But it’s sad to think that this game even has to exist—to think people prefer to interact with those who aren’t with them instead of the people right in front of them. I tend to yell at my friends when I see this happening: “I’m right here! Put your phone down!” I say. “Whoever you’re talking to will be there when we’re done.”
We should all speak up when someone’s attention leaves us. But it’s an addiction. I get it. Psychologists get it too. That’s why they’ve named this addiction “nomophobia”—an abbreviation for no-mobile-phone phobia. A study in Britain in 2014 found that 53 percent of phone users feel trembling anxiety if they “lose their phone, run out of battery or credit, or have no network coverage.”
I think it’s more of an addiction to being social, and our phones are the enablers of that. Yet they incredibly inhibit our social skills, thwarting the art of conversation. Who knows if this pattern of behavior will help or hurt us in the long run?
I’m learning to prevent it more and more every day by just being more aware of when I’m on my phone. When an in-person conversation seems to be ending, I think up a new question to keep it going instead of reaching for my phone in preparation for the potential awkwardness ahead. If I’m hanging out with someone, I’ll put my phone on silent and look at only after that person has left. If I’m at home, I’ll leave my phone in the other room “to charge” in hopes that I won’t miss or think twice about it.
Turns out, all of these techniques work and no one dies when I don’t pay attention to my phone 24/7! WHO KNEW??? Strange to think the online world can wait a minute while you live your life.
The choice is ours: engage with real life or escape into a virtual world. Do you want to communicate with living, breathing people right in front of you? Or wait until some lifeless words pop up on a screen? You decide which is more fulfilling.
I know my preference.
Coffee
On the wall above the stove in my kitchen is a sign that declares, “Coffee Made Me Do It.” This not only sums up my love for the beverage, it also allows me to mention the great difference between the act of drinking coffee and the true purpose of it.
I don’t drink it for the caffeine most of the time. I simply enjoy the act and full-bodied experience that comes from savoring it. Many coffee drinkers need two cups daily to keep ’em going. I’ve never felt that way. And I can’t do what the Italians do: order, knock it back, and go. To me, that ruins the whole thing.
The purpose of coffee for me is to set the tone for the rest of my day. When I wake up, it’s part of my routine to ensure I allow myself enough time to carefully brew a fresh pot of deliciousness. That way, I can sit down, catch up on Internet things, e-mails, and texts and mentally prepare for the day. It is also personal and social—it can mean “me time” or, if I’m with a friend, “we time.” The act of drinking coffee soothes and relaxes. The caffeine is just a bonus in my book. Now you know why I often take artsy photos wherever and whenever I find myself indulging in, enjoying, and relaxing with my favorite beverage. Because coffee made me do it.
The Problem with Labels
FIGURING OUT WHO WE ARE is what life is all about—the Holy Grail. That seems to be what everyone of all ages is seeking. In this search for identity, I’ve found that one thing tends to get in the way: labels. A label—a classifying phrase or name applied to a person or thing that tells us what it is—is an attempt at a definition. But more often than not, society’s labels can be inaccurate, narrow, or restrictive. Labels are too confining. We humans are complex beings; we cannot be simply categorized.
I never want to feel that I’m an inaccurate portrayal of myself or restricted from reaching my full potential. I’m also a lot of things, not just one. Take the label “YouTuber,” which is used to describe me all the time. I embrace the fact that I’m a YouTuber and am very proud of it, but it’s not all that I am. It puts me in a box and provides context. And okay, in one word, it explains what I do, but that doesn’t, and shouldn’t, define my existence or tell you who I am. But I’ll guarantee you this: when you mention “YouTuber” to a bunch of strangers who are, say, in their thirties or beyond, you don’t have to wait and watch long before the snap judgments follow. Go on, try it: “Connor’s a YouTuber . . .”
Age is another example of a label you can never really escape, but is extremely defining: “You’re too young to do that” or “You’re way too old for that.” Those are things we’ve all heard from time to time, and they never cease to be annoying. At twenty-two years old, I’m not a kid anymore, but I tend to be treated like one in many work-related situations. I could easily say, “Yes, I may still be young, but I’m very wise for my age and have a lot to say!” But that rarely works. They only way for a kid to be taken seriously and treated as an equal by someone more experienced is to prove it. Prove you have something to say. Prove you are doing something beyond your years. And for me, that’s what I try to do: Prove them wrong. You can too.
From an early age, I have struggled with labels. I realized that I found it hard to self-identify with any one thing. Am I a jock, a nerd, or a popular kid? Am I the good kid or the rebel? Do I like boys, girls, or both? It was all very stressful and tiring because such questions played a huge role in how I saw myself and how others perceived me—and that terrified me deeply. I even wondered if people were going to judge me because maroon was, and remains, my favorite color. Is it too feminine a color? If so, what does that say about me?
Society’s need for labels is why, at some time or another, we have all postured in the shop window of social media to invent or uphold a certain image that we think is “cool” or “relatable” or “perfect,” so that everyone on the outside looking in gets the impression we want to leave. First impressions are important, after all. Yet aren’t the majority of us wary of the labels people so easily and inaccurately apply to us, be they racial, ethnic, or sexual? Isn’t that also why many of us obsess about the literal labels we wear on our clothes, because the brands are supposed to represent that we are cool, fashionable, or even wealthy?
