It was the last day of sixth grade, and I was the most talked about girl in my class. No, I was not going out with the quarterback of the Peewee football team, nor had I been spotted at the mall with a group of gasp eighth graders.
I had just gotten my first phone. A Nokia flip phone, complete with an antenna and of course, Snake. Needless to say, it was the coolest thing any of my phone-less friends had ever seen.
Flash forward about six years: the BlackBerry bug hit my high school. Hard. And I couldn't have hated the smartphone revolution more. I proudly carried around my RAZR, appalled at all of my peers who spent their days with their thumbs glued to their phones.
Unfortunately, my revolt didn't last very long. My father, whose collection of gizmos rivals that of even Inspector Gadget, bought my sister and I the newest BlackBerry models out of his desire to have new toys in the household to play with.
Like a fast-acting drug, the effect was instant. I went from having to tediously hit the "2" button three times to get the letter "c" in a text to fast and furiously typing messages on my phone as if it would self-destruct in five seconds unless I "LOL"'d at the joke my friend just texted me. My school computers became obsolete, as I could do everything from send an e-mail to edit a paper on my handy new smartphone.
And then there was Brickbreaker. A few days after I got my BlackBerry, I decided to give the game a try during one of my breaks at school. Three hours later, I had skipped lunch, failed to do any of my biology homework and missed an advisory meeting but I was on Level 20 and by no means about to leave while I was on this hot streak. And it only continued to get worse. I became obsessed with knowing what all of my friends' high scores were and devoted myself to beating them. College applications could wait. I had just been accepted to the University of BrickBreaker Level 32.
Consequently, coming to Dartmouth, I thought that the College's association with all things nature and outdoorsy would help wean me off of my enslavement to my phone.
Instead, I was plunged into a world where not responding to a blitz within 10 minutes was equivalent to referring to everyone's favorite pizza spot as "Everything But Anchovies" simply not done. After someone showed me how to get Blitz on my BlackBerry, there was no going back.
Getting a new blitz became this huge thrill. Feeling the buzz in the back of my pocket notifying me of a new message became this insatiable craving I had to satisfy immediately. I couldn't just wait and answer it later what if there was a Student Assembly "Alternative Space Party" I was missing out on? What if Jim Kim had to tell me something about the budget?
I hit rock bottom.
So as I sit here in One Wheelock writing this article, while my friend Kate holds my hand for emotional support, I wonder if and when I will ever wean myself off of my addiction. I think about President Obama, who can pass landmark health care legislation yet still admits that he can't separate himself from his BlackBerry. In other words, IS there a healthy way to be a BlackBerry user? Aren't we all just brick-breaking, BBM-ing, crack (berry) addicts? Ponder that question, and in the meantime, I've got a high score to beat.
