I surprised myself as I binge-watched all four seasons of The Good Place in five days. That’s on top of work and all the inconveniences of adulthood. I didn’t think I had enough youth in me to binge-watch anything. Binge-watching is the thing of college dorm rooms, lonely weekends, and slumber parties.
And yet here I am, crying bucketloads of tears I didn’t think I’d shed from tired eyes that I didn’t think would stay up too late. It’s amazing where and how your attention takes you. We hardly give it a thought, yet the recipients of our attention take up unseen space in our consciousness. Aside from feeding the algorithm, the mindless doomscrolling feeds on our desires, vulnerabilities, and boredom.
On one especially heartbreaking day, I found myself scrolling through a shoe ad, going to the website, and ultimately buying three pairs of shoes. I convinced myself that I practically made money since it was on a buy-1-get-2 Promo. But to begin with, I didn’t even want to get one. I don’t need another pair of shoes, let alone three! It was so unlike me. I hardly shop online, and when I do, it takes me weeks before checkout. So, buying three pairs of shoes on a whim was highly irregular. Spoiler alert: I don’t wear any of those shoes anymore.
But attention does that. In the right amount and circumstance, it turns to action. One minute, you’re paying attention, then paying money the next. One day, it’s the shoes. Other times, it’s another bag I don’t need. Or a reel that gets to my head. Or some propaganda that drills into my belief system. In an age of unending information, attention is the true currency.
That’s not to say all attention is bad. Some of the media I’ve consumed recently have significantly moved me. In the same week I finished The Good Place, I watched A Man on the Inside, another Michael Schur masterpiece starring Ted Danson that drove me to tears. After that, I watched the second season of XO Kitty and have been drowning in Kitty-Minho fan edits ever since. I’ve read three books since the start of the year. The first was The Seven Year Slip by Ashley Poston, a time-bending rom-com that reminded me how time and love can change us. My next read, Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin, made me cry my eyes out from the pain that comes with friendship, love, and loss. It also gave me one of my newest favorite quotes:
“What is a game? It’s tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. It’s the possibility of infinite rebirth, infinite redemption. The idea that if you keep playing, you could win. No loss is permanent, because nothing is permanent, ever.”
(Gabrielle Zevin, Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow).
Most recently, I finished Audrey Belleza and Emily Harding’s Pride and Prejudice retelling, Elizabeth of East Hampton, a perfect beach read adaptation of one of my favorite novels. I’ve been pleasantly happy with the media I’ve consumed. Even with the swollen eyes and eye bags I got from binge-watching The Good Place, I’m grateful that art is created, that it can help us explore how we feel and think about the world, and that it can touch and move us in ways that allow us to feel human.
I’ve been trying to be mindful of what grabs my attention. This goes beyond the media I consume. Attention includes seeing the life that hums around us. The people we love. The pain we feel, physically or otherwise. The little things that annoy us. The little things that bring joy. A good cup of coffee. An incredibly satisfying meal. A perfectly blue and cloudless sky. The marvelous coincidences that fall on our laps. I stretch my gratitude by paying more attention to these glimmers, these good things that still happen to me despite the mayhem of daily life.
I’m not always successful. I still doom-scroll in the morning. I still find myself in countless reels and fan edits. But when I can, I try to catch myself when I do, and I try to be intentional with the attention I give away, because like time, I can never get that back. Truly, attention is a resource, a tool, a superpower, and ultimately, a choice.