Help, we’re drowning in the beep

HOW many SMSES does it take to change a lightbulb?

How many Whatsapps does it take to organise a group school project?

I asked Junior that question and she gave me a long-suffering look. “Lots,” she said.

I’ve seen it. The messages go back and forward. “Remember this… do that… thanks… did you mean… what about… who’s got the music…”

Every day, in total exasperation, I say: “PHONE! Talk to the person! Sort it out once and for all!”

Every time I get the LOOK. I gather teenagers don’t phone. It’s simply not cool. They don’t even seem to talk. They sit in groups, or in the locker room, and text each other across the crowded floor.

Perhaps they have to… they can’t hear each other through the plugs in their ears. You can have a long one-sided conversation until finally you score a “huh?” as the earplug is lifted – briefly.

Well, naturally, they can’t waste time. They only have about 3 000 pieces of music loaded on their cellphones, or ipods, or whatever. It will only take a few years to listen to them all; but they have to be up to date, they have to stay connected.

They have to know what their friends (or unfriends) are saying. Even when it hurts.

And it can hurt. Cyberbullying is a reality. Nasty remarks on Facebook, cutting comments on pictures, malicious e-mails and SMSES, downright threats – and surveys show that more than half the kids online are affected.

It is not always easy to be bitchy face to face, but it is very easy to do it virtually – very easy to join in the slander when you don’t have to look your victim in the eye.

Despicable, cowardly, oh yes, but it’s the future too. Cyberbullying is here to stay. And cyber predators are a further concern.

But still, the moment the cellphone beeps, out goes the hand to pick it up. Why? Now that’s the big question. Look around at a restaurant, at the movies, at the theatre. There are cellphones by the plates, cellphones in the laps, flickering screens when the action gets boring and it’s much more fun to tweet.

At interval there’s a rush to the door. In the past it was the smokers desperate for a drag, now it’s the addicts desperate to connect, to link in to the buzz, to find out what’s happening.

It can’t wait. It can’t switch off. You’ve got to answer – now. You can’t be out of the loop.

We are drowning. We are being flooded constantly with messages, tweets, updates, spam. “Get here, do this, see this, hear this, you must, you must, you must…”

Why? I’m not a doctor on call, or in charge of emergency services. Nothing is so urgent it can’t wait until I’ve finished my coffee. Whatever happened to the sounds of silence? Whatever happened to that sacred space, that moment of creativity when you can hear yourself think?

Whatever happened to creativity itself ? Where’s the “aha” moment when you break through to understanding, when you see the bigger picture?

Where are the dreams and the visions, the music, the poetry, the stories?

There’s no room for them. They’re getting lost in the noise. There are too many interruptions, too much distraction.

What’s the answer? For me, it’s easy. Unplug. Switch off. Throw the wretched thing into the bottom drawer and lock it. Who’s the boss, anyway?

But then I grew up without being connected. I need silence. I need to hear myself think.

For a teenager it doesn’t seem to be easy at all. Facing the world unplugged means facing it alone, confronting the silence. That’s scary.

How many SMSES does it take to change a lightbulb? Too many, far too many.