An impromptu trip home to New Jersey last weekend found me seated comfortably in my living room with two friends, flames roaring in the fireplace and all our eyes glued to various screens. It was one my friends who first pointed it out: I was on my laptop studying for an exam, our other friend was texting her boyfriend to make plans for Saturday night and she herself was searching for an online article she wanted to show us. She lamented our reliance on technology, and blamed our divided attention for the “half-conversations” we were having with each other. I sheepishly closed my laptop, and my friend tucked her phone into her pocket.
Her point was not a new one, and it certainly was not one lacking validity. It’s impossible not to notice the trend in all aspects of life: the quiet atmosphere of a coffee shop is interrupted by the constant buzz of phones on wooden tables, tiny flashes of distracting blue light in the otherwise pitch black movie theater. Even in my own family, where we follow a relatively strict “no phones at the dinner table” policy, we can rarely get through a meal without pulling out an iPad to Google the answer to some trivia question plaguing us.
I experienced this dependence in a pretty concrete way this week. While walking down McCormick Road on my way to class the other morning, eyes downcast and once more attached to a screen, I actually ran smack into another girl who was doing the exact same thing. At first it felt like slapstick comedy, and then felt slightly pathetic. We both muttered embarrassed apologies, and shuffled along on our separate ways, tucking our phones away again.
However, as I fast-walked farther and farther away from the scene of my technology transgression, I felt my phone buzzing violently in my back pocket. The conversation I had been having was an important one. My sister was in the middle of a relationship crisis, and needed my advice. When we still lived under the same roof, the situation would have played out very differently: her stretched out at the foot of my bed while I offered my attention and a potential solution. This year, since she began her full time job in New York City, we are no longer just separated by five states, but by our busy schedules as well.
It occurred to me there are times these flurried text messages are some of the only contact I have with the people in my life who mean the most to me. While it’s true electronic methods of communication have definitely taken a hold of our lives, their functions are not always nefarious. It may seem like the technology takeover is driving us apart, but when these devices are used in their correct contexts, their only purpose is to bring people together.
This is not to say there aren’t appropriate and slightly less appropriate times to be on your phone. But when I see a friend’s face light up at a text that she just read, my first reaction is rarely to be upset that I am not receiving her full and undivided attention. Everyone is missing someone, and technology is a wonderful tool that can be used to stay connected and close to those people who can sometimes feel very far away. Just make sure you’re still looking both ways before you cross the street.
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