“Hello, my name is Carolyn and I am a BlackBerry addict.”

If you are one of the millions of Americans who suffer from BlackBerry addiction, also known as “CrackBerry-itis,” I empathize with you. So, incidentally, does the President-Elect of the United States. According to a story in this weekend’s New York Times, Barack Obama is literally tethered (via belt-holster) to his device.

Only one year ago, I visited Cornell as a pre-frosh and was overwhelmed by the mini-computer-like devices glued to seemingly every student’s hand. After witnessing conversation after conversation about BBMs, I finally got up the courage to ask my host, “What exactly is a BBM?” With a priceless are-you-serious look on her face, she responded, “Oh ... a BlackBerry Message [obviously].”

Still a little unsure of what she meant by this BBM thing, I flew home to California where those who had iPhones were considered high-tech and only my dad and other businessman-types had BlackBerries. Clearly California had some serious catching up to do.

It didn’t take long for the BlackBerry fad to hit southern California though. Within months of my embarrassing BlackBerry blunder, I gave in to the trend, and my BBM contact list was growing rapidly. I began to suffer from BlackBerry thumb like the rest of Cornell students. Yet, to me, it was still just a cell phone.

Upon arriving at Cornell for orientation week though, I was overwhelmed by a new wave of BBM requests. “Pin me” seemed to be the natural response to “What’s your name?” As the days went on, it became clearer and clearer that there was an exclusive club of avid BlackBerry users that did not include those with “normal” cellphones. It was as if I was member of a secret society, except this one wasn’t so secret.

Before I realized it, that rectangular shaped technological device constantly in my hand had become my crutch. If my BlackBerry mysteriously died one night, it was as if I was missing a leg. If I left my BlackBerry on my desk rushing out the door, I felt naked.

It is often said that our generation can never be in the moment. We constantly need to know everything that is going on and what everyone else is doing to reassure ourselves that we are in the best place possible. Our generation has an incessant fear of missing out, a severe case of the “woulda, shoulda, coulda” phobia. Because of this, we depend heavily on technology to ensure that we have no regrets.

In addition to Facebook, AIM, and other modern forms of communication, the cell phone — and BlackBerrys in particular — has become the quintessential icon of our generation. Its addictive qualities further weaken our ability to be in the here and now. But why? We aren’t CEOs or heart surgeons on call. Yet, we act as if we are so important that we must be able to be reached at anyplace, anytime.

Our insatiable addiction to technology, whether in BlackBerry or any other form, has caused us to lose touch with spontaneity. We prefer knowing all possibilities ahead of time and making concrete plans than going with the flow. As a result, living on the edge has become a rarity, and the joy of the journey is no longer cherished.

Most significantly though, technology has become our generation’s lifeline, a way out of real interactions with real people. We are becoming an inarticulate generation, who attempt to substitute spoken words with text abbreviations and emoticons.

While I’m not about to give up my BlackBerry either, it’s good to slap yourself in the face every now and then and remind yourself where you are and why you’re here. We go to one of the best universities in the world. Let’s treasure it in the here and now instead of vicariously living through the lives of our BBM contact lists.

Now don’t go throw your cellphone off the Collegetown bridge (believe me, I’m not). But I challenge you to curtail your addiction to technology, whether you are a BlackBerry user or not. Start the trend of not putting your phone next to your water glass during dinner. Use all your self-control to sit through an entire lecture class without checking to see if you have any new messages. And lastly, talk to people. After all, we do go to the “social Ivy.” don’t we?

Carolyn Witte is a freshman in the College of Arts and Sciences and a contributing columnist at The Sun. She may be contacted at cwitte@cornellsun.com