Going to pick Crackberries

Saturday was the day I officially became an adult. After 2 years of wallowing in the same dank pit of cellphone hell, I finally emerged to soar to the heavens and reside with the beautiful people.

I bought my first Blackberry.

Now, I make this "first" statement because I have a tendency to misplace things that have deep sentimental or monetary value. This is not to say that I do not truly adore those things, but my mind works a mile a minute and I have trouble remembering my own name, less so where I left my phone.

But I digress...

I resisted the Blackberry for a good 6 months, knowing that I would eventually turn into those jerks I went to big dinners with who insisted on checking their phones every 3-5 minutes. Then I caved, because to be honest I love email: I love sending it, I love getting it and I even love spam because someone took the time to create a message for a product I'll never want. It's the contemporary equivalent of junk mail, an envelope your parents might give you at age 5 to make you feel better that no one sends you anything.

I also enjoy the freedom that come with Blackberry. I do not actually have to be present at my computer in order to do my business. Writing for College News and promoting the site from my internships means I'm usually glued to my computer like lox to a bagel. At some points in my day I feel my brain slowly seeping out various pores in my body and liquefying into a gooey mess of "why did I even go to college?"

Instead, my new (and did I mention pink?) phone provides me with the ability to leave my home and still respond to emails without having to worry that my editor is going to be angry at me for not getting on that story asap. I'm much obliged to the Crackberry for also allowing me to googletalk and AIM. Suffice to say I will never actually have to have a face to face conversation with anyone ever again.

The world is my phone...er, oyster. Right.