For a long time, I was That Girl. You know her; at Penn, you know her all too well. I kept my cell phone on all the time. I talked on it incessantly. I kept its ringer on not only high, but high AND vibrate. I picked it up whenever and wherever it rang. If I had to walk somewhere, I called somebody. If I was waiting around for any period longer than five minutes, I picked up my phone. If I had a message, I checked it. If you knew any more about me than my name, you probably knew my ring.
And then, not so suddenly, it all stopped. Once, it had seemed cool to be that person always on her phone, but things changed. I was jealous of people who ignored strings of messages, people who forgot cell phones places -- people who didn't care. I decided it was sleek to be unobtainable.
"The thing is," Big once lamented about a celebrity he loved and lost, "she can reach me, but I can't ever get her."
So, I started leaving my phone on vibrate. It was a conscious effort, especially because I knew my phone so well, I could hear its vibration from three blocks away. My friends would get angry, but I shrugged them off. "The thing is," I thought, "what you don't get is that I can reach you, but you can't ever reach me." Often the going was tough. I wanted to know what my messages said -- I craved them -- but I let at least two or three build up before I checked. Still, as long as it was such hard work to be hard to get, I knew I was just a faker.
But then, without me realizing it, I became not-a-faker. I hate the sound of my ring; in fact, I have taken to leaving my phone on silent so often that even I forget what it sounds like. I don't remember to call people back, and I almost never pick up my phone. (Usually, this is because it's silenced, but even when it's not, answering is an annoyance.) Whereas once I was That Girl, I'm now That Other Girl. I think it's rude when you answer a phone in almost any social circumstance. It's one thing if you're alone, but in public? How uncouth.
I shouldn't say this, but it's true. I regret what I've done. I may be socially cavalier, but I lost something in the process.
I've created a monster ... out of myself.
It's annoying when you're trying to reach someone who you know won't answer. I don't like it; why should anyone else?
Frankly, I'm worried: Is it just my cell phone habits that have changed? Or is it me?
I made a New Year's resolution to answer my phone more often this semester. It was a resolution I needed to make. I'm kind. I'm polite. I'm a sweet, responsible person and I DO care about your friendship. I care. I CARE. This is all that really matters.
So why can't I remember to keep my stupid phone on?
-Yona
