It seems that many family members have their own blogs now, and since I live so far away, I felt as if this might be a nice way to keep in contact. That and I will soon be embarking to Barcelona, Spain and I would like a way to share my adventures via the internet with those in the States and I had no better ideas.

It's been a long time since I've had a blog. The last time I faithfully kept one, I was 17 years old and still in high school. It was the "cool thing" back then, shortly before the invention of MySpace and Facebook (although now it is hard to imagine a time before them). It occurred to me the other day that I am of the last generation to remember a time before the Internet. I felt a brief wave of nostalgia for a time before the Interweb, but came to accept that time changes all things (especially technology). Besides, without it, I wouldn't be sitting here blogging, would I?

I have always professed that my least favorite technological device is the cellular phone. Over the years, my resentment for them has grown out of their incessant interruptions whenever I am with others my own age who (for some reason) seem incapable of turning them on silent or ignoring them for the duration of our time together (sometimes unable to even wait until the end of a conversation before texting some unknown individual). To me, this is the equivalent of attempting to carry on a discussion with someone all the while he/she intermittently whisper something in the ear of a third person that he/she has not bothered to take the time to introduce me to. It is, in a word, rude.

Also, they make me feel as if I am on a sort of electronic leash, able to be contacted at any time. Since I do not hang on my cell phone's every beep, I often do not realize that someone has attempted to contact me (possibly several times). This causes whoever it is that has been texting/calling me to feel as if I have slighted them or purposely ignored them (putting a great strain on my friendships). Or at least it used to. I believe that by now my friends have come to understand my relationship with my phone and realize that I mean no offense by not replying straight away.

All this being said, about a month ago I forgot my phone on the charger before heading out the door for school. At first I felt a rush of liberation, but this was short lived. I soon felt the loss of having the power of my iPhone at my fingertips, which was replaced with a stab of panic when I realized I wouldn't be able to call to tell Gabrielle where to meet me after school to drive me home. I underestimated her foresight, as she was waiting for me outside of my classroom when it came time to go home. It is with a sigh that I concede to being a slave to my phone, if only because it would appear to be impossible to survive in this modern time without one.