I'm a waitress. When it's not busy, all the servers stand around, whip out their iPhones and start playing online Scrabble with each other. Giving in to peer pressure, I pull out my cell phone. It's then that I realize I don't belong.

When my nail polish-covered, cracked Nokia flip-phone finally rang its last jingle, I did the unthinkable. I bought an iPhone. Yeah, I know, stuck in the middle ages of technology. But in my defense, I do live by the stereotypical college kid budget, so give me a break. 

Since I activated my sleek new gadget approximately 28 hours ago, I think I've checked my email 135 times, changed my Facebook status at least eight, and Twittered 29 tweets. While this social upkeep might be considered normal these days, I can't help but question what I just got myself into.

Like most in my generation, I function best on a steady, A.D.D. cognitive level, able to write a paper, blog, answer texts and pour Splenda in my decaf coffee simultaneously. Ten years ago, they might have called me a robot. I blame it on childhood exposure to commercials (professionally studied, but I'm too lazy to look up any legit quotes). But now, I don't have to sit at my laptop to do all this. The possibilities are tucked in my pocket.

My main concern: does unlimited access to social networking outweigh the consequences of sacrificing face-to-face engagement? Remember eye contact without Skype? Yeah, that's what I'm talking about. 

When I see people walking towards a particular destination semi-aimlessly, with their faces scrunched and focused on a tiny rectangular screen, it makes me think of the movie Wall-E. All those people zipping around in hover crafts--like personal metal social spheres--with a virtual screen surrounding their faces. Bumping into each other, they're completely unaware of what's really going on inside the spaceship--and the fact that they're really, really, really fat. (But advertising persuasion is a whole different blog post.)

I'm a little scared of the potential access-to-power I now hold in my hands, manipulated by my soon-to-be carpal tunnel-infested thumbs. Unlimited access. Full blown chosen exposure to friends, frenemies, employers, coworkers, news, pointless Youtube videos (including one on why Lady Gaga is a recruiting member of Illuminati and subliminally sends conversion messages to unsuspecting Gaga fanatics). 

Is all this necessary? Yes, to a certain degree. I keep up with old professors who could be beneficial if I ever apply to grad school. Facebook keep me updated on weekend shindigs. I depend on email for my waitressing schedule (at the very bare bones least). But when I feel a little vibration in my purse and come to find it's only so-and-so tweeting that she's eating a ham sandwich, I think, "Come on, that could have waited until AFTER lunch."

Now, if I didn't have an iPhone, I wouldn't have even known that I'd received an email. Ignorance is bliss. But what if it had been an urgent email, like....like...

What is an urgent email? (Philosophical pondering to ensue right about now.)

A few possible symptoms and setbacks of optimal Internet access to consider:

Laziness: You call a roommate from the next room. 

Face-to-face social anxiety: No real human contact for three days straight. Suddenly, you must give an oral presentation in class.

Safety: Texting while crossing the street. Oncoming bus unseen. 

Dating issues: "Honey, who's texting you incessantly at 10:30 at night?" "Oh, no one." He gets up to use the bathroom and leaves his phone on the table...

On the other hand, I'm sure it's quite nice, when playing online Scrabble with 18 friends on that nifty little Apple App, to text a super genius friend standing two feet away for a word spelled with an X, O, T, Y, M and A. And since I've chosen to join the ranks of iPhonites, I can now join in on the game.