The other day I tried to disappear. I wanted to be by myself - just some quality time alone. I was feeling stressed, had too much work for my own good and figured that some time away from everything would be a good break. So, I packed up my bag and ventured into the most hidden, quiet spot in the Brandeis Library. I did the unspeakable, however: I did not put up an away message on my Instant Messenger stating where I was. And, even worse, I did not bring my cell phone with me. I returned a couple of hours later to complete mayhem. With five voice-mail messages on my phone and my roommate and friends questioning why I didn't say where I was going, I found out that disappearing these days isn't very easy. We are all expected to live in a constant state of availability, and are reprimanded when we don't follow this trend.

I am not necessarily saying this trend is bad. With the technology we have today, such as AOL Instant Messenger (AIM) and cellular phones, it is hard to resist the urge to constantly keep in touch with others. Being connected is comforting and gives us a sense of belonging. We always know there is a person willing to listen, just a cell phone call away or available through our AIM "Buddy List." Loneliness is a thing of the past, if we choose it to be.

But, how much is too much? When will we reach the point where the availability is too much for our own good? Or, have we already? This trend, of increasing accessibility, makes us lose a sense of individuality. We have this connection to the outer world that cannot easily be severed. We are slaves to our cell phones and computers and sometimes value them above other life experiences. How many times have you sat through a movie when a cell phone goes off? Or, been on the phone with a friend who is non-responsive because she is simultaneously chatting with 10 other people online?

With all these devices comes the phenomenon of never paying full attention to what we're doing. Thomas Friedman '75, in a New York Times column on this subject, wrote, "It means that while you are answering your e-mail and talking to your kid, your cell phone rings and you have a conversation. You are now involved in a continuous flow of interactions in which you can only partially concentrate on each."

These devices make us believe we can do it all and still keep our sanity, but they forget that people need space. Humans were not created to be multi-taskers. Nor were we created with a leash that connects us to the world at all times.

Furthermore, much of the spontaneity of life is lost as a result of this technology. We're able to see what most people are doing at all times. Instead of picking up a phone to ask a friend if she wants to do something, you can tell if she's busy from her away message. No longer do we have to wait until after someone's vacation to hear of his experiences; just call his cell phone.

I guess in a sense, I am a reactionary. I want to know what life and college were like before cell phones and AIM. I want to know what it was like to have to get to know someone face to face instead of online and how people found each other when they couldn't call each other's cell phones to set a meeting place.

Yet, I am also a hypocrite in the sense that I am not willing to give up these devices completely and disconnect myself. I have made an effort to turn my cell phone off and not use my away messages to always say where I am, but it is hard to break this habit. Most of all it is hard because without these devices, I get the sense that I'm missing out.

I don't know if Americans can, at this point, revert back to classic styles of communication (i.e. face to face conversation, etc.), especially my generation. But, I think we would all be a little better off if sometimes we could forget our cell phones, not sign online and take some time to ourselves. Technology is great, but people are better. As we are caught in this web of constant availability, we must remember that, unlike technology, people are not contrived. We need to disappear sometimes with ourselves and remember that the web of constant availability can be broken at any time at our discretion.

- Samantha Slater '05 submits a column to the Justice.