Connecting On(The Fine)Line

It's a little late to wax poetic (11:19 pm on a work night), so I'll cut to the chase: I spend way too much time on the Internet. When semi-intellectual conversations lead to the inevitable question "What did you do before the Internet?" my standard reply is quite simple:

"I was in 7th grade."

For self-confessed homebodies such as myself, there's a lot to be said about a medium that allows us to keep in touch with the outside world while simultaneously enabling us to remain in our respective comfort zones. Thanks to the Internet, it's become far easier for the greater population to actualize the adage "No man is an island," as loners the world over log on, intrepidly walking that fine line between society and solitude.

In addition to making it possible for me to obtain essentials such as housing, employment, animal supplies, and husbands, the Internet has also connected me with people from all over the world, a few of whom I am proud to call friends.

Take, for instance, the woman who has continuously fought her way through life. In exposing me to realities that I have yet to experience, you remind me to keep my self-pitying tendencies in check.

Or, the neurotic young lady who, in the pursuit of self-improvement, diligently picks apart every uncomfortable sensation, emotion, and thought. As I talk you through your issues, I realize how far I've come, and how far I have yet to go.

And my brilliant, irreverent friend. It's painful to see you waste your potential on unproductive things, and to see you seek easy validation through the affections of others, in part because I share your self-destructive tendencies.

There's the man an ocean and a continent away, someone who, regardless of superficial discrepancies, seems so much like me it's uncanny. You make me feel at ease in my skin.

And you, Miss Havisham, my ex-friend. This bitter old crone is a glaring example of how important it is to maintain a balanced perspective. Get off the 'net and into the sun. Or better yet, get thee to the local pub, knock back a few, and end the evening butt naked, flat on your back with your legs in the air, why don't you.

In a virtual sea of complacent bovine masks, religious nuts, illiterate paramecia, and perverts who want to listen to me pee, you all stand out. Being bored at work was never this interesting.