the Malaysian Cowboy

For the past few years, talk of the US TV news media has been CNN’s decline in ratings even as MSNBC and Fox, while declining at some points, are doing considerably better. Much is made of CNN’s attempt at impartiality in an age where the other two main competitors are entirely upfront about their more opinionated anchors and biases, and the reality that what CNN is pushing clearly isn’t bringing in the ratings. While a good deal of time has been spent discussing these developments, I feel like spending a bit of time discussing why TV news has gone down this road, and what it means in a larger sense.

Prior to the internet age, news media consisted of print, radio, and television. With the advent of each format, different advantages were afforded: with print, no longer did one need to rely on word of mouth to hear of the latest happenings. Further, there was the “reliability” of institutions, rather than mere individuals, collaborating to give you the news. Radio brought us closer to real-time information dissemination, across vast swaths of land. And with TV, the fusion of both visual and auditory awesomeness, again with the relatively instantaneous form of communication, things seemed to have really hit big time. Yes, I’m simplifying a large amount of history here in these few sentences, but, again, my point is that each of these had particulars about them that drove their success.

Back to our brief history. With all this in the background, the internet came along. Though it began with websites based largely on text and a few images, today, thanks to improved connectivity and innovative projects, the internet is now a bustling world of media, disseminating information to the global masses at awesome speed, allowing said users to interact and give offer their own opinions and commentary.

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If I’m going to be honest, I have to admit that I’ve spent a good chunk of the past few years fighting off the notion that this high-stress, split-second age of the internet and ever-present connectivity has somehow acted in a detrimental manner with regards to my sanity. Countless times I’ve said to people that they were wrong about this information age being too damned complex for our minds to make it out unscathed.

Yesterday, I woke up to my alarms blaring. Yes, alarms: I set two to three each morning, and most of the time manage to sleep through them all, or hit the snooze button until I have just enough time to squeeze in all of my ever-so-important “priorities”.  As I walk to my first class, I’m incessantly checking my email, cycling through four accounts; often, forgetting the content of some of those messages, which ends up coming back to bite me sometime later. I check how the markets are doing at some point during lunch, and make it a point to read the first few top stories on the New York Times. After that, it’s either back to class or time to head over to the gym, both of which I view as crucial to my daily succes. Perhaps I’ll have a meeting or two to attend at some point in the evening or afternoon, after which I’ll then return to my room to try to finish the homework due the next day. Chances are pretty decent that I’ll do so in the company of the bountiful laughter and discussion that’s usually taking place, or, the sounds of gun shots and/or Star Trek, depending on the day—company which I’m entirely a fan of.

To be sure, I enjoy blaring my music at insanely high decibels—decibels I myself can only hear, thanks to my lovely in-ear headphones—as I make my way through the Tufts campus. I easily get lost in the sounds, even if the people around me aren’t. Similarly, I enjoy the calm and out-of-cycle nature I get from an hour or two at the gym. Most weekends, and even sometimes during the day, I find myself able to take a nap or two or just sit down and take some time to assess where my life is going (which, if my timing is right, allows me to author posts like these.)

But, at the same time, when I was sitting in on this week’s Snyder Lecture here at Tufts, delivered by Sherley Turkle of MIT, I began to take stock of all that I’ve listed above, and I came to realize that while I can certainly benefit from a lot in my present lifestyle, a part of me wants to experience a simpler, less involved lifestyle, if only for a week or two. One of the things that I really want to make sure I continue to do is try new things, and while I’ve had a good run with my tech-infused lifestyle these past few years, I’m eager for a break.

To that end, with a relatively empty summer in the way of plans, I’ve resolved to conduct a road trip sometime in late July. Depending on the final route, it’s set to involve at least 4,000 miles covered by car, and close to two days of just driving. It’ll take me through a number of states in the southwest, and give me the chance to make a number of interesting stops, in addition to visiting some cool people I happen to know in the area.

The key for me is making this trip alone. It’ll give me plenty of time to drive through vast, open expanses, pondering some of the more random things about life, but also learning to marvel at the simple things, as I make sure to stop whenever makes sense. Not to say that I’m out-and-out refusing company, mind you. But at the same time, there’s some part of me that feels like I need to do something a little out of the ordinary, and to that end, find a little solitude where I’m relatively disconnected from my modern life, and at the times when I am connected with people I know, I want to make sure they’re more than just through texts and liking their posts on Facebook. Oh, and I’m a cowboy, so it’s only natural that I’d want to go it my own way for a little while before I come back down to reality. Hah!

For now, the trip is in its relatively early planning stages, as I haven’t a clue as to how long I’ll end up being on the road, and where exactly I’ll stop, but rest assured I’ll be bringing my camera along with me to document the entire trip.

Plans

If the depth of your well
Is defined by the length of your thought,
Understand that it’s in the complacency of our days
That we often calculate our trajectories.

With anxious negotiation
That forgoes a level of reassurance,
It’s easy to confuse nascent attempts at progress
With deepening regress.

Indeed,
Of moments taken at face value,
We’re often astounded at the little which appears.
Drawn, instead, to our ever-present fears.

Surely the day will come
When your clarity is once again restored.

When clouds that were once barriers
to such lofty considerations,
Will find themselves porous,
Bringing water that will

surely ease
the journey to the top.

Oh, of plans, it must be said,
They are made to endure.

When I originally wrote this, I must confess I was mostly concerned with deriving some self-confidence, rather than making it any sort of commentary on life.

Having said that, the more I consider the events around me, I continue to find myself returning to those last two lines. As I look around this sprawling college campus, I see a sea of people: some know exactly what track they’re on, while others are barely hanging on, struggling for stability and direction. Regardless, what keeps everyone going, fundamentally speaking, is the notion that just as the past has come and done it’s bidding, the future—be it a minute from now, a year from tomorrow, or a decade from graduation—holds a significant amount of potential.

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