Christine, aka The Thinking Mother made a good point on my post looking at how our virtual lives affect our personal lives.
Discussing the affect on children and teens doing role playing games or regular video games is very different than discussing adults who were socialized before the big video game craze and before the Internet entered our lives.
She also made some interesting observations about how people today “socialize” digitally even while together with other people.
But then, I grew up in a somewhat digital household. Some of my earliest memories are of playing Pong with my dad on an old Atari. The first warning put out against video games actually occurred because of that game. After too many hours of play, the white paddles would burn into the television set, causing ghostly white lines to remain forever on the screen. And I loved going with him to his part time job fixing arcade games where he opened up the faces and showed me how to make the machine think I had inserted a quarter. I played for hours while he worked. Sometimes he brought his work home with him and I played more games of Centipede and Galaga than I could possibly count. I owned a copy of Pac-Man Fever and had the whole album memorized.
In fact, the first thing my husband and I had in common was something we received for Christmas long before we met:

And we both played it to death.
But the research initially discussed dealt with having people interacting through a digital avatar and measuring how people behaved based on the kind of avatar they used. And, like I mentioned then, the most disturbing thing to me was not that there were measurable changes in behavior off-line, but that the people did not even recognize the changes nor how they had been manipulated. What they saw was perceived as real.
For me, the difference is not so much in how I was raised as opposed to how the people in the experiment may have been raised. I do not project myself as anything other than what I am online. I am not trying to create an identity, and I am not assuming a previously conceived one, either as part of an experiment or as part of a role playing game.
I am who I am…but then again, I’m not. Thinking about my online identity and who I “really” am has forced me to think through a lot of issues that might not at first seem related, but it has acted as a catalyst for some thoughts on my faith, my political viewpoints and my personality. But mostly on my faith.
When I first discussed this issue with Renae of Life Nurturing Education via the Bible Principles Group’s weekly chat, I mentioned that the biggest thing I noticed was that I am not afraid of controversy online. In person? I am kind of quiet. Reserved. I watch for a long time before I will enter a discussion, even if the people I am listening to obviously agree with me. I am more measured, am more likely to qualify my opinions and couch them in phrases like, “well I believe” and “for me personally.”
But is that me really? Am I really that quiet and shy and reserved? My friends in high school and college would laugh to hear me say something like that. After all, I am the one who took on all twenty two of my classmates in a class debate about the whether President Wilson was one of the best or one of the worst presidents in history. I was alone in wanting to put him near the bottom. Someone in my biology class paid me to “just shut up already” and my biology teacher had an odd way of looking at me while passing back tests because I vociferously argued every missed question. I was on the speech team and favored discussion and debate. I actually competed at the state and national levels.
Shyness was not a fault with me. In fact, online I am very much like I was “back then.” Why did I change? Some of it is just maturity. In school, I liked controversy for the sake of controversy. It wasn’t so much about standing up for what I believed in. The only reason I carried a bible was because I knew I wasn’t supposed to. It wasn’t like I actually believed anything that was in it. But it was still conceivable that I would show up to class without a text book, but never would I be without my little bible tucked in my purse. As I noted in my Life Before Homeschooling post for Home Education Week, I loved the nonconformity of being a conservative in a liberal environment and I thrived on the adrenaline.
So yeah. I’ve grown up a little. But there is more to it than that.
When I became a Christian, I did not have very good bible teaching. I attended church sporadically because of my schedule. Fred Phelps was very active on my campus and cast everything remotely Christian in the shadow of his presence. The single most memorable event in college was trying to get to the student union during Gay Pride Week. He staged a protest and I had to walk the gauntlet between the two groups, bombarded with signs saying, “God hates f*gs” and so-called Christians screaming hateful things and trying to shout down the speakers for the event.
I was horrified, but did not know enough to realize that what these people were doing was not Christian. So I did not identify myself publicly as a Christian because to do so meant I was involved with that. Instead, I was silent.
As I grew in Christ, however, I continued to lack for decent teaching. Or I continued to be a poor student. Both are probably accurate. At any rate, I began conforming more to my own stereotypes of what it meant to be a Christian woman. Maybe it was the Mennonite in me. (My great grandmother was raised Amish and the church I came to Christ in was actually Mennonite.) But I looked to home and family and garden and tried to live out this nice little visage of Christianity. It didn’t work very well and I wasn’t feeling very fulfilled. In fact, I was getting rather nasty to be around because I felt like a caged animal continually pacing within the confines of the prison I had constructed for myself.
But the real issue lay a little deeper. I would look at women whose hand-quilted pillows sat perfectly arranged on the sofa they had upholstered themselves and think that is how I should be occupying my time. That is what a good Christian woman does…keeps house. Crochet. Knit. Quilt. Can. Garden. Restore 19th century furniture. She does things. Material things which have value and beauty in this world. I would spend a couple of hours in the evening writing either in a notebook or on some forum and at the end of it think, “What do I have to show for it?” I had simply wasted my time.
I am not sure exactly when it happened…sometime while I was researching the Principle Approach…but at some point, I realized why it was that I was so miserable. It wasn’t Christianity that had caged me, but my own presuppositions. And the fact that at some time I had picked up the idea that material pursuits were superior to intellectual pursuits, at least for a woman.
The problem is, I love reading and writing and discussing and debating. I do not have that kind of passion for material pursuits. I have nothing but respect for those who do. I recognize in some of their zeal the same passion I have for researching and for writing. They have a true gift and it is beautiful to see it find expression in what they create from their hands.
But as my garden limps along and my knitted baby blanket actually turned out to be a trapezoid, I have to recognize that God gave me some talents as well. To bury them and pursue some other endeavor because I so highly respect those who do it well is not what He has planned for me. I hadn’t been wasting my time. I just had not assessed a proper value to the activities I was engaged in.
I may have realized this online, but I still need to work on it a little in person: It is OK to have an opinion.
And for you retro types, have a hand at Ms. Pac Man. Since she brought my husband and I closer together and all.

Click to Play!
Photo Credits:
Pong screen shot
Mini Ms. Pac Man game
National Forensic League Pin
Protester
Amish