The Art of Intentional Content Consumption

Barcelona to Los Angeles. 13 hours.

I don’t work on flights. Never. Instead, I planned my activities: a sci-fi book, two hours of chosen educational YouTube videos, my journal, some brown noise for napping, and “The Batman” - Pattinson’s version had been on my watch list for months.

But what I saw around me was utterly devastating.

Comatose by all the screens of the airplane entertainment system, passengers were trapped in a frantic dance of constant zapping. These weren’t disposable movies. We’re talking Inception. Dune. Willy Wonka. Masterpieces were reduced to fleeting moments - ten minutes here, five minutes there - as if their attention spans had been shattered into fragments of disconnected scenes.

I watched The Batman. All of it. Committed to it. I also took some time to journal why I liked it, how damn sexy Robert was, what were the weakest points in the script, and how excellent the framing and color grading.

The Disease Behind the Symptoms

We live in a huge epidemic. People’s attention span is ruined. People can’t even watch a movie. It is devastating to watch this behavior - a collective numbness we’ve somehow normalized.

I’m not special; I just made different choices. I love to think and take my time processing concepts. Like many others, I’ve learned that whatever we want to get, we never get through mindless consumption. Satisfaction always eludes us, pushing us to scroll, watch, and consume more.

When I decide to watch a three-hour movie, I commit. I’ve learned to treat my attention like home through trial and error. Would you let strangers walk into your house and rearrange your furniture? Yet, we let apps rearrange our thoughts every day, leaving us to sleep awake.

I’m not perfect. But I try to be intentional:

• I download what I want to watch before I need it. Nothing makes me more nervous than the endless zapping sessions on Netflix, scrolling through the fake, polished covers. Before turning on Netflix, I already know what I want to watch.
• I choose one movie and stick with it. If I like it, that’s good. If I don’t like it, that’s even better. Why? A train of thoughts gets unleashed.
• I keep my book within reach and my phone out of sight to resist temptations.
• I write in my journal when thoughts come in.

It’s not about being better but being present. During that flight, I felt like myself, in my zone, with my companions. I felt intimate with the author’s book. Clear-headed. The others? They looked exhausted, and I get it. I’ve been there too—that restless feeling, the urge to switch to something else, something more exciting. Changing context is tiring for the brain.

I think about our world and how I worried during my teenage years about 1984-style control. But I missed something. Nobody needed to force us into submission. We were choosing it. Brave New World got it right: Pleasure numbs us to the point where submission is natural and chosen.

The Real Cost (And What We Can Do About It)

Our brains are plastic—they change based on our actions. We’re now rewiring ourselves for chaos, sleeping awake throughout our lives. We’re conscious enough to know something’s wrong but too numb to make a change.

Seneca said: “We’re careful with our money and possessions. But when it comes to our time? We waste it everywhere, even though time is the one thing we should guard most carefully.”

Wasting our attention is like wasting our time.

Attention is sacred. When you pay attention to something, you give a piece of your soul, consciousness, and life force. We are fragmenting our souls into a million digital pieces.

By being digitally addicted, you are losing touch with your inner voice. You lose the ability to focus on what matters: your core values, your relationships, your genuine experiences, your raw emotions.

Your reality becomes second-hand. Instead of experiencing life directly, you see it through filters, algorithms, and other people’s highlights.

You’re paying twice: first with your money, then with your attention. While tech companies harvest your focus for profit, you’re left spiritually and mentally depleted.

Your brain gets rewired for constant stimulation. You just donated yourself an addiction.

Regaining Control: A Practical Guide

Replace mindless scrolling with deliberate reading. Not because reading is “superior” (well, it is, cognitively speaking) but because it lets you set the pace of information. Give your mind real breaks.

Start doing less but with more intention. Take long walks alone, not as a self-improvement task but as a way to befriend your own thoughts. Learn to enjoy your own company. The quiet isn’t something to fill - it’s luxury.

Be selective with what you consume. Instead of random content that algorithms choose for you, seek out the classics. Whether it’s films, books, or music - there’s a reason some things stand the test of time. Look up “greatest movies ever made” and start there.

The old money mindset isn’t just about aesthetics—it’s about being intentional with time and resources. Successful people use social media as a tool, not a pastime. They’re producers, not just consumers, and they set the terms of their engagement.

The goal isn’t to disconnect completely—it’s to shift from reactive to strategic. Use these platforms, but don’t let them use you.

Giulia