Catherine Donnelly

I’ve recently been fascinated by the notion of technology as an extension of our minds. This idea first came to light when I changed mobile phones. I didn’t know anyone’s phone number, with the exception of my clients (shame) and my sister (practically the same person, doesn’t count).

I then realised I don’t know anyone’s email address. My computer anticipates these. I don’t need a grocery list as I do a lot of shopping online. And then while doing homework with Wolf I instantly reached for my calculator when it came time for maths… What? I work in PR; we don’t really do numbers unless we’re working with a survey.

And this doesn’t even take into count how social media has impacted things…

Our phones, calculators and computers are taking the place of our memory, maintaining our contacts and ability to spell. Blog are for thoughts and ideas. Facebook holds our pictures and many of our social relationships, and Twitter is a general account of our days.

It’s a little Big Brother of me, but I wonder what would happen if someone out there started to monitor all of this and sort of group everyone’s emotions and experiences into one big collective mind.

Forget discussions about refugees, carbon tax and paid maternity leave, the real controversy in Australian society these days comes from the person who chooses not to drink, especially if you work in any kind of corporate or creative environment.

I must admit I was quite a drinker in my younger years. I blamed my Scottish heritage, which practically demands a tipple every now and yes please. But I think my Asian genes have slowly taken over and I subsequently cannot drink like I used to. I get drunk quickly. I go red. My body passes out or I get violently ill, which is no fun at all, not to mention how punishing hangovers have become.

At first I found it awfully disheartening. If you order a glass of lemonade at the pub, people instantly assume you’re the designated driver, sick or raising money for charity. It could never be a matter of choice.

Continue reading →

Armed with an umbrella and my iPod, I’d been drinking with work friends and was feeling rather relaxed and refreshed as I wandered along Oxford Street in the rain.

I reached an intersection and I noticed two people waiting by the lights. I asked if they would like to share my umbrella and because they were trapped, started a conversation about their plans for the night. Before we had reached the other side of the road, I’d discovered they belong to a quaint little monthly book club and we had swapped business cards. And so I turned up on my own the following month, not knowing a single soul, and continued to do so for about two years.

Continue reading →