The digital world and I have a love-hate relationship.

I’ve just never been one for technology, which I blame on my childhood of literary overload.

Books, books and more books were all I was ever exposed to.

Video games at friends’ houses were just not an option.

I tried to play Mario Brothers, only to have my friends suggest in frustration we play something else that doesn’t have to be plugged in.

There wasn’t even a computer in the house until I was in the fifth grade.

I consider myself lucky that I can even type this article, seeing as how I have never adapted to the correct way to use the keyboard.

My lack of ease with anything plastic and internally glowing doesn’t stop with the computer, though.

Even with something as seemingly user-friendly as the microwave, I find myself pressing the “chicken and fish” button for everything, just to keep it simple.

With my car, I get people to switch the clock for me every time seasons change.

I watch what little they do to change the hour up or down, but only really know how to operate the radio.

Sometimes, I wake up late because my alarm doesn’t go off in the morning.

I could claim that I just don’t hear it, but really it’s because I just don’t know how to operate it.

I would have to say, however, that the very bane of my existence are DVDs.

Now, I love watching live TV, but since I mute the commercials almost habitually only to sit there and watch the images flicker by in silence, the emergence of the DVD as a way to watch my favorite shows in my own time is just genius.

The price of DVD sets are what should have warned me of what was to come from this endeavor.

I bought my very favorite show, however, and I considered the price I had to pay at the register as a way of proving my devotion as a fan.

But I should have known that I would need help turning the DVD player on.

And I should have known that I would need a map to navigate all the buttons and switches on the remote control.

And, of course, I would need help with the navigational menus on the screen because watching the extra features over and over is nice, but watching the actual show would be better.

Once I got the hang of things, there was no turning back.

Six seasons and several months later, I was laying there in the glow of the television hidden away like a hermit in my bedroom.

Class work and chores were forgotten in the pursuit of canned laughter and mind-numbing entertainment. But I had seen every episode and heard every line. I was a part of the show and
it was a part of me, thanks to this thing called technology.

As I thought about it, I realized this sorry, pathetic state of mine was not possible 10 years ago.

I was a victim of the times.

I loved it, but I hated it.
On one hand, I had proudly conquered my fears of the digital world: I can now operate the television and DVD player with no problem.

But on the other hand, I still have not progressed from pressing the “chicken and fish” button, so maybe I shouldn’t boast so much.