Why I chose to disconnect

By Lacey Klingensmith

When I called home the other day from halfway around the world to talk to my sister, I didn't expect that I would be taking turns with others who had the same intention.

She isn't a celebrity, nor is she any more popular than the average girl, but thanks to online social networks like Facebook and MySpace, she has culled a combined total of more than 1,000 ``friends," some of whom were the cause of the aforementioned interruptions during our conversation.

By no means do I grudge anyone the right to speak freely with whomever they choose, and I hold nothing personal against any of my sibling's acquaintances. What I do have a problem with is the multi-channeled technology that makes her accessible to all of us simultaneously.

Since when has granting someone the courtesy of our undivided attention become too much to ask?

Since when has the habit of telling someone to ``hold on" numerous times to answer calls on other lines, to send and answer text messages, or worst of all, to pick up the phone while dining out with a companion (excluding allowances for the necessity of emergencies), which was at one time acknowledged by most of us as rude, become an acceptable standard of behavior?

On another occasion, I called home to say hello to my four-year-old niece with whom I hadn't had the chance to speak in nearly six months. Usually fond of any opportunity to chat on the phone, she was at that moment too absorbed with watering her grandmother's virtual garden on ``Farmville" (a popular game on Facebook) to show any interest in acknowledging my greeting. Here I witnessed the lamentable attitude of half-attention toward others being instilled into a young child who should not have been allowed to remain in front of a distracting computer.

There must be a good reason why no one feels much like talking. Perhaps I am a conversational bore and it's simply a coincidence that I've seen an increasing number of editorials addressing this very same issue appear in various newspapers.

Nonetheless, I still get a sense that there is a widespread disillusionment with these technologies simmering beneath the surface of certain pockets of society, calling into question the authenticity of the communication they permit to take place.

So many have spoken out about it, in fact, that I'm afraid I'm becoming disillusioned by their criticisms. One can only ask so many questions before it becomes necessary to posit a conclusion. If the general consensus admits a suspicion that these technologies are not really paving the way toward better communication, then why are we still keeping them around?

Could it be that, under the guise of promoting more frequent and far-reaching communication, the promulgators of these social apparatuses (i.e., we ourselves who give them a vote of approval with every login) are actually trying to hide the fact that we no longer have anything meaningful to say to one another?

That we can now only define ourselves through ready-made surveys, personality quizzes, emoticons, and webpage layouts? That we impose arbitrary content limitations on ourselves to legitimize saying less with fewer characters in smaller spaces? That we are compensating for a lack with these information overloads, crowded circuits, and cluttered airwaves?

All I know is that somewhere in the midst of this confusion, I realized I forgot who I was. I chose to disconnect to reconnect with myself, and through myself, to rediscover the world of others.

For real communication to take place, it takes a self to know a self.

The writer is working as an English teacher in Korea and can be reached at lnkling@hotmail.com.