esrosedotblog

I AM AN OBSERVER

This is an old rant. I have written it a dozen times.

But, I am revved up again so here I go.

I do not text. I do not have that service. If I get a text it costs me 25 cents and I will tell you so.

I do not have wireless on my "phone". What is a "phone" now anyway?

I am not on Facebook. I will not Twitter. I don't want fucking any of it.

I have enough trouble keeping myself away from my computer for news, blogging (mine and others), movies and the like.

But none of this computer "work" is done while you are standing there with me. I am alone.

Well, sometimes John and I do have our moments with emailing each other from across the room. A photo. A little message.

I can imagine what it would be like around here if we both texted and did the social networks and read the news and the rest of it on our "phone".

I watch people. There are folks who will not maintain eye contact but will stand aside of you, device in hand, glancing to see if a text has come in during the chat. I can feel them pull away.

I hear the problems of the social networks. Too much oversharing. Is that redundant? I suppose so. Unwanted "friends". Gossip gone awry. Private photos made public. (Hey look, if you put a photo on the internet anywhere it is public. Listen to me!)

Now this.

Ahem. Are you talking to me? (or texting?)

Everyone knows it. No one likes it.

It is the new drug.

I can get away with not being involved. I don't have a job and my friends don't expect me to. It is not a precondition for their affection.

Of course, this is because if you are my "friend" you are probably not going to be my true friend.

Boy, do I hate this shit.

I know that parents and kids use texting to stay in touch. Lovers too. A lot of relationships can benefit from it. Us? We send emails. But Jesus H. Christ! Most of what passes for important is not compared to the real, live person standing or sitting next to you.

Here is one good thing about texting. It has virtually eliminated the boorish loud mouth talking on the cell phone while others are trying to eat, think, talk or just be quietly alone. That guy is now the compulsive thumber. The screen peaker.

Progress? Not by a long shot.

Labels: cults, culture, internet