Eureka! An angle!

At long last, I have an angle and an outline for my paper.  I even have two or three possible case studies.  I can’t tell you how marvellous it feels. I have purpose and direction.  All is right with the world.

My angle, after reading a few pages from my Prof’s thesis and a few chapters from Turkle’s Alone Together, amongst other things (and realising with horror that all of my ideas have already been had and I’m entirely unoriginal) is this: WHY? Why do we quest after disembodiment?  After all, this is no new thing.  Religion, the concept of a soul, belief in ghosts, astral travelling… it’s all been around for millennia.  So what is it about us that makes us so keen, in some cases compels us, to escape our bodies?  Do we really believe that we can live without them, and that living without them will be better? (This makes me think of Douglas Adams – in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy: So long, and thanks for all the fish, the Total Perspective Vortex is guarded by a spirit who is undergoing a trial separation from his body, which is out having fun without him.) How can we even conceive of ourselves if we are not our ‘selves’? Will we use our new technology to create E-bodies, which follow traditional lines, much like E-books; or will we branch out in entirely new directions? I think the latter is unlikely – it is too alien, too extreme. Our entire language is littered with references to the body – ‘I know it like the back of my hand’ and ‘she’s the apple of my eye’ and ‘it’s time to grit your teeth and face the music’ – I could go on. I really could.

The point is, we think in terms of bodies, and it will take a long time for us to stop doing so.  Or perhaps not. Perhaps we will adapt within a few generations. Who can say? I wonder what Stephen Hawking would say about all this.  He’s one of the few people qualified to talk on the subject.

And what if, after we eliminate the need for the body, we find out that our brains (unlike Mr Hawking’s) are far more limited than we hoped?  What if our dualistic future is more Dystopian than Utopian? What if, instead of the traditional ‘greys’ – stunted, small aliens with no musculature but enormous brains – we become more like the wallowing, fat, unthinking, pleasure-seeking slobs in Wall-E?

Perhaps this is the price we pay for having evolved such an advanced consciousness, like the analogy of Adam and Eve, who eat the fruit of knowledge and realise their own nakedness. Perhaps all of this can be boiled down to a fear of mortality; or a desperate desire to connect with more people in our crazy, disengaged world; or to remake ourselves without the usual limitations and rules and prejudices and conventions – the new, fresh, gender/race neutral, possibly anarchistic and hopefully improved post-human version of me; or extreme paranoia and Cartesian scepticism: it is easy to distrust what we see and hear, when so much of it is deceptive, misleading, or complete bollocks – never more so than today.

We cannot know what will happen, or how it will manifest, but we can look to Science Fiction to hazard a guess. And that’s what I’ll be doing in my paper… watch this space.

One final, facetious thought, before I head off to find the film I’ll be using as a case study: if we all become completely disembodied, what on earth will teenage boys and girls obsess about, if their acne and their bodies no longer matter? I’m sure they’ll find something.  Count on it.

The consequences of human interaction.

I’ve been pondering the topic for my paper for a week now, and on Sunday, over lunch in a slightly disappointing Indian restaurant (never drink salt Lassi!) I mentioned the idea to two of the smartest people I know (one of whom is an almost purely online friend – this is only the second time I’ve seen him this year and it was for his birthday and the first time was for my birthday, so go figure).  But before I get ahead of myself, here’s the idea:

Identity has become another social product.  It is a conscious, strategic construct, an often narcissistic representative text, and it can be changed hourly, to coincide with whatever is required in a specific online milieu. People had private journals: now they have public blogs.  Nothing is sacred. Everything is exposed for general scrutiny, trivialised, and forgotten so very quickly. Which leads me to the matter of impermanence, a particularly fascinating issue for me.  In the past, ephemera were often kept, for their value as keepsakes: love letters were squirreled away in secret places, and ticket stubs and invitations to events made their way into scrapbooks.  Photographs were showcased in albums with thoughtful and amusing captions.  People bought CDs (only after careful thought and consideration, because they weren’t cheap) with beautiful inserts, the lyrics included, and listened to the songs for years after their purchase.  They subscribed to magazines, like National Geographic or Reader’s Digest, and kept all the back issues. Essentially, memories were cherished, embodied in small items, inconsequential at face value. 

