Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Opus One

Hhmmm... so what is it about this "blogging thing" that's so wildly attractive? Who cares what I might have to say, other than those close to me, and they'll, no doubt, hear it in person...? And why should I really care about what anyone and everyone else posts? Or am I the only person on the planet on information overload?

I wonder, too, about the excessive use of cell phones and suspect it's somehow linked to blogging. What do all those people who are constantly on the phone really have to say? Well, the real question is: what do they have to say that's so important that, for instance, they compromise driving or some other attention-requiring function? But I digress and suspect that's a topic for another day. Back to blogging.

So it's an online journal. Journaling I understand. Have done it for nearly 20 years in a plain ol' wirebound notebook. It's been a sounding board and outlet on numerous occasions. It's personal. No other eyes have seen the words. I suspect it will stay that way, and that's just fine with me.

Don't get me wrong. The internet is a great tool, but it is just that: a tool. One of my societal fears is that too many folks are living online. Literally. Will natural selection supress the next generation's interpersonal skills? And of course, I mean real interpersonal skills, tactile ones; not the social-network, online ones.

I already suspect that language, grammar, spelling and puncuation are going to evolve, or more likely -- devolve -- into an unclear communication vehicle jeopardizing our personal relationships ("Hhhmmm I wonder what he really meant by that...?"). Again, don't get me wrong: if not for email, I wouldn't have sustained the wonderful relationship I have due to schedules and distance. Email's how we stay connected when we're not, well, connected. But I much prefer to hear him laugh out loud than see "LOL" on the page.

And I could go on about the accessibility to a worldwide audience, the ability to post anything without it having to pass an editor's eyes, and the foolishness of those who believe everything they read ("It must be true, it was on TV. It must be true, I read it online."), but it's Christmas Eve, and I've got a dinner to prepare... for those closest to me. And I'll have to remember to ask my nephews, "Hey, what's with this Twitter thing? Who really cares?"