Last year my daughter was stressing out about grades. She was ten. She envisioned one bad spelling test dogging her for eternity, so I decided to let her in on a little secret: there is no permanent record. Sure, her grades in high school will influence college acceptance, blah, blah, blah. But there’s no cabal of permanent record keepers monitoring her every academic move. She was quite relieved.
I learned there was no permanent record much later in life, and sometimes – many times – I seem to forget. My frantic attempts to keep on top of things are fueled by a sense that People Are Watching. And taking notes.
Let’s pause a moment to consider how ridiculous this is. I’m 99.99% sure no one on this planet is charting my triumphs and failures. But I’ve kept my adolescent paranoia that Everyone Is Looking At Me, and that my screw-ups will one day bite me in the butt. Typical firstborn.
What does this have to do with information overload? Smashing the permanent record gives you permission to let things slide. Let the mail pile up a couple days. Take a digital holiday. Remain clueless on a hot topic. No one’s the wiser.
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