Isolated Incidents

I think to start into what I'm trying to say, I have to tell you that this is not healthy community. It is so fitting that fallen man, who exists in an imperfectable community, would create the same thing virtually in hopes that it would fix everything. It's like when people walk around saying that the town they live in has ruined their lives. We've ruined our lives and we can't provide the cure through the internet.
More specifically, look at the quest for information. We ask questions of the internet not because we need the answer but because of a curiosity born from boredom.
Further, if I wanted to read Hard Times by Dickens and went to Barnes and Noble to buy it, there would be no chance of finding pornography or spam inside that book.
Conversely, if I were to Google Hard Times, I would receive more than what I asked for. That's not healthy.
Advocates of Web 2.0 point to the response made possible to global crises due to the internet. That's lovely. However, what of the local crisis? We are so immersed in online social networks that our real community is so crippled that we don't know our neighbors names.
The words "friend," "neighbor" and "community" connote something different from what they used to. It is great to think globally, but chances are, that's all you think.
This has all had an immense effect on me. I have recently noticed a habit of mine to avoid people. This evasiveness made itself manifest in my teepee.
My whole aesthetic is a deeper look into why I behave the way that I do, and the teepee is the key object that describes my behavior. The dichotomy of childish delight and adult reflection live together in this one object, and it compels me to lurch forward into this "SamSamLand" of nostalgia and its effects on adulthood.
I cannot help but observe my change in social desire. The teepee has become a hideaway that I find most neccessary when there are large groups of people walking about the hall I live on or when I am in a state of distress over whatever.
It is my prayer tent. It is my nap nest. It is my private den.
I feel the need to justify my socially evasive lifestyle not because I think it is wrong but because I know it is percieved as such. And it is in direct contrast to how I have behaved most of my life, so I need to understand.
I have burned myself out socially to the point that sitting inside this private den of mine is pertinent to my survival. However, when it comes time to be sociable, I often shell up inside myself and hide behind the backs of good friends until the unknown individual is gone. It's not impolite if I refuse to believe the person is even there.
This is all quite ridiculous, I know. The SamSam persona that I am creating for this manifesto is becoming more enticing as a loophole for awkward interactions. However, there is merit to my newfound social construct. How can we be private people in the current climate rife with internet social networks and Web 2.0? We cannot, is the answer, unless we refuse such networks.
I understand the implications of my social ineptitude, but I also see some good in all of this. I value the friends that I have. Not the grocery list of Facebook friends, but the true friends that I love and count on. Why should I spread myself--as jam--across the burnt toast of social networks when I have the real deal sitting in front of me? The answer is, I shouldn't. And I won't.
This is an important aspect to my aesthetic, and it clearly needs to be stripped of its outer garments to show the naked truth of it, but I am currently afraid of the implications that truth has on my life.