Self-doubt.....

I'm, troublingly, these days, feeling a bit the hypocrite; while not quite ranting into a megaphone, I've been rather vocal, both in passing conversations and heavy-duty discussions, about my great unease with "all this technology." Relating various examples and anecdotes (some hilarious, like the time I was in a 2 person restaurant restroom and, behind both our locked doors, the woman next to me asked "how are you doing?" "Getting along," I answered in polite shock. "How are the kids?" was the next chatty question. "OK, " I said, but this was now feeling horribly awkward. "We should be home in an hour -- I hope you'll be able to babysit for us again next week......" she continued. UNSPEAKABLE EMBARRASSMENT and some rage too! My restroom buddy had been TALKING ON HER CELLPHONE), I've staunchly believed that, for however much civilization has gained, we've lost far more. This comes not merely from the exhaustion of trying to keep up with new inventions inside of new inventions that keep changing the rules, but from a visceral, philosophical worry that our human-ness is being insidiously replaced by fantasies of robotics.

And yet, are not the car, the telephone, the television..... technological advances I would so much rather have than not, in fact, if I'm to be truthful, would not have the courage to live without? A haunting story shared with me recently describes, though in very sketchy detail, an in-his-50s writer whose mother committed suicide in 1973, much before call-waiting, caller ID, or the common use of answering machines. It seems that a final plea for help, in a phone call to her son, might have saved her life.... if she could only have left a message .

I 've searched the internet for instantaneous pictures of tick bites (a touch of panic came over me when lyme disease was likely), welcomed the sudden beep of a much-awaited phone call from my daughter while already talking to a friend (though the seeming rudeness of leaving one for another still distresses me), not answered calls from a recognized Purple Heart employee asking for donations just a week after I'd made a donation to the Salvation Army , and left countless messages for less than life-threatening matters. Am I a hypocrite?

My bulb's flickering again....

I think I've just been in the presence of genius: endless kaleidoscopic images with the mere movement of a non-cheese-eating mouse, futuristic sounds and colorful moving dots coming from a "whitney music box," and an opportunity to draw a picture that will then find a picture that looks like the picture I've just drawn ( wasn't there once some kind of T.V. quiz show based on this concept?) -- that minds can both figure out and create these "pages" is certainly indescribably impressive; still further mind-bloggling, are the countless bloggers who, I fear, spend an inordinate amount of time blogging about these sites and, of course, other bloggers -- all makes me want to grab a book, turn a page, write, draw, read..... and, oh yes, look into a pair of eyes.