Media. Medium. It’s something I always find myself in the middle of, surrounded.
It’s in my phone, my laptop, my morning paper. It’s at my friends’ fingertips, at the movies, and even shows up in my dreams. Media is what my perception of the world depends on––leeches on––to keep me busy, updated, satisfied.
Media is my friend, my role model, my playground, and my home. It entertains me. I let it identify me. It keeps me small.
I’m not complaining though; ever since I was just a wimpy kid, visual media––especially films and video productions––captivated me. I grew from a moviegoer to a filmmaker, and while striving to create my own media, to produce something and contribute to the greater network of media, I finally recognized the place I was coming from––busy and blind from watching, admiring, emulating, and consuming films, purely one-sided.
To what extent do media affect my thoughts? How about my actions?
Does what I see and hear become a direct experience for me?
Media, to me, is like a pandora’s box. Or so I think it is like a pandora’s box (if not, I’m just paranoid). It is everywhere, it is pleasing to look at, it is easy to consume, and it is fun. And it is hard as hell to stop consuming.
Media is a drug.