Monday, July 19, 2010

Turn It Off

Some time back, I read a piece that really resonated with me. Oddly enough, it was on the Huffington Post, written by Josh Radnor. Now, you may know Radnor better as Ted Mosby on How I Met Your Mother, and may therefore be wondering about the odd source of inspiration. It wasn't how he wrote, as much as what he wrote about. He took on a challenge to rid himself of most modern gadgets for a week, and thus ended up cutting 24-7 internet news out of his life. He talks about a lot of other things, but the whole 'no news' aspect of it intrigued me.

I have a challenging and unusual job. As a political analyst, I am required to be constantly aware of the world around me. As a news junkie since age 13, I can not seem to help myself. To give you some perspective on the extent of the problem, I here present some statistics. On an average, I read the following sources of news 'cover-to-cover', every single day. The Hindu, The Washington Post, The New York Times, Time, The Times of India, The Hindustan Times, The NewYorker, The Huffington Post, NDTV 24-7, CNN, BBC and CNN-IBN. Apart from this, I have to check the headlines every half hour or so, lest I start to feel disconnected. I don't even feel that way when I haven't spoken to my mother or best friend in a couple of weeks, but I feel it when I go an hour without the news. I also have 2 separate news rolls that run on my personal computer 24 hours a day that collect news from literally every source in the world, from People magazine to Al-Jazeera.

This feeling of disconnectedness escalates to panic when there's a major news event occurring that I can not update myself on as it happens. Now, for an average person, a major news event is the World Cup Final, or the assassination of a major head of government. For a political analyst, every election, major or minor is a news event, every crisis is a news event, every joint press conference by Ministers of Foreign Affairs is a news event. If I don't know what is happening as it happens, then I feel like the world is rushing past me.

The final factor that contributes to my news addiction is the fact that I am a raging insomniac. This means that I spend many a sleepless night restlessly scouring the internet for editorials and opinion pieces. All in all, my addiction to political news coverage has reached a zenith.

This in itself, constitutes a problem. However, I have a larger worry. There's no such thing as good news or positive coverage. Hardly anybody writes about all the puppies and rainbows in the world. Almost everybody writes about death, destruction, climate change, drugs, prostitution, terrorism, hypocrisy, pettiness, malcontention, addiction, famewhoring, recession, child pornography, fanaticism, anger, misogyny, and other things that fit on that list, which seems to go on forever. In essence, I have surrounded myself with all the bad things in the world. I have seeped my brain in every single thing that can or has or will go wrong. 20 out of 24 hours in a day, I feel like the world is going to hell in a hand basket. Which, I think, leads back to the insomnia and panic.

So, here's the thing. Turn it off. It maybe too late for me, but for the love of your own sanity and ability to fall asleep, turn it off.

Friday, July 02, 2010

One Whole Decade

I have a longer piece planned, that is in a different vein from all that I have thus far written about him, but today, I had to write it down. Today has been terrible, because today, he has been gone ten years, two-fifths of my life, all of my adulthood, one whole decade.

James Taylor wrote:
Just yesterday morning they let me know you were gone
Susanne the plans they made put an end to you
I walked out this morning and I wrote down this song
I just can't remember who to send it to

I've seen fire and I've seen rain
I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend
But I always thought that I'd see you again.

He would sing this to me, he had a fantastic voice, good enough to go pro. And I know he genuinely believed it, he called me Susanna, he always thought he would see me again. He never did. I wish I had more of him than pictures and genetics. Most of all, I wish I knew how to stop feeling like this. For the first time in a long time, I desperately wish he was here. I still can't believe it's been ten years, two-fifths of my life, one whole decade.