Buzzed
I realized that I never posted my college essay way back when. My url is buzzed because I wanted to post my writing, and you have to write your best to sway the admissions offices, so I felt it correlated.
Buzzed. I feel more vibrations on a daily basis than a construction worker that got pinned with the jackhammer. My cell phone, doubling as a life-line, shakes like a rattlesnake throughout the day to let me know when it’s time to convey my thoughts via text. Just another victim of this communication phenomenon, constantly indulging in any sort of abbreviation or new slang concocted by my fellow casualties. Yet another teenager compelled by the instant exchange of ideas; wrapped up in a cocoon of electronic knowledge. With such an interest in the interactions of daily occurrences, it is simply too late not to conform to this plague of communication that has swept the globe. So I continue to dance around the fault line, waiting for an influx of news rivaling that of CNN.
Here I stand, seventeen years old with a strong voice, but a voice more frequently expressed through a text or instant message. It is sad how my generation is more gratified by a vibrating pocket than a vibrating larynx. With true conversation no longer fashionable, who am I to attempt to revive it? My inbox is full more often than my stomach and my thumbs are well on their way to carpel tunnel, but I can’t stray from this urge to communicate. The keypad on my phone is played like a piano from day to day and yet no sound is made. My voice continues to rust over and my fellow teenagers are destined to be come nothing short of mute. Is it our fault? We are given new toys to communicate with, with new features, with tools that make it virtually impossible to have to think. Touch screens and full keypads allow the communication enterprises to push us away from human thought and put our speech on autopilot.
I’ve allowed myself to fall victim to these enterprises, to jump when they say jump and to roll head over heels over something new. I cannot help but to enjoy my new toys and to forward texts to my entire contact list, to indulge. I feel guilty most days, but i can’t go into it now… my phone just buzzed.
i love my best friend tom
