Almost like clockwork, at every opportunity, I always find myself being drawn to the
cellphone at the desk to check for notices. At other times, when it’s not even there but
deeply-snug in my shorts pocket, I half-imagine it to vibrate against my thigh, like a
purring cat demanding attention. Finally, during the idle time between chores, be it
house work or just sitting down to write, what begins as a faint drone is the clear and
soothing inner voice in my head, slowly growing persistent and at last short of
screaming, TIME TO CHECK ON YOUR PHONE!
This urge (more like an itch) is especially stronger whenever I’ve just posted anything
online; an e-mail perhaps, an online order for an item, or better yet, a joke, a photo or
an article I’ve recently uploaded on social media.
Shamefully, with all of the above, the instant self-gratifying effects of either a “like” or
other forms of reactions (which, Jim Carey once described as validating the fact that “I
am finally fulfilled”) then takes over my whole being, like a warm blanket. Dopamine
anyone?
How did it all start anyway? I’m guessing a lot of us might know. While it may appear
hard to trace the beginnings of this addiction, just try observing what’s around us now.
That will pretty much give us an idea how similarly, we all share the same predicament.
One thing is certain though, Dopamine is the toy we never had.
One afternoon, on the way home from the city, I happened to sit beside a mom with two
five-year olds. One couldn’t help but notice, these two preschoolers, while comfortably-
seated flanking their mom, had cellphones each to tinker with. Such was their silence at
first, you’d first admire and think, what well-behaved boys these are! Then suddenly, the
one next to me flailed wildly, shouting and crying because his game had stopped
completely.
How frustrating it must be, trying to stop a child from bawling, while at the same time,
attempting to fix a cell phone and then unsuccessful at explaining to him there’s no
signal. One still has to contend with the embarrassment and attention of those eyes
around you. Others smiled politely. I just looked away.
Back at home and in real time, a short buzz and a brief light on its screen signaled, my
baby (phone) was finally awake. Ironically however, I was the only one to be fed.
I read somewhere it is us who really make our own monsters in this life. But thinking
back to the scene in the jeepney, I would have to say nah, not the child’s fault. Not the
mom’s either. I’m playing Pilate on this one I know. I’m also not about to point a finger or
be a snitch. All I see is this: If life were a cartoon, we would be many things. I’m
reminded of a giant plant saying, “FEED ME!” and seagulls at the harbor perched atop
docked boats’ sails, all yelling, “Mine, mine, mine…”
Dopamine head.
