Lately I’ve been toying with the idea of adopting a secular digital sabbath—a weekly day of rest, abstaining from certain technologies, namely online communication.

A confluence of circumstances has led me to this conclusion. The first is that, in an example of the way my work life occasionally complements my personal life quite neatly, I’ve recently fact-checked an article about the digital sabbath, and the health benefits—both physical and mental—of spending less time in front of a screen, whether it’s a computer, iPhone, or television. Despite spending a lot of time in front of all three, I hadn’t heard the idea described as a secular/digital sabbath until I worked on this article, nor did I realize there’s a whole movement of bloggers experimenting with the idea and, while openly acknowledging the irony, blogging their progress and results.

I guess I’m throwing my hat into that ring, timidly and well behind the curve. Really I just want my life back. I want to spend the last hour before I go to bed reading words on paper instead of surfing the internet or watching a television show. (It’s now widely held that staring at a screen right before bedtime makes for shitty sleep.) I want to spend my late afternoons running or playing music or making dinner instead of surfing the internet or watching television. I want to spend my lunch break at work reading a magazine instead of my Google Reader feeds. I’ve only read three books all the way through in 2009, and that’s only if you count my 2008 tax return as a book, and I really only skimmed that. I’ve written in my journal—my personal, offline journal, not my blog—maybe three times.

Another irony of all this is that, while I’m spending more time than ever in front of a computer, the substance and quality of that time has suffered—the Word file where I keep the aforementioned journal hasn’t been opened in weeks, and this very blog just went ten days without an update. This doesn’t augur well for someone who’s soon going to be teaching a class about how to best prevent that lapse in blog content.

I mostly blame Twitter. I understand its value, and I appreciate it, and I’m glad I use it, and I glean lots of important things from it in ways I don’t yet understand. But sometimes I think … Fuck you, Twitter. I’m not going to read 200 tweets when I could be reading a book. I’m not going to tell the Twitterati I’m waiting at the doctor’s office, because really, the Twitterati don’t care.

But I also blame Google. And Facebook. And Tumblr, and Gawker, and Flickr, and Pitchfork, and Slate, and even the New York Times, sometimes. I understand that it’s not their fault—they’re not forcing me to become addicted to them. They’re just out there, online content that’s mine to consume or ignore. And they are all valuable, in moderation, especially local online media. I’m not such an old-timer or Luddite that I don’t recognize how the internet has now evolved to a point where it possesses real intrinsic value and substance. It’s not the agent of my addiction that’s the problem; it’s my own behavior. At its most fundamental level, I think it’s just a matter of making a conscious choice to pick up a book instead of my laptop. My default morning behavior now is to sit down in front of Google Reader, and it seems to start the day off on the wrong note.

I have fond memories of mornings in college spent reading a book or just sitting and listening to music, of days when I would only check my email three or four times rather than thirty, of stories told in person rather than on my blog (though in all fairness, I’ve told some pretty kickass stories on this blog). That seems to me like time better spent.

With that in mind, I’m calling on my small but wise readership for help. (That’s right—I’m enlisting the internet for help in my battle with the internet.) How do you avoid online overconsumption, to the extent that you do? Or is it not really a concern? I am consistently impressed by (and envious of) my online friends who seem to have a robust online presence with which they chronicle their equally healthy offline lives. Not to single anyone out, but Dan seems especially good at maintaining a regular blog, plus Tumblr, Twitter, et cetera while also doing normal human things like making dinner, reading books, attending movies, and having a full-time job. What’s your secret, Dan?

Also, which day would be best for instituting a secular sabbath? I’m thinking Saturday or Sunday, for obvious reasons. Saturdays in the spring are perfect for exercising, walking, riding my bike, taking pictures, and hanging out with my friends, which is why I’m that much angrier with myself when I spend them indoors watching Hulu. It almost seems like Sundays are more crucial for online activity since, much like Sundays were big homework days in college, they are crucial days for freelancers who need to get prepared for the coming week. So Saturday will probably be my sabbath rather than Sunday. (With apologies to my Catholic mother, since in this respect it looks like I’m converting to Judaism.)

Share your wisdom on the subject in the comments, or email it to me. I’ll feverishly check my inbox every five minutes to see if anyone’s responded, which should in no way interfere with my resolution to be less dependent on online connectivity. Right?