Internet Time

It has been a long time since my last post. This lag time -- consider it a blogger's method of being fashionably late -- will, I warn you, be the norm so it's good that you know now. I will not be consistent and cinch my days with a quick post that coincides with the close of twilight. And it's not because I don't have the time, it's because I'm reluctant to reset my internal clock to sync up with Internet time which is demonically faster and more demanding.

You've probably already realized that real time and Internet time are inequitable. I know this because I can easily spend 1 real day on the Internet and it feels like 1 week of my real life has passed by leaving me hunch-backed and closer to never being able to read 10 point font ever again.

Soon, I'm certain, a prodigious member of Generation Y will find the formula for Internet aging which will be shockingly similar to the one used for calculating the age of dogs. Nobody will be happy when that day comes. Because that's when we'll all realize that we are doing the most unthinkable and unforgivable thing we can do as important human beings with very important things to do -- we are allowing Internet time to waste our real time.

The Internet is for me, the technology that has made me most respectful of some of the most treasured cliches and old adages related to time -- what it is, what it does, and what we should do with it. Take these sayings for example.

- Time is of the essence
- Time marches on
- Time flies when you are having fun
- You don't find time, you make time
- Use your time wisely
- You can't take back time

I could add the word "Internet" to each of these sayings thereby changing their meanings to reflect our new digital reality and ever developing lexicon that encompasses words and phrases like IM, Mbps, and Twitter.

Today, for example, I spent almost 6 hours of Internet time (which felt like 3 real time days) sorting stuff I can't touch, smell, or taste. I replied to Facebook messages. I cleaned out my email folders. I updated my Netflicks queue. I unsubscribed to about 1/100 of the junk mail solicitations that I don't remember ever signing up for. I Googled my name, "Maxine Hurt," to see what came up. I checked to see if Bono had another OP Ed posted on The New Yorker website. I checked the weather in Paris, looked up the word of the day on Dictionary.com, and I watched my baby nephew crawl for the first time on Skype.

Was it all a waste of time? No. But much of it was. That's the problem with Internet time. It's of the essence, it marches on, it flies, you can't find it you make it, you can't take it back, and just like it's brethren real time, it needs to be used wisely.