The Internet: I'm over it. And so are we all collectively.

Lately, I’m bored. But there’s an odd conundrum that we’re all seemingly cornered in. We all collectively express that we’re tired of the direction that the internet and social media are heading, yet we stay glued to our screens and the same platforms we complain about.

We hate the screens, yet we can’t live without them. And our phones. Don’t even get me started on the phones.

Entertainment has mostly been cheapened and reduced to bite-sized, well, everything—AI slop and attention-grabbing, negative, misinformative news stories from a teeny-bopper in his messy room.

Nobody reads anymore. Nobody has deep, fulfilling conversations that make you think. In-person meetups now feel hollow and like you’re talking into a void. Nobody really listens; they just like the sound of their own voice. And I often scramble for things to talk about with my friends.

I mean, you would think, with all the world of information we get slammed with on a daily basis through our phones, I would have a lot to talk about with those around me, yet I don’t.

The other night, I decided to go for a long walk up to my corner coffee shop, which was great. It was 9:30 P.M., and I needed a little pick-me-up to fix my mood. Coffee will often do that for me, preferably if it’s extremely sweetened.

This is the one thing I enjoy about living in Istanbul: the fact that there are still thriving third spaces, unlike in America and Canada, where coffee shops are a car-distance away, not walkable, and everyone grabs their coffee and darts out like they have somewhere important to go, when generally it's back to their home.

Here, everyone takes their time. It’s a lot slower. The coffee shops load their stores up with tons of tables and comfortable seating. Often, the shops are massive, almost the size of a mini shopping market. Why? They prioritize these third spaces.

It’s great. Who wouldn’t love that?

Tables were full of people, and it looked wholesome. Yet, I noticed everyone was face-first into their phones. One table in particular, the gentleman, at least seven of them, were all sitting at the table, not speaking to one another, glued to their phones. From time to time, each of them would share a funny Reel or TikTok they came across with their friends.

There was no deep entrenching dialogue. One shared a reel about some catastrophe on the other side of the world. And yet still, no dialogue. The commentator on the video did all the talking. And they seemingly listened but swept up to the next video.

I felt myself somewhat like a sociologist at that moment.

As I was people-watching and observing these nuances, I thought to myself that sociologists of our time should have a lot of material to collect and work with, to study and research.

I’m not a separatist, however. I group myself right along with these behaviors. Because, unfortunately, I do the same. You and I both.

I don’t like it. But I do it.

I gather with my friends, we chat a bit, and stare into our phones.

Sometimes I’m the one who starts off the phone glancing. I whip out the phone, my friends see me do so, and mimic the behavior. And before you know it, we’re all behaving like the guys at the table. Shallow conversations ensue, and the phone has begun to consume our face-to-face interactions.

Now, the point of this mini little-rant essay I’m writing here isn’t to shame anyone for this. If anything, given how divided much of society is, at least we all agree on this one issue and share this phone-to-face habit. And that’s comforting in itself, I guess.

You and I won’t know what comes of this, but we will see in 10 to 20 years’ time, if we’re still around, that is. For now, we can work on having healthier habits around our phones or picking up healthy hobbies to save the sanctity of our brains, like reading.

Anyway, chao for now.