Unknown Artist: Publisher's proof of the publications of L. Prang & Co.
: Trade card depicting a distracted waiter (1876 - 1890, Approximate)

"Both scrolling and unscrolling must be gold-plated…"

I have been guilty in this Unscrolling Series of implying that distractions are necessarily bad, when they’re most decidedly not necessarily so. This culture thrives on distractions. I dare say that our economy would be in much worse shape than it already is if we were to suddenly abandon our distractions. Shopping itself, a necessity for sustaining life, often serves as a distraction for many, a reliable treatment against encroaching boredom. It might even seem that our occupations serve more as distractions from our distractions than something we seek to merely distract ourselves from. I can see the possibility of describing distractions as the hierarchy they might be in our minds. I see some as beneficial and others as evil, though in total, they might appear roughly equal in their contribution to the quality of my experience. More than mere spacers between the more consequent components of existence, we might have evolved to the point where the various elements of our existence serve as distractions from each other: distractions spaced by distractions. As Ghandi never said, “It’s distractions all the way down.”

I might have unfairly singled out our social media scrolling as regrettable. Like anything, it can be taken to extremes, but even then, it might seem to be a sort of victimless crime. It wastes time. That’s hardly an indictable infraction. Wasting time might serve as the underlying purpose of life, since we all enthusiastically engage in it, usually as more than merely an idle pastime. Some of us label our time-wasters hobbies, elevating them to a more noble status than distracted nose picking might be seen. One person’s hobby easily serves as another’s abomination. Who are any of us to judge? We have stores, whole industries, dedicated to supplying dedicated hobbyists. Some of us focus much of our attention on our social media connections, and some of those—actually, remarkably few—even get rich as a result of their obsession with this particular distraction. Some taste scotch for a living, though some unfortunately become alcoholics.

I rank books higher on my DistractionHierarchy than I rank social media scrolling. I rank gardening higher than other competing distractions. Some I manage to avoid altogether because they just don’t interest me. The Muse spends winter weekends in her basement sewing room. I enjoy cooking dinner sometimes, even though it can distract me from more interesting activities. I relent and complete the obligation, then move on to some higher-order distraction. I feel free to rank my distractions however it might please me, on some abstract satisfaction scale or by some measure of productivity. I consider my writing distraction to be among the highest placed on my personal DistractionHierarchy scale, though when my neighbors see me writing in my office window when they’re walking their dogs in the morning, they wonder what I might be doing up there.

Distractions are choices, nothing more or less. They might well represent portraits of our values, though drawing conclusions from raw observations might well prove misleading, even for oneself. I change my preferences more often than the seasons change. Some of my more prominent distractions became boring over time, so I replaced them with more alluring ones. Few things seem more satisfying than a brand spanking new distraction to rededicate wasting my time to, for time might exist to serve as the fuel for the ever-burgeoning time-wasting industry. It seems as if I’m poor, indeed, if I cannot feel as though I’m properly wasting my time. Prosperity might be best measured by the amount of that most precious commodity frittered away. Both scrolling and unscrolling must be gold-plated, distinguished only by how we calculate return on our investment.

©2026 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Unscrolling, #PureSchmaltz