My friends give me a lot of grief for being a humanities major. According to one of them, my major’s acronym—“IPH”—stands for the same thing that the letters “B.S.” do. Strange.
Sometimes, of course, I feel the need to defend myself. Last night at Noodles & Co. was one of those nights. I scoffed at my pre-med friend for majoring in “Science.” My engineering friends were similarly railed against for trying to create “technology” to make our lives “better” so we can “enjoy” them. Naturally, we kid. But the following is my real take on the situation, outside of context, away from Noodles and people who like science.

Technology (everything from fire to a microwave) is good because it allows us the leisure to reflect on our lives and pursue meaningfulness. To go back to the prototypical “pre-technological” scenario, we no longer run around in chafing loincloths trying to spear mammoths with sharpened sticks. Instead, we enjoy a relaxed, well-prepared dinner with tasteful music in the background and a moderate temperature on the thermostat and talk to each other about our lives. We are no longer struggling to survive; we are now asking the big questions. Why are we here? What can I do to make this all worthwhile?

In freeing us from having to go out each day and spend hours gathering berries or risking our lives to hunt a saber-toothed tiger, technology, the mark of civilization and organization and everything that we know, has allowed us to formulate a “why” to what had previously been only a “how.” We now have the opportunity to find meaning in our lives instead of being able to focus only on how to maintain them.

The problem comes (and here is where I betray some sincerity in molesting my science-y friends) when extensions of that technology do the very opposite: take away the opportunity to reflect on our lives and live them in considered, thoughtful ways. The above-described well-prepared dinner is a once-a-month endeavor. What we usually encounter is a hectic, preoccupied, walking ingestion of an additives-replete burrito accompanied by tasteless, lyrically dehumanizing music as we struggle against rather than with other people in a long line in a way-too-hot or way-too-cold room and think about whether we will make it back from class in time for our show that is on at seven. As technology giveth, it often contemporaneously taketh away.

So here is the key: Identify what in each amenity is really helpful in giving you the kind of life that you want, and take advantage of that element while rejecting as vehemently as possible the others. What in Bear’s Den is actually healthy for you? Get and enjoy that while making it a rule to avoid what is made to taste good but ultimately kill you. What about your computer enhances your life, and what about it holds you back? Use that well-designed calendar function, but check Facebook only to keep up with otherwise out-of-touch friends. And even the basics: Do clothes make your life better because they are so warm and stylish but make it miserable because you have so many to choose from? Donate half, and take uninhibited pleasure from those that you do keep.

The point, maybe, is do not get carried away. Technology is not good because it is technology. It is good because it helps us to better accomplish worthy goals that cavemen unfortunately did not even have the chance to conceive of. If we sell our souls to science (cue me goofing with my friends again) or to technology without remembering what its purpose is, we have lost the reason for the whole endeavor. The crucial step, now that we have cars and computers and fire and Nalgenes, is to understand what those things help us ultimately to do—to figure out what is that worthy goal.