Not an Advertisement. Maybe an Endorsement.

Recently I've friended a handful of adults on Facebook ("adults" meaning people who are around my parents' age.) It seems it's finally acceptable for normal adults to join without feeling completely geeky. Congrats, Facebook people.

I know there are Facebook haters out there and certainly don't condone people who spend their entire existence on the site. But I do have to say that Facebook has proven its worth, at least to me. I'm probably the most terrible person in the world at keeping in touch. Email tag never lasts very long with me and I try to avoid talking on my cell phone if I can get away with it. However, for some reason, ever since I joined Facebook (I think it was around 2004) I've been a lot better at keeping track of people and letting people keep track of me. I think it's because of the lack of commitment it requires. You can jot a five-word message on someone's wall without having to commit to an entire conversation, and whether that person replies back to you or you ever write on their wall again doesn't matter. Even without regularly communicating to anyone you can "keep in touch" with people because you can see their recent pictures and statuses. Some may argue that this marks the deterioration of meaningful human relationships. But really, the way I see it, it's better than nothing, which I think is the inevitable alternative.

What Dreams May Come

It turns out for a college town, Provo is not the most conducive place for bicycle-riding. Puncture vine seeds scattered all over the sidewalks make for frequent flat tires. This is what they look like:

This unfortunate circumstance has made it necessary for me to scrounge up rides to and from work, at least until I find alternate personal transportation.

One particularly drowsy morning last week, I was deep in slumber when the miniscule rational part of my brain made me wake up with a start. I had work in an hour and still hadn't found a ride. I sat up, reached for my phone, and dialed my trusty co-worker, Hisako. She is one of my most wonderfully faithful drivers to whom I owe plenty. However, that morning, she didn't answer the phone at that particular time. I flopped back down on my bed to think of who to call next. Which, as usual, was Dan, my other trusty and faithful co-worker.

But during that brief moment when I lay back down, my heavy lids quickly teleported me back to the dream world. It was such a fast and smooth transition that I didn't even realize I had fallen back asleep. In my dream, I sat back up and dialed Dan. He picked up, and I distinctly remember his voice:

"Oh sure, no problem! But I have to pick up some cantaloupe for a group thing on the way, so I'm going to be early. Is that OK?" I assured him that it was OK, and with a sigh of relief, I flopped back down on my bed...

...The action of which caused me to enter into a third level of slumber, a dream within a dream, if you will.

A few minutes later, I woke up with a start again, from dream world 3L. Which means I was still in level 2; not quite back in reality yet. What made me wake up was this thought: Wait, did I really just talk to Dan, or was I dreaming? I called him back again just to make sure. (See, I am a pretty rational person in my dreams, albeit not rational enough to just check my call history.) He laughed and assured me that he was indeed coming. "Remember, I have to pick up some cantaloupe?" he said. By this time I was fully confident that I was going to get to work just fine. I flopped back down and slipped back into dream world 3L.

I probably would have stayed that way for several more hours, waiting for fake-Dan to come, if good old Hisako had not called me back at this point. The actual sound of my phone ringing was harshly cacophonous compared to the gentle humming of my dreams, and jumping suddenly from the third level back to reality is an extremely disorienting experience.

"Herro?" I slurred, trying to find my voice.

"Sayaka-chan! Did you need a ride?" She asked cheerfully.

"Erm, noit'sfine, Dan'scomingtogetme," I murmured, trying unsuccessfully to sound as if I'd been up for several hours, "errrm.... actually...," (here I began to doubt myself,) "he might have been a dream... do you mind if I call you back?" She asked me if I was feeling OK before we hung up. This time I checked my call history, and Dan's name was non-existent. Crap. I called Hisako back.

"Umm, Hisako? Can you come get me after all? I guess I didn't really talk to Dan," I admitted sheepishly. She laughed heartily.

"OK, I might be a little late because my son left his lunch in the van and I have to take it to his school, but I'll be right there!"

Only slightly embarrassed because I was still so drowsy, I flopped back down on my bed again, and would you believe it, I started falling back asleep again.

But a few moments later I sat back up in alarm. Had Hisako been a dream as well? No, my imagination couldn't have been good enough to think of her son forgetting his lunch. Cantaloupe, yes, but not that. I checked my call history, and sure enough, her name was there.

At this point I'm sure you all will be happy to hear that I finally threw myself out of bed. This was just getting ridiculous. Hisako picked me up, and I made it to work successfully...

...Where I related the whole story to Dan, much to his amusement.

"I don't even like cantaloupe," he mused.

Bigger is Better

I have a lovely young friend from Japan who is studying English at BYU. It's great every once in a while to catch up with her on the goings-on of this far eastern land and see what amazing things they are kicking our butts in these days. To start off my probing, I had a question ready at hand: "So, how small are those cell phones getting these days? Pretty soon the standard phone package will come with a magnifying glass, huh?" I was trying to be clever, but she didn't even crack a smile. "Well actually, they're getting bigger," she replied, looking at me as if I was nuts (not without reason). Bigger? Could it be true that the Japanese had finally reached a limit they couldn't supercede? Had they resigned to reverting to past trends like the Americans do when we're too lazy to be innovative?

Of course not. What I didn't know then was that what we think of as the function of a cell phone is actually becoming obsolete. We're no longer to be considered high-tech gurus for walking around with chunks of plastic that merely allow us to talk to other people who also own similar chunks of plastic. (Here, a group of Japanese teenagers starts snickering behind me. OK, so it's a fictitious group of teenagers. Nevertheless, I try to defend myself: "But my cell phone can take pictures!" Now the snickers turn into guffaws.) I had to see it with my own two eyes to believe it. Today I had a privileged opportunity to glimpse this nearly unfathomable phenomenon.

My dad came home from work today sporting... are you sitting down?... a BlackBerry (thanks to "big four" accounting firm Ernst & Young). Its sleek frame, impossibly large screen, and keyboard-style touchpad are truly a sight to behold. One look and my PC ran and hid under the sink in shame. Probably because it realized that junior was going to one-up him in emailing capabilities, graphic clarity, and ability to fit into a purse, and throw in some "yo' mama" jokes on top of all that. So I don't actually know how to use this baby yet, but I'm guessing that it has games to disgrace pong (I didn't think it could ever happen!), decodes secret messages in the Pentagon, and makes delicious homemade gnocchi. Whoa.

The BlackBerry may seem at its ripest to us, but to the Japanese it's already rotting away, reeking the putrid stink of yesterday's technology. So try not to fawn too much over the "new" RAZRs in their presence-- you may just take a serious blow to your (and America's) pride.