Had an interesting conversation with some young friends today. The three of us are a part of an online community known as deviantart.com - we're part of a small, real life and as well as online writing group. So we have these moments where we've communicated online - commented on a piece of work, or talked about the last time we were together - and then the next day we meet in person. I, for one, noted that often the young person I'd "talked" with online, would essentially make no open acknowledgement of the online conversation, no matter how interesting or intimate. Curious.
Today one of these people says that now that a person that she "follows" online (as in follows a blog) is attending school (this person attended an offsite program last semester) she finds it awkward seeing her in person. She says they don't really acknowledge one another though they have shared intimate and deep conversation, and really appreciate one another's art (photography and such). Hmmm.
So I asked these two about this phenomenon, and they readily acknowledged the duality of their lives. What they do and say during their online living is not at all necessarily evident in their real-life living. In fact they say that they feel much more comfortable online because they are able to take the time to think before they interact. They don't have to respond right away. They don't have to deal with the awkwardness of their bodies, their eyes, their hands, etcetera. Then, when they come to school, or some other public place, and meet someone that they've interacted with online it's a real "buzz-kill." It's as though you pull back the curtain on the wizard and he's not what you'd hoped (my analogy).
Well to me this helps to explain the retreat into hooded sweatshirts and ear-buds of some young folks. They don't really feel like their real-life self matches their online persona, so they minimize that impact for themselves and others as much as possible.
If this is the case there's something both wonderful, and weird, about it. It's wonderful because young people are finding places to have deep conversations and to express themselves in ways they might not have ever had before. It's weird because they are doing this when they are physically isolated from other humans - and they seem to need (some of them anyway) to "carry" that isolation with them into the public spaces they are forced to inhabit.
Some of this seems ominous to me. The virtuality of the screened world attracts me. I like to be online. I like to smile and chuckle at the screen. I like to look at people's pictures. I like the way a webcam can help to recreate, in a flattering way, who I appear to be. I like to be able to take my time to respond. I like it that this helps to make me appear, and feel, more competent.
But, it's all at the expense of real time spent with people. Is this virtuality becoming a more palatable substitute for our physicality? Or is this all just growing pains, and as these technologies become regular and common, we'll learn how to balance the virtual and the real - the online public and the physical public?
My experience with online communities has tended to enhance my real life interactions with people. I love commenting on the ABES blog when I can't ride with them in winter. It feels like I can, in some way, keep up. I like knowing that someone's reading this blog, and when they've commented, and I meet them in person, I'm likely to say something about it. But I do also feel this strange separation of the online and the real. My sense is that this disconnect will faze out over time, or we'll just get used to managing multiple personas - real, online, and so on.
Ride report
in: - 28'C wind WNW 10 ks
out: - 27'C wind WNW 10 ks
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