When there is no Paris.
written by Julie R. Neidlinger 2 comments link this post"We'll always have Paris."
-- Rick, from the film Casablanca
-- Rick, from the film Casablanca
Back in college, when the dot.com explosion was happening and the internet was catching fire, I read a book called Data Smog: Surviving the Information Glut. I admit to not remembering as much as I should from what was likely a good book, but I do recall something that the author, David Shenk, said.
He talked about how part of remembering information involves what I call the geography of the moment. That is, we remember things better by attaching things like surroundings, smells, sounds -- the geography of the moment -- to what we've just learned. He postulated that much of the reading and learning that takes place in front of our computer lacks this. We come across vast amounts of information but that it all takes place on the same computer screen in the same room and after a while, it is difficult to see separation instead of a sort of shapeless blog of abstract "stuff we've read."
We miss the geography of the moment.
After a while, it becomes difficult to remember exactly what we read, when we read it, where we found it...without our bookmarks or browsing history, we're a bit lost.
Shenk was right, at least in some sense. There are times I remember something vague, such as knowing that the book containing the information I'm looking for was blue, or that I first understood a concept while standing in a specific store. With the internet, I only have even the vaguest sense of all the clicking and hyperlinks and where I read or found some bit of information. I am often frustrated when I know I've read something and can't even find it with Google, just a few days later.
This made me think about people. And this painting, which puts into words the association I have with people and the geography of the actual place as well as the geography of the moment.
I connect people with places. They often seem real to me because they are also connected with a real place, a real moment. It's easier to deal with people in such a way, especially if they are no longer a part of my life because of death or they've moved away or I've lost touch. If I can connect them with some kind of geography -- a place or a moment -- it makes it easier, somehow, for my memory to understand the who and the why and the what.
I can say "I remember when" or "I remember where" or, at the most basic, "I remember."
The people I've met on the internet are real. They are. Many I consider good friends. However, they all share the same geography of place and moment, and it makes it so much more difficult to differentiate and to understand what place they have (or no longer have) in my life. I don't have to say "I remember"; I merely have to read my email archives and the moment is present. It's as confusing as the midnight sun.
It would be so much easier to say to a sad heart "We'll always have Paris" knowing I don't have to visit Paris and be continually reminded of bittersweet things, but when all I have is the computer screen that I visit multiple times a day...I'm never quite sure what to do with that.
Labels: essay, internet, relationships
Copyright (c) Julie R. Neidlinger 9/05/2007 12:01:00 AM
Like this post? Subscribe to the feed.
Help support this site.
Facebook |
Stumble It! |
Del.icio.us |
DiggIt! |
Technorati |
Blinklist |
Furl |
reddit |
Newsvine
2 Comments:
Very interesting thoughts. This is why I try to tie every person I interact with on the Internet with Flame Warriors. That is my "geography of the moment" as you put it.
Your banner cartoon is hilarious. I would not want to be the guy in color though. He is wearing a pink bowtie.
By 
David Cho, at
5/9/07 01:49
What -- you got a problem with pink bow ties?
Nothing says class like a pink bow tie.
It is actually not pink. The technical term is "light red."
By Julie R. Neidlinger, at
5/9/07 07:38
