The Individual VS. The Network

I certainly prefer videos to readings for these blogs, which is not at all surprising considering the generation I'm a part of.  Anderson said that in 4 years, more than 90% of the webs data will be video composition, and although my initial reaction was surprise, the more I think about it the more I think that 4 years may be a lengthy estimate.  I already try to avoid texts by looking up videos that sum up the ideas, and if a video isn't available, I go to the next best thing: audio.  There have been quite a few times in college where I knew that I didn't have the time to read any texts at all, so I buy audiobooks instead so that I can listen while I'm at work, or cleaning the house, etc.  This is an aspect of my life that I'm kind of quiet about, because as a writer it's blasphemy to be open about NOT reading.  The truth is, from what I can remember about reading, I loved it.  It's easy to get lost in a book (especially fiction), and leave the real world behind.  The only problem is that the real world currently doesn't cater to the proper amount of time it takes a person to sit down with a book.  We're too busy responding to texts/emails/voicemails/social networks to really set aside the time to get lost in literature.  All this networking is valuable though, because the more people that are on board a particular train of thought, the faster that train rides into something revolutionary.

But what about our daydreams?  What about our introspective moments that allow us so sort through the sub-par ideas, and reach the really good ones?  When we are in constant 'network' mode, we have the ability to bounce ideas off of each other and make joint decisions about what's worth developing and what isn't, but something about this approach takes away the magic, or "epic win" feeling of hatching an idea.  When you take away the magic, you diminish the desire that Chris Anderson was talking about...at least in my experience.  Anderson also focuses on the positive effects of global recognition that ultimately lead to a spike in passion and desire among the public who generate this recognition, which causes me to think of the different implications this has on an individual vs. a group effort.  Jesus what a boring sentence, I would have stopped reading at 'ultimately' if I were you.  Anyways, when I see a video of a single person being awesome at something, I look at them almost like a mystical creature; someone who does something so incredible that it pushes the boundaries of what I thought our redundant piles of protoplasm were capable of.  In that moment, I want to become a mystical creature too, and believe that I can do it.  On the other hand, when I see a group of people do something amazing, I'm almost completely unmoved.  Something about the collaboration of people to complete a task is common and taken for granted, and I find myself thinking, "Of course you can do this one thing when you string 50 brains together to do it.  Big deal." The fact is, it IS a big deal, but there is something far more appealing and inspiring about an individual instead of a group.

Why the hell is this? Do any of you feel this way?  Shouldn't 10x the amount of 'mystical creatures' result in something truly incredible?
Even the first video we watched in class of thousands of voices recorded via webcam was easy to look past.  Perhaps it's a personal problem, or a case of me projecting, but I find myself rooting for the individual, and hoping that the group effort fails just so it highlights how awesome the individual is.

Despite my bitterness toward social networking and group efforts, I completely agree with Anil Dash's concept that creating as an island will only get you so far, because networking will always get the ball rolling faster.  This notion feeds into my CPE in an interesting way, because as I start to come up with questions for the elderly about technology, I realize that the older generation has a common belief that each person takes care of themselves, and earns their rewards without help from others.  I was raised this way too--if you need help, help yourself so that you don't owe anyone anything.  Can't make rent?  Don't you dare ask your family for help, go out and get another job...two jobs if that's what it takes.  Similarly, if you have a radical idea that could improve the lives of billions, climb that mountain alone so no one can taint your vision.  Of course, doing anything alone takes at least twice as long as it would with help, (not trolling, but...) what's the rush?  It always feels like we are racing toward some final achievement, but none of us know what it is.  As Seth Priebatsch suggests, maybe this race has become a game for all of us, one that we don't know how to stop playing.  We keep trying to level up, but the ground we stand on raises along with us, so it never really feels like we get anywhere.  So we try harder, invent faster, socialize more, as if the final achievement is one complete unified consciousness; we catch glimpses of it and think that's it! that's the ticket! Then we go to class and we all talk about concepts that already came out of someone else's mouth in order to try and come up with a better concept that will be the future conversational fuel for classes to come.  We all try to laugh at the same memes and videos, join the same online games so we can curse similarly, mimic sarcastic vocal inflections so we sound cool, and say things like "obvi" instead of obviously to identify where we stand linguistically in our generation.  Some days I look at all this and think, "Wow, we really do all cultivate each other!" and other days I think, "Have we forgotten how to cultivate ourselves?"