Those are things that I did, anyway, and for me, things seem very different now. Almost everything seems ‘more’: more options, more disposable, more available, more current, but not more quality or more memorable. Few people bother to print photographs – it is possible to take so many and store them all digitally.  No-one writes letters any more, most invitations are e-mailed or posted on Facebook, and inboxes need to be kept tidy and free of clutter. Tickets for films and shows, even flights and holidays, are all booked online.  Our memories are out of place, disembodied and disoriented, and ultimately, weaker and less meaningful.  David Gray and Jade Petermon agree with this, in ‘Memory, Space, Media’ (2012) but they also show how media can be used to create a storehouse of collective memories which were previously scattered and unacknowledged.

At face value, this change does not seem particularly meaningful, but it may well be a symptom of a deeper malaise: the 21^st century disease of sensory overload, excessive communication without satisfaction, of loneliness despite a permanent lack of total privacy and solitude.

So this leads to two problems:  are social media making us lonely, and is the loss of embodiment (i.e. the tendency towards digital memories) something worth worrying about?  My super-intelligent friends seem to think not.  They think it’s no big deal, that we can archive better than before, and that the medium for the archiving does not affect the meaning of the content. For them, it’s like the difference between DVDs and Blu-Ray. I’m not so sure though, and I won’t be until I’ve done a lot more reading on the topic.  From what I’ve come across so far in a 2010 article by Lea Schick and Lone Malmborg called ‘Bodies, Embodiment and Ubiquitous Computing’, my friends seem to have the right idea in some respects.  Disembodiment allows us the potential to use technology in truly pervasive yet non-intrusive ways.  We can let it become as natural as getting dressed, and it allows us the potential to be so much more than we are right now.

BUT we’re not there yet, and I don’t care what any wise-ass says: look at a picture of your old Grade 1 classroom.  Connect with your old teacher and classmates on facebook.  And then, get hold of a copy of your old Grade 1 reader: smell it, see Jack run, feel the thickness of the paper. And tell me which version – embodied or disembodied – affects you most.

Sleep with one eye open - Constantly connected

Isn't it peculiar how most of us suffer from a squinting morning disease? You know what I'm talking about. We are barely awake, haven't even turned around to bid a good morning to our partner but our smartphone is in hand and we are squinting through one eye at the useless information glaring at us from the little screen. I use the term useless information due to the fact that five minutes after we scanned through our Facebook, Twitter and news feeds, we actually wake up properly and can't recall anything that we read just a while back. (Better check again) Also, how useful is the information on Facebook really? I'm sure we would be just fine if we didn't know what our pseudo-friends were up to. Not that it matters anyway. How much could possibly have happened since we checked our phone before we went to bed last night?

 We are living in an age of information overload and unfortunately with the increase in quantity the quality gets diminished. Not that most of us care. Our hunger for information has grown to the point where we will settle for anything (queue Facebook status updates) and in our hunger to 'know' we are becoming increasingly more disconnected while being more connected. Confused? Me too. Stephan Marche (2012:sp) explains that "we are loving in an isolation that would have been unimaginable to our ancestors, and yet we have never been more accessible". We are now always available, but to who? I find it highly irritating when visiting a restaurant and witnessing a couple or a group of friends sitting at a table with their noses buried in their smartphones. Everyone at the table is communicating with someone who is not actually present. I find this very strange. Let's get together so we can communicate with people who couldn't join us. Wait what? When I become president I am banning any digital communication device where two or more people are present. Marche (2012:sp) attempts to approach this phenomena from a psychological point of view in arguing that even though Facebook might encourage more contact with people outside of our household, it might come at the expense of the relationships in it. He explores the fact that this might be due to "unhappy family relationships in the first place" that we feel the need to connect to people outside of our close relationships.

