I have 17 tabs open on my laptop right now.
In trying to home in on what to write about this week, I was pulled in several directions. More gun violence. An uptick in fentanyl overdoses. (Both topics I’ll explore in this space later.) But what caught my attention while researching was the fact that my attention was actually all over the place. Between the many tabs and my phone’s notifications, my brain was abuzz with information overload.
As I clicked and scrolled, I stumbled upon an NPR story: “30 years ago, one decision altered the course of our connected world.” April 30th was the 30th anniversary of the launch of the World Wide Web into public domain — and alter the course it did.
Thirty years ago, I was a carefree adolescent. Sometimes I’d play Paperboy on Nintendo until my thumbs blistered or watch hours of rock-and-roll videos on MTV. But most of my free time I’d spend outside — meandering the neighborhood scanning the streets for loose change or catching bees in Coke bottles or some other random activity that would be considered rather boring by a kid today. I got a pager in high school — a useless thing, really. The little electronic box would buzz, a number would appear on the slim rectangular screen, then I’d have to go find a landline to call said number. I didn’t get my first cell phone or home computer until college. Which was great at first. I could look up essay resources or travel maps online. If my car broke down, I could call someone right then to help rather than walk to the nearest pay phone. (And people still met up, in person, and looked at each other and engaged, uninterrupted! That was nice.) But it’s been a slippery slope from there.
In the NPR story, the author recalled how, 30 years ago, Morning Edition listeners heard from host Neal Conan: “Imagine being able to communicate at-will with 10 million people all over the world. Imagine having direct access to catalogs of hundreds of libraries as well as the most up-to-date news, business, and weather reports. Imagine being able to get medical advice or gardening advice immediately from any number of experts. This is not a dream. It’s internet.”
The World Wide Web opened a portal to uncharted territory, unlimited information, and instant communication. With digital technology at our fingertips at every moment, we can do all that was imagined and more. But it’s more like a fever dream today, full of strange reels and live streams and windows into weirder worlds than we could have ever conceived. Now we have “influencers,” TikTok trends, online gaming, the metaverse (and, and, and) to take up the time of bored teens and, well, all of us, worldwide, if we let ’em.
Between work, keeping in touch with folks, and mindless entertainment, I’m looking at one screen or another the majority of my day, constantly bombarded with emails and reminders:
Have you had any water today?
It’s time for your daily meditation.
[XYZ] uploaded a new video on YouTube.
A person you may know is on TikTok.
You have three new WhatsApp messages.
Here’s your affirmation for today!
Pedometer service is running.
Time to get moving!
You have 14 new unread emails.
[So-and-so] is live on Instagram.
Hungry? You’re one click away on UberEats.
Missed alarm: Dog meds.
*Ding* a Slack notification.
*Ring* a spam call.
*Ting* a text.
It’s exhausting. I could delete some apps (and yes, I have an app reminding me to drink water; in the tangled mess of tasks and tings, it’s easy to forget to hydrate) or silence notifications (but then how would I know when I get an angry email from a reader who hated my column about woke beers?!).
I have 17 tabs open in my brain right now. How about you? The internet — this wonderful, horrible thing that altered society — is a blessing and a curse. Perhaps I’ll try a World Wide Web detox. Turn off the damn phone. Take a stroll and scan the streets for a shiny quarter.
In the meantime, better check my notifications.
