Remember the Internet?

I’m 38.

That means I remember the internet. I remember when the internet was new.

I remember my very first livestream (New Year’s Eve, 1994).

Host: “Look! We’re online with these guys in Japan! They’re celebrating New Years Eve with us! This is going to change the world!”
Me: “Yeah, right, sure. Whatever…”
S: “What a pile of wank. That’ll never catch on.”
Me: “Yeah! A party in Japan. Big fucking deal. Who gives a shit?”
S: “Yeah, he’s always banging on about the internet. All of them. Fucking obsessed with it. Soooo sad.”
Me: “Dull-o! Oh Jesus. Who let T have the coke?!”

I remember my very first email (summer, 1996).

Me: “Haven’t you got it yet?”
Bloke: “No, I think you did something wrong.”
Me: “I sent it two hours ago. Maybe it’s on its way.”
Bloke: “Umm, no. It’s instantaneous.”
Me: “Maybe it’s, you know, held up somewhere?”

I remember my first attempt to explain search to someone (winter, 1998).

Me: “Don’t bother ringing anyone up! I’ll look it up on the internet…”
Boss: “What do you mean?”
Me: “Look, you just type it into Yahoo, and, oh… wait, just let me scroll through this page, it’ll be there somewhere… Hang on… No, wait…”
Boss: “Yeah, I’ll ring him up.”

And I remember when my godson explained Facebook to me (mid-2006):

Godson: “My generation doesn’t really use email. We use Facebook.”
Me: “What’s that?”
Godson: “You just kind of stick things up on a wall.”
Me: “What? For everyone to see?!”
Godson: “Yeah, kind of. If they’re your friends.”
Me: “That’s weird. That’ll never catch on. Sharing all your business with everyone on the internet.”

And if someone back then had told me that I’d need to use a programme called “Self-Control for Mac” to keep me off the internet and Facebook, I’d most likely have said this: “Mac?! What DAFUQ is a Mac?!”