Too Much Information

The good news about living in the Information Age is that just about everybody can express what is on his or her mind. In other eras, only writers wrote. Not today. Anybody can self-publish a book, send an email to someone thousands of miles away, or write a blog about whatever she or he wants. It's a wonderful thing that so many people can tell others anything they want about themselves. But why do they feel they have to tell everything about themselves?

When people first started buying cell phones, they did so primarily because they found these devices could be helpful in an emergency. Then they discovered that cell phones could help them keep in touch with work or home. So far, not so bad. But next, people became so addicted to talking and texting on cell phones that now many people feel they have to use them every few seconds. I was in a theater a few days ago, watching a children's dance recital when the guy behind me refused to stop texting and checking for messages once the show began. An usher soon told him that using a cell phone during the performance was not allowed. So, did the guy stop using it and watch the show? Nope. He left the auditorium so he could continue to use his cell phone rather than watch his kid dance.

Like the cell phone, the Internet seemed harmless enough when we first started using it. We could look up interesting facts, and we could tell our family and friends important things any time of the day. But then things started to get out of hand. My theory is that this deterioration began when people discovered that they could use e-mail to instantly send unfunny jokes to as many people as they desired.

Next came the personal blog, yet another mixed blessing. Good writers could tell about their daily lives in fascinating and creative ways. Of course, not so good writers could tell about their daily lives in totally boring ways.

Social networking sites followed. These are things like Facebook, MySpace, and whatever new one has become popular since I started typing this. The interesting thing about these sites is that you no longer are restricted to e-mailing your friends about your life. Now you can write to complete strangers and tell them whatever you want. And what are these strangers called on these sites? "Friends."

Twitter has fine-tuned the phenomenon of e-mailing people about one's own life. On Twitter, your "tweets" are limited to 140 typed characters. But don't worry. You can send as many of these short messages as you want.

We've all heard stories about lurid photographs and messages on these sites, but is most of the communication sexy or outrageous? No, it's dull, duller than you can imagine if you haven't been on the receiving end of this stuff.

Here is a sampling of the kind of things that those on Facebook and Twitter send out to other people:

"I'm getting thirsty."

"I'm thinking of trying a new toothpaste."

"I don't want to catch a cold."

"I just finished packing for tomorrow's trip."

"I really like the color blue."

I'm not kidding. These are the kind of messages that people spend hours and hours sending and receiving. (Well, I did change the color to "blue" to protect the identity of the sender).

Are people supposed to respond? If someone sends a message that says, "I'm really tired," does he expect people to write back advising whether he should go to sleep or not? Some people send running updates of their day: "On my way to work now" is followed by "Almost at work now" and "At work now." Am I supposed to respond, "Congratulations!"?

I don't think so. I have the feeling that people who send up-to-the-minute updates of their daily life don't care if we respond or not. My hunch is that the pleasure they derive is just from writing about changing their fish's water or finding a paper clip in the street.

That would make them just interested in pure self-expression, not the reaction of others. On the other hand, maybe they are interested in others' reactions, and those of us who haven't responded are letting them down. I'm sure I could devote much more time to thinking about this. But not now. I'm going to take a shower.

No Email Day

According to his staff, once Barack Obama becomes President, he'll probably have to stop sending all those emails he likes to send. Not surprisingly, there are some concerns about email security since it seems like everybody but me knows how to hack into someone else's email. In addition, the Presidential Records Act requires that all correspondence of a President must be made part of the public record. Obviously, we don't need to have hours and hours of him saying things like, "Love you, too," or "Who won the game?" in the Smithsonian. So, it looks like he'll be hanging up the old Blackberry – his emailing, phone calling, Internet checking, etc. device.

It's ironic to cut Obama off from the Internet since the Internet was such an important part of his campaign – and of his victory. It also seems somewhat unfair. I mean, if he's comfortable communicating this way, should he really have to stop? He was elected President of the United States. It's not like telling your teenage kid to stop using the Internet. And let's put it in an historical perspective: suppose they told Lincoln he could no longer use a pen to draft his speeches? We might never have had the Gettysburg Address.

But as we've seen over and over again, President-elect Obama is a very disciplined man. If he has to give up communicating via the Internet, I'm sure he will. But would you be able to? It might not be as easy as it sounds. I think a lot of us are addicted to writing e-mails, checking our e-mails, sending messages via Facebook or I.Ms., etc.

Here's a simple test to see if you are an Internet messaging addict:

1)You come home from a party. Are you capable of going to bed without checking your messages?

2)In the morning, do you feel you have to check your messages before you eat breakfast?

3)You're having sex when you hear a beep that means you have an incoming message. Do you ignore it, answer it, or try to get the sex over with as soon as possible so you can check the message?

4)When you're bored or waiting for a phone call, do you sometimes send completely unnecessary messages to people, such as: "Call you later," "I'm thinking of getting a haircut," or "I'm really bored?"

5)Do you ever go through your electronic address book, looking for people you haven't sent messages to lately, and then send them a message like those in Question 4?

If you answered "yes" to any of these questions, you could be an Internet messaging addict. If you answered "Yes" to Question #3, your relationship is also in trouble.

I'm not saying that this is necessarily a dangerous addiction. What I am saying is that many of us waste a lot of time doing this and could probably cut down on it.

Here's my proposal. Even if you're not an addict, why don't we all show some solidarity with the President-elect by having a No Email Day? Let's all just stop using email for one day. (And by email, I also mean all the other electronic ways people communicate, so don't be a wise guy and think you can keep I.M.-ing). These are difficult times for our country, and by doing this we can demonstrate that we are capable of making sacrifices.

You get to pick your own day for your No Email Day. We don't all have to do it on the same day. That way, you can pick a Sunday when you know you won't need to send messages for work, or a Wednesday when you know you won't have to send messages about last night's football game.

A few years ago, most of us were spending zero minutes a day emailing. Surely, we can go back to that for just one day, especially if Obama is going to be refraining for at least four years. I'm going to set a good example, by starting things off. Right when I finish this column, I'm going to stop sending and checking on electronic messages for 24 hours. Ready, set, go!

Okay, okay. I admit it. I only lasted 20 minutes. In a moment of weakness, I walked back to my computer, and once I was there, the next thing I knew I was checking on my email. (No new messages, by the way). Well, I guess it proves one thing: Now we know I'll never be able to be President.