I recently read an article about a group of New Haven high school students who created a video about gun violence in their neighborhood. The author spoke highly of the video, convincing me to watch it, until I realized it was 18 minutes long.

If I was in a different setting, such as a screening, or if I had prior intentions to watch it, 18 minutes would be an acceptable duration. But in my internet browsing state it did not fly. I was not convinced that those 18 minutes were worth it.

My experience may be used as an example of today’s short attention spans, whittled down to nothing by Twitter, kitten videos, and Chatroulette. It could depict a generation of mush-for-brains youngsters who can’t find their ways home, but can sure Google it.

Similar concerns were voiced in a February ’12 Pew survey of technology thought leaders regarding the future of the internet and its users. Annette Liska, an emerging-technologies design expert, wrote:

The idea that rapidity is a panacea for improved cognitive, behavioral, and social function is in direct conflict with topical movements that believe time serves as a critical ingredient in the ability to adapt, collaborate, create, gain perspective, and many other necessary (and desirable) qualities of life.

And from Stephen Masiclat, a communications professor at Syracuse University:

When the emphasis of our social exchanges shifts from the now to the next, and the social currency of being able to say ‘I was there first’ rises, we will naturally devalue retrospective reflection and the wisdom it imparts.

Liska’s and Masiclat’s blurbs are elegant versions of the widespread concern that the internet is ruining our brains: with infinite instant knowledge and quick entertainment comes shallow thinking and decreased independence.

As a young teenager, I gamed a lot. Xbox, Nintendo, and computers occupied the majority of my free time, especially during summer break when I’d wake up at sunrise to log in 4 hours before my parents woke up. They’d ask me how long I’d been playing that morning and I’d respond “Only a half-hour,” which would buy me another hour of playtime.

I was the quintessential zombie-gamer, with eyes glued to the screen and a bag of Cheetos nearby.

I started feeling depressed after long gaming sessions, like I was wasting my life away, but I’d still continue to play more.

Eventually, the pangs of guilt and depression overcame the need to game and I took a serious cyber-vacation. For two months I didn’t pick up a controller, didn’t log online to play Everquest–and though I experienced mental withdrawal symptoms (seriously), it was a much-needed break. I came back with a more mature, less-impulsive, approach to technology.

The part of myself that craved mindless clicking and hours of quick entertainment had revealed itself. This was what had overpowered me during the past years, and had also scared my parents of technology’s dark potential.

I’m sure many people struggle with the same beast–in extreme cases some have even died from their technology obsessions. In my case it took a 2-month total break, followed by years more of close attention, to become fearfully acquainted with these tendencies.

Those 5 minutes on Facebook that somehow turn into 50, those instances of “I’ll just watch one more video” that turn into 20 videos, are closely related to the gaming beast I wrestled with.

Returning to the Pew survey, I’m not terribly concerned if the internet is overall good or bad. I’m more focused on how to make the best of the internet, because it’s not going anywhere soon.

From another survey respondent, Susan Price, an organizer of Tedx:

Those who bemoan the perceived decline in deep thinking or engagement, face-to-face social skills and dependency on technology fail to appreciate the need to evolve our processes and behaviors to suit the new reality and opportunities.

These are the cards we’ve been dealt. So how do we use them to our advantage?

Reed Immer is a Digital Marketing Specialist at Response.