Confessions of an Internet Addict

Dear readers,

While I was at the beach, I realized that I, Amanda Hirsch, am an Internet Addict.

My name is Amanda Hirsch, and I am addicted to the Web.

It started out innocently enough. I thought I wanted a tech holiday, and said as much on this blog. I loved being completely unplugged when I was in Vieques last month, and have gotten into the habit of taking at least one day off from my laptop (and the Internet) every week - I've found this is critical to keeping my creative juices flowing. But there I was, surrounded by ocean and sand, and a little voice inside me said, darkly, "give me my blogs." (I wanted to check the dozen or so blogs I read on a regular basis - a subset of the longer list of blogs to which I subscribe.)

My inner dialogue proceeded as follows:

"No! You're at the beach. You should relax."

"But - "

"No! Don't open that can of worms. You'll get sucked in and miss this beautiful day."

"But what if I really want to read blogs? Why is that so different than reading a novel? It's not like I'll be surfing aimlessly. "

"Well...maybe...I guess that makes sense."

Then, approximately 15 minutes later: "Oh, it was so much fun to read my blogs, I think I'll check a little email..."

"Alert! Alert!"

"I know, I know, it sounds bad. But I won't check work messages - just emails from friends."

And so it began.

Now, reading back over this, I realize you may think I'm making Something out of Nothing. So I logged on for a bit - I thought I wouldn't want to, but I did. What's the big deal?

But look at the language I used. This is not an exaggeration of how I think: I have gotten into the habit of considering the Internet a villain, like the ghostly devil on an Absinthe bottle...a persuasive demon that whispers, "I'll just check my email," then traps you in its flourescent glare until finally, hours later, you claw your way back to daylight and The Real World -- the birds chirping, the breeze in the trees, your dog at your feet. You got out -- but will you be as lucky next time?

Does this sound like someone who has a normal relationship to using the Web?

--in case you're hesitating, I'll answer for you: No. No it does not. It sounds like someone who is terrified of the Web's power. Of the power of an invisible (to her) network of tubes that connect her to information through her teeny tiny laptop computer.

This fear is why I've been doling out Internet Time to myself in pre-determined chunks, and taking breaks from it, like an alcoholic weening herself off the sauce, proving to myself that I, not the computer, am in control - but at the beach, as my fingers crept towards that shiny silver Blackberry, I suddenly realized: the fact that I put so much mental energy into whether or not to log on is a sign that something is Seriously Wrong. Hating - and fearing - the Internet is not rational.

And here I thought I was a well-balanced artist who was just a bit of a Luddite.

So why am I "afraid" of the Web - or, more specifically, of 'losing time' online? I think maybe it has something to do with the physical experience of using the Web - I get sucked in, like a child staring at the television (it's terrifying to see my 9-year-old nephew when the TV comes on - he goes from scampering about to frozen in space, an automaton with glazed-over eyes); my shoulders hunch, my neck gets stiff, I sit in the same position for hours, and it's like my senses shut down: when I emerge from the spell, I remember, 'oh yeah, my dog is right there,' or, 'wow, I really have to pee.'

This is not good.

But even when I'm not in full-on Internet automaton mode, the fact that almost all of my work, and my writing, is conducted on this little electronic machine, kind of freaks me out. The drama queen in me wants to say, "My whole life is typing!" Which is of course an exaggeration - while many of my days are spent at the laptop, my evenings are spent with friends, doing improv, watching movies; and my days themselves are broken up with meetings, yoga, errands, etc. So why does it feel like 99% of my life is conducted through my laptop? And why does that freak me out so much?

I don't know. But here I am, on my first day back home, sitting on my porch, typing.

-Amanda