Tired of losing out on the finer points of academia, the internal spirit guide awoke from a deep slumber induced from the equivalent of what we in the medical field call a post-prandial somnolence. Language aside, apprehension is the assumed disposition for the case of this rhetoric. Therefore, with a lassitude that only a multi-credit student should be able to enjoy, ultimately motivated from and by lethargy, an adventure to Starbucks was definitely in order.  The traffic on the way there was able to hold open the eye lids in route and the espresso drink did the rest of the work once inside.  Now with the drive or perhaps over ambition to accomplish the college student reaches for an orange colored book. Judging the book by its cover: it would appear to have the same color as the highly regarded citrus fruit, but the texture of something dry like the not so much appreciated touch of a hand without moisturizer. The spirit of the academic purposefully climbed up and out of the student’s aura and suddenly began to extract itself, playing a huge role in the many developing thought patterns.

 

 

I did surprise myself; not that I was out in public, or at Starbucks. It was dim and yet everything was visible. All the tables and walls were covered with a dark stain wood grain. The flooring was the rich industrial tile that you see in places that plan on maintaining their permanence. The music was pretentious and too loud for the type of environment they try to market. Which is to say it could be heard well and was at a level that is not conducive for study. I turned to my phone’s Internet radio application for a solution. I had less than 30 pages left of a book required for class that I was fully enthralled with. I turned to the page I left on in “Hamlet’s Blackberry.” I turned slightly to the right so the table was on my left side instead of in front of me. I turned off the world. Dear God, am I responsible or hypocritical if I utilize technology as one abuses or misuses it in my field of vision?

With every great idea the likeliness’ for an equally strong bad idea increases. Good idea was: for me to get up and study that Sunday night, was finding a quite table to myself before my friend arrived, ordering a tall tea with shots of espresso. Bad idea was: inviting a friend to meet me there when I had so much work to do, or sitting near the business of the glass door, and waiting until my drink lost its warmth to drink it. I was too wrapped up in finishing the book; I didn’t even bother to sip on my 10-dollar drink. I didn’t a lot of regard toward anything, letting even pointless arguments and low quality material before me pass. I was in a technological mindset the very concept the book I was enjoying expresses against, reading while letting my ears wonder about online. I drifted away from the page and thought, “the greatest feeling in the world is more of a notion that among the many cells living in the world, there is nothing like you.” Back to the page my consciousness sprung me. I was totally plugged in and partially tuned out until…

The door swung open, over exaggerated; the type of entrance that seems to misrepresent strength, (either due to wind or a freshly oiled hinge.)  I noticed long hair and begun reading again. The lady did a look around to see if anyone noticed her newfound power. No one cared and only I noticed. She scanned the room as if looking for someone, when nobody was found she found a seat. She sat somewhat speaking span from me. She waited patiently with nothing to do for a moment. Eventually I looked up only to spot her starring the title of my book perhaps…either that or she was starring at me. A little bit embarrassed she turned away and pulled out her phone. She pressed the device against her cheek and spoke as much as she listened in the 30sec conversation ending in “See you soon.” Finally, more productive things were in store for the stranger and I.

My drink got colder, the book got duller, and the old jazz music I was listening to got stranger somehow. Every now and again I would ear high-pitched space noises and what sounded like a Sega game. I finally looked up again, and the stranger spirit was trying to talk to me only she didn’t use words. I thought again, “Should I do something about this monster we call binary?” In reality one might guess she was busy catching up on emails or looking at pictures. This lady whom I had now identified as at least ten years older than me, bear a ring on her wedding finger and was gaming on her mobile device. Gaming amongst, grad students, enthusiasts, and other individual who seem to value to condition of the human mind. Not make sin out of stultification satisfaction; she was a lot like a casually dressed person at a gala. Finally her company arrived and she greeted what I recognized to be a great smile. They ordered their drinks. They sat down. And they proceeded to do nothing. They simply sat there, no books, no conversations. Just their phone and virtual worlds in each other’s company in what I believe to be in holy matrimony from this day forward.

It would seem is if the older generation is demonstrating a frightening notion of what closeness is. What is to be made of the human progeny? Whose job is it to elucidate the future generations? William Powers write in his book, Hamlet’s Blackberry, “When you do something out of conviction, the world has a way of rallying round and lending a hand.” Maybe we will start a rally for the world sake to fix these very personal social gaps. Maybe the problem is becoming more apparent and we can learn to address it first hand.

We often joke about how older generations talk with comments like, “When I was your age, we had no TV, just radio, and it was the Beatles. But back then no one knew who they were yet…” When my generations gets to that age we won’t even have musical genre debates it will be conversations about software and platforms. Closer conversations will have a rhetorical principle of: “When I was your age, we didn’t even have iTunes, it was all KaZaa, and Napster. Boy things sure have changed, we could only hold 5 days worth of music on our devices back then.” In a perhaps syndical or altruistic mindset, albeit realistic interpretation, I just hope that when my generation gets to ‘that’ age, we will still be talking.