You Don't Know Me

As a human being, you are likely to have an identity crisis of sorts at some point or another in your lifetime. It is what it is. And perhaps it's just me, but in this age of technological progression, is it possible that we are all--simultaneously--experiencing a new type of identity crisis? One that's more of a regression than a point of stagnancy and pensive introspection?

I'm not one to close my mouth when it comes to the pitfalls of technology. In fact, I am more often than not the person who points out how there was a time when I didn't have the computer crutch I have today and I would argue that I was a happier person then. But that is not a novel complaint from anyone above the age of 25. I would go so far as to call it pedestrian. But again--it is what it is--and that's how I feel.

But the side of my complaint that holds a grim observation is about how this technology has caused an identity crisis in 2011. The average person has a smart phone with several apps, up to thousands of contacts, games, a camera, and email and text capabilities. (Yes, iPhone and your contemporaries, I'm referring to you.) When I think back over my actions in a single day, I can create a timeline based on when I texted someone or what phone call I made while waiting in line to get my nails done, or what story I read on CNN.com while skimming the app. I am constantly in touch with other people--and while that may be positive in terms of maintaining relationships and keeping up to date with the news--the cost of that is only now coming to light.

I don't know the exact number but I would imagine that minutes to hours a day are committed to the usage of a smart phone or mobile computer. Forget about the people that tell you it's rude to text all through a meal (it is, by the way). I'm not even talking about that. The time that you are killing on these devices, while seemingly harmless, isn't just infringing on valuable face time with others, it's actually distancing you from you! The time I spend on my phone everyday is the time I used to be forced to spend with myself. In the 1990s, I would have had to sit in quiet (or read a book) while at the nail salon or an ice cream store or wherever.

I'm sure this seems like an overly simplistic point that I am making, but really stop and think about it. How well do you know yourself? Probably pretty well--but as well as you would without the fucking phone? Probably not. In fact, and I am ashamed to say this, but I don't know that I pay attention to certain things with relation to my own happiness the way I did even ten years ago.

I'm not saying abandon the phones all together. The world would probably shut down. Seriously. But it shouldn't be the addendum, the additional body part, that it has become. Because at the end of the day, the phone will remember everything you said (texted) and how long you did it for (call logs) and how many games you won (Scrabble scoreboard), and how popular you are (number of contacts). But it's becoming more and more like a documentarian of someone who puts everything personal into the ether of technology--and not into actually interfacing with another human being, let alone themselves. And by the way--if you're cell phone is pulling triple duty as your alarm clock, your mobile phone, and your home phone, you are guilty of contributing to the demise I'm referring to.

Apparently chronic dissatisfaction isn't the only cause of an identity crisis. Who knew?