Epiphany

I used to smoke. I loved smoking. “Why, Emma,” you may ask, “Why did you love smoking, that dirty, dirty habit?” I will tell you why.

1. It calmed me down.
2. It gave me something to do with my hands when I had to wait for people in a bar or for my life to change for the better.

I quit smoking, as most of us have, because it promised to be bad for my health. Even having the occasional cigarette became untenably inconvenient. Going outside to smoke undercuts the very reason for smoking in the first place, namely that you need something to do when you’re nervous or at a loss. If you have to go outside to do it, you may as well just go outside and do something else. Have a quick meditate. Make out with a stranger.

So last night, I was at an open gallery thing in the Mission and I was waiting for R and my friend and I reached for my little Blackberry Pearl and started scrolling around to text someone. And that’s when I realized it: texting is the new smoking.

It keeps you and your nervous hands occupied. It makes you feel connected to people outside the maybe-stressful situation at hand. You look busy and important instead of alone or bored. It relieves you of the strain of being still in a public place. In short, it’s smoking.