In a time that’s fascinated with and dependent on transparency, it’s a luxury to hide. Networking sites keep our “friends” informed of the minutia of our lives (who’s dating who, what food is consumed, what culture is consumed, etc), and the internet insures that images are turned into character references; first impressions are no more. Cell phones ensure that we’re connected to anything and everything at all times, but they’ve also made us impatient. How many times have you been neurotically frantic when a girlfriend or boyfriend doesn’t text you back immediately? And how much is read into a phone call that goes unanswered?

Ever since the modern city took shape, people have escaped into the wilderness to relax, clear their heads, and decompress. Well, I’m not a girl who associates well with nature. So what do I do? I turn off my cell phone and computer for most of the day so I am at one with my thoughts ar the very moment I am having them. Technology, while giving us the power of instant travel through time and space, divorces us from the sequenced happenstances of our lives. And since we so rarely stop to smell the roses, we may one day find we no longer smell at all, or worse…that they no longer plant the roses.

So I hide to keep all my senses in tact, which is a selfish thing to do when so many people need a cue. But for sanity’s sake, I do what I’ve done:  get lost in my city, get lost in a song, get lost in coffee shop with poetry and pastries, get lost in…well…the lost land of me, which is lost no longer since I saw fit to find it.

What triggered this criticism of technology was a portion of the film I’m Not There, written and directed by Todd Haynes and inspired by, as the credits read, “the music and the many lives of Bob Dylan.” Now, I can’t profess to have fully understood the film as it’ll take more than a few additional viewings to get a comprehensive grasp, but one of the imagined Dylans gives 7 Simple Rules for a Life in Hiding:

1. Never trust a cop in a raincoat.

2. Beware of enthusiasm and of love; each is temporary and quick to sway.

3. When asked if you care about the world’s problems, look deep into the eyes of he who asks; he will not ask you again.

4. Never give your real name.

5. If ever told to look at yourself, never look.

6. Never say or do anything that the person standing in front of you cannot understand.

7. Never create anything; it will be misinterpreted; it will chase you and follow you for the rest of your life; it will never change.

Which reminds me of the most dangerous facet of technology: the digital trail and the bastardization of art. Anyone with a little creativity and determination combined with a heaping knowledge of computers can know everything about you; that’s not paranoia, that’s the truth. This is largely because we are putting it out there, offering our imagined selves to the predatory masses. We spend too much time as modern Narcissus’ enraptured by our own reflections, and truly innovative art is rarely created. Anonymity has defecated on the authenticity of creation and criticism alike, and since we’ve become so consumed with the creation of unique and individual identities, we’ve all started to look like one another.

Realities are what they are, and I live in the time in which I live; it’s pointless to sit in my overstuffed chair listening to my vinyl records and bitch about the state of the world while I actively participate (i.e. blogging) in the very thing I think is tearing polite society asunder. I suppose, with one foot nostalgically placed firmly in the past, I’ll just have to trust Dylan to guide me through the crossroads when my future self encounters them.

Bring it on, technology.