When I was a little girl，I would imagine myself being in a faraway island—like Robinson in the famous Robinson Crusoe. I figured，as long as I gain the skills of building，farming and the like，I will be able to live a happy reclusive① life.

The images of myself living in a small treehouse in a deep woods， an island in the sea，or even a waterhouse under the ocean，far from other human beings，come to my mind occasionally②，always with a sense of fantasy and desire. I at times go into my daydreaming mode—one day， maybe one day，I will be able to master all the skills needed to survive， just by myself.

Until one day，something dawns on③ me. At the second semester in Cornell，I take Econ 1110④，which is a big 300 people class. One usual morning when I walk into my Econ 1110 class from the back door about five minutes early，I am bombarded⑤by—I cannot find any better way to put it—Facebook*. The classroom is nearly full at that moment. Nearly a whole lecture hall of my classmates are surfing on their computers， most of them on Facebook. The typical Facebook？鄄blue shines on so many Apple， Dell， HP computers that you just cannot ignore it. The whole scene reminds me of one time when I was in primary school，I watched a Monday morning flag raising ceremony from a high balcony⑥. My primary school classmates， wearing different facial expressions，all raise their hands above their heads， paying tribute to⑦ the rising national flag. Now in this classroom， my smart college classmates，wearing different clothes，nearly all have their computers on，and are surfing websites—especially Facebook. The sense of uniformity⑧ leaves a shocking impression in my brain.

Walking down to the front of the classroom，I see that besides Facebook，some other websites are visited too：girls scrolling down Amazon.com and other online shopping websites；some tweeting⑨ on twitter*；some， apparently Chinese students，are using Renren；and some are reading news，especially New York Times. Most of the few who do not have their computers around，are holding their phones in their hands—texting，and so on. I settle in a seat，still thinking about the shock I just experienced，naturally take out my computer. Then I naturally log onto the Internet. At that moment，I nearly feel compelled⑩ to click on my“most visited website”and open Facebook and Renren.“What are you doing？”I say to myself，realizing that I myself am also one of the “Facebook crowd”.

Social media is not the only thing that we increasingly find hard to disconnect with. I remember the fear I had at the beginning of the semester when I lost my phone. I did not want to go anywhere outside of Cornell because I hate the possibility of my getting lost and having no one to call for help. Without my phone，I felt helpless. This sense of helplessness and my own attachment towards the Internet remind me to give my“reclusive life fantasy”a second thought：even if I get to master all the skills needed to feed and shelter myself，can I really survive the helplessness of living without the technologies that connect me with the outside world？

Maybe，as technologies“turn our world into a global village”and enlarge our social network，we are also somehow“disabled”and discouraged by it. We feel increasingly uncomfortable living without these devices and social websites and might find it much harder than，say，old Robinson，to survive in a deserted island.

（By Kaiwen Zhong on Mar.20，2012 in Ithaca，NY）

* Facebook and Twitter are both social media websites outside of mainland China on which you can interact with your connections.

① reclusive adj. 隱遁的，隱居的

② occasionally adv. 有時(shí)候，偶爾

③ dawn on逐漸（被人）知曉，明白

④ Econ 1110 筆者所學(xué)科目及編號

⑤ bombard vt. 炮擊，轟炸，攻擊；連珠炮般地提問

⑥ balcony n. 露臺，陽臺，樓座

⑦ pay tribute to稱贊， 歌頌

⑧ uniformity n. 一樣，一律，一致，無差異，無變化

⑨ tweet vi. 啾鳴（文中指“在Twitter上發(fā)帖”）n.小鳥叫聲，啾啾聲，吱吱聲

⑩ compel vt. 強(qiáng)迫，使不得不

編輯/梁宇清