I was also thinking last night (and by that I mean "sitting in the dark, drinking, and waiting for Person of Interest to download") about how you, RC, might be blaming society (or the internet) for your own addictive tendencies. All this stems out of falling down Youtube and Wiki holes, playing bedazzled, and getting lost in blogs, right? The infinitely terrifying time sink of the internet at large.
But let's look at the psychology of it. You have an artistic mind. Art -- whether it's making films, writing screenplays, writing books, publishing books, or whatever -- takes a huge emotional toll. Each project is painful, and it's all -- no matter how professional you are -- the act of "emptying out," if you will, the contents of your soul and/or very personalized psychosis.
Now, in the days before the internet, writers and artists procrastinated through other means. Drugs, booze, women... Or even mundane shit like household projects, train spotting, whatever. It's all the same. The need to put off the work, the bone-deep malaise that settles in, with a thousand different faces, at the start of the blank page, half way through it, and when you've finished it.
If the internet wasn't right there, you'd be doing something else to put it off. It's been the same story forever. Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Van Gogh... They all did everything they could to put off their work and freaked out about it in dark corners. They didn't even have a TV! Every artist has that kind of story. Whoever copied down the Epic of Gilgamesh probably spent 70% of his time on some hobbyist woodworking project snarling to his wife about how he can't get any work done because the world sucks.