The Web

People change things. No matter where they are, or what they are doing or trying not to do, people change things. You see it all the time in science fiction, someone goes back in time, steps on a butterfly which had an almost unbelievable effect on whether or not person X was born. Person X is not born, and Poland rule the world. On a smaller scale though, its still true. The tired cliche is ripples – each one of us makes countless ripples every day throughout the lives of everyone we know and half the people we dont. Take one of us out, and our ripples stop.

I dont think we realise how important these ripples are. I dont think we’re aware enough of our presence. The internet is a great example of this, as thousands upon millions of people log on every day and access their web presence. Relationships have been built on this bundle of 1s and 0s, some people have even lost their lives to it. I have been lucky enough to find one or two real friendships, that matter as much to me as those not started in the flesh.  I know that were my friends to suddenly not exist on the internet, I would notice, very quickly.

How much of a person goes into their internet self? People can go on to a social networking site, and load up pictures of themselves, tell you about their good times and bad times, their interests and hobbies and favourite songs and films and books….Some of these people then die, leaving their little web selves flickering solitary online. Their sites become shrines, mementos and memories of friends long gone. A digital fingerprint saying that this person existed in a sea of unmeasurable information.

The problem I have with this is that information can be destroyed, deleted. What becomes of my online friends and I if we’re deleted?  I think this is why people like “things” so much. Keepsakes. Physical reminders of their lives, and the lives of others. I once tried to get pictures of me and all my friends, just one on one or in a group. It was something to say “we know each other”. Something to remember them by when everyone goes their separate ways, or even if we never do.

Of course, I dont need things to remember my friends. I remember them by remembering myself, and thinking of who I’d be without them (I try not to think for long on that, I’m delicate). I know that my memory though, wont always be there. Maybe I’ll just plain lose it, maybe I’ll just plain die. Which would suck. I’m half tempted to just write in a book somewhere “stephen sutherland is friends with …”, you know, whoever. Just so its noted.

Like many of my posts, this one has meandered a little and I apologise. The ideas I had are merging into one another, takng up remnants of conversations with people, mixed up memories. I’d much rather have the memories than the post of course, but I would like you to read it. This blog could theoretically be the one peice of evidence I was ever here (assuming aliens or something kill everyone I know, and I “stick it to the man” by deleting my social networking sites). If that is the case….I better start writing better.