Something.
I’m not a Luddite by any means; we live in a time where it’s practically impossible to be without technology, and I acknowledge the irony in writing this post. I’m not a Luddite, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get tired of technology occasionally.
The further I go in my career in digital marketing, the more I hate being in front of screens or online. I started noticing this early last year; after a whole day working on a computer screen, coming back home to another screen for leisure or to catch up with friends, it felt like an extension of the work experience. I would use my laptop less and less, going weeks without opening it, much to the detriment of my musical hobbies that required a DAW or needed to be uploaded as videos. Being on my phone became a hassle, but it was the only way to stay connected to friends, many who live too far away to visit or connect with much of anything happening in the world, despite desperately wanting to disconnect.
Working in email marketing for tech companies has become increasingly difficult for me. It’s nothing to do with the places of work themselves, but more the nature of the job and the nature of tech in the era of AI. I’ll explain these two.
Firstly, when I say, “the nature of the job”, I’m talking about a more personal connection between myself and the “product” of my work, which is often an email. Who it’s going to, whether it means something substantial to someone, there’s a distance or separation between those concepts in a way that I don’t like. I think that comes from my admiration of art, film, literature, or music, and I have always romanticized or been in awe of that, envious of those who can live through that line of work, that craft.
A tangible product of work with emotional or cultural impact; more real than emails, less fleeting, more eternal, and they speak more of the creator, who they are, the story they’re trying to tell, or the idea or feeling they’re trying to communicate. I just want to make art.
Maybe the problem is that I’m not able to do that, and I don’t see myself in the work. Is that narcissistic? Perhaps, lol, but I don’t see myself reflected in the work, as if I don’t see a human there. It feels cold or void of genuine emotional connection or wears the mask of emotional connection to aid sales. It’s all about making money at the end of the day…
The second is “the nature of tech in the era of AI” — all tech companies will adopt it, it’s an inevitability. I know it has been in use— and good use at that—for a while. But lately, it feels invasive and persistent, spreading like a cancer, with no real purpose, especially if you’re more creatively inclined.
Among the slew of dogshit AI slop on social media, and new app add-ons that help you write or summarize texts that you can easily read or write yourself, I hit my limit earlier this week when Gemini was introduced. I opened my inbox, and it was there; I joined a Google Meeting, and it was there. Someone even implemented an AI app that transcribed the meeting for notes to one of our work meetings without telling us, when we’ve never taken notes during meetings in the entire history of having worked there…
Generative AI is a constant grotesque presence in the creative arts, with irreversible, devastating environmental repercussions. Every social media platform is adding AI functionality and opting you into new clauses you didn’t know were being added and so you navigate mazes of settings to opt-out. The total monopoly of social platforms by the elite to propagandize or silence, ushering in a new era of abuse of the vulnerable with livelihoods snatched away in an instant, and stupidity among the gullible masses, averse to even an ounce of critical thinking or reading comprehension and access to information hidden behind paywalls or stripped away in the blink of an eye. This isn’t new and I’ve never been ignorant of this fact, but recently it has felt like a slap in the face – the rapid global rise of fascism and soulless technological advancement.
So, I just turned everything off (well, everything I could when my job is the internet). Deleted apps, like a child covering her eyes. Quite a privileged reaction, not conducive to anything, and I lock myself out in the process. Total disconnect. What can you do when all your work revolves around the Internet? When your closest friends and most cherished communities are the furthest away? All we have is online, the ability to find like-minded people, form genuine bonds, and curate spaces or build communities you never even thought possible, but even that is under threat.
One thing that calmed me down was randomly receiving a letter from a friend in the post the other day. A friend I made online, I had started pen-palling with them last year and thought my last letter had gotten lost in the post, but I’m glad it arrived safely.
After reading it, I let out a heavy sigh of… relief, maybe, or hope. The handwritten letter in the form of a small book, the way I audibly responded to what I read, and laughed when the thoughts and questions that came to mind were answered later in the letter. This human act of connection at a time when I felt that so much of that was disappearing. Now more than ever, I feel the need to contribute to or aid in preserving and archiving what’s left of sincerity, real human emotion, creativity and community, and to help it thrive. It doesn’t always have to be pen-to-paper, but it needs to feel less ephemeral…
That’s where I find myself now. Something I’ve been thinking about for the past few days, unable to concisely word it. I look at what I have contributed to this online space and the wider world, through work or creative projects and ask myself if I see anything worthwhile. If I don’t, why? How do I change that? How can I make work that means something? How do I connect and connect with people in a real and meaningful way? It’s time to switch back on.