Prom Queen

Mama recently heard a piece on NPR and immediately thought of me. The essayist spoke of his internet addiction, not because he is unusual in needing to check his email, IMs, and such (I wonder if he has Facebook.), but because he was analyzing the source of his need. He mentioned that he repeatedly checks his email, "but I noticed recently that once I've received an e-mail, text message or comment, I feel a certain letdown. Before it arrives, it could be anything: a new opportunity, an old friend emerging from the past, a summons to the palace, because the king has decided that only I can save the kingdom. Once the messages arrive, they seem so mundane: friends I already have, requests that ask nothing of my special crime-fighting abilities, entreaties from Nigerians to whom I've already sent checks." He's Batman, looking for the Bat Signal.

Mama came home and giddily played the piece for me. You see, she thinks, well, knows, that I have an email addiction too. I'm embarrassed to admit that I've sat on our free evenings checking my email bemoaning the fact that no one has written me and that I don't have much adult interaction (hell, I'm doing it now!). No, she's not chopped liver. But she doesn't send me email either.

But I don't want to be Batman. I want to be Prom Queen. I want to be at the center of a circle of friends, in touch with what they're doing, sharing what I'm doing. Often. No, constantly. Not because I'm vain or needy (though, I am a little bit of both, more of the latter, I think, unless the vanity is academics), specifically, but because I am isolated during the day and like to connect with people, even briefly or superficially (some would say artificially), through the internet.

But isn't that the stereotype of the Prom Queen? Popular but not really friends with anyone?

Hmmmm, maybe I don't want to be the virtual Prom Queen, but I was nominated Most Friendly in school, though not chosen. I'll settle for internet runner-up friend. But I'll still be checking my email.