30 Minutes in the '30s
You can attempt to read the original version of this essay in my handwriting but I wouldn’t feel bad if you opted for the typed version below.
As I write this, I'm likely roughly 30 minutes from going to bed. For this reason, I'm physically writing this in my journal—yep, by hand, like a romantic writer would.
Actually, I'm not choosing to put pen to paper because of any sense of phony nostalgia (my family picked up their first computer just around the time I was first composing paragraphs). No, my analog writing and the proximity of my bedtime are actually co-mingled—interlocked in a practice I like to call, "30 minutes in the 30s."
"What do you mean by 30 minutes in the 30s?"
Simply put, for the last 30 minutes of the day, I'm striving to only participate in leisure activities that would have been possible in the early 1930s. More specifically, I'm avoiding activities that would not have been possible to enjoy—namely screens.
So, for these last final moments of wakefulness, I turn off all computers, TVs, tablets, and phones. Instead, I lean into reading books, writing by hand, or just spending quality time being...analog.
"Ok, but why?"
Well, there are two reasons:
1. Blue light and melatonin.
You see, most modern screens emit blue light. This blue light has a negative impact on our melatonin production in our bodies when our eyes soak it up too close to bedtime. If you've ever felt slightly restless upon turning off your phone to go to sleep following an extended dip in the infinity pool of your timeline, blue light could be to blame. This light tricks your brain—confusing your circadian rhythm and internal clock.
2. It's just...nice.
There's a calming simplicity to analog experiences. Your mind can begin to ease off the gas pedal of processing new bright images. The scene becomes a few decibels quieter and your biggest sources of outrage are a plot twist in a book or when your pen starts to dry up while you're writing with a cat in your lap.
All of this is in service to a more fluid departure into the land of dreams.
Well, this pen is just about dead, so, good night.
I also uploaded a version of the audio of this essay to my podcast, which you can find using this link or by searching for ‘Ken Lane’s Essays” on your favorite podcast player. Feel free to subscribe to take audio versions of these essays on the go.