The Pathological Nature of News
Newspapers
Living within a short metro ride of our Nation's capital makes national news my local news. This breeds a disease, an intense, time-sucking pathological need to know. I knew I was infected when, during our 2017 year of sailing, followed by our three-week great western re-connection adventure last October, I was acutely aware that people more than 30 miles outside the DC metro area just don't have the same interest in the machinations of our federal government and its politicians. My "need to know" dominates my thoughts more than anyone we met.
Technology has made the disease worse. Switching from real papers to online papers, gave me clean, ink free hands, but the deadly intensity and time-sucking pathology of the "need to know" disease metastasized itself into my day with its urgent, screaming "alerts".
Yesterday morning, within 10 minutes, my iPhone exploded with "alerts" from the New York Times, CNN, Politico and Washington Post telling me that the FBI and federal prosecutors had charged dozens of wealthy parents, including celebrities, in a college-entrance bribery scheme. Wow! Did I need to know that, right then as I was organizing for the day's work? Do I need to take immediate action? Could this news have waited until I read the paper later?
In the greater scheme of things, this scandal news was hardly earth-shaking. Buying student spots at top schools with the new twist of paying off coaches to recommend potential students with false profiles who had never played a sport was certainly not "breaking news". I didn't need to be alerted right then. I don't have to dive under my desk or head for hills because we're being invaded from our southern borders, from space or from anywhere else. In fact, this morning there were several thought-provoking articles that provided insights. For example, one NYT article told the whole story, not just the most inflammatory bits and pieces, discussing the why as well as the what and how of the thing.
Our minute-by-minute news cycle has changed reading the paper from a discreet considerate, even entertaining, activity to an ongoing, disruptive and destabilizing series of small blasts that brutally attempt to destroy my focus. Minute-by-minute screams, shouts and rumors are more than my senescent brain cells can absorb. Dare I turn off my notifications? This would quiet my phone, but I dare not. Why? Because I've become addicted. My "need to know" disease cannot be cured, only managed. I've crossed over the line. It's the opioid of my mind. I must blame myself in the end. Only the discipline to ignore will help me find remission from my addiction. My first step was to admit I am addicted and then to control only what I can control. I said good-by to Facebook, the source of my friends and colleagues news and ravings.
Technologically driven news has affected my life in other unexpected ways. I've found that my seemingly stable and reasonable husband is unable to wait patiently, deferring news gratification until he gets his coffee at the counter in our kitchen. I wake up only to find him lying in bed next to me with his face in his iPhone. What happened to those mornings when he'd roll over, kiss me awake, and welcome the day nuzzled in my neck before even thinking about anything else? Oh, how I miss that morning breath of his.