Here’s the thing that got me: I needed to contact someone while my computer was out for repairs, and it took me AGES to work out that I could phone her. Geez! When I did remember those telecommunication dark ages of yore, it took me another age to remember how–without internet access–to get directory assistance and to find an area code (remember phone books? Those oversized floppy things with gray and yellow paper and black smirchy ink? I still had one lying around, thankfully). And I finally managed to get the number I needed and make the call. But the whole process made me feel as though I had been thrust back in time and was undergoing serious culture/time travel shock.
So just how much do we depend on our computers? I use mine to check the weather, news, and driving directions. Who uses maps anymore? Those things never were all that useful to me, anyway, unless I already knew where I was, in which case, who really needs a map? And who bothers with network news? I can log onto yahoo, aol, msn, myway, google, or whatever else and get all the latest and best headlines in seconds, look at the stories that interest me and ignore the ones that don’t, and I can see any newscast whenever I want and for as long as I want.
I can entertain myself with a variety of engaging puzzles which I think of as Alzheimer’s prevention; oddly, my insurance company won’t pay for my computer nor my internet access, though. I work puzzles on-line from crossword to jigsaw to suduko. I even check the tv guide on-line—this last probably doesn’t fall under the medically necessary category. Nor would the occasional game of poker or slingo, then, but still . . . entertainment. And being entertained really cannot be underestimated in my estimation. When I want to see a movie, I go on-line to see what’s playing where and when. Or better still, I just log on to a site such as fear.net and watch a movie right then and there on my computer. Shame restaurants couldn’t work out a way to be so conveniently effective on-line, but I do find restaurants, read reviews, get directions, and generally prepare for an evening out on-line.
I shop on-line, and why not with cheap or even free shipping, easy returns, and the absolute convenience of it all? I store photos, recipes, addresses, phone numbers (not that I remember to use these, of course), and just about everything else on my computer. Hell, most of my friends are on-line friends I’ve never met or even spoken to, and most of my romantic relationships of the past ten or so years have begun on-line. The only thing that I can’t do on-line is feed, bathe, and dress myself, but as I don’t actually have to leave the house for anything, that’s hardly a problem.
Given a choice between hanging out on-line and going out to . . . well, just about anywhere to do anything, I invariably choose on-line, and when I do choose the “have a life” option, I keep it brief, no need to get all wrapped up in that business, after all.
OMG, I’ve become that person. Wtf? And lmao, when did I start short-handing everything? When did it all happen? And how? Well, I know the how, it was by inches; the more I learned about and used the internet, the more convenient it got until slowly I just did everything here, even griping now about the affect of living life on-line . . . well, where else? Online.
Having been forced to find other ways to occupy my time, I’ve thought about how much I miss and need and want and crave my computer, and I tried to determine when it took over my entire life. I came to the conclusion that the final nail in my life’s coffin was wireless access; once I could take my laptop anywhere at all, I was done in. I could shop, socialize, or chat with people around the world right there from my bed, I could check the weather and the television simultaneously from the couch, and I could pull up recipes and follow them from my laptop as I cooked. My loss of a real life was inevitable, actually, once I switched over from dial up. Perhaps, then, it’s not really me! Who’s responsible for wireless technology? Let me just give that a quick google . . . . _________________________________________________________