I remember being a young undergraduate of 18 and tutting (silently,
from that place that felt superior because it rejected most forms of
technology) at other students who had mobile phones and delighted in talking
loudly upon them. “I’ll never be one of
those people who’ll own one of those things.
If I’m out, I don’t want to be contactable.” This was 1996, when we had an “Introduction
to the Internet” as a compulsory class at the beginning of first year and
directed to one of two major search engines: Yahoo or Alta Vista. Google was but a fledgling flexing its
wings. We were told to “search” for
something… It was painfully slow dial-up and our email accounts looked like
Ceefax. I didn’t even know what to
search for. To find journal articles in the library we had to look up enormous
reference books and search under keywords.
Research was a difficult process; there was no such thing as Google
Scholar. On the plus side, when I found
an obscure article to reference in an essay, I was delighted. Not everyone on the course could have the
same bibliography created by searching the same academic journals on the same
websites.
But, things move on; technology makes things easier, more accessible.
My sister game me a brick (mobile phone) when I was in fourth year so that my
family could contact me easily. I still
rejected it: it remained plugged in, in my room and was never taken out to
become “mobile”. Perhaps this was more
to do with how unbelievably uncool it was; after all, I didn’t go to university
in an 80s movie. I still used my Sony
Walkman, which I thought was marvellous as it could slip so easily into my
pocket. But, when Brick gave up the ghost and I realised that I quite liked
texting as it didn’t engender the commitment of a phone call, I bought a new
phone before I went to teacher training college in 2000. This was the thin edge of a dangerous
wedge. I used it for texting, and for
the one thing I thought I would never do: for cancelling plans at the last
minute, or for warning friends of my tardiness. Having it meant that plans were
never really “fixed”, but rather in constant flux, which is modern life to a
tee. We don’t even have to commit to going to a concert we’ve bought tickets
for.
I have a Belgian friend, who lives in Brussels who is 36 and
has never owned a mobile phone; he absolutely refuses. He’s the most reliable person I know. He never cancels; he always turns up where he
has planned and when he has planned. He
has to. He isn’t on Facebook either,
thus he’s never texting and updating his status simultaneously, while pinning
on Pinterest, Blogging and buying unnecessary stuff on Ebay while drunk. Ok, so he’s hard to pin down, to get him to
answer his phone and I don’t see pictures he’s been tagged in whilst unawares,
but at least he still emanates a sense of mystery which I would click “Like” on
if I could.
