My interaction with technology is an ongoing saga, one I question every time I reach for my phone or open my laptop. Throughout the week, you'll often find me at a makeshift desk, crafting content for various brands. I navigate through browser windows, blinking cursors, and respond to a flood of emails and emojified texts.

The internet is woven into my livelihood, research, and community. I'm far from a Luddite, but I've been grappling with the highs and lows of online activity since I created my first email address.

A few years ago, Future Tense books published my pocket-sized book, 'User Not Found,' a lyric essay chronicling my attempts to break free from the internet's pesky tendrils. I delved a little into privacy issues, the ethical concerns of big tech, the attention economy, the environmental impact of data storage, social media trolls, and the issue of conflict minerals. But mostly I explored my own struggles with compulsive scrolling and the diminishing sense of real connectivity I felt I was experiencing with my own body, my imagination, my community, and nature.

Technology isn’t all grim. Without it, we wouldn't have the ability to tune into lives outside our immediate physical communities or explore the vast array of creative, educational, radical, and sustainable resources it offers.

I created Periphery to enhance a positive technology/life balance and equip individuals of all ages with tools to navigate the internet without being consumed by it.

Much of the 'work' in the Periphery program is self-directed, engaging you to enrich relationships with yourself and those you choose to connect with offline. My role is to provide foundational tools—two curated packages featuring offline activities and creative prompts, invitations to sensory workshops, two hour-long, one-on-one phone sessions, and numerous hurrahs (complete with pom-poms).