The One Week I Lived Like It Was 1995

I am here to narrate one real story I hope you al will enjoy....

Why I Did It

It started on a Sunday night, the kind where you tell yourself, “Just five more minutes online” and somehow end up deep in a Wikipedia rabbit hole about deep-sea squid mating rituals. My eyes were tired, my brain was buzzing, and I realized I had spent hours absorbing trivia I’d forget by morning.

That’s when it hit me: I need a break. Not just a “no social media for the weekend” detox, but a hard reset—a week without any technology invented after 1995.

The rules were simple:

No internet

No streaming

No GPS

No smartphones

Basically, I was rewinding to the last time “going online” meant listening to a dial-up modem scream at you.

Day 1 — The Map Mishap

Monday morning, I had an appointment across town. Normally, I’d toss the address into Google Maps and cruise there without thinking. But this time, I printed directions ahead of time (shoutout to the ghost of MapQuest) and grabbed a paper road map from the gas station.

The first problem? Paper maps don’t “re-center” themselves when you take a wrong turn. After two missed turns, I was parked on the side of the road, unfolding a map so big it could double as a picnic blanket. Eventually, I found my way—but it took three times longer, and I’m pretty sure one stranger saw me spinning the map like a steering wheel.

Day 2 — TV Without Choice

That night, I turned on the TV. No Netflix. No YouTube. Just… channels.

I landed on a home renovation show from at least a decade ago. The couple argued for fifteen minutes over wallpaper. Normally, I’d skip it. But without the temptation to “find something better,” I stuck with it—and weirdly, it was relaxing. No decision fatigue. No endless scrolling. Just accepting whatever story the TV gods served up.

Day 3 — Rediscovering the Landline

Without texting, I had to either visit friends in person or actually call them.

I picked up my old landline phone—the kind with a curly cord—and called a friend. We talked for an hour. Not about anything urgent, just random updates, silly memories, and life stuff. I didn’t check notifications mid-conversation because there were no notifications. It was the warmest chat I’d had in months.

Day 4 — The Music Time Machine

With Spotify off-limits, I dug out a dusty CD wallet. Remember those? Each disc had scratches, each case had its own personality.

I listened to entire albums without skipping songs. Some tracks I’d forgotten even existed. I read the tiny lyric booklets. My old Discman worked fine—until it drained two AA batteries in one afternoon.

Day 5 — The Library Is the Original Google

One night, I wanted to bake banana bread. Normally, I’d grab my phone and search for “best banana bread recipe.” Instead, I walked to the library.

Flipping through cookbooks, I found one with a handwritten note from a past borrower: “Add chocolate chips. Trust me.” I did. They were right. The loaf barely lasted two days.

Day 6 — Slowing Down to Notice

Without my phone filling every gap in my day, I noticed things:

How the sunlight shifted in my living room from morning to evening

How neighbors stopped to chat instead of walking while scrolling

How my brain felt quieter without constant alerts

Day 7 — Coming Back (Sort of)

Sunday night, I turned my phone back on and watched the flood of notifications pour in.

And here’s the truth—I didn’t miss most of it. Sure, I’m keeping GPS and streaming (I’m not a masochist), but I’m also keeping some 1995 habits:

Calling friends instead of just liking their posts

Watching what’s on, not what’s trending

Turning real pages instead of swiping

What I Learned

Living like it was 1995 didn’t just slow down my week—it made it richer. Without constant digital noise, conversations were deeper, moments felt longer, and boredom became a rare and oddly productive state.

No, I’m not giving up the internet entirely (how would I post this story?), but I am keeping a little 90s magic in my modern life.