It was shortly after midnight on Sunday when I realized that going without my cell phone, computer, TV or iPod for 24 hours was going to be slightly more difficult than I had anticipated.

We have heard how these new forms of technology are essential but evil. It allows us to be connected to anyone, anywhere, at any time, but now we don’t know what it is to be truly alone.

It allows us truly dazzling amounts of information and entertainment at the push of a button, but it has robbed us of the ability to enjoy the simple things.

We no longer need to stop and smell the roses when we can find 50 pages of information about roses in seconds, or watch aliens with lasers obliterate an entire field of them on television.

But how hard would it actually be to technologically segregate oneself for, say, 24 hours? Such a length of time seems insignificant. But a 2005 survey by BBDO Worldwide found that 59 percent of Americans wouldn’t lend their cell phone to a friend for even that long.

12:01 a.m. I turn off my cell phone.

12:15 a.m. I shut down my computer.

The first thing you notice, when you’re on a self-imposed sabbatical from the interconnected world, is the quiet.

The omnipresent hum of the computer is gone. The background chatter of Conan’s monologue or an iTunes selection is gone, too. It’s immediately serene and boring at the same time.

Will I pass out from boredom? Will I miss news of cosmic importance? What will I do if I find myself in mortal peril, my only recourse a frantic text message – “in mortl dngr plz help thx”?

Almost half of all PC owners say they “can’t imagine life without their computers,” according to Wired.com.

Most Americans probably feel the same about their televisions. Nielsen Media Research reports during 2004-2005 show that the average household had a TV turned on for 8 hours and 11 minutes per day – an all-time high since it started measuring television viewing levels in the 1950s.

The numbers show that we rely more on technology than we prefer to think. So I sit down to read a magazine, then go to bed over an hour earlier than usual.

2:30 p.m. In the stands at the UCLA basketball game, I explain my experiment to a friend.

“It’s not that hard, is it?” she asks.

I think to myself, what does she know? She spends her summers in Vermont without TV, Internet or running water. I think they still barter with maple syrup.

I miss my cell phone.

3:30 p.m. The game is over, and I discuss the experiment with my roommate. “I’d rather kill myself than not watch TV,” he says.

I’d better make sure to mail the electric bill when I get home.

“Our culture is about distraction, numbing oneself,” David Greenfield, a Connecticut psychologist, told The Associated Press. “There is no self-reflection, no sitting still. It’s absolutely exhausting.”

Study after study shows that Americans, and college students in particular, are stressed out almost all the time.

Perhaps it’s mentally taxing to know that a minute spent just sitting is a minute – in this new world of connection – not spent being productive or being entertained. Or to know that an important e-mail or phone call could come at any time of day.

It seems, then, that it would be relaxing to remove that stress from one’s life for any amount of time.

In reality, it’s not. After all, I realize, those important e-mails or calls could still be coming – I’m just not receiving them. It’s almost more stressful.

I wonder how long it’s been since I’ve truly been relaxed. Not really knowing what to do about this, and having no TV or Internet to distract me, I read another magazine and take a nap.

7:40 p.m. I wake up from my nap and hear the TV blaring in the living room. My roommates are not making my mental retreat easy. I decide to go to the library to work on a paper.

8:05 p.m. I arrive at Young Research Library with a realization – I can’t check out books for my paper without using a computer to look them up. I glance at the wall behind the row of PCs – there is an old-fashioned card catalog there.

I haven’t used a card catalog since something like third grade, and have no idea how to use one. I don’t even think to ask a librarian for help.

I realize with shame that if there was a brownout on campus I would be powerless to find books on 21st century Northeast Asian strategic relations or the history of Belgian musical theater.

I make an exception to my no-computer rule, and I search for books on the online catalog. I have failed.

No matter how much we may wail and gnash our teeth, there is no escaping the permeation of information and technology in our time.

No sector of our lives is sacred – 15 percent of Americans have interrupted sex to answer a cell phone, according to the BBDO survey. Paris Hilton, it seems, was simply setting the trend.

We may try to cut down on our dependence, but it causes those of us who aren’t from backwoods Vermont to feel as if the world is passing us by, or to realize that our noble principles are less important than having every possible means at our disposal to be able to turn in a paper on time.

Deciding to categorize my failure as merely temporary, I ride out the last hours until midnight reading another magazine and checking the clock.

But as much as I find it to be boring, annoying and difficult to go for hours on end without checking sports scores or my e-mail, I decide that it would be a worthwhile venture for all students to embark on.

They could realize what a hold these technologies have on their lives, so they can make an effort to re-evaluate what’s actually important. I enjoy being able to send a text message to a friend whenever I see a man with a funny mustache, but I suppose it’s not the most important thing in the world.

12:01 a.m. I turn my computer back on. I have 10 new e-mails. Seven are spam, and none are important. Maybe I’ll reconsider moving to Vermont.

E-mail Atherton before he decides to become a hermit at datherton@media.ucla.edu.