A state of always being connected isn't necessarily simply linked to being social. Perlow (2012:2) explains that "always being on, in fact, is becoming increasingly core to our identities". Whether this is a good thing is definitely up for debate. We are willing to interrupt personal conversations in order to answer a ringing phone in our ever increasing need to be available. Sure, being available outside the confines of the office has definitely made our lives easier, not to mention the monetary rewards of being able to handle one's business from anywhere at any time. But does it come at a cost? The cost of personal, face to face social skills? The cost of being able to shut down and simply be by yourself? Perlow (2012:4) refers to "PTO" or "predictable time off" where we have the power to decide to not always be connected. In order to maintain a healthy relationship with the actual people around us and ourselves, we need to make time where we are unavailable. The problem is that we have become so obsessed with being connected that anxiety overcomes us if we accidentally leave our electronic communication devices at home. Perhaps I am generalising but it is certainly something i have observed and even experienced myself. Perlow (2012:7) explains that "by being constantly connected to work, [people seem] to be reinforcing - and worse, amplifying - the very pressures that caused them to need to be available".

 Perhaps I have been a bit pessimistic till now. Engaging with the digital and being available isn't all bad. It is however important to manage the way in which we interact with the digital. Rheingold (2012:1) wants us to engage in a "mindful" manner although he believes that this does not happen automatically. Instead of simply consuming we need to engage and think of what we are doing and why. We need to accept that technology is an ally that if used correctly can be very beneficial on all accounts of our daily lives. But as Rheingold (2012:2) argues, it is "dangerously naïve" to believe that technology will be able to solve social problems that are caused by technology. We are social beings and interaction with human beings, especially on face to face value, should not become a casualty of technology.

 The next time you are in a restaurant, switch off your phone and be present in the moment. Some things can wait till later. Have both eyes open when engaging with technology. I know I can quit my phone anytime I want to, just let me quickly answer this email.

If you don't like it - turn it off.

Dear paranoid androids,

I have spent the last four hours reading some very interesting literature. I’ve left it late, as I usually do, because I was outside with real people, in the sun. I applied sunblock too late, so the slight sunburn I have caused myself has made me drowsy. I didn’t realise the time, because my BlackBerry was in the car. I don’t have a watch – well, I do, but the battery ran flat about six years ago. I had left my iPad at home to charge, because the new ones take nine painfully long hours to charge.

My dear androids, the vicious cycle you are stuck in, the “cycle of responsiveness” that comes from being “on” (Perlow 2012:6-7) has not left you stranded and fighting for air. You are able to put down the Instagram, you can step away from the Galaxy S3 and the Smart TV…you can even close the laptop, program the PVR to record Law & Order, and walk away. Perlow[i] (2012:8) notes that people resent the way professional and personal lives are increasingly merging, and that people fail to realise that they are indeed their own worst enemies. Granted, I am not a CEO of a multinational corporation, but even the super-rich faceless CEO has henchmen.  But, since I am not, nor are many people CEOs, Perlow (2012:4) suggests a process called “predictable time off”. Perlow’s (2012:4) PTO system dictates that people work together in order to be ergonomic worker bees, instead of frantic badgers, clawing the walls of their cubicles in a desperate attempt to escape their self-imposed chains.  My iPad was left on charge because I used it last night to record the podcast I co-host.

I co-host, because I don’t have the technical knowhow (self-imposed ignorance or not) to edit the audio, so one of the co-hosts does it. I have created, albeit on a micro scale, a “predictable time off” (Perlow 2012:4), because while he edits, I am in charge of Twitter marketing (which I am admittedly rubbish at, because I am not always on).

