All the work I do is on computers.
That's not that strange, in this year, in this decade, in this millennium. A lot of jobs require people to spend nearly all of their time on computers in one way or another. And it's not that strange on a personal level, either. With all of the handy, technologically advanced communication methods that computers offer us, more and more people interact socially over their computers.
As I've mentioned before, I started working with computers at a fairly young age. I've discussed how I think being in-tune with those devices at such an early age had an impact on how I interacted with the outside world. In some ways, it was a positive. I ended up learning social skills in a less stressful environment than your typical elementary/middle school experience. Additionally, I learned a lot of skills that serve me today, from typing to basic web design to writing to computer repair. I use most of these skills today to make money. I don't think it's a stretch to directly attribute my upbringing to that.
I was watching MTV recently. It's not something I normally do, save for when I'm lying in bed, unable to sleep, and the only thing that seems interesting on television is J-Woww's cleavage. This commercial came on, featuring a young woman reciting lines from what a new work from the author of The Vagina Monologues. The passage that the girl was reading from brought into stark contrast the dichotomy of being a friend with someone online and being a friend with someone offline. "I want to walk next to you on a mountain, not friend you on Facebook," goes one line.
It's a topic that I-- as a person who has spent so much of my own existence online-- think about often. Seeing this commercial, it brought me back to the belief I've long held regarding this situation:
This disparity between the offline and online experience, this precedence we give the "real," is an illusion.
I think part of it is the fact that the online world is a new technology. Society is always hesitant to come around to new methods of communication. Telephones were once a luxury that people could do with out, then cell phones were only for emergencies. Now we text and call each other constantly, never far from contact if we need to be. Another part of it is a long-ingrained distrust of technology moving too quickly. Think of any sci-fi movie, television show, or book that you know that includes robots, advanced human technology, or both. Dating back to Asimov, we've had the idea drilled into us that letting technology run amok leads to-- um-- Skynet. And another possible reason is that there is a physical inactivity inherent in the online experience that could lead to health problems.
But while those might be the underlying issues, that's not the face presented. Instead, there's a false idea that the discussions we have, the points we make, the ideas we come forward with, the people we communicate with, and the things we learn are of diminished value because we're not experiencing them in the real world.
I've seen this in particular applied to debate online, where one debater brings up a valid point, and the other dismisses the entire conversation, as it's "arguing over the Internet." It can even happen if both people in the debate are going along with it-- a third party will jump in and drop the always hilarious line, "Winning an argument on the Internet is like winning at the Special Olympics." Or it can occur from those who have never involved themselves with the online experience, who don't understand it has having the same inherent value as the offline one.
In some ways, that may seem like the opposite argument from the one I presented a few weeks ago, regarding Facebook and social networking. But, in fact, the ideas are more similar than they might first appear. In both that argument and this one, what I'm calling for is neither a retreat from nor a march towards the online experience. Instead, I want an acknowledgment of forward-moving experience. Period. Whether that comes from discovering an astounding piece of online writing that makes you think differently about the world around you, or it comes from standing on the edge of a hill on a sunny day shouldn't matter. What should matter is what the experience has meant to you.
In any case, the fallacious conclusion that's often met is that standing next to me on a mountain is worth more than friending me on Facebook. But if we don't talk on the mountain, and we say something that changes each other's lives online, then what's the experience that's more worthwhile?
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