My Brick Kept Me Off Social Media for 48 Hours
Sometime in July, I realized I had a problem. There was no “aha” moment beyond the horrific, cruddy feeling that came over me after a solid hour and a half of scrolling through unadulterated social-media slop: videos of cats crawling up screen doors, women in milkmaid dresses baking sourdough with children on their hips, makeup tutorials for siren eyes, professional rage-bait couples “pranking” each other in visibly staged setups. All of it whizzed past my face at lightning speed, depositing dopamine into my brain in droves, and yet none of it registered. I felt like a jellyfish that had been plucked out of the sea and steamrolled three to four times. As soon as I locked my phone, I lost the ability to recall nearly every morsel of content I’d just consumed.
That week, I’d been served an advertisement for Brick, a small physical magnet that, after scanning your phone, blocks apps including, but not limited to, social media. I knew I needed one. You might be thinking, Oh my God, what kind of grown adult needs to be put in virtual time-out for scrolling? Can’t you just control yourself?” And the answer to that is, “No!” If I could, I wouldn’t be buying a tiny refrigerator magnet to curb my consumption! According to a survey conducted by the New York Times, most young people average at least four hours of screen time, with some admitting to spending up to 12 hours on their phones.
The first day I Bricked my phone, I found myself, out of habit, attempting to open Instagram during nearly every free moment. There is no way to bypass the Brick’s block without physically scanning your phone to the magnet, and shuffling up to my refrigerator and essentially asking it for more scrolling time felt way too demoralizing. Turns out shame is really effective. Since then, I’ve been Bricking my phone almost daily, sometimes for days at a time (my longest streak is around 120 hours), blocking apps like Instagram and TikTok (and, at one point, solitaire) that serve as little more than time sucks and leave me unsatiated.
In recent weeks, I’ve slightly fallen off the Bricking train, solely because I’d convinced myself that I had evolved — that I had grown and no longer needed anything to obstruct my social-media use, that I could do it all on my own. That is until I racked up a screen time worth over ten hours and called an intervention on myself. I needed to quit again, cold turkey, and I needed the Brick to do what it did best: cockblock me. As such, I spent a recent weekend on a Brick-induced social-media hiatus, creating a setting within the app to block X, Instagram, and TikTok. Below is what transpired.
The Brick
My 48 Hours Bricking Myself
7 p.m.: In preparation for my Great Bricking, I head to the local Barnes & Noble to pick up a copy of The Artist’s Way. I figure if I’m going to fix this within myself once and for all, I might as well try and patch up as many deficiencies as possible.
9:50 p.m.: I Brick my phone, blocking Instagram, TikTok, and solitaire (just in case; this is my vice when I can’t check social media). Almost instantly, the thought comes on: What if someone responds to my Instagram Story? Will they think I’m rude if I don’t respond? Am I going to miss out on an incredibly hilarious meme? Also, I’ve been feeling chatty as of late and am mildly distraught about missing an opportunity to yap. Alas, I’ve made my bed and I must lie in it. I flip open to the first chapter of The Artist’s Way to fill the typically slop-filled void in my brain. This is my second attempt at finishing this workbook.
10:20 p.m.: I pick my phone up and swipe through the apps on my home page, looking for something to light up the part of my brain that craves internet soup. There is nothing for me here — a digital wasteland. I lock my phone and toss it on my bed. I typically don’t fall asleep until around midnight, but I’m starting to yawn and figure, why the hell not?, and get ready for bed.
11:30 p.m.: I prop my iPad in front of me and read a few articles and essays I’d been putting off before falling asleep.
8:30 a.m.: Waking up and reaching for my phone is gravely disappointing to the starving dopamine receptors in my brain. They’re waiting for a little morning boost of internet stupidity to make them go bonkers, but all I have to offer them as consolation is a scroll through Ina Garten’s newsletter in my inbox. This year, she’s urging her followers to please refrain from cooking their turkey too ahead of time. As a pescatarian, this affects me virtually none. Still, I read every word.
