Might as well call it, I fail at the internet. So bad that Facebook Facebooks for me.

There's something unnerving about Web 2.0 using itself to contact people to lure you back into the fold. Probably because it is the beginnings of the ultimate script(ure?). In collides fact, fiction, fallacy, society, gossip-mongering, mirror-voyeurism, information that doesn't stop expanding except in it's lack of usefulness. It's all there, and it's egalitarian attitude allows new, larger cliques to congeal because there has to be someone out there that shares your thoughts. And that all you can have hope for is being entertained by the tapping of keys of someone else, and be able to rest assured someone is out there doing the same to your non-existent tracks being copied and hidden and stored. Until such time power is lost, the circuits corrode and the whole thing fades from living memory. Even then someone could still probably retrieve it all.

I'm just waiting fo the day that our brains can't cope anymore. Where too much information renders us comatose as we wade through the information mentally. Passwords and usernames, codes and means of access. For all its sharing there's a new trapdoor and false wall made to hide behind or store anything of actual value, while the easily accessed is simply drivel.

It's really odd living in a generation that lived on the cusp of the shift. Where we know enough to get by, but remember a time before spell checks, mail that found you, and when being informed didn't mean Google or Wikipedia. For some it's like it always existed and they might as well live in their screens. It's no wonder there's even sites now that search all the likely places to bring together all that disparate and scattered information about you together with a few words and for a price.

The fact is I'm beginning to think that I'm not just consciously avoiding these things, and that they strike at a deep fear about a loss of choice. Choice as to whether I want any of this to become more than external to me. Accepting automated reminders, canned and flawed information, and an even stronger than ever desire to know about everything-and-nothing at all as reflex.

The fact is I'm weak, we're all weak. That's part of the point of living. And this patch on our humanity makes us think we're beginning to transcend all of that. Just because we heard it, saw it, did it, beat it virtually.

And I'll be damned if I let any of that attitude make me fail reality too.

Keith