Introduction to this student: The Internet's Role in my Life
Having grown up drenched in the internet, I now cannot appreciate life without it. I mean this quite literally; time spent past a week without access to broadband wears thin on my nerves. I recall having to visit an internet café in the Bahamas after sailing for a week to satisfy my craving.
What about the internet makes it so addictive? What has caused it to be ingrained in my lifestyle to the point of reliance? The answers lie in the human mind.
What we refer to as the human soul has an unusually contagious property. That is, by picking up an object we place into it a shard of our soul and effectively integrate it into our skeleton. Picture a baseball bat. Holding it, you unknowingly are judging its weight, feeli ng the forces applied against it, assimilating its structure and reforming your idea of your arm to include the bat. The same effect happens when we spend significant time with an object on a less tangible and more emotional level—we describe this attribution as sentimentality. Another iteration of this can be observed in mob mentalities and hive minds, wherein each person of a crowd extends himself emotionally to those around him creating a passion-driven greater consciousness.
The relation to the internet at this point might be hard to grasp; more explanation is required. By exploring the global network, one discovers interest-relevant areas and sites which they set claim to on a personal level—a typical surfer will develop haunts, the oft-mentioned Favorites. In some instances, checking these haunts for updates becomes almost compulsive for the surfer. A feeling of being connected to others and to information is thereby fostered: the surfer has scattered himself among his sites and incorporated them into his persona. The concept sounds almost ridiculous, yet evidence abounds in its favor; the readiness with which students attach their residual self-images to their Facebook or Myspace profiles lends my theory credit. The phenomenon is also present in online gaming, where a person’s avatar is made to adopt many of its owner’s mannerisms and is functions as an extension of the user. Time spent with the internet is time invested—and like any good investment, it is not easily abandoned. The internet has two properties that allow time to be easily invested in it. One—the internet is interactive—and two—the internet is social.
The internet allows users to further customize their experience online by producing content in the form of web pages, pictures, videos and discussion. Carving a niche out for oneself becomes easier when that niche contains one’s own media. Again, the investment of time in the form of content cements the bond between user and information.
The internet compartmentalizes basic social interactions to a degree that allows those interactions to occur more frequently. For example, IMing simultaneously manages to provide the convenience of the traditional phone call with the multitasking associated with technological efficiency. The effort needed to meet with each friend offline, compiled over the course of an entire buddy list, requires literal hours of transportation to accomplish what a single internet-enabled program can do in minutes. Actual locations have become irrelevant as forums and chat clients eliminate the need for face-to-face encounters.
Broader access to more people, a byproduct of this feature, results in the assembly of geologically separated persons, united by a single interest, to locate one another and share thoughts. A home exists for a person of each color on the internet, unlike the smaller, less diverse samplings for which real-space provides. Real-space interactions lose their flavor and relevance when an internet-enabled crowd exists for one to broadcast to.
My own internet addiction was fostered and fueled by these traits. Chat, for me as for many others of my age, first roped me in. The program allowed me to stay in touch with my friends after school had ended without wasting time on the phone or with transport. I began to chat while powering through homework, but as I embraced the connectivity of IM I found my brain unoccupied in what I will refer to as microboredom, the feeling one has during insignificantly small waiting periods—such as between receiving IMs. That space I occupied with the diversions of the internet; i.e. webcomics, online gaming, illegal downloading, and forum visitation. From these initial haunts I developed my internet niche, one that has evolved with me over the last 6 years but held my interest throughout that time period.
The internet’s inherent growth factor provided new areas to explore, but my Favorites retained and grew in sentimental value the more I frequented them. The end of 8th grade saw my dependence on the web arise, and in 9th to social networking; 10th grade my lethal addiction to gaming was born, in addition to my Gmail account, and in 11th the web became my library through Wikipedia. 12th grade had Web 2.0 come to fruition and I dabbled in MMORPGing, much to my social life’s chagrin. Throughout these years I was constructing a niche comprised of my haunts, pumping content into them and thereby investing time, culminating in a web experience that is uniquely my own and is reflected by my current Favorites. This subnetwork, the Patnet, is a realm that I skip across to pass the microboredom periods while multitasking. It consists of entertainment, education and even business related sites, games, and internet-enabled software that provides for me a sense of connectivity—a sense so strong that being disconnected feels like leaving part of my soul, the part I’ve invested in the Patnet, in an unreachable location. Like Voldemort.
As a result of my investment, the internet is now nearly irrevocably part of who I am. Without its influence I cannot predict with any accuracy who I might have turned out to be, although I can guarantee my innocence would be much better preserved. Yet I would no sooner discard its influence than I would any other part of me.