11:30 a.m.: After finishing a workout class, I go next door to one of those juice spots where everything feels stuck in 2017 and spend almost $13 on a smoothie. I can’t even post to my “close friends” Stories on Instagram to lament the ridiculousness of this.
1 p.m.: I’m inventing errands for myself. I decide to get treats for my cats (even though they already have a massive tub full of them) and travel across the neighborhood to buy a new notebook. I spend about 15 minutes staring at the shelves, deciding on a color. I choose a dark forest green.
2:30 p.m.: I pretend to watch football, by which I mean I sit and stew over the slop withdrawal I’m experiencing and occasionally open my email to read newsletters.
4 p.m.: I enter the “bargaining” phase of whatever the hell I’m going through and make a concession, allowing myself one longform YouTube video as a treat. I pick a 22-minute-long explainer of some cursed island in Animal Crossing, a video game I haven’t played in at least six months. Ahh, this soothes me greatly.
6 p.m.: During my journaling session, one The Artist’s Way absolutely insisted I do, I draft the plot points of a rom-com. I’ve either struck gold or mania. I keep unlocking my phone, hoping something exciting will be staring back at me. No dice.
9 p.m.: I partially flub my detox and absentmindedly open Reddit, an app I rarely use unless I need to Google something like “How to get chocolate stain out of white comforter” or am in desperate need to know what other people thought about the Great British Bake Off finale. I caught myself scrolling for nearly an hour in random sub-Reddits like “Am I the Asshole?” … shame.
11:07 p.m.: My screen time is half of what it was yesterday, pre-Bricking. I try to read an article from over four years ago that seems to be critiquing Sally Rooney’s loose plotlines, but I fall asleep before finding out what the piece is really about.
8:15 a.m.: I wake up and, once again unable to have a morning scroll, pick up my journal instead and scribble out three pages as dutifully instructed by my new guru (i.e., Julia Cameron, author of The Artist’s Way). I feel so analog, so not of my era, and imagine this is what Nara Smith must feel like when she’s making Diet Coke or penicillin or whatever it she makes from scratch.
11:30 a.m.: Sky Ferreira’s angsty pop and PinkPantheress’s techno beats are blaring through my wired headphones as I walk to the local bakery to get a sandwich on an exquisite, buttery croissant. I feel like a Tumblr teen, and I consider revisiting the site for a taste of internet culture but decide to let bygones be bygones instead.
11:54 a.m.: The urge to check Instagram is incredibly strong right now. I’ve exhausted many of my analog options apart from picking up the book I’m reading at the moment (Giovanni’s Room, which I’m avoiding despite the gorgeous writing because the bookstore clerk said it was the saddest book she’d ever read) or knitting, because I’ve misplaced my needles and refuse to buy another pair (I’ve purchased three). I’m just sure I’m missing out on something hilarious somewhere on the internet and need just 20 seconds of dopamine blasted straight into my brain via my eyes. Instead, I begrudgingly settle for reading more newsletters.
4:15 p.m.: I’ve run into my first functional roadblock trying to look something up for work, something that only exists on social media. I try Googling it to see if Instagram will let me into its fortress without logging in, but I’m denied entry. I make a note to revisit this inquiry the moment I un-Brick.
6:46 p.m.: Never in my life did I think I would say this, but I have some chores to do, and … I’m excited to do them? I think I’m mostly just looking forward to the music I’ll listen to — I’ve just rediscovered Caroline Polachek’s album Pang and am planning on using this time to play it and thus transcend.
11:07 p.m.: The night quickly passes — I eat dinner with family and stop by the store for an incredibly crisp Sprite Zero — and I realize I forgot to un-Brick my phone. This all makes me feel quite morally superior to the person I was a mere 48 hours ago, a fleeting feeling, I realize, as soon as I open Instagram to a video sent to me by a friend: two uncannily lifelike Reborn baby dolls are riding a merry-go-round together, smiling directly into the camera, directly at me. Perhaps life was more peaceful while Bricked.
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