I spend a good deal of my day staring at glowing screens.
I’m not saying this is good or bad. It’s just simply a part of my life at a Digital Marketer. I’m sure a lot of you understand where I’m coming from (as you are currently reading this from a glowing screen of your own). After a day of dealing with all sorts of marketing technology for clients, I still have my personal social media channels and blogging to manage. Sometimes, it can feel like I’m working two jobs…both of which involve glowing screens.
When I watch a movie at home, I stream it through Netflix or Amazon Prime. If I want to send a friend a message, it’s through text or social media. If I want to listen to a song, I pull up a favorite playlist.
So many glowing screens.
That’s how I ended up with this rather large impulse purchase in a recent thrifting jaunt. I saw it on the sales floor, looking dusty and abandoned. It was as beautiful and nostalgic as it was cumbersome and inconvenient to load onto a friend’s truck and move to my house.
Ain’t she a beaut, though? I had to have it. The idea of owning electronics that also function as furniture flies in the face of innovation and sleek, small and ultimately disposable devices. Apple probably isn’t going to release the iPhone 8 in an artisanal tongue-and-groove mahogany case. Which is part of the allure of such objects for me.
My moving buddies gathered around as I delicately placed an album on the turntable and flicked the switch to On. Sadly, nothing happened. None of us had any idea how to fix it or what could possibly be wrong. After lots of poking, prodding and poring over the original 1968 instruction manual, they eventually gave up and went home to their iTunes.
I took the turntable apart and discovered the belt had come loose. After reattaching it, it spun like a champ.
I put everything back together, placed a Gershwin album on the turntable, and stepped back…fingers crossed.
Here’s a sample of the resonant warm sounds my new Zenith is capable of…
I am completely enamored with my old/new stereo. I love shopping for hidden gems and kitschy albums to play for dinner parties, most of which cost about $1 at Goodwill.
The process of selecting an album to listen to in its entirety (rather than the individual tracks we’ve become accustomed to), removing the record from its cardboard sleeve and putting it under the needle is refreshingly inefficient and deliberate.
A sweet friend even dropped off a starter collection of thrifted records he thought I’d enjoy while I was at work the other day.
This occasional slowing-down of the process of how I consume media has helped me in becoming a little more relaxed and mindful in my downtime.
I wonder how many other ways I can find to go a bit more low-tech…