Up until recently, a typical day for me went something like this:

• Wake up around 8 a.m.

• Turn on computer en route to the bathroom.

• Exit bathroom around 8:05 a.m.

• Check e-mail, read a couple of blogs and catch up on the news sites.

• Shower around 9 a.m. and check my e-mail again after my shower.

• Go to work at 10 a.m. Sit at a computer nearly all day, and make sure my cell phone is turned on at all times and is next to my computer's mouse.

• Head home around 6:30 p.m.

• Turn on my computer as soon as I get in the door. Clean and cook, but have my computer on the entire time ... occasionally checking back to see if I had a new e-mail or if there was any big breaking news. Perhaps even have the TV on at the same time for some background noise.

Once the cooking and cleaning was done, I would sit down and watch TV shows on my computer, or read some more blogs, or just get lost for hours - easily five hours a night - in the Internet.

Then I'd go to bed around midnight or 1 a.m.

That was a typical day for me. That doesn't include time I spent talking on my cell phone or text messaging; it doesn't count zoning out to an old DVD. (I never had video games, so thankfully, that was at least one less piece of technology to get lost in.)

I spent years of my life in this routine, never thinking twice about it.

And then I went broke.

For a brief period of time, I suddenly had a lot of large bills to pay and didn't have money for the "extras" - the Internet, cell phone and cable. During this period of time I moved into a new apartment, so once I dismantled my computer, I really had no reason to put it back together quickly. It seemed logical to me - and horrible.

As the dreaded Great Disconnection of 2008 loomed, I tried to remember those times as a kid when the only real electronic distraction we had was a TV - often with bad reception. I tried to remember just what I did back then. My mind went blank.

Finally, the day came when I moved into my new apartment. It was quiet. That's the biggest thing I noticed immediately. Even when a computer is on, or the TV is muted ... it still makes a sound. That electronic whirring sound.

It's easy to overlook, but once that sound is gone the silence is noticeable. At first, the extreme quiet was a little unsettling, but after a couple of hours I found it relaxing. It's like something finally gave my brain permission to think and not just zone out the second I got home.

The first whole day I was disconnected, I got a lot done. A lot.

I unpacked and decorated my entire apartment, and this was after a full day's work. On my second disconnected day, I cooked - from scratch. Before I knew it, a week had gone by without cell phone, Internet or television.

I started to think I didn't want them back. I loved being disconnected from the world.

I finally had time to read again - actual books, with pages and everything. It's one thing to read online, but it's a whole other thing to hold a book in your hands and get so involved in the story that you've suddenly read 115 pages and it has only felt like 5 minutes has passed.

I also had time to finish two drawings and begin a new painting. I cannot remember the last time I drew anything; I think it was back in college. And I hadn't "found" the time to paint in more than a year.

But the single greatest thing about disconnectedness? Not having a phone, not being reachable every second of every day no matter where you are (or what you're doing). It's an intrusion most of us don't notice anymore.

Many people don't even see anything wrong with being on the phone, while in the most private of moments or to be walking down the street and suddenly feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, signaling a new text message.

The second that phone wasn't there, I felt free.

It's been a few months now. While I had to get the cell phone back for work, I still don't have Internet or cable. My computer is still in pieces in a box on the floor - and I have no intention of putting it back together.

Disconnecting was the most liberating thing I've done in recent years - maybe even in my life. It sounds silly, but the minute you disconnect is the minute you realize how much technology is ingrained in our way of life.

I think more, I sleep better, my creativity - which was dulled by technology - is more active than ever.

I've read three books, and I'm in the middle of two more. I'm still working on my painting.

I have more time to live.

I used to come home from work and get sucked into the Internet; the next thing I'd know it was midnight and time to sleep. It seemed like I never had enough time or energy.

Now it seems like I have more time and energy than I know what to do with.

I don't know how long I can stay disconnected. My goal is to make it until 2009, and if I can stay disconnected for that long, there's no reason I can't continue. One thing is for sure, though.

I have no intention of plugging in anytime soon.