Computers: Friend or Foe?

I've been sans computer for two weeks now, and it's revealed something about me that is kind of frightening: I'm computer dependent. I'm eDependent, if you will. As I sit here, in the midst of two IM conversations, penning an email, and writing this entry- I have to wonder: Do I need a 12-step program?

I have to admit, when I took my computer in for repairs, I wasn't aware of the extent of my computer dependency. Yes, I knew that I would miss certain things about having a computer in my home. I knew I would miss my word-of-the-day email, for instance. But, to be honest, I still hadn't managed to incorporate parsimonious into everyday conversation. Maybe I could use a word-of-the-day break. So, I resigned myself to checking my email less often, letting a few blogs go unread, and giving parsimonious some more thought. How bad could it be?

Famous last words, right?

The thing is, I'm a 21st Century gal, and at some point in the last several years, I have readily hopped on this information super-highway, and I haven't looked back. I shop online, I pay bills online, and I keep up with old friends...online. I stay abreast of current events and political happenings…online. Before I go anywhere, I get driving directions and check the weather...online. I no longer own a dictionary or yellow pages. Instead, I have high-speed Internet access. 24-hours a day--unlimited resources--at my fingertips.

It's occurred to me that the management of my life is done, largely...online.

One day I will regale my children with stories of life before computers. I'll tell them that, pre-google, we were forced to use encyclopedias. Maybe, with nostalgic fondness, I'll explain 444-FILM and directory assistance. And, definitely, in a world of iTunes and downloaded music, I'll have to convey to them the thrill of going to the record store and buying a new CD....and actually holding it in your hands.

I imagine that, in a changing world, computer dependency is only going to get more pronounced. I can't help but wonder what the implications are of living such a machine-dependent life. Even as I'm writing this, I've discovered that my palm pilot has crashed, again, for the third time in six months. My calendar and addresses have been completely erased. Again. For the third time. In six months.

Why have I put so much trust in small electronic devices? And, If technology is supposed to simplify my life…. why isn't my life any easier?

Sunset over Ameriquest Stadium

Sunset over White Rock Lake

Fate

That you are fair or wise is vain,
Or strong, or rich, or generous;
You must have also the untaught strain
That sheds beauty on the rose.
There is a melody born of melody,
Which melts the world into a sea.
Toil could never compass it,
Art its height could never hit,
It came never out of wit,
But a music music-born
Well may Jove and Juno scorn.
Thy beauty, if it lack the fire
Which drives me mad with sweet desire,
What boots it? what the soldier's mail,
Unless he conquer and prevail?
What all the goods thy pride which lift,
If thou pine for another's gift?
Alas! that one is born in blight,
Victim of perpetual slight;—
When thou lookest in his face,
Thy heart saith, Brother! go thy ways!
None shall ask thee what thou doest,
Or care a rush for what thou knowest,
Or listen when thou repliest,
Or remember where thou liest,
Or how thy supper is sodden,—
And another is born
To make the sun forgotten.
Surely he carries a talisman
Under his tongue;
Broad are his shoulders, and strong,
And his eye is scornful,
Threatening, and young.
I hold it of little matter,
Whether your jewel be of pure water,
A rose diamond or a white,—
But whether it dazzle me with light.
I care not how you are drest,
In the coarsest, or in the best,
Nor whether your name is base or brave,
Nor tor the fashion of your behavior,—
But whether you charm me,
Bid my bread feed, and my fire warm me,
And dress up nature in your favor.
One thing is forever good,
That one thing is success,—
Dear to the Eumenides,
And to all the heavenly brood.
Who bides at home, nor looks abroad,
Carries the eagles, and masters the sword.

Ralph Waldo Emerson