In fact, labels gloss over who we actually are. They plaster over the cracks and create a smooth image that does not allow us the freedom to be our true selves. When I am asked certain categorizing questions—and I get them daily—I’m reluctant to pick one response because I’m wary of what that one response will say about me. Do I say my favorite book is The Fault in Our Stars or Walter Isaacson’s biography of Steve Jobs? I love both books, but what kind of conclusions will people jump to depending on what I say?
That’s what labels do—they provide a launch pad for judgment. However people view you, there will be times when you will be judged, often harshly and wrongly. And it will be based on what you do, wear, or like and the friends you hang around with. If you’re highly intelligent, you’ll be “an overachiever.” If you’re incredibly kind, you’ll be “a goody-goody.” If you’re a little shy and quiet, you’ll be “boring” or “awkward.” But trust me, the judgment says more about the labeler than the labeled.
As I said earlier, life is all about figuring out who we are. We are constantly growing, learning, and changing as people, and I love that. Honestly, I could barely recognize the person I saw in the mirror a year ago if I saw him today. I want to be able to keep saying that through life.
So let other people apply the labels, but don’t let that label become your straitjacket. In fact, use the opportunity to take those labels and redefine them. Enhance it. Expand on it. Break through the barriers and limitations. Carve out an identity that is unique to you. Don’t agree to be marked, filed, and put into a box that will hinder your true potential.
Who are you?
Answer: You are who you are in this given moment. Label-less. Limitless.
Remember that from this day forward.
A Person Worth Ignoring Your Phone For
IT’S A DAY LIKE ANY other. The sun is shining, kids are swinging on the swings and playing kickball on the playground
, and I’m with my friend Taylor, a fellow first grader, sitting at the back of the school building. We’re talking about life, global warming, politics, and our hope that there will be macaroni and cheese for lunch—you know, the usual six-year-old stuff.
Taylor, being the little troublemaker she is, asks if I want to go down to the dumpster; she has something to show me. So we venture down to the secluded, smelly area and stop behind a container holding garbage. This better be good, Taylor, I think. This place stinks.
“You ever been kissed before?” she asks brazenly, with a mischievous look in her eyes behind her cute, round glasses—almost as cute as the jeans and T-shirt she’s wearing.
I immediately feel my cheeks blush. “Um, what? Uh, no?”
“You want to try it?” she asks, a little forcefully. Typical Tay.
“Um, okay,” I say, completely unsure. “I think so.”
She closes her eyes and leans in. I mimic her. Our lips touch, and then we both quickly pull away. Our eyes dart open and we look at each other—half embarrassed, half shocked—before giggling and running off in different directions. Once out of sight, once I’ve stopped running, I gather my infantile thoughts. I think I’m in love, I tell myself.
Whatever that means.
I wish I could say that matters of the heart become easier as we get older, but whether you’re six, ten, fourteen, eighteen, or twenty-one, love—or what we think is love—is capable of reducing us all to children. It’s truly an indescribable feeling that you won’t understand until it hits you, rendering you out of control and feeling all sorts of irrational things. We’re all struck dumb by the spell it casts over us. I don’t get it. But I like it.
Love is complicated. Anyone who’s felt it, whether fleeting or lasting, will tell you the same thing. You never see it coming until, BOOM, it smacks you right in the face like a football. (Or something. Maybe not like that. I hate football, so I wouldn’t know, but I imagine you’re never expecting its impact—or for it to hurt.) What I’m trying to say is that love is unpredictable, capable of striking from any direction. I mean, Taylor snuck up on me behind a dumpster! How more unpredictable can it get?!
But going beyond first grade, it has been the same for me ever since. I didn’t plan on it. I barely even sought out relationships. One day, this person was just there and I was thrown completely off guard.
My first relationship was with a girl named Carlye. She was petite, beautiful, and bubbly. We were on the cross-country team together and it was love at the first 5K. Okay, maybe not “love,” but I was smitten, to say the least, I think. I mean, I was, like, twelve. She’s very pretty and nice, I thought when her friend told me, “Carlye likes you!”
Very subtle, friend.
“Yeah, I think I like her, too,” I replied, shyly.
She walked back to Carlye and her other friends, and they all giggled. And just like that, I had my first girlfriend. Kinda.
Dating is strange when you’re in your preteen and teen years, and this new relationship consisted of awkward conversations, hanging out in groups, holding hands, and, well, that was about it. But regardless of how little we actually did, it all seemed very heavy. Everything felt new. Everything felt as if it was life or death. This was huge! Kinda.
We ended up being together for maybe two months—short-lived, to say the least, but I didn’t really feel anything anyway.
On the cusp of adolescence, I was in my experimental years, making my first, tentative ventures into the minefield of relationships. Expect a long road ahead, my friends. Because when we expose our fledgling emotions to the blazes of love, we tend to run headlong into the fire, lured by the excitement it promises.
