I'm a member of the first digital generation, and only now -- with many of us moving into our mid-20s -- are we learning some of the painful ramifications of growing up digital. In early 2006, a number of papers ran stories about employers quietly checking the Facebook profiles and MySpace pages of job applicants. The calls to "clean up your digital lives" came down in droves from college deans and our parents.

I, like many, largely brushed this off. I wasn't looking for a job yet. In fact, I was doing everything in my power keep thoughts of the real world and job market from dampening my last three semesters of school. To be honest, I liked to think that the pictures, quotes and jokes on my Facebook page made me a more desirable candidate -- added a dimension to my personality, even.

Then the deans started joining Facebook -- signature blank pages, with just their names, e-mail addresses and looming question marks where pictures should have been. Then came the rumors that our college e-mail accounts weren't entirely our own, and could be read -- or worse, used against us -- if we were under suspicion. We realized that we were being watched.

The Internet had given college administrators a window into our private lives. One picture could prove numerous offenses: underage drinking, consumption of alcohol in dormitories, drug use, abuse of campus property.

But even with this realization, I, like many, managed to ignore the situation.

It wasn't until this past June, while going over notes in a greenroom, that I encountered my first dose of reality from this digital day. I was appearing on several radio shows to discuss an article I had written about college graduation and the difficult road ahead.

A producer walked in, stated her name, and before I could get a word in -- a hello, a handshake, a greeting of any kind -- she said, "Tell me about Jell-O wrestling."

Needless to say, my digital life had caught up with me. Tucked away, at least four or five pages into Google, one might find a story about a social event that I helped organize, which, while rather tame compared to many big university parties, garnered press on my small campus.

I had completely forgotten the article. I had almost forgotten the party itself, to be honest.

But as I sat at home that night, taking down a MySpace page and stripping my Facebook profile to the point of resembling my dean's, I realized that many of our lives are tucked away in Google's back-pages: our high-school athletic statistics, if we were in the marching band, whether as 14-year-olds we made the honor roll.

Google can tell me where someone went to college, if they served on student council or if they were summoned to a day in court. Even misdemeanors, juvenile indiscretions wiped off criminal records, may still catch up with a person if their name appeared in the crime blotter of a local paper.

Almost everyone under 25 appears in hundreds of pictures on the Internet, most likely even in some they themselves don't know about. More importantly, the veils that hide them from strangers, deans or potential employers are quite thin, if they exist at all.

But my generation's relationship with the Internet is fairly complex. The 'Net isn't simply an agent of paparazzi, picking up the less glamorous elements of our past and putting them on display. Ask a college kid to write a paper without the Internet and they'll laugh: "Impossible." It's an infinite library, a portal to understanding any mindset; it's a constantly updated tabloid and the world's newest casino/arcade; the world's greatest resource, and its greatest distraction. But the relationship is growing more troubled, and the topic does not enjoy the widespread debate and consideration it warrants.

Will kids stop writing controversial papers and theses during their high school and undergrad years, afraid that an impassioned posting on a class web forum might deter a future employer? It's not a difficult situation to imagine.

Should a person be able to control what appears about them on the 'Net? Should we not allow people to sever themselves from the past, let certain things be forgotten over time as they were for generations before us? But what if we're talking about a CEO, or a felon, or someone running for office? What about the troubled teen whose father is seeking office?

For now, though, as the debate fails to take place, as Google continues pushing for permission to search through Facebook pages, and as services proliferate that allow one to see web pages that have since been taken down, we can only assume the Internet will become less and less private, and that our pasts will be subject to more and more scrutiny.

Welcome to the digital era. College students, be wary of any parties involving food-filled inflatable pools.

To find out more about Brian Till and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.
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