The Internet is Making Me Ill…
…and other Year-Sapping issues that self-righteous simplification responds to by saying: “don’t do it then…”.
If such a complaint was raised in, say 1997, when the Internet had about as much centrality to contemporary life as a praline Latte does now, then “don’t do it then” would be an appropriate response. In 2015 the Internet is at the beckon call of our every thought to the point where it has a say in everything little thing we contemplate, whether we use it or not. We don’t need to have Wifi to be thinking in ‘Wifi’.
I’m not career savvy, I’m not go-getter, and I’m not desensitized enough to the deluge-broth of horror and envy that constitutes social media. I overthink (a fatal error in our ‘just do it/don’t look back’ competitive age), I have an obsessive personality, and my pre-Internet-age-damaged sense-of-self constantly needs recognition/acceptance from others; 3 traits that made have the Internet a destructive intrusion into my life.
I don’t claim to be a great analyzer of our (non)times; if any respectable theorist had enough free time to Google their own name, they’d probably be laughing at my overuse, and misuse of a handful of their ideas.
What I do claim to be is somebody who is all-too-aware how the Internet heightens, even mushrooms, pre-existing issues I may or may not have. But, yet, how it encompasses the horizons of now, so that it more or less seems impossible to do anything without it. Yet when I’m on it, it is impossible to do anything with it, as my ability to think properly is ambushed by an hasty anxiety that seeks recognition as if I was a drowning soul seeking oxygen.
‘Fuck Up’ doesn’t even get close; “don’t do it then” warrants outspoken anger.