Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Technology and me, well, ours is a complicated relationship. Certainly I appreciate the convenience of wi-fi, visit Hulu regularly, partake in the latest hits on Xbox, and marvel over the clarity of Blu-ray. At the same time, though, I’m still using a flip phone with texting and Internet connectivity willfully crippled. I refuse to understand Facebook. When I actually have my phone on me, it’s turned off to prevent bathing myself in whatever cosmic rays are beaming to and from the device. Same goes for my VPN token. It’s, like, the ability to work remotely is fantastic, obviously, but a device that generates a unique six-digit code every 30 seconds probably shouldn’t be lodged in anybody’s pants pocket.

There is tension here, in other words, and perhaps the best illustration of this is the very computer I’m using to produce this post. I know how it works. I built it from scratch. But I did so with some truly ancient hardware. The sole upgrade I’ve considered is the operating system because Microsoft is finally, finally sunsetting support for Windows 2000. I’m looking to replace it with Windows XP. The Home edition. Why the technological asceticism? Sure, a substantial desktop could be cobbled together for under a grand, but the consequences would be dire. I’d get back into PC gaming with a vengeance. Hulu would be perpetually cranked to output in HD. In summation, I’d take in even less sunlight.

My resolve against technological indulgence has buckled recently, however, with thoughts of buying a shiny new television. There’s a 52-inch Bravia-shaped hole above the fireplace just asking to be remedied. This place is also pre-wired for surround sound, so we’re talking about injecting Dolby seven-point-whatever into the goddamn walls without cables snaking every which where in the living room. And finally, a sleek new redesigned Xbox hit retail a month or so ago. It’s whisper quiet! I don’t even know what that means, but I must have it.

Over the weekend, I also sampled my first ever iPhone app. Who knew inflicting violence upon fruit could be so hypnotic? The animation was pleasing, I suppose, with juice splatter charmingly rendered, but it was the tactile experience that sealed the deal. I mean, I’ve never really liked watermelon, so to be able to express this dislike by swiping my finger and sundering said fruit was a delight. The game was educational, too, with fact upon fun fruit fact dispensed by a grizzled old man. No I did not know the science of growing apples is called pomology, sensei, and I shall strive to be better.

Will you find me flush with an iPad and LCD television next week? Probably not, but I’m getting closer. This relationship I have with technology shares some parallels with nuclear deterrence, I believe. Luddite versus the technologist, locked in a dead heat. At any given moment, the latter could unleash electronic delights too astounding for any one man to bear, but then the Luddite within would retaliate with horrific tolls on time, finances, and health. I see a big, red button before me, ready to be pressed, and the world of fruit, rather than people, hangs on the brink.