Promises

This went out two days ago as issue 13 of The Angelo Report, a weekly newsletter published every Sunday afternoon.

A Health notification popped up on my iPhone the other day.

Apparently, there was a trend change in a few metrics over the last five days. Active energy, step count, stand hours — these had all dropped precipitously. These are all important metrics that are strong predictors of your fitness in later years.

I'm pretty much fully recovered from COVID, which had me flat on my back for five days, so that's not it. But first, let's talk about promises.


Despite my interest in #menswear and my Hellenic birthright of wearing gold chains, I'm not really one for jewellery. But I'm almost never without three items: my wedding band, my iron ring, and my watch.

These are not jewellery, but covenants. They symbolize promises made.

The wedding band needs no explanation; the iron ring serves as a reminder of the terrible responsibility engineers have to their peers and the public.

And the watch?

The watch is a promise to myself, I guess. Sure, it's a promise to be mindful of appointments. But more than that, it's a promise that I'll be mindful of the fact that important things take time.


I've worn a watch since I was in grade school, the first being a Mickey Mouse watch, if I remember correctly. I've worn a watch for so long that my left wrist actually indents a little bit where the strap sits. Maybe it's something I inherited from my grandfather, who loved watches.

I'm more likely to leave the house without pants than without a watch.

And so you can imagine how I felt when Apple released their Watch. I skipped the first generation, because you always should skip the first generation, and got a stainless steel 42mm Series 2 Watch with tan leather strap in October of 2016.

I've worn an Apple Watch almost every day since then, upgrading it a few years back to a Series 7. And I wanted to believe that I loved it. So many metrics! Such convenience!

But, the more I've lived with it, I've come to realize that no, I don't actually love it. It's helpful for tracking my workouts and my sleep. With a cellular connection, it's nice to be able to leave the house without my iPhone and still be connected to the people that matter to me. As a wrist computer, it's fine.

But it changes the promise.

The purity of purpose of a wristwatch is that it tells you the time. What you do with that time —and more importantly, the value you place on it— is yours to decide.

A wrist computer does something very different. As an extension of your phone, it bullies your attention with literal taps on the wrist. As a data-gathering device, it wants you to be concerned that you're not getting enough steps or sleep or stand hours. It wants you to substitute paying attention to how you feel with numbers and graphs that tell you how you should be feeling.

And so it mostly sits on the charger these days, a development test device. No steps recorded, no active calories expended. I still use it to track my sleep, but even that feels like something I can do without. I know how I feel in the morning, and I know what I need to do to get a good night's sleep.

And my twenty-year-old wristwatch is back where it should be.


One of my best friends has a nickname for me: Gadget Man. I'd always been an early adopter, and I love cool technology. But —and maybe this just comes with getting older— I'm realizing that the more I rely on technology and on data, the less intuitive, creative, and calm I feel.

Will I go back to a dumb phone and film camera and eschew all tech? Absolutely not. But I will push back on the tech that makes me feel like I'm losing touch with myself and with others.

Here's to renewed promises.

Around The Web

This week, two great talks about the dangers of relying on data and technology in pursuit of efficiency:

Thought Of The Week

Try carrying a notebook.

Yes, you can capture information much faster on your phone. But maybe that's not valuable for every type of note you take.

Discuss...