I was wrong.

One year ago I left the Internet. I thought it was making me unproductive. I thought it lacked meaning. I thought it was “corrupting my soul.”

It’s been a year now since I “surfed the web” or “checked my email” or “l(fā)iked” anything with a figurative rather than literal thumbs up. I’ve managed to stay disconnected， just like I planned. I’m Internet free.

In early 2012 I was 26 years old and burnt out. I wanted a break from modern life—the hamster1） wheel of an email inbox， the constant flood of WWW information which drowned out my sanity. I wanted to escape.

I thought the Internet might be an unnatural state for us humans， or at least for me. Maybe I was too ADD2） to handle it， or too impulsive to restrain my usage. I’d used the Internet constantly since I was twelve， and as my livelihood since I was fourteen. I’d gone from paperboy， to web designer， to technology writer in under a decade. I didn’t know myself apart from a sense of ubiquitous connection and endless information. I wondered what else there was to life. “Real life，” perhaps， was waiting for me on the other side of the web browser.

My plan was to quit my job， move home with my parents， read books， write books， and wallow3） in my spare time. In one glorious gesture I’d outdo all quarter-life crises to come before me. I’d find the real Paul， far away from all the noise， and become a better me.

But for some reason， The Verge wanted to pay me to leave the Internet. I could stay in New York and share my findings with the world， beam4） missives5） about my Internet-free life to the citizens of the Internet I’d left behind， sprinkle wisdom on them from my high tower.

At 11：59 PM on April 30th， 2012， I unplugged my Ethernet6） cable， shut off my Wi-Fi， and swapped my smartphone for a dumb one. It felt really good. I felt free.

This was going to be amazing.

I dreamed a dream

And everything started out great， let me tell you. I did stop and smell the flowers. My life was full of serendipitous7） events： real life meetings， Frisbee8）， bike rides， and Greek literature. With no clear idea how I did it， I wrote half my novel， and turned in an essay nearly every week to The Verge. In one of the early months my boss expressed slight frustration at how much I was writing， which has never happened before and never happened since.

I lost 15 pounds without really trying. I bought some new clothes. People kept telling me how good I looked， how happy I seemed. In one session， my therapist literally patted himself on the back9）.

I was a little bored， a little lonely， but I found it a wonderful change of pace. I wrote in August， “It’s the boredom and lack of stimulation that drives me to do things I really care about， like writing and spending time with others.” I was pretty sure I had it all figured out， and told everyone as much.

As my head uncluttered， my attention span expanded. In my first month or two， 10 pages of The Odyssey was a slog10）. Now I can read 100 pages in a sitting， or， if the prose is easy and I’m really enthralled， a few hundred.

I learned to appreciate an idea that can’t be summed up in a blog post， but instead needs a novel-length exposition. By pulling away from the echo chamber11） of Internet culture， I found my ideas branching out in new directions. I felt different， and a little eccentric12）， and I liked it.

It seemed then， in those first few months， that my hypothesis was right. The Internet had held me back from my true self， the better Paul. I had pulled the plug and found the light.

Back to reality

For the most part， the practical aspects of this year passed by with little notice. I have no trouble navigating New York by feel， and I buy paper maps to get around other places. It turns out paper books are really great. I don’t comparison shop13） to buy plane tickets； I just call Delta14） and take what they offer.

But one big change was snail mail15）. I got a PO Box16） this year， and I can’t tell you how much of a joy it was to see the box stuffed with letters from readers. It’s something tangible， and something hard to simulate with an e-card.

And then， for some reason， even going to the post office sounded like work. I began to dread the letters and almost resent them.

As it turned out， a dozen letters a week could prove to be as overwhelming as a hundred emails a day. And that was the way it went in most aspects of my life. A good book took motivation to read， whether I had the Internet as an alternative or not. Leaving the house to hang out with people took just as much courage as it ever did.

