We live in a hyperconnected world where everything is streamed, scrolled, and consumed through glowing screens. Notifications ping constantly, algorithms decide what we see, and genuine human connection has been replaced by shallow interactions on social media platforms that profit from our attention and misery.
I'm done with it.
In 2026, I'm choosing to live a more analogue life. Not because I'm rejecting technology entirely, but because I'm reclaiming my time, my attention, and my peace from the digital noise that has taken over everything.
Why Analogue?
Digital life promised us connection, but delivered isolation. It promised us convenience, but stole our ability to be present. It promised us the world at our fingertips, but gave us anxiety, comparison, and endless scrolling that leaves us feeling empty.
I've watched people I thought were friends exist only as profiles and posts. I've seen relationships reduced to who liked what and who commented on whose drama. I've felt the pull of the screen, the compulsion to check just one more thing, refresh just one more time.
Enough.
An analogue life isn't about going backwards. It's about being intentional. It's about choosing quality over convenience. It's about owning physical things that can't be taken away by a corporation, deleted by an algorithm, or lost when a streaming service removes content.
Let me be clear: This isn't about total technology deprivation. I'm not throwing my computer out the window or going completely off-grid. I'll still use my PC for writing—it's practical and necessary for my projects. I'll play my Sims games because they're mentally and creatively stimulating, offering a different kind of creative outlet. I'll use my Kindle for books I don't own in physical form yet or can't find easily. Open Library requires a browser and internet connection for all the out-of-print books I can't find anywhere else. And yes, I'll use the internet for posting my blog and staying connected in meaningful ways.
The difference is intention. I'm using technology as a tool when it serves me, not letting it consume me. I'm choosing when and how I engage with screens, not defaulting to them for everything. Technology isn't the enemy—mindless, constant, algorithm-driven consumption is.
My Analogue Plan for 2026
Here's how I'm taking my life back:
Limit Screen Time
No more mindless scrolling. No more falling into the black hole of social media or endless streaming queues. I'm setting strict boundaries on when and how I use screens. Phones stay out of the bedroom. No screens during meals. Designated times for checking anything online, not all day every day.
Physical Books Over E-Readers (Not exclusively, but as much as possible)
There's something irreplaceable about holding a real book. The weight of it, the smell of the pages, the satisfaction of turning each page and seeing your progress. You own it. No company can delete it from your device. No subscription required. No screen glare. Just you and the story. Plus, it's easy to annotate a physical book, I enjoy writing notes and underlining my favorite passages. I also have many ebooks on my Kindle, I don't intend to just abandon them because they are in a screen. The point is to be mindful, to read as many physical books as possible.
DVDs Over Streaming
I'm buying a DVD player. Yes, in 2026. Because I'm tired of paying monthly fees to rent access to content that disappears whenever a licensing deal expires. I want to own movies I love, watch them without internet, without ads, without the service deciding what's "available in my region." I want a physical collection I can revisit whenever I want.
CDs and Vinyl for Music
Real music, not algorithm-curated playlists. Physical albums you can hold, with liner notes and artwork. Music you own, not music you rent through a subscription that can pull songs at any time. Building a collection that reflects my actual taste, not what Spotify thinks I should listen to.
Physical Media: Magazines and Newspapers
Real paper in my hands. No clickbait headlines designed to manipulate me. No comment sections full of strangers arguing. No ads tracking my every move. Just well-written articles, thoughtful journalism, and the simple pleasure of sitting down with something tangible to read.
Writing by Hand
Journals, letters, notes. Pen and paper. The act of writing by hand slows you down, makes you think, connects your thoughts to your words in a way typing never does. No autocorrect, no backspace, just you and your thoughts.
Physical Journals for Everything
Depending on physical journals as much as possible—daily journaling, planning, tracking goals, recording memories, processing emotions. Writing things down by hand instead of typing notes on a phone or computer. Keeping a journal beside my bed, on my desk, in my bag. Making handwritten journaling a daily practice, a grounding ritual that doesn't require batteries or WiFi.
Wiccan Study and Altar Building
Studying Wicca through physical books, handwritten notes, and personal grimoires. Building and tending a physical altar with real objects—crystals, candles, herbs, statues, tools. Creating sacred space in the tangible world, not just through apps or online rituals but as a supplement to what I learn and do online. Creating a binder and journals of my own personal Grimoire. Connecting with spirituality through touch, scent, and presence. Writing spells and intentions by hand, learning from books I can annotate and return to, practicing rituals that exist in real time and space.
Board Games and Puzzles
Entertainment that doesn't require electricity or WiFi. Games you play face-to-face with real people. Puzzles that require patience and presence. Hobbies that exist in the physical world, not behind a screen.
Film Photography
Taking photos that matter, not 500 shots you'll never look at again. Learning to compose a shot carefully because film costs money and you can't just delete and reshoot endlessly. Waiting to develop the film, experiencing the anticipation, holding actual photographs in your hand.