People whimper that they feel they are always connected, which Perlow (2012) details. They whine that they never have down time where they are completely and utterly unreachable.  But I have never had an issue just turning my phone off, or shutting down my iPad. I don’t get nervous twitches when I don’t check my Facebook newsfeed, or my Twitter timeline when wake up. I don’t find myself gasping for the sweet relief that comes with knowing that someone I haven’t seen in a decade checked into a restaurant that I have never been in 5 minutes ago. I don’t have the attention span to deal with Facebook, which deals with a 99% drivel statistic. That being said, my dear androids, I have just finished reading the introduction to Rheingold’s (2012) Net Smart where he discusses the loss of attention we, as a digital citizenship, suffer from. I felt a bit bad that I was losing concentration. Not for the fact that I couldn’t concentrate, but for the pure fact that if people (kids specifically) cannot concentrate, we just need new ways of reaching them. We are, as Rheingold (2012:2) suggests, in an age where we are overloaded with information. 

But I believe that it is a generational problem. Kids of the future, I believe, won’t have the same agitation that comes with the constant connectedness, nor will they struggle to sift through information, like we do now. Rheingold (2012:16) argues that we need to be taught how to be aware of the credibility, or lack thereof, at school level. I don’t know anyone at school anymore, but I believe they are not being taught how to distrust Wikipedia. With that in mind, Wikipedia is a fantastic platform. The Internet in general is an incredibly powerful tool, but for research purposes, Wikipedia holds a place dear in my heart. Rheingold (2012:22) argues that tools like Wikipedia need to be used responsibly, and it is impossible to argue against the usefulness of Wikipedia – collaborative knowledge accessible to anyone with an Internet connection. Obviously, dear androids, it is hardly credible, but Wikipedia can function as an invaluable starting-point. As does Facebook, Twitter and all the other social media platforms. I am able to see what people are planning on the other side of the planet. I can see what games my grandmother (yes, my grandmother) is playing. I can access the same people I haven’t seen in a decade that checked into the restaurant, now 15 minutes ago. They are, most likely, ordering drinks and starters by now. If they are good looking starters, they might upload a photo via Instagram. They might not. Either way – I don’t really care. But I could if I wanted to.

Marche (2012:sp) asks whether the constant connection to these social networking platforms, Facebook specifically, is making us lonely. The ambient intimacy afforded to us by these platforms, Marche (2012:sp) argues, is contrasted with a sense of disconnectedness from real life. But, Marche (2012:sp) continues, as does Perlow (2012:8), that it is self-imposed. Machines, Marche (2012:sp) and countless others argue, do not decide what they do with us. We decide how we use our technology. We are not Heidegger’s (in Feenberg 2002:7) standing reserves if we don’t want to be. The fetish of reading the newsfeed on Facebook will only make you miserable when you see that Binki is with someone too fabulous to have a name, and they are in Budapest. Again. Why don’t you close the laptop, and go to Budapest instead of lying in a slightly damp heap of your own reTweets.

My dear paranoid androids, it’s called an off button. If you don’t like it – turn it off.

Virtually yours,

Desré.

---

[i] Buy the books. Don’t pirate.

He's thrashing around while he's having his dream, and his dream can be seen on the monitor screen!" —MC Mothmaster Murf

The words ‘torrents of misinformation, disinformation, advertising, spam, porn, noise and trivia’-brought to mind, of all things, bats. Vampire Bats specifically. I will elaborate soon enough on this. The phrase Epidemic of Loneliness requires my immediate attention. I won’t deny I found delight in reading these three words. I am by my very nature a loner, yet never has this inherent characteristic of mine seemed so precious. You see-I am a digital exile. I worship, without shame or fear of social ostracism, at the feet of our species higher cortical functioning, at our genetic disposition to socialise-in “real time” conversations between flesh and blood witnesses. I may not know who I am but I know who I am not. Reflecting on those who exist almost primarily in the cloud of information that our younger generation looks to for a sense of self-identity, makes me wonder when removing the physicality’s of life became the sacrifice we make for a sense of solidarity. The Road (not Jack Kerouac’s) but the one where our society trawls along at all hours of everyday, letting it all ‘hang out’ in the hope that a passerby will stop and reward our narcissistic displays of self-presenting with a Facebook thumbs-up icon or, if the ‘goods are as good as they look’ (and social media enables us the best in fictionless depiction) well then, you might just earn the holy grail of social communication-the elusive and coveted “personal” comment.

