Broadband was a mistake. Dialup was enough.
I don't really remember how I ended up in this place, but I know why I'm here.
Just like Leonard in the movie Memento, I feel that I'm loosing some thoughts and memories, and I must record them. I'm starting tonight with this post, and maybe one day, I'll be able to join all the dots, and find the answer to my other question:
What did the Internet do to us?
But for now, let's just talk about why I'm here.
I'm here because I'm lost on the Internet, looking for a new place.
A place where the virtual reality isn't trying to overcome the real world.
A place where limitations and constraints remind us who we really are.
A place where new things may start, but then they must also end.
A place where we find useful things, but can also live without it.
A place whenever you visit it, it pushes you to leave it. Because, no matter how digital interfaces are good, nothing can be better than seeing real faces, and no matter what remote connections are offering to us, they will never equal local communities.
I think that lot of people are lost on the Internet too.
And they don't know it yet.
Technology and Internet improved our lives in many ways, but we weren't prepared for too much Technology and Internet.
I can see it and feel it everywhere.
People are exhausted, tired, depressed, can't focus on their work, can't read a book, can't hold a discussion, can't sleep or wake up.
And they do not yet understand what is happening to them.
Too much content, updates, upgrades, widgets, gadgets, distractions, notifications, interruptions and interactions.
And few answers.
The solution is the problem.
The signal is the noise.
I'm here because I'm lost.
I like what you write, and I sympathize with the content. A lot of us visiting pubs, online or real, can feel lost. Will we find the answer in the bottom of a bottle? Most likely not. But the warmth of being heard can have great virtues. Cheers, friend, hope you can find your way around these strange times.
Motivation has been the same for me since late 1980s BBSes days: the hope of chancing upon others who also could enjoy a bit of intelligent exchange for a season (if not longer).
And it's happened. But rarely. Still not sure if the infrequency says more about me or others. Or about plain 'ole dumb luck, given the primacy of "timing is everything" and "location, location, location" in this grand-ish unfolding of myriads of individuality instantiations.