Rick Kanary
The Silhouette
I was on the number 51 on my way downtown.
I turned to my trusty Samsung Note II and opened the ‘Games’ folder for something fun to do to pass the time. Usually, I will catch up on my readings for school when I’m on my way to campus in the mornings because the bus is less busy and, subsequently, more peaceful. This bus was packed though, so I decided to do something more, shall we say, recreational, because my personal space was being invaded.
This way I wouldn’t have to stare aimlessly at signs, avoiding eye contact, and I would have a valid reason to avoid engaging in conversation.
Who am I kidding? The truth is, I’m addicted.
Candy Crush calls to me in my sleep. I frequently find myself with phantom itches, comparable to a jones-ing heroin addict, that only subside with the appearance of the lanky ringmaster lookalike that stands smiling on the splash page for the game. Evidence of the epidemic presented itself en route from McMaster when the 60-something man to my left peeked over my shoulder and chuckled. “Addictive, isn’t it?” On another bus ride, a young man sitting in front of me swiped his lock screen at the same time as I did and our devices played the same theme music almost in tandem. We looked at each other with a certain clandestine glee.
There has been an unquestionable, exponential surge in technological advances in the past decade. Personal data devices are an inevitable reality, particularly for those fortunate enough to have the economic and cultural capital to be attending a post-secondary institution as prestigious as ours. Laptops are overcoming handwritten notes, and with this comes the unfortunate distractions of Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, Twitter, and their ilk. While your professors gallantly impart the most prolific lecture material possible, they have no choice but to accept the digitization of their students’ learning processes.
After these encounters, I have been more aware of the habits of my fellow public transportationists. I take time to evaluate the ratios of digital involvement and interpersonal involvement. I’m sure each of you can agree that the number of people with their heads buried in the digital sands continues to increase.
This illusion has bled into our institutions too. Even with a laptop in front of her with multiple browser windows open, a young lady beside me in lecture pulls out her phone to browse another site. Metaphorical jaw agape, I considered how I hadn’t seen her actually look at the prof once, meanwhile she had been robotically taking notes on her MacBook Pro the entire time, carrying on a conversation with her friend beside her, texting some guy, and was now browsing her phone’s internet.
I can identify the value of multi-tasking, but my argument is that something important gets lost in the dilution of attention.
Even with all of this being said, I am still a true lover and advocate of technology. I have the newest gadgets possible; I enjoy playing GTA V, Borderlands 2 with my oldest son, surfing social networks, and any other ethereal plane you can possibly imagine.
However, I have learned through a drawn out series of consequences, to gauge my tech-time by one value: Purpose.
I am not advocating puritanism. That would be a confining, boring and passionless existence. What I am advocating is a clarity of purpose - purpose with a clear direction and a valid destination in mind, a destination of mutual benefit. Tools themselves have no purpose except in their use.
This is why tools are developed, isn’t it?
