The internet is a vast black hole into which time and productivity vanish without a trace: discuss.
It's one thing to waste your life wishin' and hopin', that's quite wistful and glamorous, I can get behind that. What do I do at the end of my life when I've wasted it readin' and bloggin'? The internet is bizarre, it's like the entire sum of human knowledge has just been dumped right in front of us, complete with damaged psyche and ravaged conscience.
What sort of effect has that had on our culture, on ourselves - what sort of effect does growing up like this have on today's children? I remember books, I remember having to look something you didn't know up in an encyclopaedia. To modern children an encyclopaedia is a pervert on a bike, I remember being agog when dad brought home Encarta, I sat and listened to all the national anthems of the world's countries I could find.
I love knowing things, to me that is existence - knowing more and more interesting things, finding things out. But to end there, it's a waste - where we become human is in the sharing. The internet doesn't quite do that for me, we've created it so impersonal in the past seven or eight years. I've got this friend, Ashley - I've never met her before, but we've been emailing each other since we were kids, ten years now.
That's what the internet did for me back then, I emailed lots of people, created friendships. Most of them didn't last, but Ashley and I are still in touch. I think that's great - these days it's a blog, an open letter to no-one in particular. It doesn't sit in your inbox waiting to be read and answered, it's not special to you, it just sits there - no complications, no obligations to you. It's a bizarre relationship - if I want it to continue then I must strive to be witty/dazzling/insightful or whatever the hell the reason is that people even come back here.
2 hours ago