We were driving in the car, and my mother was enticing me with yet another workplace anecdote. Apparently one of her coworkers was notifying everyone that she had developed a craving for chocolate. Well, my mother has also had a recent desire for the sweet, delectable treat, so she waited on the edge of her seat in the hopes of hearing what could be driving the craving. Unfortunately, the ringing of the office phone interrupted my mother. She then told me that she would ask the lady later what the possible origin could be. The question that bubbled on the tip of my tongue was, “why don’t you just Google it?” But for some reason, I stopped myself.
My mother’s desire to hear the medical reasoning for her recent cravings straight from a coworker was somewhat astonishing to me. I immediately thought of the benefits of Google. Its rapidity, clarity and I always assume—its accuracy.
I often think of Google as a mistress. It tantalizes its users with its efficiency and readability. It distracts us from flipping through a loyal textbook or asking a friend or family member. These traditional ways of attaining knowledge are the loyal wife. We rarely acknowledge her existence, yet she is always there, hoping that we do not fall for the Internet’s seductions.
I will be the first to admit that Google and Wikipedia have become my enablers. When I am in a time crunch or I cannot remember the name of the new song I am obsessed with, I refer to Google, and I have my answer in no time. The sad part is that I see my life becoming less and less enriching and more consumed by the crutch that is the Internet. I feel as though my only option is to keep riding a wave into a bottomless pit of technology overconsumption—assuming I am not already there. According to InternetLiveStats.com, Google processes nearly 40,000 searches per second. In 2009, Google processed nearly 800 billion searches per year; the number grew to over 1.2 trillion in 2012.
My faith in Google was recently tested. For an entire school day, I tried to remember the name of a book I used to love as a kid. I dared not ask my mother, somehow knowing that she would not have the answer I was seeking. I searched every online bookstore I could think of for hours, and nothing. As a lover of all things art, I remembered the graphic design of the cover quite easily. I was so desperate that I even Googled “how to find a book without knowing the author.” One website simply suggested that I try Amazon. I have long loved Amazon, but I doubted that it would carry my favorite childhood novel. I virtually searched through hoards of books. I went from “page 1” to “page 50” and found nothing. Just as I began to doubt the powers of Google, there was my novel. The colorful, cartoony graphics appeared just as I had remembered. Clenching my phone tightly in one hand and forming my other hand into a fist, I thrust my hands into the air. Once again, I could victoriously walk away with my answer. Yet, I still wonder—what did I really win?
– By Malia Hamilton