It's all about the Pentiums

It's all about the Pentiums
by Heather Roscoe

I have a bone to pick with technology. I spend a considerable amount of my days glowering at my laptop. Sneering at the screen in resentment because I don't want to use it, but knowing that I must, puts me in a bad mood.

Most forms of technology breed antisocial behavior. I know many people who are content to lock themselves up in a semi-darkened room, the blue glow of the Internet keeping them company -- their best friend who delivers all the latest news and entertainment to them through the wires. They learn how to function socially with something that responds to their every command, that will retrieve whatever information they wish to know in seconds and never disagrees with them.

Internet relationships blossom over the wires between people who have only seen what may or may not be pictures of each other, pushed through a scanner and flashed on a screen. There is no accountability with an Internet relationship, no commitment, no human contact. Pedophiles prance gleefully through chatrooms, knowing that lonely children and teens are in them 'just looking for a friend'; Internet advertisers try and coax people to give out their credit card numbers; and gossip columnists flash their advertisements louder than a price check on a supermarket checkout aisle, all in the name of technology.

Likewise, television eats people alive if they allow it to. It slowly cremates their brain until they are left with the mental equivalent of a jar of mayonnaise. Although some will insist that nothing is wrong, even argue that they are wiser in the ways of the world and politics -- they watch CNN -- honestly, the newscaster is not your friend. The talking heads don't care what you think about the GNP or the Microsoft scandal or even what you think about them. News anchors are informed actors, regurgitating facts, flashing toothy smiles and two-second video newsbites at us.

Recently I discovered how to download music from the Internet. My friends congratulated me for figuring it out all by myself. They told me that I was finally beginning to progress. But I don't want to download digitally enhanced music from a box, I want to hear the real thing.

How about that sickly color that tints your skin from being in front of the computer screen too much? I just noticed it recently. My, usual healthy, paleness has been replaced by a ricepaper-thin sort of paleness, tallowy and tired. That horrible sting in my eyes caused by those rioting pixels that make my screen saver look so nice and the tight throbbing in my forehead are both signs that I need to quite computing for a while and take a vacation.

Technology has become a crutch for our society to lean on. Limping along, we put our lives in its hands repeatedly, and become angry and confused when it fails to meet our needs. I find it ironic that the entire purpose of technology is to make things simpler for us. Its purpose is to serve us and to free up our time so we can focus on more important things.Yet we always become a slave to our technology. We end up serving it, bowing to its every whim. Instead of spending all of that free time with the kids or walking the dog we can be found drooling in front of the screen.

So, the question is begged, has technology become our god? Each evening, families across the world sit and grant their full attention to their televisions, worshipping the sitcoms and shows with names like, "Worlds Scariest Police Chases." Each morning on the way to work we give our attention to the radio in our car. Instead of walking we drive everywhere. Feet were designed to push the gas pedal on a, hands were made for holding cell phones and ears were made for listening to them. Fingers are for typing and clicking the buttons on a mouse.

Attractive as technology may seem, we are fast forgetting how to do things for ourselves. As logon times shrink, so do attention spans. Hopefully we won't forget how to do simple tasks like writing letters with... stamps or chopping wood or turning the pages of a magazine or switching on a light bulb. But don't count on it.

My father once told me that I was going to have to accept technology or be left behind. So I have. I know how to push the 'on' button on my computer and channel surf with a remote control. I even have a moderate grasp of computer terminology. I guess I've arrived. Why does it feel as if I've just stepped off a cliff.