It’s only the second week of the quarter, and already, I feel the strain. Contrasted against the idyllic Welcome Week and the easy-going introductions, hellos and whatnot of first week, I’m finally settling into a haphazard schedule of sorts, the terrifying sort that will in all likelihood follow me until the end of the quarter. Am I afraid of commitment? Yes, and losing the ability to add classes with impunity this Friday screams of finality. But, as a dying man may dream of an oasis amongst the dunes, so I peruse the class schedule, the job listings, the news … in an attempt to flit from one dreamy possibility to another with some semblance of freedom.
And what a world it is out there. There are times when I think my near-claustrophobic fear of missing out keeps my mind rather well equipped as to the goings-on of the world. It certainly adds color to my life.
For instance, should I be seen contemplating hard drives with a certain bitterness, it will have been because 30gigs.com, like the beta version of Gmail and the over-hyped Orkut community, is free space and mail that I can’t get due to “invitation only” policies. If, by chance, I pass you sometime today and begin to make funny, hiccupping sounds at the cigarette dangling from your fingers, fear not. It isn’t because my lungs are overly fond of collapsing at even the hint of dust, or out of some sadistic joy that you had to run off 20 feet or so from a building in order to sate the nicotine cravings (though both are quite true under normal circumstances), but because I will have remembered fondly that “Ai Ai,” the smoking chimpanzee, needed fried dumplings and a walkman to completely kick the habit. Both of which, I can now proudly say, I own.
The dumplings are nice, but it’s the MP3 player that I adore. Why rave over a bit of colored plastic and circuits? A couple of reasons, actually. One, it’s not an infamous iPod — do I need to pay someone to say that? — and two, it reintroduced me to that extensive, mysterious and alluringly dangerous world of online shopping.
While not exactly a newbie to the benefits and pitfalls of shopping on the Internet, I had always held a calm, fastidious rationale when it came to breaking out the credit card, and with good reason. I didn’t own one. Every time I needed something desperately that only a bit of plastic and an American Express, Visa, Mastercard emblem could get me, there was the ritual of calling home to request the usage of the family card number.
Running every single purchase through my parents, thrifty as it would have been for my own finances, did not strike me as very practical, and the phase soon passed, as I became better acquainted with bussing myself to stores with my handy-dandy checkbook and free bus sticker whenever the need arose. I suppose I could have gotten myself a card, but paying fees for spending my own money had always struck me as ridiculous.
However, with the relatively new advent of the check card, I became a lost soul. I had struggled with the logic of it for three years, but in the end, I succumbed a few weeks ago and have since been searching the Web with a gusto for deals unprecedented by my former, ad-blocking, freeware-downloading and Firefox-tabbing self. After all, why waste my precious time hunting down brick-and-mortar stores when I can have a box shipped to my doorstep from across the world?
EBay. Amazon. Some online storefront that a dedicated defrauder tracked down to a rundown garage in New York City. Each now held their very own brand of indelible charm that only incredible savings could have mustered forth … that is, until I actually purchased things, of course. I think I spent more time this week searching through ads and reviews, ranting on various toll-free numbers, composing desperate manufacturer-addressed e-mails and writing forum posts of outright defamation than all the time spent in class, studying and working combined. I love my newly shipped MP3 player not out of any misguided sense of ease and accessibility, but more or less because I have the feeling I earned it. Needless to say, the craze that once gripped my body (and my dwindling bank account) is gone.
One thing I noticed immediately during that fiasco was that, in a store without displays, interaction or, at times, even a truthful account of what it is you’re attempting to buy, reviews become the lifeblood of the average consumer. CNET is my personal addiction, incorporated into the growing protocol of Web-savvy tidbits I have collected and have come to regard with growing confidence. But the need for all this scrutiny troubles me at times.
This want for a verification checklist is a reminder of the times. The T1 here at UCSD, once manna to a hungry mind and gaming spirit, has, over the past few years, become a thing to fear. Fraud, trojans (not including the USC variety), computer viruses and that annoying thing with the foreign bank account and various Web site recommendations … not even an AIM profile is immune from the threat of “Someone with an Internet connection.” While this entity derives joy in turning my laptop into a sparkler, or in assaulting my screen with porno ads, even this damage can be surpassed by an even larger threat — that of Many Someones. Roaming the Net and legal system in packs, lawsuits, copyright infringements and “the RIAA” have become the horror stories with which parents scold their children. Ah, and back in my day, it was the threat of being shipped off to a third world country that did the trick. I now know people who fear to lend out a CD simply because the recording industry has discovered an insatiable appetite for college students.
In a world of confusion, lawyers and an overabundance of Britney Spears songs that seem to have been not-so-covertly downloaded by would-be anonymous IP addresses, music groups like Harvey Danger are attempting to challenge the concept of jailbait music. Offering free downloads of their entire album a few tracks at a time, they are reminiscent of a time before mp3.com was shut down in 2000 … before Napster turned into a subscription-based service and Metallica became a curse word to a bevy of music addicts. Disheartening as the mistrust is, the strangest bit of information is that music downloaders have been shown by studies to be that nifty sector of the population that spends the most money on music.
As for me, I am satisfied with my radio, my modest CD collection and being a careful consumer in a world that’s after my wallet.
Send feedback to [email protected].
