Even as I sit here to begin writing this, I have the computer next to me streaming videos of some of my favorite bands playing some of my favorite songs. I’m downloading several movies I never had the chance to see in theatre. I’m tabbed over from editing a picture in photoshop that I took while on vacation a few weeks ago. And I’m resisting the urge to log in to my online community under my pseudonym which people across the nation have called me by for nearly 5 years, Divo. In fact, I met my girlfriend in that online community, and it’s her computer I’m watching music videos on.
My first baby steps in to the digital community came when I waddled over the threshold of online gaming. The game was called Starcraft, and its release in 1998 would forever change the course of my life. Though that might sound a little drastic, I assure you it’s true. Before I discovered this game I had previously spent my time playing hockey, baseball, and even had a sponsor for my abilities on a skateboard. But this game…this game enraptured me and there was no escape. I played Starcraft for 4 years and have since played every expansion, offshoot, and version of it available. That was only the beginning though. I own hundreds of games; most of them with their own unique online communities.
As I said before, I met my girlfriend online. We’ve been together for 3 years now and I feel like she’s perfect for me. Meeting her online was a boon to the relationship. Sure we met one another through pixilated versions of our subconscious. Our first conversations were private messages over online chat. We were inseparable in a virtual world. We’re now inseparable in the great state of
I feel as though my life is stored on hard drives to be erased or appended to at whim. Strangely, this does not bother me. I leave my digital footprints all over the internet every day. Sitting down at my computer feels like opening my front door and greeting the world every day. But every time I open that door there are different people behind it. The uncertainty begets the addiction.
I knew at an early age that my contribution to digital culture would be a lifelong ordeal. I only hope that as technology advances I will adapt to it and utilize it as fully as I do at this very moment in time. We are in a time of rapidly changing communication, culture, and sense of self. It enthralls me to think about what I’ll be doing ten years from now in the online community that grows larger every day.
4 comments:
I loved your post. But is it really a living ordeal or escapism?
Any form of escapism must be a place to visit and not become a cul de sac.
Well, I have had a similar experience, and met my husband online. I, too, log into my online group every day and never has it been a form of escapism for me. It's no different than calling a friend or meeting them in the hall after class. Indeed, I *do* call my "online" friends, some a few times a week. While I am under a pseudonym and my face is an avatar that looks nothing like me, I am always myself, and have never had the urge not to be. Maybe "escapism" is part myth. :shrug
Escapism is a state of mind by definition!
I think that we need to more beyond the idea of the internet as escapsim as that seem essentialist. Maybe at one point in time online communities and going online was escapism, but I think we have moved beyond that. I find it interesting that you describe your interface with digital culture heaven and hell at the same time. I am interested in the cognative discourse, how can something be two things at once? Has your online experience changed you for the good or bad? Why do you think you look at this as an integral part of your life and are excited by this while others are resistant?
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