I Have a Problem with Dopamine
Regarding the video posted, above: This is the complete analog portion of writing a this blog article, recorded in real time using an Underwood Noiseless 77.
This is my process, from start to finish—complete with long pauses, a dictionary search, and editing with red pen. After the camera turns off I retype the article onto the computer so I can publish it on this site.
This is a look behind the scenes at how I think and work. My hope is that it adds some calm to an otherwise energized world and that it helps beginners see that it's not about a constant flurry of words to the page. The process is the journey. Don't rush it and you'll be rewarded for your efforts.
I have a problem with dopamine. I’m not sure if would be classified as an addiction, but so much of my ‘Going Analog’ journal is entries of how I’m struggling to stay away from video games and other intense dopamine triggers. I’ve recognized this pattern, for years. I’ll have very good weeks, where I feel connected and in-tune with life, but the majority of the time has been fighting against the draw of constant stimulation. Video games, scrolling, eating—these were in a repeat cycle. Going from one to the next while trying to focus on work, or anything else. Analog hobbies have been my remedy.
At the initial time of personal diagnosis (none of this has been discussed with a doctor) my biggest analog release was woodworking. It was a comfort place for me. I grew up in my father’s wood shop, so the smell of sawdust was not only familiar, it was comforting. Up to 2019 I had only dabbled in the craft. I kept the interest alive but I’ve been living in apartments for most of my life, which are not usually conducive to woodcraft. Still, I embraced it and got some shop equipment for the garage that I was lucky enough to get some space in. That was helpful, but I noticed a big shift after things slowed down at work.
Too much time, or rather, lack of immediate deadlines, meant I didn’t have the urgency I was so used to. I think the sudden drop of constant projects that needed my immediate attention twisted me in a way I wasn’t prepared for. Though the job was deeply unhealthy, it did require unrelenting focus. There was a defined purpose and without it, I was floating in the air, directionless.
Though it’s been a constant struggle, I’ve noticed that diving into typewriters has given me a more constant level of control. Choosing to write this blog (traditionally something reserved for the screen) on an analog machine requires more intention for each word, a deliberate slowdown, which reduces the mental ‘buzz’ of digital influence. Writing by hand was always an option but, while I do enjoy the act of handwriting, it lacks the rhythm and dance of the typewriter interaction. The typewriter is also more fulfilling due to the ability to easily write so much more than pen and paper, in the same amount of time, and it has the delightful bell that signals you’ve reached another destination of your writing. I don’t know, but perhaps that gives a bit of a dopamine hit—I certainly enjoy hearing it. The carriage return is also satisfying—the resistance and click of the return lever, the weight and roll of the carriage as it moves back to the beginning of the paper…so satisfying.
No matter how much progress I make, I tend to fall back to video games. After I’ve been away for a while I feel like I’m in good control. It’s like a drug addiction, I suppose—one little taste is all it takes to fall back and let the demons take over. Analog hobbies have been the deciding factor in this battle, typewriters especially. As long as I stay vigilant and choose to remain connected to my life through these tangible activities, I know I’ll be okay. Video games, scrolling, and overeating are the drug—increasing my analog influence is my best way back.
Until next time, be good to each other.
Dave
Embrace the mistakes.
Celebrate imperfection.