But let us get back to bats. When Stephen Marche talks about a web of connections, he also talks about the instant and absolute communication it enables us with. It sounds like the “New Republic”-yet we only have to read on to discover that this online community, better called a colony, which so cleverly avoids the possibility of Orwellian associations by negating users to ‘social’ media has a price tag. Loneliness. For the majority, we all embrace this virtual land of infotainment, and believe we are replenishing our social status with every click of an ‘accept' friend request .We utilise the tools the platforms provide to reinforce our social presence and in doing so, are convinced we are attaining a surer sense of self and belonging. By utilising both composed and one-click communication practices we are distancing ourselves even further from community. The social reality?-“Maybe” attending does not mean you are cruising the information highway, a symbol of a socially networked online wonder. Our actions are what disconnects us and removes all vestiges of altruism from our lives. Instead, we have, as Marche puts it to us, ‘outsourced the work of everyday caring’ to psychic servants. And the Vampire bat? Quite the opposite. They establish long-term associations, often lasting for up to more than 10 years. To really rub it-a female vampire bat will willingly regurgitate part of her meal to a less successful friend. Bats will vomit up blood to keep their communities alive-because sharing is recognised as an important survival tool within their species. This reciprocal altruism is what social media fails dismally to convey. The digital self-identity is based on satisfying the constant prodding and demand of social media. Our community relationships are governed by objective and impersonal expectations. To my mind’s eye, there is no reciprocity within the social contracts forged throughout our day-to-day digital lives.  The only reason we share is for the status attached to this reputable deed.

The social anxiety that hangs around people of not being up-to-date and therefore somehow socially inferior perplexes me. In essence, we are building our own “private” harems. One could argue that this is a competitive impulse we have a genetic predisposition to perform. Not even todays cultural/religious constraints can dissuade us from our fervent online polygamy. Ask any anthropologist and they will tell you that harem keeping is closer to our natural state. However, our harems offer only a culturally imposed isolation. The information we share are merely ‘events’ that propel us towards ‘nothing’. Osho calls becoming nobody as the ‘most difficult, almost impossible, most extraordinary thing in the world’ (2008). Tom Robbins called him ‘the most dangerous man since Jesus Christ’. Was, Robbons, was. The most dangerous of us all is our collective, ‘always connected’ selves. Our sociality stems from technological attributes. Our online dimorphism makes is hard to believe we could ever possibly truly switch off from our ‘computer-obsessed electronic global ghetto’-can we take a time out from the society Time Out fittingly describes. Author Jeff Noon expands on the fears, desires and impulsive tendencies that drive our digital lives.  Can we rethink and improve our lives by ‘turning off’? What of this foreign, blasphemous notion so suggested by Leslie Perlow. I would like to believe that we all carry the ability to communicate meaningfully and intelligently. If we could utilise digital culture in a meaningful way, our Net smart’s will enable a change from the frenzied, manipulative environment so many of us currently coincide in. So, let us try and challenge assumptions and test boundaries and empower ourselves with a time off.

A good starting point? Sam Lloyd’s Calm down Boris! (Hand-puppet included, monster voice a must). Boris teaches us that sometimes being big and tickly and kissy is what is exactly what is needed in life….

