Cell phone addiction: ruminating about our love affairs with our phones

Then there are the discoveries of the University of Maryland researchers who challenged students to go sans cell phones for 24 hours. “It ended up being the most horrible experience many of them had ever in their life, according to what they self-reported to us.” Oh, Drama, where art thou? They felt “tremendous boredom” and “emotionally detached” … ?!? Oh. My. Gordness. Hello! Addiction! Classic sign, right there! Which leads me right back ’round to my decline of western civilization beating of the dead horse.

Want to know why they experienced tremendous boredom and emotional detachment? Because, incredibly, the simple act of sitting across from someone and having a casual conversation has become a lost art. And it needn’t be. How freakin’ difficult is it to strike up a comment with the dude sitting next to you on the train about how he looks just like a friend of yours you haven’t seen in ages? Would it kill you to compliment the lady who is wearing a flamboyant hat that screams “I’m right here!” because she thinks it looks good and throwing her a little bone would damn near make her day? No … it wouldn’t. (It just so happens I did this very thing at the L.A. County Fair a couple of weeks ago — you should have seen this dame light up like a Christmas tree. The smile that appeared on her face was a mile wide.) Are you going to shrivel up and blow away in the breeze by holding a door open for a stranger and, with a grin, tell them you’re doing so because you know they’re someone special … even though you don’t know them from Adam? I’d bet dollars to donuts you’ll be just fine if you find yourself in such an opportunity.

My point is this: Those students are bored for the very reason their heads are buried in their cell phone screens, gathering the latest gossip or Facebook updates. They don’t know how to commune with anyone anymore. They barely venture out beyond their tight little bubble of comfortability because the awkwardness of it all will surely destroy them … or at least set them up for a fall of which they will never recover.

I’m not totally immune: I’ll admit I have my head down and am looking up a sports score or somesuch often. But anyone who’s seen me in action knows I will just as soon chat with a stranger at the drop of a hat than not. (*suddenly hears the rolling of scores of eyeballs from this truth*) And, yes … I’ve put my phone down and let it lie for days on end without any wear or tear to my psyche. I wear a badge of honor at casually glancing at Twitter every four or five days. (“Michael: Don’t you know what Twitter is for? To keep updated about stuff!” Pish, posh I say.)

“Talk to your child,” Turkle said. “Talk to your partner. Talk to yourself! It’s not about saying, ‘Don’t use your phone.’ It’s not about throwing away your phone. It’s about, ‘How do we reclaim conversation?'”

There you go … now she’s making sense. If she could just get over her fear of saying the word “addiction” …