I am finally about to buy my first cellular phone. A friend of mine told me: “I couldn’t give up my cell phone if I wanted to. It’s my lifeline.” If that’s the case, I have a few questions before I sign my life over to it. Will I become one of the countless students on campus who need to chat on their cell phones whenever they have time between classes? Many of us initially purchase a cell phone for merely checking in with people or to use during emergencies.

But before we know it, it seems like everyone has our phone number and uses it with reckless abandon. I suppose we become accustomed to the novel chatting and begin to crave it. The cell phone becomes an itch on our silence that we need to scratch.

But with all this extra chatting during classes, will I lose time for reflection? A benefit of forced silence during free time is that it often brings forced reflection. Think of all the snap judgments we make throughout the day. How many times have you rethought a knee-jerk reaction you had once you were given more time for pondering it.

Will I become one of those annoying people who talk on their cell phones in stores? I think when they put it up to their heads, it somehow deactivates the consideration for others part of the brain.

I recently had to share the men’s section of Ross with such a person. She spoke in full projection like she was in her own living room. I learned about her upcoming camping trip, her sister’s divorce and how the husband of the woman she was talking to just won’t listen. It was obnoxious.

My mother was wringing her hands about when people do the same thing in changing rooms and then stopped herself.

“Actually, I guess I can’t complain because I’ve been guilty of it myself,” she said.

I know my mother is a considerate person and chances are, the woman spreading her sister’s dirty laundry all over Ross probably was, too. The likely problem is that cell phones keep us drawn in to our own personal networks. While we’re using them, they isolate us from our physical surroundings and consequently, we treat unfamiliar people like inanimate objects. My mother argues that the passage into this behavior lies in our neurosis to answer that phone whenever it rings.

What if we didn’t answer? They know we know they called because we’re always carrying the phone. Cell phones have become extensions of us like our wallet or keys. A co-worker told me she hates her cell phone.

“It’s supposed to be there for my convenience but really, it’s there for everyone else’s,” she said.

What’s handy about them is that they allow us to contact someone whenever we want. But that means others can do the same to us. Sure we can turn it off, but they’ll leave messages and they know that any responsible person checks their messages throughout the day.

You might have a question. Why am I even getting a cell phone? The reality of it is that when the majority of a culture signs on to a technology, signing on for everyone else becomes unavoidable.

If you don’t, you become a second-class citizen. I’m tired of getting that look when I tell people I don’t have a cell phone. It’s like telling someone you don’t have a Driver’s License. Do me a favor, though. If you see me on my cell phone at Gap or Big 5, filling all the customers in on my friend’s new girlfriend: Take the phone out of my hand and just club me over the head with it.