.”The words ‘torrents of misinformation, disinformation, advertising, spam, porn, noise and trivia’-brought to mind, of all things, bats. Vampire Bats specifically. I will elaborate soon enough on this. The phrase Epidemic of Loneliness requires my immediate attention. I won’t deny I found delight in reading these three words. I am by my very nature a loner, yet never has this inherent characteristic of mine seemed so precious. You see-I am a digital exile. I worship, without shame or fear of social ostracism, at the feet of our species higher cortical functioning, at our genetic disposition to socialise-in “real time” conversations between flesh and blood witnesses. I may not know who I am but I know who I am not. Reflecting on those who exist almost primarily in the cloud of information that our younger generation looks to for a sense of self-identity, makes me wonder when removing the physicality’s of life became the sacrifice we make for a sense of solidarity. The Road (not Jack Kerouac’s) but the one where our society trawls along at all hours of everyday, letting it all ‘hang out’ in the hope that a passerby will stop and reward our narcissistic displays of self-presenting with a Facebook thumbs-up icon or, if the ‘goods are as good as they look’ (and social media enables us the best in fictionless depiction) well then, you might just earn the holy grail of social communication-the elusive and coveted “personal” comment.

But let us get back to bats. When Stephen Marche talks about a web of connections, he also talks about the instant and absolute communication it enables us with. It sounds like the “New Republic”-yet we only have to read on to discover that this online community, better called a colony, which so cleverly avoids the possibility of Orwellian associations by negating users to ‘social’ media has a price tag. Loneliness. For the majority, we all embrace this virtual land of infotainment, and believe we are replenishing our social status with every click of an ‘accept' friend request .We utilise the tools the platforms provide to reinforce our social presence and in doing so, are convinced we are attaining a surer sense of self and belonging. By utilising both composed and one-click communication practices we are distancing ourselves even further from community. The social reality?-“Maybe” attending does not mean you are cruising the information highway, a symbol of a socially networked online wonder. Our actions are what disconnects us and removes all vestiges of altruism from our lives. Instead, we have, as Marche puts it to us, ‘outsourced the work of everyday caring’ to psychic servants. And the Vampire bat? Quite the opposite. They establish long-term associations, often lasting for up to more than 10 years. To really rub it-a female vampire bat will willingly regurgitate part of her meal to a less successful friend. Bats will vomit up blood to keep their communities alive-because sharing is recognised as an important survival tool within their species. This reciprocal altruism is what social media fails dismally to convey. The digital self-identity is based on satisfying the constant prodding and demand of social media. Our community relationships are governed by objective and impersonal expectations. To my mind’s eye, there is no reciprocity within the social contracts forged throughout our day-to-day digital lives.  The only reason we share is for the status attached to this reputable deed.

The social anxiety that hangs around people of not being up-to-date and therefore somehow socially inferior perplexes me. In essence, we are building our own “private” harems. One could argue that this is a competitive impulse we have a genetic predisposition to perform. Not even todays cultural/religious constraints can dissuade us from our fervent online polygamy. Ask any anthropologist and they will tell you that harem keeping is closer to our natural state. However, our harems offer only a culturally imposed isolation. The information we share are merely ‘events’ that propel us towards ‘nothing’. Osho calls becoming nobody as the ‘most difficult, almost impossible, most extraordinary thing in the world’ (2008). Tom Robbins called him ‘the most dangerous man since Jesus Christ’. Was, Robbons, was. The most dangerous of us all is our collective, ‘always connected’ selves. Our sociality stems from technological attributes. Our online dimorphism makes is hard to believe we could ever possibly truly switch off from our ‘computer-obsessed electronic global ghetto’-can we take a time out from the society Time Out fittingly describes. Author Jeff Noon expands on the fears, desires and impulsive tendencies that drive our digital lives.  Can we rethink and improve our lives by ‘turning off’? What of this foreign, blasphemous notion so suggested by Leslie Perlow. I would like to believe that we all carry the ability to communicate meaningfully and intelligently. If we could utilise digital culture in a meaningful way, our Net smart’s will enable a change from the frenzied, manipulative environment so many of us currently coincide in. So, let us try and challenge assumptions and test boundaries and empower ourselves with a time off.

A good starting point? Sam Lloyd’s Calm down Boris! (Hand-puppet included, monster voice a must). Boris teaches us that sometimes being big and tickly and kissy is what is exactly what is needed in life….

