I feel like there should be a real name for this condition, but the best I've been able to come up with lately is Cool Fatigue. I've felt it every time an idea I'd had in the past launched as a fully funded app, or especially when an idea I'd never thought of launches, and is an instant hit. One of the hardest parts about working in tech is just the sheer amount of HOW MUCH cool stuff is happening constantly: how many cool ideas are out there, how great they look or function, and how many people are doing them faster than you.
This is all fine and motivational normally, but a weird thing started happening to me with some pretty real negative consequences. I felt defeated. I wanted to give up. And worse than that, I started to feel annoyed and repulsed by everything. Do we really NEED this much convenience? Is it going to make us happier? Isn't it all at some point just an egotistical way to "win" in a hyper-competitive environment about who can plan the most moves ahead of everyone else into a check-mate? I mean, WHAT'S THE POINT???
This kicked off the beginning of a kind of technological withdrawal, something I know isn't unique to me. Designers everywhere are going back to their more primitive, hand-made roots, yearning for camping gear, working with their hands, and any other forms of rugged simplicity. I bought the entire Little House series (for about 1¢ each on Amazon, I'm not giving up that much technology) and read them all in a month. I started little craft projects on pieces of furniture I already owned, painting and sanding and organizing. And instead of spending weekends partying, I tried to get out of town more and more often, back into nature and to breathe fresh air and feel alive.
This is basically a long segue into a particularly helpful weekend of recuperation, a week after our eleven (!) year anniversary. We found an incredible little house in Barryville NY called Hillside Schoolhouse. It's hard to call it a b&b because the owners don't actually stay in the same property, which is great. It's beautifully done in a very Brooklynized former logging town along the Delaware River, about two hours northwest of the city.
The owner had a pretty good record collection.
Even the general store was Williamsburgy!
We spent the weekend hiking, eating in surprisingly expensive restaurants in the area, and exploring. The day we left we stopped by Storm King. The whole weekend had been intensely foggy and damp but it hadn't rained at all, which was great and left Storm King pretty empty.
I think many of us can lose perspective living in the city. (And maybe everybody already knows this, but I just figured it out.) It's so easy to lose track of your life, of who you are, and what you even want. Without taking any moments to yourself to recharge, to re-center and balance, you can spin out of control. There was a point where I thought that that spinning on the brink of a breakdown gave me a rush of being actually in control, but now looking back I can see so clearly that it was all just an illusion. Or even worse, a delusion. I was never in control. But I'm glad that I found a way to start to get some back.
