Strange Fruit

I recently read an article in which it was referenced that mine is the last generation to know what life was like before the Internet. It was an intriguing thought. So much so that I only remember that one remark, and nothing of what the article was about or where I read it. It planted a seed in my head, and the roots have been trickling down into my mind over the last few weeks since I've read it. Today it culminated into a strong young sprout, sure to grow into a good tree of opinion and rhetoric, providing I continue to give it the sunlight of my attention longer.

You see, I, like my peers, process information at an amazing speed. Truly, remarkably, amazing. This didn't occur prior to the Internet. When the idea of multi-tasking came up, it was with a remarkable sigh and a certain deal of mental preparation and motivation that one then proceeded to handle more then one activity at a time.

My freshman year of high school, I remember I came home with the list of supplies needed for my classes. One of them was a computer hard disk. I remember my older brother, Nick, perusing the list out of curiosity and saying, "Hm. I didn't need a floppy disk until my senior year."

I am never without a computer now. I am constantly plugged in. I carry one in my pocket all day. Anyone can get a hold of me, at any time, through seven different methods: Phone, text, Gmail, MSCD email, Facebook, Myspace, and Twitter. Notice, I didn't even mention conventional mail.

I can access any of these communications from my cell phone, home computer, work computer, or any other cellphone or computer that will, in all likelihood, be mere feet away from me.

I no longer need to use paper or pen for anything.

I no longer need to remember names or phone numbers. I need simply look at my pocket computer and peruse my friend's profile pictures to remember exactly who you are, how we met, and all of your critical, immediate information. It will even tell me how you last felt when you were last at your computer.

In fact, the entire definition of the word friend has changed. I now have friends I've never met nor even spoken to in real life.

How can I stress how completely different the world is now? Is this something that anyone even cares to know? We are, after all, still in a very romantic and cuddle-filled part of our honeymoon phase with the Internet, and it doesn't appear to be losing it's attractiveness, wit, or charm. We most certainly will never kick it out of our bed. But for some reason, for a reason I am trying to figure out right now, as I type, I care about this a lot. A whole lot. I've been thinking about it for weeks. I've talked to people who don't remember the time before the Internet. I've closed my eyes and remembered when I knew all of my friends phone numbers by heart. When a fax machine was hands down the quickest way to transfer information. I remember when having a pager had a very serious stigma attached to it- that of being a drug dealer. I remember when my parents bought their first CD player, and eventually, how the giant record player eventually disappeared. I remember when we didn't have cable, and the television was only watched by me when my two daytime programs, Sesame Street and Painting with Bob Ross, were on, and on Saturday mornings, when the local station showed Looney Tunes. At night my parents watched the news. And that was the extent to which technology was in our lives.

I remember spending all of my summers outside, then getting cable, and spending most of them inside. I remember our first AOL account, and the first laptop I ever saw. I remember I was never really on the Internet until Napster came along.

It runs my life now. The Internet is involved in every single aspect of what I do and how I do it. With every convenience it's brought me, with all of the speed with which I can accomplish things and the mountain of information at my very fingertips, it has completely changed my life and it is very likely that it has completely re-wired my brain in very specific areas.

It sounds like science fiction, but at some point, I can see a USB port being inserted on the side of my head, just above the hairline so as to be unnoticeable, in a same-day surgery that would only require a day off from work and a few Vicoden.

But I really do love the gifts I have. I love my MacBook and my Android phone. I loved my iPod before someone stole it. I love Google Docs and Facebook and having this blog. They all involve something I am extremely passionate about, and am devoting my very life to: communication.

But a part of me will always identify the Time before the Internet as being one and the same with Childhood and Innocence. Sure, I still spend summer days running through sprinklers and winter nights in front of fires with friends, but it's different now, because simultaneously, we're all plugged in. The Internet is beginning to become the Real World at a very rapid pace, and the real world is quickly becoming the Retreat we seek when we need a break from it all. It's all happening so fast, and on such a life-consuming scale, that I am worried that my other passions, my real ones that lie in guitars and bonfires and really good hugs, will someday be seen as quaint.

I fear the tragedy of forgetfulness.

I now realize that this fear is the limber new trunk of my aforementioned tree of thought. The limbs have yet to stretch out, the leaves won't come for another season of thought and attention. And then, I wonder, what fruit will this line of thinking bear?

What am I really trying to say? Or maybe, what is really trying to say me?