By late 2012， I’d learned how to make a new style of wrong choices off the Internet. I abandoned my positive offline habits， and discovered new offline vices. Instead of taking boredom and lack of stimulation and turning them into learning and creativity， I turned toward passive consumption and social retreat.

A year in， I don’t ride my bike so much. My Frisbee gathers dust. Most weeks I don’t go out with people even once. My favorite place is the couch. I prop my feet up on the coffee table， play a video game， and listen to an audiobook. I pick a mindless game， like Borderlands 2 or Skate 3， and absently thumb the sticks through the game-world while my mind rests on the audiobook， or maybe just on nothing.

People who need people

So the moral choices aren’t very different without the Internet. The practical things like maps and offline shopping aren’t hard to get used to. People are still glad to point you in the right direction. But without the Internet， it’s certainly harder to find people. It’s harder to make a phone call than to send an email. It’s easier to text， or SnapChat， or FaceTime， than drop by someone’s house. Not that these obstacles can’t be overcome. I did overcome them at first， but it didn’t last.

It’s hard to say exactly what changed. I guess those first months felt so good because I felt the absence of the pressures of the Internet. My freedom felt tangible. But when I stopped seeing my life in the context of “I don’t use the Internet，” the offline existence became mundane17）， and the worst sides of myself began to emerge.

I would stay at home for days at a time. My phone would die， and nobody could get ahold of18） me. At some point my parents would get fed up with wondering if I was alive， and send my sister over to my apartment to check on me. On the Internet it was easy to assure people I was alive and sane， easy to collaborate with my coworkers， easy to be a relevant part of society.

I fell out of sync19） with the flow of life.

My plan was to leave the Internet and therefore find the “real” Paul and get in touch with the “real” world， but the real Paul and the real world are already inextricably linked to the Internet. Not to say20） that my life wasn’t different without the Internet， just that it wasn’t real life.

12：00 AM， May 1st， 2013

I’d read enough blog posts and magazine articles and books about how the Internet makes us lonely， or stupid， or lonely and stupid， that I’d begun to believe them. I wanted to figure out what the Internet was “doing to me，” so I could fight back. But the Internet isn’t an individual pursuit； it’s something we do with each other. The Internet is where people are.

My last afternoon in Colorado I sat down with my 5-year-old niece， Keziah， and tried to explain to her what the Internet is. She’d never heard of “the Internet，” but she’s huge on Skype with her grandparents. I asked her if she’d wondered why I never Skyped with her this year. She had.

“I thought it was because you didn’t want to，” she said.

With tears in my eyes， I drew her a picture of what the Internet is. It was computers and phones and televisions， with lines connecting them. Those lines are the Internet. I showed her my computer， drew a line to it， and erased that line.

“I spent a year without using any Internet，” I told her. “But now I’m coming back and I can Skype with you again.”

When I return to the Internet， I might not use it well. I might waste time， or get distracted， or click on all the wrong links. I won’t have as much time to read or introspect or write the great American sci-fi novel.

But at least I’ll be connected.

我錯了。

一年前，我離開了互聯(lián)網(wǎng)。那時我認為它使我做事無成效，我認為它缺乏意義，我認為它正在“腐蝕我的靈魂”。

到現(xiàn)在，我已經(jīng)有一年時間沒有“上網(wǎng)沖浪”“查收電子郵件”或者象征性地而非真正地豎起大拇指“贊”過什么了。正如我事先計劃的那樣，我成功地保持了離線狀態(tài)。我擺脫了互聯(lián)網(wǎng)。

2012年初，我26歲，累得筋疲力盡。我想從現(xiàn)代生活中抽身一段時間——電郵收件箱像倉鼠轉(zhuǎn)輪一般不停歇，萬維網(wǎng)源源不斷的信息洪流淹沒了我的理智。我想逃離。

