Married to MySpace

I confess, I’m sick.

I should be locked up in a large white room and studied. My brain should be examined. Guys in scary white lab coats should be allowed to dissect me in the name of science. Why? I am an Internet addict. I probably have more conversations online in one hour than I do in real time.

But I’m not alone in this sickness. No friends, I am one dollar is very large vault of money of people who admit the Internet has become more like an always available friend than a piece of technology.

According to a study, 1 in 4 Americas wouldn’t mind being alone – just as long as they have Internet access.

My mom read this story to me over dinner. My hand shot up like a rocket as I proclaimed, “Oh, hell yeah! That’s me.”

She read off the list of categories the survey addressed.

“Can the Internet serve as a substitute for a significant other?”

I kept my hand raised.

“Would you want a brain implant with Web access?”

Hand still raised I shamelessly said, “Yes.”

My parents think I’m a crazy. But being born in a generation where technology is becoming more and more of a presence I think I get a get out of jail free card for wishing for something like that. Granted, I’m not as big a visitor of MySpace and FaceBook as I used to be – I still am vastly dependent on the Internet. Though it is sad to admit my life exists on a 13-inch portable screen, what else am I suppose to do? Go out and play? Please…

-- Eming Piansay