I tried Living like a 90's Kid in 2025

Ditching Screens, Tech, and Instant Gratification in Today’s Hyperconnected World

There was a time when the word loading meant waiting for a video game to start, not buffering a Netflix series in HD. When your phone was just a phone, and TikTok was the sound a clock made. I grew up in the 90s - an era of dial-up internet, cassette tapes, and playing outside until the streetlights came on.

Curious, nostalgic, and maybe a little masochistic, I decided to live like a 90s kid for one week in the year 2025. No smartphone. No social media. No instant answers on Google. Just me, my memories, and a world without “notifications.”

What follows is my digital detox meets time travel tale - equal parts funny, poetic, and surprisingly revealing.

Day 1: The Phone That’s Only a Phone

I started by ditching my smartphone. I pulled out my old Nokia (yes, the brick one) from a drawer, inserted a SIM card, and felt a strange surge of power. This was it - pure freedom.

Except when I realized the Nokia had no camera, no WhatsApp, no calendar reminders. I was forced to talk to real people or, shockingly, not talk at all.

Poetic moment:

The silence between rings felt louder than any ringtone ever could.

But by day’s end, I found myself accidentally pressing buttons, instinctively scrolling on the blank screen, and feeling the phantom buzz of notifications that didn’t exist. The 90s phone was a time machine, but my fingers were still stuck in 2025.

Day 2: The TV Show Wait Game

No binge-watching for me! I had to wait for my favourite shows on cable TV at their scheduled time. If I missed it, too bad. No instant replay.

I watched a Saturday morning cartoon like a kid again - sitting cross-legged, eyes glued to the flickering tube. The commercials? Endless. The screen resolution? Cringe-worthy.

But something magical happened.

I wasn’t watching to pass time. I was present - waiting, anticipating, savouring each episode like a cherished gift wrapped in nostalgia.

Funny thought:

I forgot how much brain space commercials stole from my childhood - and yet, I loved the jingles.

Day 3: The Internet Was a Dial-Up Symphony

I connected to the internet with a screech that sounded like an alien spaceship landing. That’s when I remembered why we all hated dial-up: it was slow, unreliable, and made you question your life choices.

No YouTube marathons. No endless scrolling. No “one more video.” Every click was a commitment.

Poetic truth:

Waiting for pages to load was a forced meditation - teaching patience in an age of speed.

By the end of the day, I was grateful for fibre optic cables, but I also remembered the beauty of waiting for knowledge to arrive.

Day 4: The Outdoor Playground Renaissance

No screens meant I had to find fun the old-fashioned way. So, I stepped outside.

I tried to recall how we played in the 90s – hopscotch (stapoo), hide and seek, spinning tops, skipping rope, seven stones (lagori), and dodgeball (maram pitti).

I wasn’t a kid anymore, and my knees complained loudly. But the air was fresher, the sun warmer, and the laughter… authentic.

Heartfelt moment:

The simplest games connected me with neighbours, strangers, and my own inner child.

Turns out, 90s fun was a community event, not a solo scroll session.

Day 5: Instant Gratification Was a Myth

In 2025, everything is instant: instant messages, instant food delivery, instant answers. But in the 90s, I waited - waited for the mailman, waited for the store to open, waited for my friend to call back.

I wrote a letter to a friend the old way - on paper, with a pen. I folded it, licked the stamp, and mailed it. Then I waited.

That waiting stretched days, even weeks.

Funny how painful that felt. But also, how precious.

Poetic thought:

Waiting built anticipation like a slow-burning fire that warms the soul.

Day 6: Music on My Terms

I dusted off my walkman and loaded a cassette tape. No playlists, no shuffle, no algorithm feeding me hits.

Just a linear journey through songs, one after another, with the occasional click when the tape got stuck.

I listened with intent.

I remembered lyrics, hummed along, and felt music’s imperfect rhythm connect me to moments long gone.

Heartfelt confession:

Music was a tactile experience, a ritual of rewind, pause, and play.

Day 7: Reflection in a Screenless Mirror

One week without screens. Without instant answers. Without the dopamine rush of likes and shares.

What did I learn?

I learned that boredom - yes, boredom - is underrated. Without constant entertainment, the mind drifts, wonders, creates.

I learned that patience is a muscle we’ve forgotten to flex.

I learned that human connection was richer when it wasn’t mediated by pixels.

And above all, I learned that the 90s weren’t perfect. They were slow, clunky, and inconvenient.

But they gave me space.

Space to be still. Space to feel. Space to live.

Final Thoughts: Could the 90s Kid in Me Survive Today?

In a hyperconnected world, nostalgia isn’t just about old toys or fashion. It’s about reclaiming presence.

Maybe living like a 90s kid in 2025 isn’t about ditching technology forever. It’s about knowing when to unplug, slow down, and just be.

Because sometimes, the greatest connection you can make… is with yourself.

And that’s the best throwback of all.

-Reetu Verma