我以為互聯(lián)網(wǎng)對我們?nèi)祟悂碚f，或者至少對我個人而言，可能是一種非自然的狀態(tài)。也許我專注力太差，難以掌控它，抑或是我太沖動，不能夠有節(jié)制地上網(wǎng)。我從12歲起就開始經(jīng)常使用互聯(lián)網(wǎng)，從14歲起就把網(wǎng)絡當成了自己的謀生之道。在不到十年的時間里，我從一名報童成為網(wǎng)頁設計師，后來又成為科技作家。除了感受到無處不在的連接感和無窮無盡的信息外，我對自己一無所知。我想知道生活還有沒有別的內(nèi)容。“真正的生活”也許正在網(wǎng)頁瀏覽器的另一頭等著我。

我的計劃是辭掉工作，搬回家跟父母一起住，讀書，寫書，沉溺在自己的閑暇時光里。這一偉大的舉動將使我戰(zhàn)勝所有即將到來的青年危機。我會找到那個真實的保羅，遠離一切喧囂，成為更好的自己。

但出于某種原因，The Verge網(wǎng)站（編注：美國的一個科技新聞網(wǎng)站）想花錢請我離開互聯(lián)網(wǎng)。我可以待在紐約與世界分享我的發(fā)現(xiàn)，向被我丟下的互聯(lián)網(wǎng)網(wǎng)民們發(fā)送信件來介紹我的離線生活，從我的高塔上向他們播撒智慧。

2012年4月30日晚11點59分，我拔掉了以太網(wǎng)線，關(guān)掉了無線網(wǎng)，把智能手機換成了非智能手機。那感覺真好。我感覺自由了。

這一切將會很精彩。

如夢一場

老實告訴你，剛開始一切都很棒。我確實停下了腳步，聞到了花香。我的生活中充滿了偶然事件：真實生活中的聚會、飛盤、單車騎行和希臘文學。我寫完了一半小說，并且?guī)缀趺恐芏紩灰黄恼陆oThe Verge網(wǎng)站，我都不太清楚自己是怎么做到這些的。起初有那么一個月，我的老板還因為我寫得太多而表達過輕微的受挫感，這樣的情況以前可從未發(fā)生過，以后也沒再發(fā)生。

我沒怎么努力就瘦了15磅。我還買了些新衣服。人們總是跟我說我看起來有多精神、多快樂。在一次治療期間，我的治療師還當真自夸了起來。

我感覺有點無聊，有點寂寞，但我覺得這種節(jié)奏的改變很美妙。8月份，我這樣寫道：“正是無聊和缺乏刺激驅(qū)使我去做自己真正在意的事情，比如寫作，比如與他人共度時光?！蔽曳浅４_信我把所有問題都弄明白了，并這樣告訴每一個人。

頭腦清靜后，我的注意力的持續(xù)時間也變長了。在開始的一兩個月，看十頁《奧德賽》對我來說都很費勁。現(xiàn)在，我可以坐在那兒一口氣讀一百頁，或者，如果文章簡單又很吸引我的話，我可以讀上幾百頁。

我學會了欣賞單靠一篇博文總結(jié)不了的思想，這種思想需要一部小說的篇幅來闡述。遠離了網(wǎng)絡文化的“回聲室”，我發(fā)現(xiàn)自己的思想沿著新的方向長出了枝條。我感覺自己跟以前不一樣，還有點古怪。我喜歡這樣。

于是在最初的那幾個月，我的假設似乎是正確的?；ヂ?lián)網(wǎng)曾經(jīng)阻礙我成為真正的自己——那個更好的保羅。在拔掉插頭后，我發(fā)現(xiàn)了光芒。

回到現(xiàn)實

這一年生活中實際的方方面面大多是在不知不覺中過去的。在紐約，我可以憑感覺去想去的地方，沒有困難；要去其他地方逛，我就買紙質(zhì)地圖。事實證明，紙質(zhì)書真的很不錯。買機票的時候，我也不用貨比三家，直接給達美航空打個電話，他們有什么票我就買什么票。

不過，一個大的變化要屬傳統(tǒng)郵件了。今年我有了一個郵政信箱，看到信箱里塞滿了讀者寄來的信件，我別提有多高興了。這些信件是有形的，是電子卡片難以模擬的東西。

