Lately, I've had a creeping worry that the Internet will be the death of everything beautiful, patient and human. I look around at dead-eyed freshmen stroking their smart phones, and I can't help but ge but get this self-righteous indignant lump in my throat. Humanity isn't worthy of getting everything instanteously. I don't think we can handle the responsibility.
The hateful filth streaming out of every message board worldwide suggests universal selfish and lazy ineptitude. Self-discipline died in the '60s when jeans became formal wear, but I doubt even the dirtiest of hippies could have hoped for anything so depressing as our present situation. I pray the gallows be a delusion, but I do not trust myself to hope. I, for one, feel the rope tightening.
You see, I spent 10 months of this year not owning a working computer. One drunken beverage tipped on a cold February night and stole my white MacBook away. It hurt for a week or two, and then I lived well. I listened closely when I heard what precious little music I could get my hands on, but I appreciated it all the more. I actually lived in the rooms I occupied. I read books and my friends' faces.
Around the middle of November, I was breaking down. I was scared shitless of standing naked, without resources in the post-collegiate world I had been taught to dread by my parents. They had stopped feeling joy when responsibility introduced fear into their lives. I had maintained my false vow of simple living long enough. I had begun to look longingly at the people with iPods passing on the street.
I got the insurance men to take a look at the beer-stained white window I had missed so much. Sure, they scowled and twisted their faces, but in the end they coughed up the dough. Before I knew it, I was back on the Web, iTunes library dragging like an anchor in tow. I circled down the toilet bowl info-drain, paddling back up when I could muster the might or the will to live. I knew I would give in. I had never been a strong man or much a man at all.
Weeks have gone by, and I spend night after night scouring the Internet looking for the next fix, the next chilled-out blog post that would lead me to ecstasy. Meanwhile, I fear I'm drowning in an infinitely expanding digital library full of music I'll never listen to and wouldn't care for anyway. Over the last year, I had the luxury of only listening to a few hip-hop and punk records, most of which I strongly suspect had helped me grow into a better human being. With a world of obsessive hipsters prowling blog after blog, how could I afford such leisure? I'd be left behind. I'd become irrelevant.
So, I sit in the computer screen glow with my headphones on, unable to control my angry urge to be alone and entertained. Insecurity weighs heavily upon me and fuels my endless self-isolated trend chasing. I have to be informed about the best, most obscure music, because what am I otherwise? (A piece of meat, another guy with all the talent in the world and no will to act.)
Some nights, I get these dreams like I'll never see the faces I love again, like I'm sipping wine by the fire but can't feel the warmth. I get these cold sweats and fear I'll never have the courage to cozy up next to some nose-ringed beauty because I can't stand the eye contact or the pressure of intimacy unmediated by a well-chosen profile picture behind a glass shield.
Then, I wake up. I get out of bed. I look around at my bedroom, my dirty clothes on the floor, my records lying out on milk crates, my cozy brown armchair. I remember the articles on the Egyptian election and Occupy Wall Street I had read online the night before. I remember the Pure X album I had finally downloaded and absolutely loved. I remember the cute librarian who works the counter every Tuesday. I grab my towel and head to the shower.
The fact is, the Internet is a fantastic tool with plenty of potential to solve the world's problems and make our lives easier, more democratic and even more exciting. More importantly, it isn't about to go away. Self-control and mindfulness of our own bad tendencies can maybe (just maybe)save the future. I'm not one to hope, but enough with the worrying. I have a graduation ceremony to attend.
Are you optimistic about the future of Internet-based information sharing? Let Alex know at seraphin@wisc.edu.