.”

Letting go, and how and why I’m trying to do so.

I’ve been reading some very interesting things, and having some very deep thoughts this week. It’s all a bit existential but I reckon it’s for the best. The question I’ve been asking myself, every time I read a tweet or check a status update, is ‘Why?’ And if I can’t answer that question, it’s probably not going to enhance my life, and I should just switch off. Because, as Cecil Day-Lewis said, sometimes ‘selfhood begins with a walking away’.

The idea of asking why I’m doing whatever it is I’m doing is one that really resonates with me.  I have a tendency towards compulsiveness, and before I read the introduction to Rheingold’s book Netsmart: how to thrive online I was compulsively checking several feeds, first thing in the morning, and thereafter, every few hours throughout the day, and last thing at night.  I hardly read actual books any more, which is worrying. The way I relate to people and the format of my social affiliations – all of this is out of whack. As Marche describes it, my friendship circles are ‘broader but shallower’ (2012:9). And I realised that checking every single update and knowing all the news first wasn’t making me any happier.  In fact, it was taking away large amounts of time that I could’ve been spending with real human beings who like me. I was out of balance.  I’m still out of balance, but I’m trying to fix that now.  I want to be enriched without drowning in ‘torrents of misinformation, disinformation, advertising, spam, porn, noise and trivia’ (2012:5) although, to be fair, I’ve managed to avoid the porn. I want to be a media connoisseur, sampling and selecting an elegant sufficiency, instead of a glutton consuming everything I come across.  I know that this will involve a little scepticism and a lot of discernment, and that it will take time.  And I agree that these skills should be taught in schools.  I don’t understand why this isn’t the case already: we need to make sure that future generations are enriched by the online world, not anaesthetised.

A lot of what Rheingold said reminded me of Heidegger’s idea of standing reserve: Rheingold’s advice to assess the ‘activity of the moment’ in terms of whether it ‘is really as significant as what is happening in the rest of my life’ makes so much sense (2012:8) because people are more important and worthwhile than feeds, and it’s easy to forget that.  I left my phone completely alone this weekend, went out and met people and had a blast.  And I did not post a single thing about how much fun I was having, because, quite simply, I was having too much fun.  I felt so positive about life. Even South Africa seemed like a nicer place (it certainly has wonderful aspects to it that are easy to miss if all you read is the news, and you don’t get out there and explore). 

Admittedly, talking to people is always more challenging than texting, especially as I have a major case of foot-in-mouth disease, but it’s worth the risk.  You can’t have meaningful and happy relationships without that risk. You need to let people see the real you; not the edited and mediated version of you that you choose to present online.

However, I have enormous belief in the positive power of online collaboration.  Last year, I took part in a massive project to upload electronic copies of everything Charles Dickens ever wrote.  Hundreds of thousands of volunteers pitched in, just for the sake of being part of something awesome.  I’m glad I took the time to do it, and I think this kind of crowd-sourcing is fantastic.

From a more professional point of view, I certainly have fallen into the ‘always available’ trap.  I’ve built a reputation for always getting things done straight away and well before deadline.  I’m fiercely proud of that reputation, but it definitely does create a vicious circle, or ‘cycle of responsiveness’ (Perlow 2012:8): a lot of my editing clients think that giving me a 24- or 48-hour deadline on a job is totally okay.  I actually turned a job down just last week, for the first time, because if I’d accepted it I would have had to work through the weekend.  I’m so glad I told them ‘no’, although it was fiendishly hard to do at the time.  Maybe they’ll be less likely to do it again, and man – I had such a good weekend.  Totally worth it. And it really is the first actual weekend I’ve had this semester.

One last thing: although I’m trying to redress the imbalance between my real and virtual worlds, I don’t want it to sound like I’m not a fan of the electronic realm.  I’ve met some fantastic people there, with whom I share deep and real connections, and my life would have been significantly poorer – and lonelier – had I not done so.