I find myself severed from normal human contact. I am one solitary person adrift on a sea of humanity without the ability to find my way to shore. Or to put it another way, my computer isn't working. I didn't realise how dependent I have become on something I don't understand. Now that my computer has downed tools I have lost most of my contact with the outside world.
I am actually typing this entry on my work computer (during my lunch hour I hasten to add in case any of my employers are reading this) but this does me little good. Sure I can post blogs but the security provisions at work mean I can't access my emails. While this has reduced my exposure to offers of generic viagra substitutes and dodgy American universities it has reduced my conversation to people I can actually see.
The fact that my telephone isn't working either hasn't helped matters. After several attempts to get it fixed I have decided to live without a landline. I suspect that the problem might be with the handset anyway. I sat at home last night and the television started looking a little dodgy as well. If that goes I might as well just give up on the human race and take up hunter gathering. There are plenty of small animals (mostly feline) and puddles of rainwater in my neighbourhood so I should be able to survive.
I am frequently embarrassed by my inability to conduct any electrical repair more sophisticated than changing a light bulb but never more than now. Somehow I have to hump my CPU to a computer store and beg them to readmit me to the human race. I wonder if they make housecalls? In the meantime I am sitting in an information vacuum wondering what is happening in the world. Although mind you my electricity bill should be a bit lower this quarter.
Last night I sat down and wrote a potential blog entry (not this one, a much better one) in long hand. The night before I spent most of the evening reading about the Byzantine empire's early clashes with Islam. So there is a silver lining. Still I miss my feeling of connectivity, my little window on the world has gone dark.
A dozen times a night I think of something I might like to look up on the internet only to sigh and return to my armchair. The cat, who spends much of each evening sitting on me in my armchair thinks this is wonderful. When I get my computer repaired I might ask the technician to check for signs of feline sabotage.
Lately I've been having dreams about getting up and feeding the cat in the middle of the night only to be woken by the cat in the middle of the night so I can feed her. It is getting increasingly difficult to separate reality from dream. Unfortunately getting up for work in the morning is not a dream. When my work day is interrupted by a phone call from my work asking me where I am I will know it is time to worry. Of course they'll have to call me on my mobile because my landline doesn't work.
I really need to get my computer fixed.
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For a man so easily and happily immersed in books, it's interesting to hear how much the loss of the internet distresses you. One might imagine that you would be relieved at the cessation of interruption to your reading (and writing) and secretly pleased that checking out facts once again necessitated a visit to the library. Think back to 1998, when the internet didn't exist. Or to before you first had access at home - rather later then that, I imagine - and think of what you were doing and how you spent your time. You were connected to the world then, but can you even remember how those connections worked? Letters, postcards, phone calls, visits to the pub - all still available; but somehow no longer capable of providing the sensation of connectedness because you can't do them exactly when you like and essentially free. Zeldin's prophecy http://herrylaw.blogspot.com/2007/04/history-of-intimacy.html - 'To know someone in every country in the world, and someone in every walk of life, may soon be the minimum demand of people who want to experience fully what is means to be alive' is already half realised. Facebook has given us the ability to look over the garden fence and see what our family and friends are doing at almost any time, Our world has become a village again, in which you can carry on conversations, join clubs, read pieces that that interest others, watch videos, and carry on relationships in a myriad of ways. Each post is like a pat on the shoulder, a hug, a kiss on the cheek for someone or many people in your world, and those things are no longer subject to time or proximity. Your e-mail brings you the letters and postcards you once relied on instantly and at all times. And the slightest thirst for knowledge can be slaked in seconds.
ReplyDeleteIt's interesting that its withdrawal results in the elision of reality and dreaming; a sympton of disconnectedness, as you say. You'd better get to an internet cafe bafore Muffie starts getting up in the middle of the night to feed you!
I know, it's shocking but I have come to rely on facebook and the internet particularly to keep in touch with you and others that I don't see face to face on a regular basis. If Muffy starts feeding me I will be very impressed.
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