cheryl santa maria

The Interwebs are a-buzz over Prince’s latest interview with the UK’s Daily Mirror, where he declared technology to be dead:

“The internet’s completely over. I don’t see why I should give my new music to iTunes or anyone else. They won’t pay me an advance for it and then they get angry when they can’t get it … The internet’s like MTV. At one time MTV was hip and suddenly it became outdated. Anyway, all these computers and digital gadgets are no good …They just fill your head with numbers and that can’t be good for you”,

the 52 year-old (!) singer said.  Prince’s upcoming album 20Ten – his 33rd release – will be released in CD format only and will not be available for download (legally, at least).

Unlike most musicians Prince has been reluctant to embrace the age of technology.  In addition to iTunes, his disdain for YouTube is fairly common knowledge.  He’s banned both companies from using his music and videos and, according to Popeater, he’s disabled his personal website.

Oh, how I love Prince.  He’s one of those rare individuals that enjoys continued success despite constantly biting the hands that feed him.  Remember his  public debacle with Time Warner in 1993?  it made headlines for years.  That’s the reason he changed his name into that weird, unpronounceable symbol, and when asked about the contraversy he would drone on ad nauseum about the evils of his music executive overlords.

Prince has always been one to challenge authority so it’s no surprise he’s taken aim at the Interwebs.  Of course he would question that which binds the modern world together.  Eccentricity and rebellion has always been his shtick and it’s worked out well for him.

That’s not to say that I disagree with him completely.  Unlike indie and lesser-known musicians that must depend on the Internet for exposure, Prince is a superstar.  His music will sell regardless of his distribution medium, so he need not bother with iTunes and YouTube.  I don’t, however, agree with his admission that “computers and digital gadgets are no good”.  As I’ve already argued, technology won’t turn society into a mass of blithering, anti-social drones – we’re doing a fine job of doing that to ourselves. 

But kudos to Prince anyway – for having the courage to speak his mind, and for providing me with today’s writing material.

Is text messaging the devil’s work? An evil plot, sent to earth by a villain intent on destroying us?

In all likelihood it isn’t – but that’s not what the pundits would like you to believe.

Over the years text messaging has been blamed for everything that’s wrong with the world, from declining grammar skills to antisocial behaviour.  It’s played a part in identity theft scams and has been known to throw a wrench into public careers (just ask former Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick - a one-time “rising star” whose political career ended in 2008 when he became embroiled in a text messaging scandal). 

“Textual harrassment” is a new phenomenon that’s been gaining traction in the news.  It was most recently featured in the Washington Post in a story that draws a correlation between it and violence against women, citing the murder of 22 year-old  Yeardley Love, whose death was precipitated by threatenting messages on her cell phone.

“Textual harrassement”, with it’s headline-friendly moniker, is examined ad nauseum by the media and has been known to get the tongues of  technophobes wagging.  Yet despite all the posturing and debate that’s been going on in the news,  it’s a pretty safe bet that the technologies that make texting possible aren’t going anywhere.

As long as common sense is practised text messaging is harmless – but that doesn’t make for front page news.  Truth be told, it’s far easier to blame society’s problems (like declining grammar/social skills and violence against women) on emerging technologies rather than on the society itself.  If our communities are truly in decline then we’re the ones that need to be examined, not our electronics. 

So text away my friends.  You’re perfectly safe in doing so – as long as you aren’t doing it behind the wheel of a car, of course.

I used to date a guy who was head over heels in love with his BlackBerry.

He’d bring the stupid thing everywhere – to formal occasions,  to family dinners … I even saw him use it  in church.  When he wasn’t using his BlackBerry he’d clutch it tightly in his hand, terrified to put it down for even a second.

I wish I was exaggerating but that’s the honest-to-goodness truth.  One night over dinner, I asked him to his BlackBerry away for an hour so we could enjoy our meal in peace.

He looked at me, mortified.

“Are you crazy?” he said. “What if I get an important email while we’re eating? what if somebody calls me? what then, Cheryl? what then?”

I sat there staring at him for a minute, dumbfounded.  How could a stupid gadget wedge itself in between a perfectly happy couple – and in such a short amount of time?

It was then that I realized that smartphone users are completely and utterly insane. For many, the smartphone is more than a mere electronic device – it’s also a security blanket.  For others, it doubles as a pathetic status symbol.

Bored in a meeting? Pull out the smartphone.
Forced to make awkward conversation in an elevator? Pull out the smartphone.
Want to ignore the homeless person begging for change on the street? Pull out the smartphone.