Physical Maps and Calendars
A paper calendar on the wall where you can see the whole month at a glance. Maps you unfold and trace routes with your finger. No GPS telling you where to go every second. Learning to navigate, to plan, to be self-reliant.
Cooking from Cookbooks
Real recipe books with stained pages and handwritten notes in the margins. Not scrolling through a recipe blog with 47 ads and a life story before you get to the ingredients. A collection of trusted recipes you return to again and again.
Letter Writing and Thank You Cards
Actual mail. Written by hand, sent through the postal service, arriving in someone's mailbox as a tangible expression of care. Not a text, not an email, but something they can hold and keep.
Adult Coloring Books
Meditative, creative, hands-on art that requires nothing but colored pencils and time. No screen, no apps, no digital drawing tools. Just the simple satisfaction of filling in intricate designs, choosing colors, creating something beautiful with your own hands. It's calming, mindful, and completely offline.
Reborn Dolls
Collecting and caring for reborn dolls—realistic, handcrafted art dolls that require patience, attention, and creativity. There's something grounding about working with tangible, three-dimensional objects. Dressing them, styling them, arranging them. It's a hobby that exists entirely in the physical world, a creative outlet that can't be reduced to pixels on a screen.
Barbie Dioramas
Building miniature worlds with my hands. Creating scenes, arranging furniture, designing spaces. It's creative problem-solving, storytelling, and craftsmanship all in one. Each diorama is a project—something I can touch, rearrange, photograph, and display. It's art that takes up physical space, that I can walk past and appreciate every day.
Jewelry Crafting
Making jewelry by hand—beading, wire wrapping, designing pieces I can actually wear or give as gifts. There's something deeply satisfying about creating something beautiful and functional from raw materials. Learning techniques, experimenting with colors and patterns, holding finished pieces in my hand. It's creative work with immediate, tangible results.
Art Journaling
Creating art journals with physical paper, glue, scissors, paints, and collage materials. Not a digital journal app, but actual mixed media pages where I can layer textures, experiment with techniques, and create something uniquely mine. Each page is an original piece of art that exists only in this one journal, nowhere else.
ATC Cards and Greeting Cards
Making Artist Trading Cards and handmade greeting cards. Small, intricate art pieces I can trade, collect, or send to people. Every card is handcrafted, one-of-a-kind, made with care and intention. No mass-produced Hallmark cards, no digital e-cards—just real art made by hand.
Patio Garden
Growing my own herbs, flowers, or vegetables in containers on the patio. Getting my hands in the soil, watering plants, watching things grow from seeds or cuttings. Connecting with nature, learning what plants need, creating something living and beautiful right outside my door.
Learning to Sew Doll Clothes
Sewing tiny outfits for my reborn dolls and Barbies. Learning pattern-making, hand-stitching, working with miniature fabrics. It's detailed, precise work that requires focus and patience. Each finished piece is wearable art for my collection.
Jigsaw Puzzles
The ultimate slow, meditative activity. Spending hours fitting pieces together, watching an image gradually emerge. No timer, no score, no competition—just the quiet satisfaction of completing something tangible piece by piece.
One-Person Card Games
Solitaire, patience games, solo card challenges. Simple entertainment that requires nothing but a deck of cards and time. No app notifications, no in-game purchases, just me and the shuffle.
Collecting Postcards
Building a collection of vintage and contemporary postcards—images of places, art, memories. Something I can flip through, display, or send to people. Each postcard is a small piece of art and history I can hold in my hand.
Physical Photo Albums
Printing photos and organizing them in actual albums instead of letting thousands of digital images sit forgotten on a hard drive or phone. Creating tangible albums I can pull off the shelf and flip through—real memories I can hold, share with my family, and pass down. No scrolling through cloud storage, no worrying about file corruption or lost passwords. Just real photographs in real albums that will exist long after any digital platform shuts down!
What I'm Gaining
This isn't about deprivation. It's about richness.
I'm gaining:
- Presence. Being here, now, fully engaged with what's in front of me.
- Ownership. Actually owning things instead of renting access to everything.
- Peace. No more algorithm-driven anxiety and comparison.
- Quality. Choosing what I consume instead of letting corporations choose for me.
- Connection. Real relationships, not digital performance.
- Focus. Deep attention instead of fractured distraction.
- Independence. Not being dependent on internet access, subscriptions, or corporate platforms.
This is a Choice
I'm not saying everyone should do this. I'm not claiming moral superiority. I'm just saying I'm tired of living a life mediated through screens, tired of being the product that companies sell to advertisers, tired of relationships that exist only as notifications.
I want to read books that matter. I want to watch movies I chose, not what an algorithm recommended. I want to listen to music I love, own it, hold it. I want to cook real food, write real words, build real skills.
I want a life that's mine.
2026 is the year I take it back.
I will create additional posts as the year progresses, showing how I've incorporated these things into my daily life.
This is my commitment to myself: to live more slowly, more intentionally, more present. To choose quality over convenience. To build a life that exists in the real world, not just the digital one.
Welcome to my analogue year.