"We want a world where life is preserved." -Isabel Allende

I started reading Isabel Allende's Daughter of Fortune last December. I had stumbled upon a quaint book store reminiscent of an attic (those are the best kind) on my way to a coffee shop in La Jolla and just had to purchase something. (I have this disease where, when I enter a book store, I can't leave without buying a book. It's genetic.) In what, to any onlooker, would have seemed like a decision between life and death, I carefully selected the book from a choice of several others for no particular reason in the world. 

Between assigned reading for work and little time to read in general (and okay, I'm a pretty slow reader), I only completed the 400-page novel in June. Throughout the six month period, however, I could be assured that whenever I opened up the book, the heroine, Eliza, would be waiting for me right where I had left off. 

It was some time in June that I truly got traction on the book. For a period of a couple days, I was completely entrenched in the world Allende had created with her writing. I found it difficult to tear myself apart to live my own life -- I was constantly distracted and wanting to return to my book. Only after completing the book could I wholeheartedly continue onward. 

If there's one thing I absolutely cherish about fiction literature, it's the stories are never a thing of the past. As my seventh grade English teacher once romanticized, every time you open up a fiction book, the world is recreated. The characters are reborn. The plot is reignited. 

This notion is probably the sole distinguishing factor between fiction and reality. Reality, especially the fast-paced technological reality of today, is not contained between two pieces of cardboard, waiting for our attention whenever we have some time to spare. 

Increasingly, likely due to the state and speed of technology and communication, we're living in a world of fleeting fads. A world ruled by viral videos (Shit People Say), memes and games (Draw Something) where the lifespan of a fruit fly suddenly feels quite long. 

In the early days of Facebook, a user could update a status which would then remain stuck at the top of the profile for about a week. Though seven days isn't that long in the grand scheme of things, there was a sense of commitment to thought. At some point, probably in response to Twitter, Facebook statuses turned into something more fleeting. Scrolling to obsolescence, saturated by the information overload that is social media. If Facebook is a proxy for the way we as humans assess and process the world and our feelings, I am nervous about where this is taking us. 

I am worried that we have begun to apply our love for fads, our newfound prowess at rapidly adopting, adapting, then advancing to our interpersonal relationships as well. I'll be the first to admit, I sometimes have trouble placing some of my Facebook friends. I don't remember who they are or where I met them. 

I started getting to know one of my now good friends towards the end of my senior year of college. At a glance, it seems surprising that our friendship has continued to grow after graduation, especially given that we live on opposite ends of the globe. Upon deeper reflection, I realize that it is silly to be surprised. We segment time and our lives with random and arbitrary landmarks: college, new jobs, marriage. We collect friends along the way. But these relationships don't need to be confined by the bookends of these landmarks. 

Several months ago, a friend and I were at dinner discussing a plethora of existential topics. Those topics and thoughts you revel in as a child, but that, as you grow older, are construed as naive and silly. What does forever mean to you? he asked. I paused for a second, pretending to think, but really having thought about it frequently enough to already have my answer. I always imagine growing older and older with the world, but never dying. The people I love would stick around too. His image of forever was similar in that the people in his life would remain. Just, nobody would get any older. Most noteworthy was that both of us incorporated our interpersonal relationships in "forever." 

That we have started to treat people in our lives the way we treat fleeting Internet memes is a complete shame. I truly believe that now, more than ever, we must retrain ourselves as the human race to establish life-long relationships. Not frivolous social media connections. If you ask me, our relationships should be like fiction novels. Taking time to mature, ferment, and reignited. Ready to be dusted off and reread after years on the shelf. This isn't exactly a crazy notion. In fact, some say that fiction is just life without the boring parts. I tend to agree.