The phones are ingenious, really – not only for their user-friendly interfaces and sleek designs – but also for they way they have created a socially-acceptable manner for people to mentally “check out” of unpleasant or awkward situations.

I say that smartphone overuse is “socially acceptable” because, as of yet, there is no universal “BlackBerry etiquette” in corporate America.  Earlier this year, the NY Times ran an article suggesting that roughly twenty percent of employees have been chastised for smartphone overuse.  Here in Ontario, the problem has become so bad that we’ve had to enact a law that prevents people from using electronic devices whilst driving.

I know that I’m susceptible to the powers of the smartphone, which is precisely why I don’t have one.  I suppose it’s only a matter of time before I jump on the bandwagon, though.  But until that time, I’ll continue to enjoy making self-righteous remarks about the ill-affected.

Expect a post revoking all of the statements I’ve made here in 12-24 months time.

What can I say? I may hold out longer than most, but in the end my consumer impulses always get the best of me.

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I was once afflicted with a bad case of writer’s block. It lasted for eighteen months.

It’s not that I didn’t have ideas. I had plenty. They’d hit me unexpectedly – thwack – but as soon as I’d try to put them on paper they’d simply disappear.

I screamed.

I cried.

I curled up into a ball and hid under my bed covers.

But I still couldn’t write.

Humans are a judgy race. I judge; you judge. Half of the time we won’t say what we’re thinking but we all pass judgment. We can’t help it; we’ve evolved that way.

You are judged.

I am judged.

Me – I’m small and young-looking. I smile a lot. I have a childish voice; when I answer my phone telemarketers routinely ask if they can speak to my parents. I have a hard time standing up for myself.

These attributes practically scream “meek, stupid, uninformed and gullible.”     I’m not being self-deprecating or looking for sympathy – I’m simply calling a spade a spade. I am not any of these things and I’m proud of who I am  – but that doesn’t change the way others tend to judge me.

Writing has always been the best way to voice my opinions and defend myself. When I write nobody regards me as if I am a sack of nails. I am the queen of scathing, angry letters and eviscerating reviews. Not being able to write was more than an inconvenience. I felt like I had been robbed of my voice. It was as if I was suffering from a prolonged case of laryngitis and it was absolutely horrible.

During that time I was in contact with another, more successful, writer.

“A true writer will continue to write even when there’s nothing to write about,” he told me. “Write grocery lists if you have to. Just keep writing. If you don’t – or ‘can’t’, as you like to say – you shouldn’t call yourself a writer.”

He didn’t help matters.

When I reached month seventeen of my drought I set out on a mission to discover what had stumped my abilities.

There is an interesting article online. It’s called Information Overload and it’s  by William Van Winkle. He says that we are bombarded with too much information.

This, according to Van Winkle, can cause depression, anxiety and disease.

Did you know that the typical business manager is said to read one million words per week?

Or that a Sunday edition of the New York Times carries more information than the average 19th-century citizen accessed in his entire life?

It’s true, says Van Winkle.

And what is the quality of the information we’re processing? Most of it is useless.

George Carlin is my idol. He is incomparable and brilliant. He has a monologue about choice in modern society. I am paraphrasing, but here is the gist of what he says:

“They speak about freedom of choice (in capitalist society). What we really have is limited choice. (In America) we have two political parties, essentially.

Big media companies? Five, maybe six, max.

Oil companies? Down to three, I think.

All of the important things are reduced in choice … we only have one or two big newspapers in the city and they’re owned by the same people.

But jelly beans and ice cream? Thirty-two flavours. Your only real freedom of choice in America is smoking or non, paper or plastic, aisle or window. All of your important choices are already laid out for you.”

I over think things.

In the summer Wal-Mart has an aisle dedicated to sunscreen. I once wasted an hour in there and I came out empty handed.

Now imagine all of us, collectively caught up making these inane decisions. We’re all stuck in the ice-cream parlours trying to decide between Vanilla Bean and French Vanilla. We waste one minute here and a minute there and all of the sudden it’s time for bed.  Where did the day go? We ask.

We’re exhausted.

We drift off to sleep, thinking about the twenty-seven emails that will be waiting for us in the morning and we don’t have time to think about the war and the murdered children and our rising health care costs.

When we engage useless information we become a shell of the person we are supposed to be.

When I worry about useless things I cannot write.

When I tune out the frivolous things that surround me my creativity comes in waves.