后來，也不知為何，連去郵局似乎也成了一項工作。我開始畏懼那些來信，幾乎憎恨它們了。

事實證明，一周收十幾封信可能會和一天收一百封電子郵件一樣讓人難以招架。而我生活中的大多數(shù)事情都在朝這個方向發(fā)展。不管有沒有網(wǎng)絡可以作為替代品，讀一本好書都同樣需要動力。走出家門和別人玩也需要跟從前一樣多的勇氣。

到2012年年底，我已經(jīng)學會如何在沒有網(wǎng)絡的情況下以一種新的方式做出錯誤的選擇。我丟掉了離線狀態(tài)下的好習慣，發(fā)掘出了離線狀態(tài)下的新惡習。我不再將無聊和缺乏刺激轉(zhuǎn)化為學習和創(chuàng)造力，而是轉(zhuǎn)向了被動消費和隱遁。

一年過去了，我沒怎么騎車，飛盤上也積滿了灰塵。大多數(shù)時候，我甚至一周都不會和別人出去一次。我最愛的地方是沙發(fā)。我把腳支在茶幾上，玩電子游戲，聽有聲書。我會挑一個不用動腦子的游戲，比如《無主之地2》（編注：一個射擊游戲）或者《滑板3》（編注：一個滑板游戲），然后心不在焉地用拇指擺弄著操縱桿，穿行在游戲世界里。這期間，我的思緒則停留在有聲書上，或者可能什么都沒想。

任何人都不是一座孤島

所以，沒有了互聯(lián)網(wǎng)，人們所面臨的道德選擇并沒有很大不同。像紙版地圖和實體店購物這類實際事物倒不難適應，人們依然樂于為你指引方向。但沒有了因特網(wǎng)，找人肯定會更加困難。打電話比發(fā)郵件要麻煩一些；發(fā)短信，或者用SnapChat聊天，或者用FaceTime聯(lián)系都比去別人家里拜訪更為簡便。我倒不是說這些障礙無法克服。起初我確實克服了這些問題，可是沒有堅持下來。

很難確切地說是什么變了。我想剛開始的幾個月之所以感覺那么好是因為我感到網(wǎng)絡帶來的壓力消失了。我的自由是可以感知的。但是當我不再置身于“我不上網(wǎng)”這一背景來看待生活時，線下的生活方式就變得平淡無奇，而我自己最壞的一面也開始浮現(xiàn)。

我經(jīng)常連續(xù)好幾天宅在家里。手機會沒電，沒有人能聯(lián)系到我。有時候我的父母受夠了猜想我是不是還活著，就派我姐到我的公寓來探查情況。在網(wǎng)上，很容易就能讓大家放心我還活著，神志正常，很容易就能與同事合作，很容易就能參與到社會生活中。

我感覺跟不上生活的腳步了。

我當時的計劃是離開網(wǎng)絡，從而找到“真實的”保羅，接觸“真實的”世界。但是，真實的保羅和真實的世界早已和網(wǎng)絡緊密地聯(lián)系在一起了。雖不能說沒有了網(wǎng)絡我的生活還是一切如舊，只是那就不是真實的生活了。

2013年5月1日中午12點

關(guān)于互聯(lián)網(wǎng)如何使我們變得寂寞或愚蠢，抑或寂寞且愚蠢，我已經(jīng)看了足夠多的博客文章、雜志文章和書籍，以至于我開始對它們信以為真。我曾想弄清楚互聯(lián)網(wǎng)“對我做了”什么，從而可以進行反擊。但是互聯(lián)網(wǎng)并不是個體的消遣活動，而是關(guān)乎人與人之間的相處?；ヂ?lián)網(wǎng)就是人們所在的地方。

