Of all the things I’ve lost online, I miss my mind the most. On Friday I forgot a friend’s name for almost a minute. And this was an actual, real friend. Someone who’d been a guest at my house.
After a little Wiki work and web MDing on my phone I come to the conclusion that I probably had early onset dementia. The next day I mentioned my ailment to one of my friends - whose name I can recall because I see it every day in my Twitter feed (@juzzycullen). She told me she had the same problem and we agreed it was unlikely that we both had dementia.
We decided it less likely we’re suffering a digital-age DDoS attack on out brains. A personal Future Shock if you like.
To try to confirm the diagnosis, I decide to make a note of all of my mental uploads and downloads in one day. The next day was Sunday and, with my partner away, I’ve planned a lazy day on the couch watching sport.
After breakfast I settled in to watch an NBA basketball playoff game between the Boston Celtics and the Miami Heat. I watch the television with my iPad on my lap, checking stats on NBA.com and following ESPN’s game chat.
There I read more than five hundred posts, clicking through six links and uploading fifteen messages. I also check my Twitter feed ten times (@benmckelvey) getting about thirty messages each time, posting twice. I also get six text messages, replying to five and send two message on Facebook. I also call mum to give her my Mother’s Day best.
During the half time break I have one eye on the half time show and the other on the new Beastie Boys film clip starring Danny McBride, which lead me to an episode of Drunk History that he stars in and that leads me to an episode of Between Two Ferns.
When the second half starts, I’m back to chat and stats and about the same of Twitter interaction. I make no more phone calls, but receive three more text messages and reply all three times. In the third quarter, Celtic guard Rajon Rondo dislocates his elbow.
I read five pieces on elbow dislocation and watch four videos of elbows being dis-or-relocated including this one , which leads me to forum on the etiquette of “tapping” or submitting in mixed marital arts .
Rajon Rondo comes back into the game and the Celtics win. Twitter goes nuts. I head out for a coffee and listen to part of a Kevin Smith podcast and when I get home I watch an illegal stream of the Pacquiao v Moseley bout (yes I make my own decisions on who should retain intellectual property rights.
And no, I don’t think boxing sanctioning bodies have earned those rights). Moseley doesn’t seem too interested in getting in a fight so I cruise some news sites, reading some opinion pieces on the Bin Laden killing. That leads me to last weeks White House Correspondents Dinner.
On Twitter I see that there are already summaries of the basketball game I just saw so I see what the experts had to say. There’s a suggestion that Rondo’s elbow is most likely not broken but there will be ligament damage so I read a few articles on the likely ramifications of the injury.
As the fight’s outcome becomes obvious (Pacquiao in a decision) Twitter has a lot to say about Floyd Mayweather, Pacquiao’s preferred opponent so I watch some videos of Mayweather’s greatest hits, finishing with this video of him and 50 Cent being really, really rich.
In the four hours of recording my actions I find that I’ve read about twenty thousand words, sent about a hundred messages, listened to twenty minutes of audio and watched or half-watched about five hours of video. All that input and very little of it had anything to do with the cornerstones of my life- family, friends or work. And at the time, it felt relaxing.
And the funny thing is; if you’ve made it to this last paragraph of this link-laden piece you’re probably not similarly afflicted. If that’s the case, please send this on to someone who is. But first, check out this video of a cat boxing.
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