http://www.spark-online.com
and my point is...
by adam proteau
So, I'm writing this to let you know . . . Excuse me, my pager just went off, it's my boss from my day job, she wants me to fill in for a sick co-worker who everyone knows isn't sick but he's union and I'm not so it'll be me filling in, I'll just get on the horn with her for two seconds and I'll get back to business. . .
I'm back. Where was I? Oh yeah, my little piece on how hard. . .Oh, sorry, the e-mail sound just went off on the computer. Let's see, that's my girlfriend. She's in Africa helping out AIDS victims, but she brought a laptop with her to keep in touch. Just let me whip off a brief note to tell her how things are here. "Not much happening here, honey, but write back soon! Love, me." That should keep her happy for a while. . .
Now, where were we? Right, my stimulating dissertation on how hard it is… Damn, now the cell phone is going! Hold on a sec. "Hello? Hey, man. Nothing, just sitting down at the computer. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Okay, nine o'clock then. Later." Again, I apologize. That was just my buddy from my part-time job. He's not working with me tonight, but he wanted to meet at the cyber-café after work to surf the Web together. He doesn't have the Net at home like I do, poor bastard. Those who aren't Net-savvy are doomed to fall by the wayside. I think somebody famous said that; can't remember who, though. . .
Anyway, back to the piece. The whole point of it is simply to say that it's getting harder and harder to… Oh no, you're not going to believe this. This time, it's my home phone. I'm really sorry. Let me get this, and I'll be right back, I swear. "Hello? No, she's not home. No, I just got home right now myself, so I don't have a clue where anyone in the family is. Sorry. Can I take a message? Okay, just try again later, then. Bye, now." That was for my mom. I think it was one of those telemarketer opinion surveys or something. I hate those things. I usually tell the person I don't have a real opinion one way or another. That gets them off the line quickly. But my mom loves those surveys, especially when the questions get asked at the mall when she's shopping. I told her there's a Web service that pays her to do that stuff online but she hates the Internet. You've gotta feel sorry for old people: no grasp whatsoever of any new technology. My dad can barely work the remote control for the DVD we just got!. . .
Where was I again? Yeah, the fact that, try as you might, it's so difficult to actually… Oh, God. It's someone at the door. Hold on. . .
Hey, good news! That was the courier, delivering my new MP3 Walkman! The thing is unbelievable; you just hook it up to the computer, download the tunes you want, then store them in a MiniDisc. That courier business, now that's a business I wouldn't mind getting into: You're traveling all day, never staying too long in one place, you have all kinds of time to yourself, and you're meeting new people. What more could you ask for, besides benefits and job security? Speaking of downloads, gimme a second to finish downloading a game I'm grabbing from this Web site. It's a trivia game. I don't know when I'm going to find the time to play it, but it sounded like a cool time-waster. It can't hurt, can it?. . .
Back to the task at hand. What I'm trying to put forth for your consideration is the idea that new technologies are leaving us less and less time to consider our lives. For example, let's pretend that I'm Christopher Columbus, heading across cold and lonesome waters, looking for new lands. Granted, it's a long trip, but it gives me time to figure out why I'm doing such a thing, and I might have a little extra time for some letter writing to my love back in the old country. But today, Christopher Columbus would not exis. . . Oh, man, I'm just watching that old rock video by Sinead O'Connor. "Nothing Compares to You," I think it's called. Is it me, or is this video just awful? It's just her, staring into the camera, singing the song. No jump cuts, no fancy Japanimation clips, just her reacting to the song's lyrics. Bo-ring. . .Yeesh, I'm sorry. I get distracted so easily. Let me finish my analogy. Who am I, again?
Copyright © 2000 Adam Proteau All Rights Reserved
Adam Proteau is a student and writer who resides in Toronto. He's open to answering any e-mails. If he's got time.