My Little Talking Crack Pipe

Addiction? I've been thinking about addiction lately. No, I'm not a drug addict. I'm very careful about which and how many vices I keep; narcotics is not one of them. Nor do I know any drug addicts. At this point, I think it's too early to tell if I know any alcoholics. If I do, it's a private matter, and for the few I suspect, it still hasn't been that long since graduating from college, so I can't be sure. Take a look back at the copious amounts of alcohol either you or your friends consumed in college. Remember the odd times of day and circumstances under which these kids drank? Now apply that to adult life. Perhaps no greater double standard exists than the one regarding alcohol consumption by college students versus working adults. It doesn't surprise me that so many people come out of college full blown alcoholics. In their minds, all they're doing is business as usual. Think about that the next time you find yourself pre-gaming for your niece's first communion.

Yesterday, I lost my cellphone. This may not seem like it falls under the same categories of addiction, like alcohol, sex, or black tar heroin, but not having my fix rendered me non-functional, unable to get through the day normally. I sacrificed the majority of the day to looking for ways to get that fix. An hour after arriving at work, I drove back home and turned my house upside down looing for the damn phone. On the way back, I stopped by the ATT store because I was already prepared to buy a new phone, but because I also wanted to transfer service, I couldn't do even that without my dad being there to sign off. I'm still on the family plan - weak.

By the time I got back to work, it was after 11am. I spent the next hour between my car and the school, thinking I may have left it there while locking up after the film shoot. No dice. 12pm = lunch, and there's no way I was giving up my hour, regardless of the circumstances. I may have put in a total of one hour of honest work before leaving at 3pm for the ATT store again to pick up a temporary replacement, which happened to be a fantastic Nokia model. Fast forward to getting home from locking up the school at 8pm, the cleaning lady having left several hours ago, and there's my God-forsaken phone staring up at me from the center of the kitchen table.

Looking back, it's pretty stunning that my life stopped in its tracks because I didn't have my cell phone. I don't call or text on a regular basis. The whole home purchase thing means I've been making and receiving more calls than usual, but nothing huge. In fact, I've spent way more time complaining about my phone than appreciating its utility. Am I the only one who is against the idea of any- and everyone having 24/7 access to me? I find it intrusive, and I'll never feel like I have 100% me-time so long as I've got that phone in my pocket. By removing the phone from the equation, though, I felt cut off, nervous, and insecure.

Perhaps the phone's most useful function is as a security blanket.