Charlotte Ng

More often than not, I catch myself scrolling past moments of boredom—literally. When left with a few moments of spare time, like waiting in line for coffee, time seems to move faster if I’m scrolling on my phone. My phone is basically a portable variety show, a little screen promising laughs, gossip and distraction on demand. So, the past few weeks, I have exercised my brain to sit with boredom, and often, I have noticed others have a hard time doing it as well.

I couldn’t help but wonder if the buzz of our phones takes away from the buzz of real-time intimate relationships.

The other day, I was telling my friend about this new idea I was excited to write about for my column. Simultaneously, he was on his phone, responding with half-focused nods. I wondered if he truly heard what I had to say—was he listening or just yes-ing me to death? I wanted to say, “Hey, this is important to me. Put your phone down; you’re not listening.” But I figured maybe he was listening to me, and we have conditioned our brains to multitask, leaving us juggling more than one thought. But with my competition being his phone, I felt like the juggling ball that kept getting dropped.

That night, I was brushing my teeth (without my phone) and realized the wedge my phone was driving into my intimate relationships. A device that is supposed to connect us—bring us together through FaceTime and iMessage—is ultimately destroying what we have right in front of us. I thought that if laughter is the best medicine, is TikTok turning into our generation’s pharmacy?

On the contrary, sometimes I find myself texting my hometown friends’ long-running group chat that feels like an ongoing sitcom. The vlogs that get sent, Instagram Reels shared and never-ending Snapchat memory flashbacks give me a certain laugh I can’t get in real time. This is what makes technology such a gray area—there is no answer for how to navigate screen time.

The thing that bothers me, though, is why does the phone seem to be controlling me? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? I wondered if all of my one-on-one relationships actually had a third and fourth member. Was the member inside my pocket more important than the person who sat across from me? If not, how can I validate friends so that they come first?

I think the key is to actively “forget your phone.” When someone starts talking and you’re mid-Reel, pause the Reel and turn it off. That way friends will know they are your priority. Let yourself be present in conversation and enjoy the moments of boredom. I mean, seriously, when did boredom become something to fear rather than a space to imagine? I was sitting on the toilet the other day when I had this realization. I thought, was intimacy dead, or just on Do Not Disturb? I figured this thought wouldn’t have come to me if I had brought my phone to the bathroom. So, since then, I haven’t brought my phone when brushing my teeth, hopping in the shower or walking to class. I figured that with our busy college life schedules, it’s important to schedule some time for boredom as well.

It’s important to note that this column is not about getting you to stop using your phone. Realistically, it is more useful than destructive—I rely on it for checking my emails as well as calling a friend to meet up for lunch. This column is more so a piece of writing to leave you wondering. If fun now fits in the palm of our hand, what happens to all the fun outside of it? After all, the best kind of entertainment isn’t on a screen—it’s the kind that makes you forget to pick it up.