Pulling the Plug

Ever get the feeling you're missing out on something, somewhere, with someone? Occasionally? My daughter seems to have that feeling anytime there isn't a phone in her hand or she isn't logged onto Facebook seeing what's going on with her 100+ "friends."

Even as recently as fifteen years ago, kids with cell phones were a rarity. Facebook didn't make the scene until 2004, and even then it was just for Harvard students. How soon this generation feels the Universe owes them something that didn't even exist when they were born, let alone "in my day." We parents may not be equipped to handle the lessons these tykes need in proper communication across these media, since we ourselves are new to it. A student of mine admitted to breaking up with her boyfriend over text. Clearly such a conversation warrants a face-to-face meeting, but kids today are increasingly uncomfortable with real-time discourse, in person. I am starting to worry that this generation of kids is growing up completely plugged in, and therefore checked out.

Back to my daughter, "Wednesday," who hasn't been following the rules at my house. She doesn't clean up after herself. She fails to turn off lights when she leaves a room. (One morning I counted seven lights and the television left on overnight.) Although I have a "No eating in your room" rule, I continue to find cups of coffee and tea (still sporting the soppy bag), plastic soda bottles (some half full, some empty), ice cream cartons (some half full, some empty), cereal bowls (mostly empty, but with crusted-on flakes or O's), and even a half-eaten bowl of salad in her room. She steals my clothes, my makeup, my hair care products, my bathroom appliances, my razors, and even my underwear. She also doesn't always say where she will be and when she will be home. In an act of tired desperation, I did what I thought would speak to her the loudest:

I unplugged her.

Used to sending and receiving a staggering 4000-6000 texts a month, she is now without a cell phone. Whereas she once spent every evening huddled in front of an electronic hearth, logged onto Facebook, she is denied access for any more than 20 minutes a night (if she's been good). I have changed all passwords on the laptop and desktop so that she cannot log on without me, so I know she remains unplugged when I'm not there to watch her. How is she taking it? Like she needs a trip to the methadone clinic.

She talks like a coked-up lawyer.

"Howdoyathink I'm s'posed tobeable to planstuff withmyfriends? Huh? WhatamIsposedtodo?" she asked me, wide-eyed and fidgety. "Don't you WANT me to be, like, socializing face-to-face? Howmy gonna do that if I'm, like TOTALLY cut off? Huh? I can't even callem cuz I don'tevenknowtheirNUMBERS."

"I guess you'll do it like I did in the olden days," I deadpanned. "You'll GO to school, talk to your friends THERE, write their phone numbers down on a piece of paper, and then you will CALL them on the home phone and TALK to them." And then for added theatrical emphasis, I added, "And if you lived in my day, you'd do it standing up next to a phone attached to a wall, like, with a curly cord."

This last addition got me an eye roll. Guess I went too far.

A few articles have been going around the online news media lately about the addictive nature of social media, Facebook in particular. Harrisburg University of Science and Technology banned on-campus access to Facebook for a week , to see the effects a little abstinence might have on the plugged-in generation. Reports of anxiety, withdrawal symptoms, and "sneaking" hits of FB on phones and PDA's proved the addiction is far worse than people think. In a related studies, participants are asked to go without a cell phone for a period of time, during which they too experienced symptoms of anxiety and withdrawal for a period (usually about three days) before a calm serenity started to replace it. These studies suggest that we are all pepped up on communication. Like a drug.

I am definitely susceptible to this. I admit it. I traded my blackberry in for a "regular phone" about a year ago. At first, I bitched about the new phone like I worked for Blackberry, Inc.

"This thing is about twice as big and does half as much as my berry used to..." I would say, sighing with fond remembrance.

Like a typical addict, I quickly forgot the negatives, like the CONSTANT buzzing in my pocket and the annoying emails from students while I am, say, strolling down River Street in Savannah on a weekend. The Facebook messages and updates, the BB messaging, the notifications, they were all exhausting to keep up with. And the device disconnected me from whoever was really present.

I can proudly say I have been off the "crack" almost a year now. Totally clean. Of course, I still feel a little prick in my veins when I see someone else's berry, that little telltale red light that says, "Someone messaged you. . ." Don't think for a minute I don't want to go buy myself a Flip (my brand of choice) and take a nice. . . long . . . drag.

But I don't. Because here's the thing: there are twenty-four hours in a day. I need to sleep seven of those, leaving seventeen. I teach and commute a good eight or so, leaving nine. When I'm grading papers, there goes another five (or more). What paltry time I have left, I want to spend on things that matter: my family, my boyfriend, reading, watching a good movie, laughing with friends, petting my cats (or yelling at them to get off the table where I eat for God's sake). I don't have any leftover time to "plug in" and check out.

I admit that I am susceptible, but notice I didn't come out and say I "have a problem." Most of us will readily admit that Facebook and texting can become addictive, but not to "us." Is it a problem for you? This might be the hardest one yet, but I'm going to ask you if you're up to a challenge. Unplug for three days. No texting and no Facebooking for seventy-two hours. If your first reaction to this request is a generalized feeling of anxiety, doubt that you could do it, or a stream of blurted out expletives, then I think you have your answer. Fine, try one day, but remember, in MY day...we didn't even HAVE texting or Facebook, and no one ever died from it. (You can do three.)

These technologies are miraculous, wonderful additions to our world. People can stay in touch an communicate over miles and times zones like never before. Reconnections with long-lost friends and family have been made possible through social media. But we need to be in charge of our use, not ruled by our need to constantly see what's going on "somewhere else."

Unplug, get off the "crack," and breathe. Then face a real live person and have a real-time conversation, complete with inflection, facial expression, and eye contact. There's no substitute for a good, hearty LOL, with a real "friend."