The Internet is an incredible invention. With it, we can do everything from groceries to the start of political revolutions. We can locate long-lost family and friends, find jobs, get parts for our bikes and cars, and even express our opinions and ideas to millions of people around the world. But the flip side of the virtual coin is that the internet can wreak havoc in the living world, disconnecting our reality, forcing us to search EVERYTHING online, and moving us away from touch here and now. So that begs the question: how connected are you?
I asked myself this question recently, and the results amazed me. I was so connected, that my “real” life was barely on par with my virtual life. I had Facebook, I had Twitter, I had Photobucket, I had Yelp, I had Flikr, I had LinkedIn and a half-dozen other connections. Add to that my HTC Incredible smartphone, with its GPS, SMS, web browsing, mobile / Facebooking / Yelping tweets and messaging. At one point, I even found myself looking for friends online to talk to, instead of talking face to face with real friends. My virtual world had swallowed up my life and in many ways I found it was starting to replace my reality.
I felt like a robot with cables and bundles of cables stuck in my brain. Some may view this as a form of internet addiction, although in my own defense I know people who are much more connected than I am.
I came to the conclusion that I had to simplify; to go back to my roots as a human being, devoid of the wireless world and its haphazard connections. All of a sudden, I felt like I could wean myself off cyberspace, and at the same time bring myself back to the good old days, before technology invaded my personal space.
So with a deep breath I logged in and started to log out. The first was Facebook - disabled. Then there was Yelp - disabled. Then it was Twitter, then Flikr, then Photobucket, then Gmail, then Mail.com. It was a virtual hack-and-slash that lasted about 30 minutes. Then I switched to my smartphone. My HTC Incredible ultracool which had everything a gadget fan could ask for in a mobile device. I turned it off, removed the battery, and put it aside in the hallway closet next to my router and 16-port dual switch (yes, I'm connected). I turned on my trusty Samsung A310 2003 flip phone. Surprisingly, it always turned on and the battery was still charged. After I hooked it up, I found out that it didn't have actually usable web access, and if you tried hard enough, you might be able to squeeze a text message out of it in the blink of an eye. Now it goes through my mind.
Once the smoke cleared, I found myself surrounded - by reality. The world had turned and I was back on the ground. I kept my LinkedIn for career reasons, and of course I'm still here on The Huffington Post .. So technically I'm not 100% offline, but in terms of the social interaction that's happening online, I think I'm pretty much there.
I can attest to the feeling of freedom that comes with social disconnection. I no longer feel the need to check my Facebook status, and I no longer reach for my smartphone to post a catchy impromptu tweet. No more online photo sharing. No more GPS location, no more navigation while waiting for a dentist appointment, no more mobile emailing or instant messaging.
Now, if I need to contact someone, I actually have to "call" them, or "visit them in person" - what a revelation. It's almost weird talking to someone face to face; something I missed in a previous blog, about being disconnected from real people while on vacation. You know things are going wrong when you feel uncomfortable talking to someone in person, while it is perfectly fine to chat with that same person via email.
It is therefore a work in progress. Can a person who works in a tech field and lives in central Silicon Valley really survive without social ties?
I invite all comments. I would love to hear what you think and get a glimpse of reality. This could turn out to be quite a thread.
Don't look for an answer from me anytime soon ... I don't think my little Samsung flip phone can handle such complex text ...