yes please(66)

(They actually didn’t, I just didn’t get my shit together in time. It’s a whole thing.)

So let’s review.

My phone is trying to kill me. It is a battery-charged rectangle of disappointment and possibility. It is a technological pacifier. I keep it beside me to make me feel less alone, unless I feel like making myself feel lonely. It can make me feel connected and unloved, ugly and important, sad and vindicated.

So what do we do?

Well first, we go back to the Dalai Lama. He says, “I think technology has really increased human ability. But technology cannot produce compassion.”

Man, that’s good. That’s why he’s the Big Lama.

He goes on to say, “We are the controller of the technology. If we become a slave of technology, then [that’s] not good.”

So we must work hard to not be slaves. We must find a way to fight against complacency and mindless patterns. How do we do it? How does it work in movies when the good guys go up against the robots?

1.We try to destroy them.

This is not happening. Technology is moving faster than ever and the Internet is here to stay. Plus, telling someone to not look at bad pictures or comments online is like telling a kid not to eat a cookie. And I’m here to tell you that any actor who says they don’t search for their own name on occasion is a filthy liar.

2.We beat them at their own game.

This theory was the impetus for Smart Girls at the Party, a Web series and website I created along with my friends Meredith Walker and Amy Miles. We wanted to build a brand that attempted to combat the deluge of shit young people see every day online. It actually all started with the idea of one simple show. It would be a Charlie Rose–type interview show for girls that ended in a spontaneous dance party. We wanted to celebrate the curious girl, the nonfamous, the everyday warrior. At first we only knew a few things: we wanted to make content we would have watched when we were younger, and we wanted to end our episodes with a dance party. Spontaneous dance parties are important in my life. I have one in the makeup trailer almost every afternoon on Parks and Recreation. Dancing is the great equalizer. It gets people out of their heads and into their bodies. I think if you can dance and be free and not embarrassed you can rule the world. Smart Girls is growing and changing, and Meredith and I have big plans to open up camps and create more content and connect with more and more young people. Our hope is to provide something for people who can’t stand to look at another awful website highlighting some fame-obsessed garbage person.

3.We believe in people, not machines.

I will finish this book with a little story.

By the way, THANK YOU for reading Yes Please all the way to the end. I know how busy you are.

During my writing process, I struggled with my limited relationship with technology. I was forced to buy a new laptop, and I grew to love my tiny MacBook Air with my badass black cover and UCB sticker on the front. It has traveled with me for over a year and a half as I have pretended to work on this book all across America. Recently I flew to San Francisco, to shoot the finale of our sixth season of Parks and Recreation.

Life is endings and beginnings. Pema Ch?dr?n says we are constantly being “thrown out of the nest.”

It can be hard, this life. Beautiful too. Mine is beautiful, mostly. Lucky me.

I arrived in San Francisco with that rare combination of sadness and joy. There should be a name for that feeling. Maybe it’s “intimacy.” Either way, I had a wonderful time shooting the show and the shit with a cast of people I have grown to love like family. After two days, I reached into my bag to pull out my laptop and work on a piece for the book. The laptop was nowhere to be found. My heart sank. I assumed it had been stolen. Then I had the terrible memory of putting it in a separate tray in the security line. I was tired the morning I flew to San Francisco. I fly a lot, and it can wear you down. I opted out of the X-ray machine, because I was just getting tired of being zapped with rays that nobody could tell me were safe. I mean, if my phone is trying to kill me then that crazy X-ray machine at airport security is a straight-up assassin. I asked for a pat-down. It was nice, actually. A sweet woman and I chatted as she touched me. I didn’t mind. It felt human. She told me she loved me in Baby Mama. I went on my way, but because of the small change in my routine, I had left my laptop at LAX security forty-eight hours before.

The first thing I did was cry. Because, see, I had a lot of writing on my laptop that I hadn’t truly backed up, maybe forty or fifty pages. Technology can often feel like a club that didn’t accept me, and so I punish it by ignoring it, which in turn often hurts me. Then I cried because I was tired, and worried about this book and getting it done while also being a good mom and a pleasant face on camera. Then I cried because I knew this was a first-world problem and I had no right to cry. Then I called TSA Lost and Found.

I spoke to a human. A man. He took my information. He was polite and he listened. He wasn’t a machine. He put me on hold and took a quick look. He came back and said he didn’t see anything matching that description. I started to cry again. He said, “Come on, Amy, you gotta stay positive.” I thanked him. He took my e-mail and I considered my laptop gone for good. For like the millionth time during this process, I considered e-mailing my editors and asking them if I could give the money back and not write this book. The only difference was this time I had a real reason.

A day later I received this.