Someone dig up George Orwell, because this place is falling apart like a leper on a trampoline. Computers are monopolizing our time, making or breaking our interpersonal relationships, and creating a social divide among the college population at large.

As a young woman on the prowl, nothing is more frustrating then having make-out fantasies about a potential gentleman friend from class or other mutual haunt and then coming to find out that the dude does not go online. I also feel somewhat alienated from my friends who are not permanent fixtures on my buddy list. A person without a screen name or discriminating palate for one-liners lives a lifestyle that is in direct conflict with mine. Auto response from Stephy Ska: I am addicted to AOL Instant Messenger.

My life is located on the right side of my 17″ monitor, and my social structure is organized neatly into groups labeled My Posse, Fam Stylie, UMass, Hunk Corral, and Randoms that descend vertically according to personal importance.

My Posse is the most exclusive group, because it is reserved for my very best homies whom I appeal to in times of stress or when that episode of Seinfeld is on when George Costanza becomes a genius after giving up sex. Stephy Ska takes the narcissistic top slot of my entire buddy list so I can ensure the quality control of my profile and away messages.

Fam Stylie is where I go to get the homestead update from my brother and to scan my younger sister’s online journal for signs of high school corruption. My parents cause the occasional open door noise, but I feel bad about subjecting them to fast typing and usually refer them to the telephone.

UMass is the by far the largest group, and it is made up of friends, old neighbors from the dorm, and former teammates from group projects. It is the “go to” place for useful information, lewd vignettes, and pictures from the riots.

Hunk Corral, also known as the man stable, is strictly for guys. It exists mainly for my own personal enjoyment, and the entrance requirements besides gender are arbitrary and dependent on how sassy I am feeling on a given day.

Randoms contain the most diverse group of people, and it does not speak highly of our relationships that they require the most scrolling to find. This is where I keep people from the late nineties that I no longer talk to because we have nothing in common or because I have long forgotten their true identities.

AOL Instant Messenger does not just warp my life into a list – it also runs it. The very first thing I do when I wake up in the morning is check the away message of everyone that is signed on. I walk to the bathroom feeling better that there are people already at class when I am still in my favorite t-shirt with the hole in the armpit so large that I have to wear a sports bra to bed as to not offend my roommates.

The away message has replaced small talk as communication’s trivial yet dignified art form, and its artists post with a broad range of effort and adroitness. Amateurs waste screen space with snooze fests such as ‘at class’ and ‘be back later.’ Those residing at the top of the bell curve leave interesting play-by-plays of their day, and the geniuses come up with one-liners that are repeated in actual face-to-face conversation.

Buddy Info, or the profile which us old-schoolers still call it, is the 1024 character version of this column. The typist has free rein to enrich minds or to make his readers dumber with each additional word. I have outgrown the popular bag of transcribing song lyrics for others to read, but my cut and pasted quotes have a crazy high turnover rate. Links to bawdy websites are also a good time.

I thoroughly enjoy sitting in front of my computer, and the realization that I do not feel as connected to those who do not was a strange one. I love giving presentations in class and being a clown among friends, but I still cannot shake this nasty keyboard habit. For now I will have to cope with the fact that my loop is electronic, and that I am missing out on dudes who do not know the joys of the IM booty call.

Stephanie O’Shea is a Collegian columnist.