I think the internet has stolen a piece of my soul. How else can I explain it?
I spend way too much time on the internet, surfing, reading, always feeling there’s something else eluding my discovery, taunting my nescience… but what?
Whatever it is I want back, it’s not coming. There is no White Rabbit. I’ve tried many different tactics.
Ignoring it doesn’t work. Whatever it is I’m ignoring is far better at ignoring me.
Bribes don’t work. I try to put something out there, a kind of peace offering, “proof” of a goodwill that pleads for the return of what’s mine.
Sometimes I’m tricked into thinking that there’s hope. It appeals to my creative side, to a boulder of imagination richly laden with potential energy… if I could only dislodge it.
When did all this begin? The very beginning is impossible to pinpoint, wisps of infuence rising all along the timeline all the way back to…?
Something happened when I got a T1 connection at UF. Then I started my own website. I started learning Flash. I started a blog. I got my own dot-com.
And still I blunder on, ever uncertain if my accumulations mean anything at all, that place forever unquenched…