Technology Addiction

Long ago, in a reality far removed, an English teacher had a student, who told intriguing tales of a strange phenomenon called the World Wide Web. Millions of people, he claimed, could simultaneously access it to retrieve information and knowledge in a nanosecond. Becoming the student, the curious teacher said, “Tell me more.” The student-teacher taught the teacher-student everything he knew about the WWW, and within days, the teacher had purchased a computer that transported her to the Virtual Promised Land. Thus began the love affair this teacher has with all things technological.

Fancy landline and cellular smart phones, iPods, PCs, Macs, laptops, netbooks, Kindles, flat screen TVs, CDs and DVDs, webcams, electronic dictionaries, digital cameras, and copious quantities of software, and I now cohabitate and serve as high-tech, help-meets. Previously tiresome, hours of drudgery have been replaced with convenience, efficiency, and twenty-first century entertainment, while cardboard boxes of outdated technologies are dragged and dropped in the recycle bin of the garage. I can devour gigabytes of technology and assimilate all the “who, what, where, when, and whys” of them almost as quickly as new products can be launched. My HOS (Human Operating System) just seems to intrinsically download data transfer principles to my root directory, and in spite of its dry nature, I know it is a true mark of an official geek squad member.

Boldly going where few women, or men for that matter, had gone, I quickly graduated from that 1989 Tandy DOS-based computer and purchased my first hard drive computer. I fearlessly crashed and re-crashed it, only to satisfy a voracious appetite for discovering what made it tech-tick. I also learned that brave women are not born; they evolve. I proudly wore my evolutionary badge of binary courage, bit by byte storing computer chips of communications in my RAM and ROM, until I gradually optimized the mysteries of the memory and motherboard.

I soon learned all human CPUs do not process in computer-file fashion, as my husband, children, parents, siblings, friends, colleagues, and students boarded the tech-train, too. I painfully listened as they inverted terminologies like “upload” and “download.” They confused WWW and Internet and frequently sent me a URL with an ill-placed “@” sign or an email with an “http://” address. Even my saying the word “browser” yielded “a “deer-in-the-headlights” look as they mistook its meaning for “search engines.” Becoming computer savvy was like learning a new language. I advanced in the technology ranks and became the techno-guru in my circle. I even considered abandoning my English major for Computer Science.

In the 1990s, hard drives, monitors, software, and processor speeds changed as quickly as dot.com companies. I spent long nights, biting my lips and furrowing my brow over the dreaded blue screen, while working to resolve the reason behind each computer’s crash. Isolated in my home office, I learned the language and the technology in those dark, West Texas nights, while my family slept, oblivious to the excitement of the Information Highway and the broken-down vehicle I labored over in order to continue my travels there. So it was; interest became fascination and passion became obsession. I was addicted.

New technology continues to transform my ears to Vulcan-like status, as they grow peaked and pointed toward new innovations. Recently, I have lusted for Apple’s captivating iPad, that powerful little slate of joyful possibilities. HD commercials continue to bombard my senses and whet my appetite for yet another marvel of the ages, taunting me with applications to multi-task at supersonic speeds, yes, all bundled up in one sleek, chic, skinny body. How cool, and perhaps smug, would I look popping a perky iPad from my already overstuffed travel bag of gadgetry? Oh, how efficient could I be with the Internet only a data-tip and key-click away, an extension of my very soul?

And this week, technology talk continues to Twitter and text its temptations to my e-mail inbox, luring me with a new and improved iPhone possibly coming soon to a Verizon near me. What must I do? More, more, more of what I adore!

Inevitably, it had to happen: a “Come-to Jesus” meeting regarding technology ownership, an honest and agonizing dose of reality. Multiple modes of media already manage my life; however, I am human and my desires do threaten my resolve. Thus far, I am holding firm in my decision to abstain from buying the iPad or switching my cell service to the iPhone. Each day, Me, Myself, and I fight over my firmness quotient, reminding me how hard I work, a bitter dispute of my deservedness. Me and Myself pressure me to rush online to place the order, but I have prevailed with “Ten Good Reasons NOT to Press the Submit Button.

• 1-9: I have nine computers (plus a Kindle, a digital camera, an eDictionary, and three DVRs connected to flat screen televisions always in need of programing).
• 10: There aren’t enough hours in the day to utilize an iPad and iPhone to their full potentials without neglecting my other prized technologies.

I have wised up and left this advice to myself: “Use up, shut up, and close up my wallet.” Everyday something bigger and faster, more powerful, more interesting, and more fun surfaces. The iPad’s replacement is around the corner. Rather than run around that corner, I think I will just stroll.