Getting off the algorithm: a starter kit

I spent twenty minutes yesterday watching a video of a man in Ohio power-washing a driveway because a machine learning model decided I needed to see it. There was no joy in it. I didn't learn anything about driveways or Ohio, and yet I sat there, paralyzed by the autoplay, while my actual interests withered in the corner of my brain. The algorithm is a slot machine that pays out in mild distractions rather than jackpot wins. It treats your attention like a commodity to be mined, but you can reclaim the land by switching from a push economy to a pull economy.

The first step is the most painful because it requires you to admit you have no self-control. Delete the apps that use a vertical scroll to delivery therapy-grade hits of dopamine. If you can't delete them, move them into a folder on the third page of your home screen so you have to actually think before you click. Once the noise stops, you will realize your digital diet has been dictated by a black box designed to keep you angry or mesmerized. You need to start curation from scratch.

Go find five websites that actually publish things you care about and bookmark them in a folder on your browser. This feels like 2004 because it is. You should visit these sites manually once a day or once a week. This puts you back in the driver's seat of your own curiosity. If a site hasn't updated, that is a good thing. It means you are done with the internet for now and can go look at a tree or wash a dish.

The real heavy lifting of a post-algorithmic life happens in an RSS reader. Download NetNewsWire or Reeder and start hunting for the little orange icons on the blogs and news sites you love. RSS is the ultimate act of rebellion because it delivers content in chronological order without an ad in sight. It does not care about engagement metrics or what your high school rival liked. It just gives you the text you asked for. It puts the burden of choice back on your shoulders, where it belongs.

Clean out your inbox by unsubscribing from every retail brand that wants to sell you a seasonal sweater and replace them with three high-quality newsletters. Look for writers who have a specific, weird perspective rather than those who just aggregate the news of the day. A good newsletter should feel like a letter from a friend who knows more about a niche topic than you do. It sits in your inbox quietly until you are ready to read it. It does not scream for your attention with a red notification dot.

This transition will feel boring at first. You will reach for your phone during a quiet moment and realize there is nothing new to scroll through. That boredom is the feeling of your brain returning to its natural state. It is the gap where original thoughts actually happen. Stop letting a server farm in Virginia decide what you think about while you eat your lunch. It's a much better world when you're the one choosing the menu.