MSN Obituary
This is a very sad time for me. A relationship I have been in for almost five years has come to an end. There have been good times, a lot of laughs, conversations about the deepest meanings of the world and conversations about nothing at all. The end of this relationship brings a close to many experiences and opens a flood of happy, sad, outraged, and even erotic memories. Now is a time to reflect on what has been and what will be.
I am, of course, talking about my final resignation from the incredible world of MSN Instant Messenger. My relationship with MSN soured in 2006, but my history with Microsoft’s replacement for real human contact dates back to a time before university. I wish, just briefly, to take you on a trip down memory lane and recap my long, sometimes tumultuous relationship with MSN.
It all started in September 2001. I was starting my OAC year at Georgetown High School. The World Trade Center had just been exploded, or was about to be, I can’t remember which. I was 18, a prick, and a regular user of ICQ.
ICQ was great. I used it to organize my weekends. The communicative power of the ICQ nearly turned me into an alcoholic. If someone’s parents had suddenly left for the weekend, the magical “uh-oh” of ICQ would alert me within minutes. ICQ was the first thing in my life that successfully combined two of my favorite things: talking to people and not seeing people. ICQ had been a part of my life for a couple of years, but it had a fatal, damning flaw.
At the beginning of my OAC year, I had a crush on a girl named Christine. I’d admired her from afar for quite some time, but I had vowed to get closer to her. Clearly, the best way to do that was to begin talking to her on ICQ. It was the only way to talk back then. ICQ also did a good job of hiding my unfortunate appearance and tendency to mutter to myself at all times. Christine didn’t have ICQ, she instead used MSN Messenger. In a move that shows just how attracted I was to this girl, I jumped from ICQ to MSN. The rest is glorious, magnificent history.
I managed to barely talk to Christine for about a year, but my skills at MSN shot through the roof. When I went away to university in September 2002, MSN went with me. I somehow tricked Christine into dating me for about 10 weeks (to this day I do not know how I did that), and MSN kept the lines of communication open. When my relationship with Christine ended, my friends on MSN were there to emoticon me back to happiness.
MSN’s next major contribution to my life came in October 2003, when it successfully initiated and maintained another romantic relationship, this time with a girl named Andrea who lived in Calgary. Most of our conversations were over the internet, though Andrea made a valiant attempt to phone me as often as possible. By this time, however, my reliance on MSN was so complete that I struggled to understand spoken English. The phone, and even real conversations, became foreign and intimidating.
By the end of summer in 2004, I had lost Andrea but was completely dependent on MSN. I’d spend much of my study time in university scrolling through my contact list and trying to see how many names I could understand. To my surprise, I didn’t understand any of the in-jokes I read. I couldn’t fathom people having lives outside of MSN and then using the messenger service to make references to these real events. MSN was taking over every aspect of my life.
In late 2005, MSN developed a glitch on my computer. I would be able to receive messages but could not send any. Signing off and then immediately signing back in, previously a cure-all, did nothing to help. Furthermore, I was writing a thesis and trying to make a new relationship work, and I found myself pressed for time. With more than a little sadness, I signed off of MSN in January of 2006 and took a three-month break. I began publishing a newsletter (we all know how well that went) and regained my ability to speak to people in person. MSN’s hold on me was weakened, but I did eventually return to my former master.
This past week, the glitch returned, but with more prevalence than ever before. At no time could I send messages, and the writing really was on the wall. I signed off of MSN, and I don’t expect I’ll be coming back.
A chapter has closed on my life, and having read what I just wrote, I realize that this chapter was neither sexy nor exciting. MSN turned me into a zombie for almost five years, and even before that ICQ was destroying my brain. I’ve depressed myself.
In closing, please don’t completely forget I exist. I am forced to stay in the real world now, but I am sure I will think of the MSN world where everyone lives with a great deal of sadness. One day, perhaps, I will return again and lose all ability to understand facial expressions other than emoticons.
I am, of course, talking about my final resignation from the incredible world of MSN Instant Messenger. My relationship with MSN soured in 2006, but my history with Microsoft’s replacement for real human contact dates back to a time before university. I wish, just briefly, to take you on a trip down memory lane and recap my long, sometimes tumultuous relationship with MSN.
It all started in September 2001. I was starting my OAC year at Georgetown High School. The World Trade Center had just been exploded, or was about to be, I can’t remember which. I was 18, a prick, and a regular user of ICQ.
ICQ was great. I used it to organize my weekends. The communicative power of the ICQ nearly turned me into an alcoholic. If someone’s parents had suddenly left for the weekend, the magical “uh-oh” of ICQ would alert me within minutes. ICQ was the first thing in my life that successfully combined two of my favorite things: talking to people and not seeing people. ICQ had been a part of my life for a couple of years, but it had a fatal, damning flaw.
At the beginning of my OAC year, I had a crush on a girl named Christine. I’d admired her from afar for quite some time, but I had vowed to get closer to her. Clearly, the best way to do that was to begin talking to her on ICQ. It was the only way to talk back then. ICQ also did a good job of hiding my unfortunate appearance and tendency to mutter to myself at all times. Christine didn’t have ICQ, she instead used MSN Messenger. In a move that shows just how attracted I was to this girl, I jumped from ICQ to MSN. The rest is glorious, magnificent history.
I managed to barely talk to Christine for about a year, but my skills at MSN shot through the roof. When I went away to university in September 2002, MSN went with me. I somehow tricked Christine into dating me for about 10 weeks (to this day I do not know how I did that), and MSN kept the lines of communication open. When my relationship with Christine ended, my friends on MSN were there to emoticon me back to happiness.
MSN’s next major contribution to my life came in October 2003, when it successfully initiated and maintained another romantic relationship, this time with a girl named Andrea who lived in Calgary. Most of our conversations were over the internet, though Andrea made a valiant attempt to phone me as often as possible. By this time, however, my reliance on MSN was so complete that I struggled to understand spoken English. The phone, and even real conversations, became foreign and intimidating.
By the end of summer in 2004, I had lost Andrea but was completely dependent on MSN. I’d spend much of my study time in university scrolling through my contact list and trying to see how many names I could understand. To my surprise, I didn’t understand any of the in-jokes I read. I couldn’t fathom people having lives outside of MSN and then using the messenger service to make references to these real events. MSN was taking over every aspect of my life.
In late 2005, MSN developed a glitch on my computer. I would be able to receive messages but could not send any. Signing off and then immediately signing back in, previously a cure-all, did nothing to help. Furthermore, I was writing a thesis and trying to make a new relationship work, and I found myself pressed for time. With more than a little sadness, I signed off of MSN in January of 2006 and took a three-month break. I began publishing a newsletter (we all know how well that went) and regained my ability to speak to people in person. MSN’s hold on me was weakened, but I did eventually return to my former master.
This past week, the glitch returned, but with more prevalence than ever before. At no time could I send messages, and the writing really was on the wall. I signed off of MSN, and I don’t expect I’ll be coming back.
A chapter has closed on my life, and having read what I just wrote, I realize that this chapter was neither sexy nor exciting. MSN turned me into a zombie for almost five years, and even before that ICQ was destroying my brain. I’ve depressed myself.
In closing, please don’t completely forget I exist. I am forced to stay in the real world now, but I am sure I will think of the MSN world where everyone lives with a great deal of sadness. One day, perhaps, I will return again and lose all ability to understand facial expressions other than emoticons.
posted by Simon at 8:36 PM
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