Dear Diary,
It’s very big of me to
admit to you that I have a problem.
No, not that other
problem I last wrote you where I was failing Calc 101 – so sorry I never
closed the loop there: turned out I succeeded in failing it, dashed my mathematician
dreams in Freshman Year, whatcha gonna do.
So this problem is a
little more… comprehensive, I think is the word I want. It’s come to my attention recently that I’ve
developed a group of habits that I believe can be classified as an addiction
(not certain, failed Psych 101 too, this is a best guess), especially since it’s
passed the test of “I can stop whenever I want” and I know I really don’t
want. To stop, that is. It’s not drugs, or even porn (the parentals
at least would be relieved about that), but that grand culmination of humanity’s
achievements: The Internet.
And yes, this is a
thing (you can become addicted to pretty much anything, sadly).
Oh, I can imagine a
time without it – scratch that, I remember a time without it, I am that old. I started in small doses, like all the kids
do, just for fun, like all the kids do.
Then I wound up needing it to get homework done and then work-work done,
so it became a chore. Then the rest of
the world got onboard with it, and now no one can do anything without checking
the Web site first.
I think I can spot the
exact moment of my downfall: when I migrated from desktop to laptop. Being able to stretch out and surf the
cyber-waves of cat videos and entertainment updates in the newfound nerds’
paradise has been my utter ruin.
However, this begs the
question: is it so much worse than spending hours watching TV? Or spending hours talking on the phone? Or spending hours pondering the
meaninglessness of life while cooking, cleaning, and tending to an ungrateful
family tree? At least with my issue, I’m
actually reading more than I did when text printed on murdered plants was the only
option.
I am finding it harder
and harder to shut it down at night, though.
My brain keeps telling my conscience – or my conscience keeps telling my
brain? – “Just one more article” – “Just one more video” – “Just want to check
my bank statement” – “Wait a minute, I forgot to send out that e-mail” – “Why did they
stop following me???”
The ironic part is
that I’m more in touch with my friends now than I ever was with regular old phone
and print correspondence. Doesn’t that
make me less antisocial, hm?
I lost three hours the
other night on a role-playing game, but since I had to work with other (human) players
in order for any of us to get anywhere, I would say that is equivalent to and
possibly even beats a night of cribbage with the neighbors, wouldn’t you?
Still, I then lost
another three hours catching up on Season 2 of I-can’t-even-remember-what-the-show’s-called. Does reading reams of fan fiction exploring
the nuances of characters hooking up in all ways count as consuming
literature? It sure lasted me until the wee
hours, when both the computer and I woke up and realized we had never left the
couch.
Case in point: I’ve
interrupted this diary entry six times to check my e-mail and post
pictures of my dinner in various stages.
If no one comments on those I’ll just scream, if I hadn’t already moved
on to watching a video showing whichever celeb I’m into now disappointing me
with their shenanigans, yet again.
I can’t live off four
hours of sleep a night, but I can’t pull myself out of the alluring black hole,
either. After a rough day at work, or a
rough day at school, or just a rough day, or even just a day, this is the one
thing that soothes me – isn’t that how it usually starts? Is it the dopamine rush? Had to replace fulfillment in life with
something, I guess.
Volunteer work? Quality time with family and friends? Who has the energy? Or the inclination? Not this guy.
Enough of that – I’ve
gotta get back to arguing with myself under different account names on my
favorite site’s comments section.
Aaaand I just realized that I may need to talk to someone else besides
you about this whole thing.
Your friend in
surreality,
A Self-Aware Troll
