could still fall back to my music-listening style of yesteryears with my smartphone. But the "smartness" of the device already hinders any semblance of focus that the one-purpose iPod allowed. I also understand that there are a lot of positives to streaming services. The discovery of new music and artist is one big plus. But what is a discovery worth if I don't feel the emotion behind it?

If you write a blog and are interested in conversing with your readers, do include a link for the reader to do so right below your every post. I would love it if every blog post had a way for me to respond. A comment form. An email address for me to mail the writer at. Or even a link to the social media where the post is syndicated. Basically, redirect me, the reader, to any place where the conservation is taking place. I can, of course, theorise why most people have stopped doing that.

First, the spam industry has dampened one of the promises of the internet — having open connections with people on the web. We are afraid now that we will be bombarded by comments and messages that we have no interest in sifting through. Second, most blogging platforms have stopped providing an easy way to enable conversations, which came built-in with WordPress and others. It’s an added decision (and even a cost in some cases) for the writer to provide such an option to its reader. A trouble that many folks just don’t want to sign up for.

I wish that wasn’t the case. My conversations with people around the words I write have been an essential aspect of my blogging for the past many years. If you haven’t tried that, or you did but aren’t doing it actively anymore, give it a chance again.

You take the trouble so that your user doesn’t have to.

I don’t want to speak to even customer care now. If there’s an option for chat, I will always prefer that than get on an phone call and stay waiting. A waste of time and resources. Happy that more and more service providers keep chat as an option. Phone call is a last resort.

I’m done with my Arc browser experiment. I don’t use any of the unique features. Plus I miss the ability to use the bookmaklets (I had no idea I would need them this regularly). By being back to the regular browsers, I would know if and how much I miss the Arc’s newness.

I am reading The 6:20 Man by David Baldacci. It’s a standard action, suspense thriller. But it is built up really well. Interested to find out what comes next. 📚

I always admire people who go to lengths to find unique ways to help them write and publish. This post on including hyperlinks In handwritten posts is a classic example. I can’t take this much effort to publish, but I can see how this must be fun! Love it.