I tend to view anyone between the ages of 14 to 26 as being part of the "Awkward Generation."
While I may be more awkward than most, everyone my age has encountered greater social hurdles than anyone who came before us.
Before you become downtrodden, I assure you, it isn't completely our fault.
In fact, our awkwardness is due in large part to the fact that during our formative years, cell phones, the Internet, and digital appliances went from being uncommon luxuries to everyday commodities.
Our parents weren't able to flirt via text-message or over Instant Messenger in order to facilitate "getting to know someone."
And since they had to engage in and practice more actual human interaction, our parents were actually less insecure teenagers than us.
Sure, technology has its benefits, but sometimes it makes things just plain awkward.
My grandma refuses to buy a computer. Computers have been mainstream for at least the past 15 years now, and yet she remains ardently opposed, which made me wonder if this is simply a personal choice or if older people always rebel against technological advancements.
So, I asked if there were a bunch of people that refused to take the polio vaccine when it was discovered, if there were some guys stumbling around, saying, "Don't worry about me, I'll walk it off."
Grandma didn't think that was funny, because apparently polio was kind of a big deal when she was a kid.
With the advent of digital cameras, we can see how pictures turn out instantly.
And it seems now that after taking a picture, instead of remarking, "I hope those came out nicely," I'll often say, "Oh man, I can't wait to tag those on Facebook!"
And when do you Facebook? My friend Jason described the predicament beautifully.
"I mean, when you meet a girl you like, do you go home and Facebook her right away, or is that too creepy? Do you wait a few days and then Facebook her on a random Tuesday afternoon? But then what were you doing thinking about her on a random Tuesday afternoon? Will she think you just can't get her out of your head? There really is no good time at all."
Whenever I buy a new cell phone, the Verizon guy always offers to transfer my phonebook, and I politely decline.
I use the new phone as a way of cleansing myself of all the numbers I have accumulated but never call.
Usually, I'll enter good friends and family into the phone right away, but once unknown numbers begin calling me, it becomes a complete and utter guessing game.
I've had entire conversations where I don't know who I'm talking to, which makes it really difficult to "meet them for dinner at 8:00."
I hate it when I'm on my cell phone and someone else calls, because it doesn't go straight to voicemail. Instead, there is a unique little beep that informs the person, "Sorry, he's on a much more important call right now."
And I always feel the need to justify it when I call that person back. I'll say, "Sorry, I was on the phone with CVS trying to find out if they had the new Flintstones vitamins in yet." This, surprisingly, is not seen by others as a top priority on your Aunt Joyce's birthday.
The Instant Messenger equivalent of the busy signal beep happens when you're typing furiously to someone you want to be talking to, and a random IM box pops up out of nowhere.
AIM tells AnnoyingChick85 that you were typing. That feature is like the Venus flytrap, because now you can't pretend that you're away from the computer; they know you're there. The best plan of attack is to excessively delay your IM responses and hope the person takes a hint.
But if they don't, you're not really the awkward one anyway, right?
Some kids use a Linkspy on their AIM profiles so that they can track which sketchballs are viewing their pictures 10 times a day.
The paradox, however, is that those people who view the pictures most are usually the most adept at hiding it.
For instance, you can copy and paste the Linkspy into the tool bar, erase your screen name from the address, and view anonymously. And yes, I do realize that my telling you how to do this completely defeats the purpose of concealing my screen name.
It's always a little strange when a friend puts up a cryptic away message, and you know it's about the complexities of your relationship, about how she wants you but can never truly have you again.
And then it's even stranger when you confront her about it and you find out it's about her dead dog.
Man, I'm awkward.
Neil Padover is a senior majoring in English. He can be reached neil.padover@tufts.edu.
