Patrick Tran / The Collegian

A FEW MONTHS AGO, I needed to take care of a work-related issue. I̢۪d been e-mailing the woman I was dealing with about the issue, and she̢۪d been sending me responses every few seconds.

I needed some documents, so I decided to walk over to her office, and pick them up in person. After all, I reasoned, it would give me a chance to personally thank my helper — and it was a beautiful, early summer day.

Walking would feel good, and would get me away from the computer for a bit.

Imagine how I felt when, upon arriving at her office, my head was nearly bitten off for not asking for the documents through e-mail.

“I’m very busy dealing with all these templates,â€Â the woman I had wanted to thank practically shouted, pointing to a computer screen with about seven programs open. “You should just ask through e-mail. I don’t have time for this!â€Â

While I didn̢۪t enjoy being chewed out, I left her office feeling sorry not only for myself, but the woman as well. I felt very sad.

We were both victims of the ever-widening net of modern technology that seems to be reaching further and further into every aspect of daily life. And the ultimate casualty? Human interaction and civility.

It̢۪s not enough that we have cell phones, iPods, laptops, wi-fi Internet access and Blackberries that keep every minute of our lives scheduled, ready to review with a few touches of the fingertips.

In June, Steve Jobs introduced the iPhone. This miracle device, which children as young as seven (who I taught in an arts enrichment program this summer), are now saving up over $600 for the ultimate whiz-bang bells-and-whistles toy everyone̢۪s been waiting for.

According to wikipedia.com, “iPhone’s functions include those of a camera phone and a multimedia player, in addition to text messaging and visual voice mail. It also offers Internet services including e-mail, web browsing, and local Wi-Fi connectivity. User input is accomplished via a multi-touch screen with virtual keyboard and buttons.”

Whew! That̢۪s a mouthful.

Imagine, with the iPhone, you will never worry about having left your iPod at home, or about being away from a computer screen to check your e-mail, making it that much easier to help the folks back in the office complete a work project — even from the beaches of Maui when you’re on your honeymoon while your wife reconsiders whether she really married the right person.

Unfortunately, this really happened to my best friend on her honeymoon.

In the past twenty years, there has been a global explosion of personal use technology. It started with the Internet, which really got going when I was in high school, about fifteen years ago. At the time, I had a long distance boyfriend I̢۪d met at debate camp. We̢۪d been writing letters (the kind you sent through the mail, with postage that still cost 29 cents).

Within a few short years, they would become the last handwritten, signed, sealed and delivered love letters I̢۪d ever receive. Twelve years down the road, when my future husband would write me his own love letters, they came in the form of hundreds of e-mails, often typed on the sly at work. I think we might have saved them on a disk, but I have no idea where that disk is now.

Anyhow, seeing typed words flicker on a computer screen is not nearly as romantic as holding in your hand, the yellowed love letters my grandmother still has 65 years after they were mailed by my grandfather from the European theater of World War II. I don̢۪t know if my own future grandchildren will have as many written words beyond a few birthday or Valentine cards to preserve our own love story.

Beyond love letters, another casualty of the personal technology boom seems to be people̢۪s attention spans.

Educational studies have shown that the rise in children̢۪s exposure to the internet, cell phones and that old bad guy, television, have been linked with lower levels of concentration in school.

I̢۪ll believe it, having spent the summer teaching the first generation born after the Internet and cell-phone boom this past summer. All too often, the kids in my performing arts and creative writing classes would get antsy and stop listening to their peers after a mere two minutes. It seems too many kids today are not interested in activities unless they involved making their viewpoints paramount, and featured lots of high-tech instant gratification.

Think about it.

iPods started with the premise that you should be able to take “yourâ€Â favorite tunes anywhere, and only have to listen to those songs you really love.

But how many really great, quirky songs are we missing out on truly loving because the iPod has destroyed the concept of an album in favor of catchy singles that can be downloaded?

And how many times have you groaned when your cell phone rang in the middle of a really great moment with someone you love, but you feel required to take the call?

How many times have you snapped a photo with the same cell phone̢۪s camera, but the picture that lingers in your mind is just that, a moment never photographed, but unforgettable?
I̢۪m scared that iPods will lead us all to live in what their name implies: a personal, cocoon-like pod existence, where we̢۪re ostensibly plugged in to everything and everyone, but have lost the human ability to truly relate to or have empathy for one another.

Technology can be great. I love my laptop and appreciate e-mail̢۪s contributions to helping me stay connected to work and friends.

But I don̢۪t check that e-mail everyday anymore. And sometimes, I go several days at a time with my cell phone turned off.

This drives some people insane, because for some strange reason, they feel entitled to be able to reach me anytime, anywhere, always.

But they are not. I feel better off for turning off the techno-leashes like my cell phone or T.V., tuning out and simply being for a while.

Interestingly enough, these actions make me feel more like spending time with my fellow humans.

I may even feel compelled to walk over and see you, face to face. I just hope you̢۪ll be happy to see me, once I get there.

Jasmine Marshall Armstrong is a graduate student at Fresno State getting her master of fine arts degree in creative writing.