When my parents asked me what I wanted for a present this year, I knew exactly what I would tell them. I had seen the color-blasted commercials on TV that have psychedelic backgrounds pulsing behind dancing silhouettes. I had read the rave reviews and listened to the praises of my peers. I decided it was time for me to join the in-crowd and parade around with my own pair of white cords delicately swinging from my ears. I would soon be officially cool. I was getting an iPod. I was enthralled with the device when it arrived, with its minimalist brilliance and unparalleled functionality. I couldn't wait to strut my stuff decked out in full Macintosh chic. Aural perfection, however, may not be as sublime as Apple would like you to believe. I'm starting to wonder if this flawless device is truly a wolf in a sheep's clothing.

True, it looks innocent enough in the beginning-my iPod arrived in its trendy, cubist packaging, equipped with all the essentials one needs to be a music maven: iTunes, iEarbuds, iCables, iWarranty, iInfo-Booklet, iProtective-Cardboard-Packaging and of course, the iPod. I charged the batteries, synced up the machinery, and within a few hours, I was grooving to my music in the nearby Victory supermarket.

It changed my whole shopping experience. Time flew by with The Beatles distracting me and the Counting Crows pulling me aside, humming sweetly in my ears. I could roam the aisles endlessly, never becoming bored laboring over snack food and counting carbs. I was empowered with twenty-first-century technology, entertained by a private, portable, long-lasting, personal chanteuse.

Upon returning to school, I decided my iPod could serve me further, snging my ear off as I trekked to my lectures. Tucked carefully in my pocket, with my headphones burrowed beneath my cap, I hummed and bopped my way to class. I realized the walk felt different-I assumed it was because of the symphonic experience. But when I returned to the real world, entering Olin-Sang and unplugging my ears, it dawned on me that my walk was peculiar for another reason. No one had said hello to me.

I don't want to come off as claiming that I am the most popular guy on campus, flocked by a throng of doting admirers. But I-and many people at Brandeis-invariably pass acquaintances along the way with whom we exchange the obligatory hellos. More often than not, you'll run into friends or old roommates, and pause along the path for a brief chat (that is all too often truncated by an impending class). On good days, you can tell the time based on the number of what's ups you hear as you go by.
Walking to class is a great opportunity to reconnect with people on a direct, personal level. We speak face-to-face, we engage one another and we make the effort, even if it's only momentary, to find a smile, wave, or some other expression of emotion that cannot be captured in pixels or telephone wires.

People are spreading out and relying more heavily on technology to pick up the slack. We have abandoned letter writing for the ease and convenience of e-mails. Where we once received postcards from friends, we now get e-Greetings from Hallmark.com. We use AOL Instant Messenger, we text message, we use thefacebook.com, we chat on-line-we use every conceivable hi-tech medium to avoid meeting to talk. Significant, sincere conversations are falling by the wayside in favor of lol and <3 ya.

In a time when we rarely see past acquaintances, we should be trying to capitalize on every opportunity we have to engage in a conversation not punctuated by the clicking of keys. We should be striving to re-enter that simpler time when you didn't have to imagine a friend's expressions while talking with you. Yet every day, we have an opportunity to switch on reality; we choose instead to plug our ears and wave a white flag of resignation to technological seclusion.

Seeing a person wearing those white earphones smothers conversation. Whether it's meant to or not, headphones signal a desire to be left alone with one's music. This simplistic sign, graceful as it is, allows us to shrink further away from one another and deeper into our individual worlds. Given that we already have the ability to lead our lives without ever having to speak directly with another person, why encourage that? I know I'd rather see my hall-mates laugh over first-year debacles than being told they're smiling with a :) over the Internet.

As I write this article, my iPod is next to me, carefully nestled in its new case, singing to me as I type. I can't get over how great it is-it's truly a revolutionary invention, if not the cultural icon of this generation. Yet as much as I love it, I have come to realize that though it can go anywhere, that doesn't mean it should. I think that the next time I walk to class, I'll keep my earbuds at home, and look for my real buds, instead.