At the keyboard with nowhere to click

I'm a big proponent of knowing when to say when. In the headiness of an unexpected open bar or the warm glow threatening to make a two margarita happy hour into an ill-timed pub crawl, it's easy to overlook the law of diminishing returns - after a while, even the good stuff isn't so good anymore. If I eat all the chips, I won't be able to finish my enchiladas. Watching more than 4 consecutive episodes of Queer as Folk depresses me. The thing is, usually I try to leave my addictions before they totally consume me, this time I'm the one who's jilted.





That's right, my addiction to the internet is definitely fading. For example, I can't remember the last time I read Defamer. And when Friendster caught everyone with their pants down last week over the whole retroactive "who's viewed you" feature? I couldn't have cared less. I haven't taken any cleverly-disguised personality tests on OkCupid lately and I couldn't tell you what new jobs have been posted in the Daily Bruin classifieds or what the kids are talking about in Rants and Raves on Craigslist if my life depended on it. Websites like this are going unrefreshed. And ones like this aren't even being savored for their sheer obscurity and pointlessness.

Now that I've got all this "time" on my hands I've been reading the news instead of doing work. And what did Salon give front billing this morning? Only a story that Grant Stoddard covered 2 years ago for Nerve. Clearly all this "time wasting" online was actually keeping me ahead of the curve.