Yesterday, I went to the doctor’s office. A nasty cough had deteriorated into a sore throat and mild fever. No big deal, but I wanted some antibiotics for a quick fix. I was a first-time visitor, so the receptionist had me fill out some basic information.

I signed the bottom of the form and returned the clipboard to the front desk. However, I hadn’t even returned to my seat when the receptionist called me back.

“I need your real address, hon.”
“What?”
“Your real address,” she repeated, handing the clipboard back to me. “Your street address.”

I took it and looked down at the form. Oh God. Under the space allotted for my place of residence, several blank lines, I’d simply written my e-mail address on the first line and moved on to the next thing. An e-mail address? What? My condition was obviously worsening.

Such a mistake–coupled with a bit of fever–led to a bit of self-reflection. Subconsciously, do I believe that I live in the internet? It sounds insane, I know, but then I started thinking about my life online.

Perhaps, deep down, I do feel like g-mail is my true home. It’s more of a permanent address than my current apartment with its one-year lease. And I g-chat with people more frequently than I actually see them.

Speaking of g-socializing brings me to the realm of Facebook, where I have hundreds and hundreds more friends than I actually maintain in real life. Sadly, I realize that if I made an event on Facebook, it would have a more successful turnout than any real party I’d attempt to throw in New York.

As someone who remains highly skeptical of online dating, it was a huge blow to realize that I had way more of a social life online than I did in the real world. Does this mean that, realistically, I’d be more likely to meet guys online? Is my destiny an e-boyfriend that pokes me on Facebook and g-chats me to check in because he noticed I hadn’t updated my Twitter in the last hour? If so, shoot me now–I’m sure you can do it through some Facebook application.

This existential crisis had me feeling like I’d fallen down a rabbit hole. Still sitting in the waiting room, I looked down at my snow boots and sweatpants. I ran my hand through my unwashed hair. Jesus. I truly looked like a bum. But who cares, right? It’s not like there’s going to be a Facebook album about it.

Inevitably, I started thinking about this blog, yet another basis of my online identity. Had my existence come to rest on the philosophy of “I blog, therefore I am”?

No. Finally, a rational thought stumbled into my head. The basis of this blog is to reflect upon real life at its most real: the stories amidst the routine of daily life. Blogging–a practice at the very center of internet life today–ceases to exist without real life. It can only ever be “I am, therefore I blog.”

So, just as I was starting to believe that I was trapped in the computer, I found myself back on solid ground, thanks to the blog–as well as some fantastic antibiotics that I’ll continue to take for the next week and a half.

Now that I’m feeling a little more chipper and my identity crisis is behind me, I’ve resumed normal daily life just as quickly as I diverged from it. And so it’s back to asking myself all of the usual questions: Where am I? What am I doing? What’s that smell? And, above all else, I can has cheezburger?

Photo Credit: hexus.net, icanhascheezburger.com