Journal 23 (Draft 1):
Since the dawn of time, human beings have used communication to aid in survival and build relationships. From the drawings scribbled on cave walls by ancient homosapiens to the complex languages we speak today, the ability to converse has always been a trait of humanity. As time has trudged forth, a new medium has emerged, opening the gates of connection for everyone to partake in. I am, of course, referring to the technology with a six-inch screen sitting in your pocket (or perhaps, if you’re reading this online, in your hand): the phone. With the birth of modern technology followed swiftly by the surfacing of the internet, communication has become exponentially quicker, easier, and more wife-spread than ever before. However, whether or not this communication is efficient and translates to authentic connections is another story. Cote Briggs and Liv Arvidson, both writers from the University of New England as well as Nicholas Carr, a well known author who has been published by the Atlantic, offer their own insight in their respective papers: “Technology Isn’t All Fun & Games: Here’s Why,” “Technology & I,” and “Is Google Making Us Stupid?” While it may not seem readily apparent, our hyperconnectivity has put a heavy dent on our ability to communicate and listen.
It starts by grabbing your attention, sinking its fang-like talons into your frontal lobes. Both Liv Arvidson and Nicholas Carr have noticed the changes in not just their own but society’s cognition. Carr opens his article Is Google Making Us Stupid with the statement: “Over the past few years I’ve had an uncomfortable sense that someone, or something, has been tinkering with my brain, remapping the neural circuitry, reprogramming the memory. My mind isn’t going–so far as I can tell–but it’s changing. I’m not thinking the way I used to think” (1). Carr has noticed that his brain chemistry feels as though it’s changing. The way he processes information has changed, and the cause is the implementation of technology. Liv Arvidson observes these changes in her day-to-day life: “I see kids at restaurants and other public settings who will only “behave” when on a screen. I have a cousin who is 8 years old, and he cannot go very long without his tablet, because his parents have always allowed him to have it whenever he wanted. Now, when they say no, he throws tantrums and acts out because he does not know life without it” (1).
Journal 22 (Draft 2):
Since the dawn of time, human beings have used communication to aid in survival and build relationships. From the drawings scribbled on cave walls by ancient homosapiens to the complex languages we speak today, the ability to converse has always been a trait of humanity. As time has trudged forth, a new medium has emerged, opening the gates of connection for everyone to partake in. I am, of course, referring to the technology with a six-inch screen sitting in your pocket (or perhaps, if you’re reading this online, in your hand): the phone. With the birth of modern technology followed swiftly by the surfacing of the internet, communication has become exponentially quicker, easier, and more wife-spread than ever before. However, whether or not this communication is efficient and translates to authentic connections is another story. Cote Briggs and Liv Arvidson, both writers from the University of New England as well as Nicholas Carr, a well known author who has been published by the Atlantic, offer their own insight in their respective papers: “Technology Isn’t All Fun & Games: Here’s Why,” “Technology & I,” and “Is Google Making Us Stupid?” While it may not seem readily apparent, our hyperconnectivity has put a heavy dent on our ability to communicate and listen.
It starts by grabbing your attention, sinking its fang-like talons into your frontal lobes. Both Liv Arvidson and Nicholas Carr have noticed the changes in not just their own but society’s cognition. Carr opens his article Is Google Making Us Stupid with the statement: “Over the past few years I’ve had an uncomfortable sense that someone, or something, has been tinkering with my brain, remapping the neural circuitry, reprogramming the memory. My mind isn’t going–so far as I can tell–but it’s changing. I’m not thinking the way I used to think” (1). Carr has noticed that his brain chemistry feels as though it’s changing. The way he processes information has changed, and the cause is the implementation of technology. Liv Arvidson observes these changes in her day-to-day life: “I see kids at restaurants and other public settings who will only “behave” when on a screen. I have a cousin who is 8 years old, and he cannot go very long without his tablet, because his parents have always allowed him to have it whenever he wanted. Now, when they say no, he throws tantrums and acts out because he does not know life without it” (1). From stranger’s children in restaurants to her own flesh and blood, Arvidson claims that technology has rewired the minds of our youth, its venom hypnotizing. I empathize with both claims, as I myself have fallen and have witnessed countless victims of said hypnosis. By changing the way we think and behave, a feat that the internet is slowly accomplishing, the way we react and communicate with each other will change as well. Cognition and language are directly intertwined, one cannot exist without the other. As such, altering one is bound to affect the other. Simplifying our thought process and holding an unrelenting grasp on our attention doesn’t allow us to have conversations below a surface level.
Its wings spread further, morphing how we learn into something unique. While Carr stresses that his learning has been negatively affected, Cote Briggs says that technology has strengthened his capabilities. Briggs mentions how his studies have soared: “With much transparency, my writing and comprehension would embody that of much austerity: assuming I hadn’t held any access to the online realm. Technology has enabled me to launch myself head-on into my studies, expanding as well as elevating the scope of my small-town education… Without the plethora of knowledge the internet provides, I wouldn’t have been able to sufficiently fuel my brain with the resources necessary to carry out these educational goals of mine” (1). Briggs states that access to the internet has further propelled his education, and that without it, the opportunities that he has had and the achievements he has accomplished wouldn’t have been possible. Carr, while he acknowledges that the internet has allowed him more access and a better outreach for his writing, feels the harshness of the negative impacts: “And what the Net seems to be doing is chipping away at my capacity for concentration and contemplation. My mind now expects to take in information the way the Net distributes it: in a swiftly moving stream of particles. Once I was a scuba diver in the sea of words. Now I zip along the surface like a guy in a Jet Ski” (2). While I sympathize with both sentiments, I actually side more with Briggs. I think that the web has allowed for people to indulge themselves with knowledge now more than ever. It has allowed many, including myself, opportunities to further our academic education and our general knowledge. With that being said, this consumption doesn’t only go one way. While you consume the information you’re fed, the Net stares back at you, feasting on any naïvety that may be exposed. This can push people to polar ends, cutting off not only conversation but empathy for one another.
