Reflections of Havergal: 1994-2019

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Help, We’re Addicted! BTI , Fall 1996 By Shanan Kurtz and Lisa Harrison

At this point we both had friends telling us that we were nuts, but alas, they had not yet experienced the excitement and adventure that is the ‘Net. They could not understand why we would throw tantrums when the computer crashed, or why we’d begin foaming at the mouth if we didn’t get our daily web-surfing fix. An Internet Addiction Survey (guess where we found this - just guess) developed by a doctor at the University of Pittsburgh asks a series of questions about people’s behaviour with regard to the computer: “Have you ever spent longer periods of time on the Internet than you intended?” Yes. “Have you ever engaged in behaviour that allows longer time online (eg. skipping a class to use the ‘Net , going to bed late/waking up early just to use the ‘Net, etc.)?” Guilty (but we’ve never skipped class, we swear!). “Have you ever experienced any type of withdrawal symptoms (eg. increased depression, moodiness, irritability) when you are offline?” Uhh... We’re just too embarrassed to answer this one, but you get the idea, right? We’re junkies. So by now you’re likely wondering how all of this relates to you, the Havergal student. In case you haven’t noticed, the computer labs have been a lot fuller lately, and it’s not just with grade sevens drawing pictures of Sailor Moon anymore. Practically every girl at this school has access to both Netscape and an e-mail program, and frankly this scares us more than you know. Sure, you may be naive right now, not knowing how to conduct a proper ‘Net search or how to send a message to a friend.... but you will. And you will be hooked forever. Already we’ve been observing some habits you people have picked up that we used to get made fun of for doing: fervently e-mailing chain letters to your friends in the school (and then you complain when they get sent back to you a day later by someone else; live and learn, kids); trying to find the page that displays the naked Brad Pitt pictures without anyone noticing; and (the one we find the most mind boggling ) ‘chatting’ with people who are sitting there in the same room as you, even at the next computer. We still cannot fathom exactly what it is that makes typing to your friend, whom you see every day in every class and who is sitting right next to you, so damn exciting. I guess the fact that you do find these activities amusing is a sign of things to come. This article will stand as a reminder that we get the last laugh. You will get sucked into the obsession; of that we have little doubt. Just remember when you do that we were the ones you scoffed at, the ones you didn’t understand. I mean, so what if Lisa corresponds with a 34-year-old environmental consultant from Baltimore? And who cares anyway if Shan actually dated one of the guys she met online? We are the diehard Internet junkies, the ones who know before you do the horrors you will face: e-mail withdrawal (yeah, just wait for Christmas break… you’ll be shaking), the tragedies of system failures, the tears upon realization that no, you don’t have any e-mail even though you haven’t checked it for at least five minutes . And do you know what? We’re going to laugh at you this time. Have fun, and don’t crash the system, girls.

Hi! Shanan and Lisa here. We think it’s time you knew about our addiction. Shan’s been hooked for one year, eleven months and nine days, and Lisa for one year, two months and eighteen days. We’ve never had any problems with drugs, alcohol, or even shopping, but we are completely and hopelessly addicted to the internet (ooh, the mere mention of the word sends little shivers of pleasure down my spine). Now you’re probably saying to yourselves, “What is WRONG with these girls, and why are they sharing this sick and shameful secret with us?” Well, kids, we’re here to warn you about the dangers of the ‘Net. It’ll suck you in when you’re least expecting it and cause you to do everything from going through the motions of typing e-mail in your sleep to craving the delicious “whirr” of the modem’s dialer at all hours of the night. You will be a slave to the machine and you will love it. But first you must hear our tragic stories (sadly, almost identical): Two years ago (or thereabouts) our respective fathers plopped us down in front of their computers to look at similar blue screens that appeared to be innocently displaying lines of conversation. “Yeah, so? What’s this all about?” we each asked impatiently, probably eager to resume watching an episode of Melrose Place (we were such foolish teens back then). “This is the internet. It will change your life.” And it did. It took us both a while, but we soon became adept at browsing the World Wide Web and carrying on scintillating conversations with people in various chat rooms. Who would’ve thought we’d ever be hunched over the keyboard at 2 am, typing furiously to some boy (well, he “claimed” to be a boy) from California whom we would never really meet? Damn, it was glamorous. We learned all the cool lingo of the computer crowd and practised our use of symbols regularly to :) or ;) or impersonate Marge Simpson @@@@@@: ). We soon turned to the relatively safe world of e-mail, which in retrospect, is probably what led to our downfall. We started off dropping casual messages to people from news groups and joining Internet dating services (http://www.match.come -try it!), but we were easily bored and unsatisfied. Unsatisfied, that is, until we found people with whom we could carry on real e-mail conversations (an oxymoron if I ever heard one). This is precisely when we became (dare we say it) obsessed. We’d wait anxiously for a letter every day, come bounding home from school and immediately flick on the computer to see what witty prose had magically appeared in our virtual mailboxes. When we got messages, we’d be soaring (except if they were from each other), and when we didn’t get one, we’d be crushed.

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