on living in a connected world.

my iphone is no more than 5 feet from me, ever.  i’m logged into AIM and Yahoo 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  my phone number is widely available on the web.  (starting today) i twitter and i blog.  i have a profile on pretty much every damn social networking site that exists.  i enjoy being constantly connected to the grid.

i was a member of prodigy back in the early 90s.  co-sysop’d a couple of bulletin boards, posted to fidonet, chatted on irc, posted to usenet.  not only have i grown up connected, i’ve made a career out of being connected.

what is it like to be disconnected?  i can’t imagine not being able to listen to any song from my music collection ondemand, regardless of where i am.  or not being able to answer stupid trivia questions (who was nixon’s running mate? what animal can you get hantavirus from?  who wrote “happy birthday”?) at 2am, drunk, in a bar.  or writing checks to pay bills.  or waiting until NBC decides to show a rerun of heroes.  or going to the store to buy a cd.

memory is a funny thing.  there was a time, of course, where these things were not possible — and i’m old enough to remember them.  yet i act as if this connectivity has always been there, and will always be there.

what is it like to be disconnected, when everyone else is plugged into the grid?  is it like being blind?

the sum of human knowledge is available at our fingertips.  i can verify almost any statement anyone makes, wherever i am, in near real-time.

what is it like to intentionally disconnect yourself?  is it like being a hermit?

humans are, by nature, social creatures.  we yearn for connections with others, and we always have.

is that because, at the end, we are alone?