Draft 3:
Since the dawn of time, human beings have used communication to aid in survival and build relationships. From the drawings scribbled on cave walls by ancient homosapiens to the complex languages we speak today, the ability to converse has always been a trait of humanity. As time has trudged forth, a new medium has emerged, opening the gates of connection for everyone to partake in. I am, of course, referring to the technology with a six-inch screen sitting in your pocket (or perhaps, if you’re reading this online, in your hand): the phone. With the birth of modern technology followed swiftly by the surfacing of the internet, communication has become exponentially quicker, easier, and more wife-spread than ever before. However, whether or not this communication is efficient and translates to authentic connections is another story. Cote Briggs and Liv Arvidson, both writers from the University of New England as well as Nicholas Carr, a well known author who has been published by the Atlantic, offer their own insight in their respective papers: “Technology Isn’t All Fun & Games: Here’s Why,” “Technology & I,” and “Is Google Making Us Stupid?” While it may not seem readily apparent, our hyperconnectivity has put a heavy dent on our ability to communicate and listen.
It starts by grabbing your attention, sinking its fang-like talons into your frontal lobes. Both Liv Arvidson and Nicholas Carr have noticed the changes in not just their own but society’s cognition. Carr opens his article Is Google Making Us Stupid with the statement: “Over the past few years I’ve had an uncomfortable sense that someone, or something, has been tinkering with my brain, remapping the neural circuitry, reprogramming the memory. My mind isn’t going–so far as I can tell–but it’s changing. I’m not thinking the way I used to think” (1). Carr has noticed that his brain chemistry feels as though it’s changing. The way he processes information has changed, and the cause is the implementation of technology. Liv Arvidson observes these changes in her day-to-day life: “I see kids at restaurants and other public settings who will only “behave” when on a screen. I have a cousin who is 8 years old, and he cannot go very long without his tablet, because his parents have always allowed him to have it whenever he wanted. Now, when they say no, he throws tantrums and acts out because he does not know life without it” (1). From stranger’s children in restaurants to her own flesh and blood, Arvidson claims that technology has rewired the minds of our youth, its venom hypnotizing. I empathize with both claims, as I myself have fallen and have witnessed countless victims of said hypnosis. By changing the way we think and behave, a feat that the internet is slowly accomplishing, the way we react and communicate with each other will change as well. Cognition and language are directly intertwined, one cannot exist without the other. As such, altering one is bound to affect the other. Simplifying our thought process and holding an unrelenting grasp on our attention doesn’t allow us to have conversations below a surface level. Its wings spread further, morphing how we learn into something unique. While Carr stresses that his learning has been negatively affected, Cote Briggs says that technology has strengthened his capabilities. Briggs mentions how his studies have soared: “With much transparency, my writing and comprehension would embody that of much austerity: assuming I hadn’t held any access to the online realm. Technology has enabled me to launch myself head-on into my studies, expanding as well as elevating the scope of my small-town education… Without the plethora of knowledge the internet provides, I wouldn’t have been able to sufficiently fuel my brain with the resources necessary to carry out these educational goals of mine” (1). Briggs states that access to the internet has further propelled his education, and that without it, the opportunities that he has had and the achievements he has accomplished wouldn’t have been possible. Carr, while he acknowledges that the internet has allowed him more access and a better outreach for his writing, feels the harshness of the negative impacts: “And what the Net seems to be doing is chipping away at my capacity for concentration and contemplation. My mind now expects to take in information the way the Net distributes it: in a swiftly moving stream of particles. Once I was a scuba diver in the sea of words. Now I zip along the surface like a guy in a Jet Ski” (2). While I sympathize with both sentiments, I actually find myself siding more so with Briggs. I think that the web has allowed for people to indulge themselves with knowledge now more than ever. It has allowed many, including myself, opportunities to further our academic education and our general knowledge. With that being said, this consumption doesn’t only go one way. While you consume the information you’re fed, the Net stares back at you, feasting on any naïvety that may be exposed. This can push people to polar ends, cutting off not only conversation but empathy for one another.
Are our intentions with the internet holding true? Skeptics of my skepticism may focus on honing in on blaming solely the user for the two-way abuse street that we constantly skid on. Carr thinks that “When the Net absorbs a new medium, that medium is re-created in the Net’s image. It injects the medium’s content with hyperlinks, blinking ads, and other digital gewgaws, and it surrounds the content with the content of all the other media it has absorbed…the result is to scatter our attention and diffuse our concentration” (5). This perspective on the Net is incredibly fascinating. In this quote Carr is offering what he believes to be the intention of the internet: to scatter attention and diffuse concentration. Cote Briggs challenges this, claming “In times of social isolation, technology had thrown me a lifeline for a very long time, granting me a level of contentment I would not have been able to uphold otherwise…Ultimately, the web serves as an integral part of our world; while it is important not to abuse this tool, it doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t embrace what it has to offer. With respect to oneself, the digital world serves as a favorable tool for both scholastic achievement and impactful discussion” (3). While Carr holds the view that the internet was built with the foundation of distraction, Briggs touches upon how he thinks that many aspects of our lives, including discussion, are actually improved with technology.
