We're back! Back in this Gothic Wonderland that we call Duke. Things will, at first, seem as if they have started off on a different foot (namely, the right one). Soon after the realization that Duke is the same place it was in 2006, we will resort to chimerical scenes while waiting for Spring Break. After having that week in March go by at the speed of light, we will sit lethargically in anticipation of Last Day of Classes. Three sheets to the wind every step of the way, dreaming of our wonderful hometowns.
I hail from New York City, a place where a square foot of an apartment costs about $1,028, Starbucks are just as ubiquitous as humans and countries give us great gifts. Huge copper statues of women, if you will. The place has its ups and downs. But being the melting pot that it is, perhaps the best part of NYC is the people, specifically my friends, who come from literally every walk of life. From needing to know where I can get five dumplings for a dollar to instructions on how to knit gloves, my friends from home are the legs with which I walk through life so audaciously. Coming back to Duke is always a task done with some reservation simply because I can never seem to spend enough time with the kids I've known since infancy.
Having to leave them this week once again got me to thinking about what I would do or who I would be if I didn't have my friends. In a world where everyone asks: "What's more reliable than your friends?" I think I may have found an answer, or at least something that is as reliable in certain, handy ways as those closest to you: your cell phone. Yes, you read correctly, your cell phone.
It all came to me while I was on the phone outside of Keohane (or the WEL, whatever). I had dropped my phone for probably the 150th time and upon picking it up, I was confronted in the dark night with a bright screen that displayed one of dozens of battle scars. There was a huge scratch in the screen, as if I had tried to carve something into the poor plastic cover. Then, a flood of memories from how much my phone had been through in its 18-month lifetime made me feel a bit connected to it in a way I never thought possible.
Now most may be thinking: "What? That piece of crap never did anything except get wet, make weird noises and die. Not to mention the fact that the company jerks me for my paper every month!" But I mean to say that (and I might only be speaking for myself here) every time I'm down, my cell phone has been there for me. Every time I'm angry, I chuck my phone toward the nearest wall. When I'm happy, I toss my phone into the air, and then I try to catch it, in a way modeled after any cheesy commercial that is set in rolling hills and pastures and plays The Turtles' "So Happy Together."
Other instances in which I abuse my phone are attributed to plain stupidity and carelessness. Nights out have included several droppings and misplacements; so much so that I started to give all of my stuff to my friend who recently rescinded her decision to lead a dry life-so much for my insurance plan.
Isn't some of this pulling a cord within you? No emotion evoked? Well. what do you use to plan every single detail of your life? What do you use to notify people of last-minute changes in any of your plans? Hell, without your cell phone you may have trouble reaching your friends, period.
There are times, however, when the relationship between phone and owner can teeter on termination. For instance, when my phone decides to randomly shut down on its own, or unbeknownst to me, logs onto the Internet, which costs about 35 cents per minute, I no longer have a love-hate relationship with my phone-then it's just plain hate. But your phone always comes back to you, a thing some friends might not even do (and no one ever said that was a bad thing.).
All in all, a cell phone can provide much-desired support in times of desperation. The feeling of emptiness (and nudity in some cases, I suppose.) I have heard expressed from those awaiting a new phone, or awaiting word on a lost phone, is unbearable, especially when they ask to use my phone. It's analogous to asking to use someone's significant other because you're waiting for your own to come back into town (yes, in that way).
The feeling of emptiness most people feel due to the absence of their cell phones should say enough. I say we praise the head honchos at these cellular companies and thank them for providing unrelenting support through the use of cell phones-well, if you pay your bill on time, that is.
Keesha Brown is a Trinity sophomore. Her column runs every other Thursday.
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