Tuesday, September 22
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Birthday Week Story #2: Yes, You Can Befriend The Internet Once upon a time (July, 2003), I drove from Paradise Valley, Arizona, to Mesa, to meet some friends who I’d met via The Ataris Message Board during my junior and senior years of high school. These same friends and I had tried out the very primitive forms of voice chat available to us in ‘01-‘02, and now I laugh to think about the world before Skype and video chat. The best part of the drive was being able to park in the middle of the freeway under an inky blue night sky dotted with stars (Arizona is very strict about light pollution, so you can actually see constellations and not mistake planes for celestial bodies, as we are wont to do in Southern California). There was no one else driving on the freeway at 10 PM, and I knew I’d never be able to do it in my own state. So I parked in the middle and sat on the hood of the car and sketched for awhile. Yes, I spent a lot of time online during my formative high school years, but I think I was able to grow even more as a writer, artist and musician *because* of the random, geography-nullifying online interactions that were made possible because of dial-up. The kind hearts and goodwill of random friends made through my high school blog rescued me when my prom date, who I’d asked, declared that I’d have to buy his ticket for him and I wasn’t sure if I would be able to afford tickets *and* dress. Kids from the message board helped proofread my college application essays — hell, two of them drove from LA and San Diego to come hang out and do it in person, like older, wiser siblings I never had. Who does that? It was definitely a bit harder to explain, “My friends came from the computer, Ma!” back in ‘01. They remembered my birthday, and I theirs. How funny is it that you actually felt loved, in a way if they started a thread celebrating the anniversary of you emerging from your mother’s uterus. They were supportive when anyone was going through a rough patch, and offered advice when it was asked for. We shared a voracious appetite for new music, and for creating music of our own. We talked about design and art and film, and shared a lot of the same pet peeves when it came to user interfaces and tools for people to connect virtually. I even landed a recording session in San Diego for the summer of ‘02 because of friends of friends from a message board. These little tidbits, both 2D and 3D — some of us kicked off penpal relationships, complete with care packages, via snail mail — were meaningful because they reminded us that we weren’t completely alone, even if we felt that way, due to our geography and environments. The amount of sharing people are doing has only increased since 2001/2002, and I hope that the immense amount of online mixing and mingling and reblogging we’ve witnessed translates off the screen and into real-life hugs and handshakes and adventures of the 3D kind. That’s where the real magic happens.

Birthday Week Story #2: Yes, You Can Befriend The Internet

Once upon a time (July, 2003), I drove from Paradise Valley, Arizona, to Mesa, to meet some friends who I’d met via The Ataris Message Board during my junior and senior years of high school. These same friends and I had tried out the very primitive forms of voice chat available to us in ‘01-‘02, and now I laugh to think about the world before Skype and video chat.

The best part of the drive was being able to park in the middle of the freeway under an inky blue night sky dotted with stars (Arizona is very strict about light pollution, so you can actually see constellations and not mistake planes for celestial bodies, as we are wont to do in Southern California). There was no one else driving on the freeway at 10 PM, and I knew I’d never be able to do it in my own state. So I parked in the middle and sat on the hood of the car and sketched for awhile.

Yes, I spent a lot of time online during my formative high school years, but I think I was able to grow even more as a writer, artist and musician *because* of the random, geography-nullifying online interactions that were made possible because of dial-up.

The kind hearts and goodwill of random friends made through my high school blog rescued me when my prom date, who I’d asked, declared that I’d have to buy his ticket for him and I wasn’t sure if I would be able to afford tickets *and* dress.

Kids from the message board helped proofread my college application essays — hell, two of them drove from LA and San Diego to come hang out and do it in person, like older, wiser siblings I never had. Who does that? It was definitely a bit harder to explain, “My friends came from the computer, Ma!” back in ‘01.

They remembered my birthday, and I theirs. How funny is it that you actually felt loved, in a way if they started a thread celebrating the anniversary of you emerging from your mother’s uterus. They were supportive when anyone was going through a rough patch, and offered advice when it was asked for. We shared a voracious appetite for new music, and for creating music of our own. We talked about design and art and film, and shared a lot of the same pet peeves when it came to user interfaces and tools for people to connect virtually.

I even landed a recording session in San Diego for the summer of ‘02 because of friends of friends from a message board. These little tidbits, both 2D and 3D — some of us kicked off penpal relationships, complete with care packages, via snail mail — were meaningful because they reminded us that we weren’t completely alone, even if we felt that way, due to our geography and environments.

The amount of sharing people are doing has only increased since 2001/2002, and I hope that the immense amount of online mixing and mingling and reblogging we’ve witnessed translates off the screen and into real-life hugs and handshakes and adventures of the 3D kind. That’s where the real magic happens.