在科羅拉多的最后一個下午，我坐到五歲的侄女凱西亞的身旁，努力向她解釋什么是互聯(lián)網(wǎng)。她從沒聽說過“互聯(lián)網(wǎng)”，但是卻經(jīng)常用Skype跟爺爺奶奶聊天。我問她可曾納悶我今年為什么從來沒用Skype跟她聯(lián)系，她說她納悶過。

“我以為是因為你不想呢?！彼f。

我眼中噙著淚水，給她畫了一幅畫來解釋什么是互聯(lián)網(wǎng)。畫中有電腦、手機和電視機，相互之間由線相連。這些線就是互聯(lián)網(wǎng)。我指了指我那臺電腦，給它畫了一條線，然后又把那條線擦掉了。

“我過了一年沒有網(wǎng)絡的生活，”我告訴她，“但現(xiàn)在我回來了，又可以跟你Skype了?！?/p>

重返網(wǎng)絡后，也許我不能好好利用它，也許我會浪費時間，或是分心，或是點擊很多不該點的鏈接。我不會有過去那么多時間去閱讀、內(nèi)省或是創(chuàng)作偉大的美國科幻小說了。

但至少我不會與社會脫節(jié)。

1.hamster [?h?mst?（r）] n. [動]倉鼠

2.ADD：注意力缺乏癥（attention deficit disorder的縮寫）

3.wallow [?w?l??] vi. 溺于，沉湎

4.beam [bi?m] vt. 定向發(fā)出（無線電信號等）；（有針對性地）廣播（節(jié)目）

5.missive [?m?s?v] n. 信件；〈謔〉長篇大論的書信

6.Ethernet [?i?θ?（r）net] n. [計]以太網(wǎng)

7.serendipitous [?ser?n?d?p?t?s] adj. 偶然發(fā)現(xiàn)的，意外獲得的

8.Frisbee [?fr?zbi] n. （投擲游戲用的）飛碟，飛盤

9.pat someone on the back：對某人表示贊揚（或鼓勵）

10.slog [sl?ɡ] n. 艱苦的努力

11.echo chamber：（為廣播、錄音等設計的）回聲室

12.eccentric [?k?sentr?k] adj. （人、舉止或行為等）古怪的

13.comparison shop：貨比三家

14.Delta：指美國達美航空公司（Delta Air Lines， Inc.）

15.snail mail：（相對于快速電子郵件的）蝸牛郵件，郵遞郵件

16.PO Box：郵政信箱（Post Office Box的簡稱）

17.mundane [?m?n?de?n] adj. 平凡的；單調(diào)的

18.get ahold of：找到，與……聯(lián)系

19.out of sync：不同步的，不協(xié)調(diào)的

20.not to say：即使不說是，雖不能說

3.wallow [?w?l??] vi. 溺于，沉湎

4.beam [bi?m] vt. 定向發(fā)出（無線電信號等）；（有針對性地）廣播（節(jié)目）

5.missive [?m?s?v] n. 信件；〈謔〉長篇大論的書信

6.Ethernet [?i?θ?（r）net] n. [計]以太網(wǎng)

7.serendipitous [?ser?n?d?p?t?s] adj. 偶然發(fā)現(xiàn)的，意外獲得的

8.Frisbee [?fr?zbi] n. （投擲游戲用的）飛碟，飛盤

9.pat someone on the back：對某人表示贊揚（或鼓勵）

10.slog [sl?ɡ] n. 艱苦的努力

11.echo chamber：（為廣播、錄音等設計的）回聲室

12.eccentric [?k?sentr?k] adj. （人、舉止或行為等）古怪的

13.comparison shop：貨比三家

14.Delta：指美國達美航空公司（Delta Air Lines， Inc.）

15.snail mail：（相對于快速電子郵件的）蝸牛郵件，郵遞郵件

16.PO Box：郵政信箱（Post Office Box的簡稱）

17.mundane [?m?n?de?n] adj. 平凡的；單調(diào)的

18.get ahold of：找到，與……聯(lián)系

19.out of sync：不同步的，不協(xié)調(diào)的

20.not to say：即使不說是，雖不能說