We keep revisiting the theme that, as a society, we
spend too much time on our phones. In a previous post, I discussed missing the moment at a UNC basketball game, and recently, Nicole shared a humorous video of
Coca-Cola's solution- a social media guard.
The social media guard resembles a dog cone used to
prevent dogs from biting or nudging an infected or injured place on their body.
The social media guard blocks the wearer’s ability to see their phones,
consequently, forcing them to live in the moment. The video depicts it as
an "eye-opening" experience. I had a similar eye-opening
experience the night of the UNC vs. Dook game.
As we made the winning shot, and stormed out of my
friend’s house to nearby Franklin Street, we all reached down for our phones to
capture the moment (obviously). As I looked down at my phone, the battery
icon in the corner displayed an almost empty battery, with the horrific caption
"6%." Knowing it would be wise to preserve my battery, in case
I lost the group members, I put my phone back in my purse, where it would
remain the entire night.
I like to pride myself on being not as attached to
my phone as most of my friends. While I love staying up to date on my
twitter feed just as much as the next avid tweeter, I absolutely hate taking
pictures. In fact, I do my best to avoid the photo shoots that inevitably
take place every time my friends and I participate in anything social. I
am a firm believer that focusing on the picture makes us miss the moment, but I
am still guilty of being attached to my phone at all times.
Last Thursday was probably the first time in a long
time that this attachment was broken. With my phone on the verge of
death, tucked away in my bag, I was able to focus all of my attention on the
moment- and it was the perfect time for my phone to die.
I was no longer worried about getting the best SnapChat
or seeing the dook hatred on twitter. I saw every second of students
cheering, climbing stoplights, hopping over celebratory fires, and chanting the
tune of the alma mater. And I cannot imagine not getting to fully
experience my first Duke victory as a UNC student, because of trying to capture
it on my phone.
And guess what? I still made an appearance in
some of my friends’ pictures, so I still got to prove I was there. I
still got to wake up to 36 SnapChat stories of the crowd on Franklin, so I
still got to relive the night the next morning. I still found an awesome
YouTube video about rushing Franklin, so I still got a capture of the moment.
But most importantly, in my mind, I had captured the memory.
So my advice: Let others do the
documenting thing. Chances are, if you don't get a picture of the event,
someone else will. For once, put your phone down and be present in every
moment. For once, let your phone die … and live.
Go Heels
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