Relationships are fire—they’re about chemistry. No spark, no go. Once you find someone you find visually pleasing, you pursue him or her. If you discover that you also enjoy this person’s personality, interests, and company and the feeling is mutual, you move to dating. If you’re lucky enough for that to go well, you take it a step further and make it official. Congratulations! You’re in a relationship with a real person! NICE!
These three basic steps may sound simple and easy, but if you’ve ever made a real attempt at them, you’ll find otherwise. Love is hard. Really hard! And in this day and age, everything seems a bit more difficult, probably because we’re surrounded by constant distractions, not to mention phones, tablets, laptops, social media, texts, photos, and more. We have a constant stream of information right at the tips of our fingers.
That is power. That is a problem.
I cannot tell you how many times I’ve been around people who seem more interested in their phones than my company. What am I, a brick wall??? SPEAK TO ME, HUMAN!
Thankfully, the majority of people I’ve been with seem to have an awareness of etiquette and when to put the phone down, though I’ve witnessed people succumbing to that easy distraction on first dates. How rude. How unnecessary. I don’t envy the kids younger than me who are born into this technological era and will forever have to live with its madness.
My worst date ever involved forgetting my wallet and having to drive back home in silence and sadness (she comforted me, saying it was no big deal, but I felt otherwise). But forgetting your wallet is one thing; forgetting your social skills is another, and totally unforgivable. Don’t know where you can find an extra set of those.
I’m traditional at heart. I don’t use apps to find dates and don’t like being on my phone around other people (unless it’s people I don’t know, then, ew, no, I hate socializing with strangers.) I also prefer phone calls to texting, walking to driving, and casual to formal. I look forward to deep conversations and never want a stupid phone to get in the way. Your date deserves your undivided attention. If you don’t give it, well, that person can’t be that special to you. It’s best to hang out with the person you’re texting instead.
This strict stance didn’t come naturally to me at first. It took a lot of experience and observation—and self-awareness—before I changed my ways. I realized what I was doing, saw others behaving the same way, and corrected myself. But, you know by now, that’s how I acquire a lot of my knowledge: observing myself and others.
But back to dating. Here’s what I’ve learned: you need to enjoy another person so much that you want to be around that person as much as you’re around yourself. That sounds crazy, almost like a potential death wish. Most people can barely handle being around themselves 24/7, let alone another living, breathing human being. But when you find someone who makes all of that seem completely sane, you’ve got a keeper.
My first real relationship that wasn’t some high school fling wasn’t until my freshman year of college when, at orientation, I attended a dance with my new friend Ricky. We walked into the loud reception area and spotted one of his old friends across the room. And standing next to the friend was a girl named Bailey. We instantly hit it off and dated for nine months—months that were filled with many firsts for me. Suffice it to say that I got to experience what it’s like to deeply and romantically care for another person; to be close, to be intimate, to be in a functioning relationship. Yet in the end, I felt nothing, almost as if I was going through the motions of something. I didn’t feel this “love” thing that people talked about. I didn’t see it in Bailey’s face. I didn’t sense it in my heart, and that was daunting, to say the least. All I truly felt was a mass of confusion—and this was the beginning of understanding who I was. It continued into my late teens, and each time a relationship broke down, heartbreak wasn’t something I felt. Something was missing, and it was hard to ignore that inescapable instinct that I should be feeling something more, something deeper.
At the time, I put it down to the fact that meeting the right person was difficult. Just ask your parents. Love, and especially the maintenance of love, takes much work. Love is about sitting in silence and enjoying every second of it simply because your partner is sharing it with you. Love is about reading another person’s mind and finishing his or
her sentences—because you know that person that well. Love is about wanting to be as physically close as possible because you can’t get enough of the other’s smell, feel, or mere presence. Love is about putting another person before yourself because, quite simply, when that person is happy, you’re happy. Love is about staying in on the weekend, ordering Indian food, and putting on a new documentary because you wouldn’t want to be with anyone else. Love knows no gender, race, shape, or size. Love is love—an energy that fuses souls. And when you fall into its warm embrace, you won’t want to let go.
That’s what love is to me. That’s the standard I hold, and I can clearly see a person in my mind that fills the mold. Can you? If not, keep looking. That love is out there. It exists and finds us all. And I hope you all find that one person who makes you want to ignore your phone and get lost in his or her company. That person is waiting for you (or maybe you have already found him or her).
Live Now, Worry Later
BASED ON THE LAST YEAR alone, I never would have guessed that this is where I would be. I think back to all those times I worried about what path to take and what I wanted to do, and look what happened—life guided me to where I was destined to be. Destiny and destination share a root word for good reason.
I recently read this quote : “Worry is the interest on a debt that may never become payable.” It made me realize how much time I have wasted needlessly worrying about outcomes I can’t control. Life is always going to keep us guessing; often it throws us for a complete loop. But that’s the fun part. The uncertainty—the not knowing—is the adventure. What would be the point of life if things were constantly black-and-white and predictable; if we knew from the beginning where we’d ultimately end up? I would despise that. Yet many of us are so caught up in regrets or worries rooted in past experience and so fretful of looking into an unknown future that we lose sight of what’s happening here and now.
A Work in Progress Page 7