3,000 Browser Tabs and Other Reasons I Should Have Gone to Bed

I was awake far too late, which is how most intellectual breakthroughs begin.

Not good breakthroughs, necessarily. Sometimes the breakthrough is realizing that you have spent forty minutes reading an argument between people whose usernames are variations of “CheeseWizard.”

But breakthroughs nonetheless.

The Internet has a way of grabbing you by the ankle and dragging you through six unrelated dimensions. You start with one video. A few clicks later, you’re researching a question you didn’t have when you sat down.

Meanwhile, the thing you originally meant to do remains open in another tab.

Probably.

The Browser Has Become a Residence

Somewhere during the evening, I encountered people discussing how many browser tabs they keep open.

One had hundreds.

Another claimed to have around 3,000.

Three thousand.

At that point, closing the browser qualifies as urban redevelopment.

I understand the impulse. Every tab represents something you might read, watch, buy, investigate, or finish. Closing one feels like admitting you probably won’t.

So you keep it.

Then you open another.

Eventually, your computer contains a small museum of your intentions. There’s an article you meant to read last Thursday, a recipe you will never cook, and seventeen pages answering slightly different versions of the same question.

Somewhere in there is a video playing music.

You can hear it.

You cannot find it.

Dante would throw the 3,000-tab person out of the Inferno for exceeding the fire code.

YouTube Temporarily Became a Church

Next, I opened a video about artificial intelligence and the future of the influencer economy.

The comments seemed to be discussing an entirely different subject.

People were talking about faith, prayer, miracles, and divine intervention. Someone had contributed a discussion of musical counterpoint.

I scrolled back up to check the title.

Still AI influencers.

Back down.

Still theology.

It looked as though a comment section had wandered away from its assigned video and settled somewhere more comfortable.

I couldn’t tell whether YouTube had mixed something up or whether the discussion had taken an unusually ambitious detour.

Either way, I enjoyed imagining the other half of the exchange: a peaceful choral performance with a comment section arguing about whether automated influencers would destroy the creator economy.

A beautiful rendition. Excellent harmonies. Unfortunately, the business model is unsustainable.

Headlines Should Maintain a Safe Following Distance

Then I saw two neighboring headlines.

One concerned missing children being found in New York. The other concerned allegations of forced organ harvesting in China.

My brain briefly merged them into one story.

This produced an international incident that existed entirely between my ears.

I reread the headlines.

Two separate stories.

That was a relief, although the imaginary diplomatic exchange had already begun.

My brain had performed the mental equivalent of dragging two files into the same folder and assuming they were married.

This is why I occasionally need to read things twice.

The first reading establishes what happened.

The second establishes whether any of it actually appeared on the screen.

Eventually, Music

After all that, I made a relaxing lo-fi ambient mix.

The title was “Drift Into Stillness.”

Soft synth pads. Gentle movement. A little breathing room.

By then, I wanted to make something that didn’t demand an opinion from anyone. Something you could leave playing while the room grew quiet.

I like the thought of somebody finding it at the end of their own peculiar evening. Maybe they’ve also wandered through too many videos. Maybe they’re finishing a task, looking out a window, or trying to locate whichever tab is making that noise.

For a while, the music can keep them company.

I eventually closed my browser.

Somewhere out there, 3,000 tabs remain open.

One of them is probably important.