Of course, for high-powered scientists with hundreds of e-mails flooding inboxes by the hour, this isolation was easier said than done. One of the men, a Mr. Cramer, toted an “emergency satellite cell phone” with “emergency text message” capabilities along on the journey. The use of the word “emergency” seems a bit ridiculous in this case. The phone was not carried for safety. It wasn’t meant to call for help in the event of a rockslide, animal attack, forest fire, or random violent act of nature. Mr. Cramer was awaiting a very important e-mail—one that would tell him if he had received a 25 million dollar research grant. He had instructed his staff to send an “emergency” text message to the “emergency” phone in the case that the grant was received. I find that this says something about the priorities of the world today…

Following this example of technology addiction, Matt Ritchel continued his article with a discussion of technology redefining a sense of urgency. I thought immediately of the fast pace of text message conversations, Facebook instant messages, and plan-making. In my world, more than a two-minute lapse of conversation is an eternity. After ten minutes without a text, one person inevitably gives up and leaves the interaction (most likely holding a grudge.) Immersion in technology has completely changed our ability to focus. We can’t just sit still anymore. Even when sitting in front of the TV, I watch my little brother update his Facebook status hourly and search for new shoes on the family iPad. Just sitting has become a waste of time.

The men portrayed in this article had a chance to escape the fidgeting restlessness of the urban world and just “be.” According to Mr. Strayer, the scientist who organized the trip, being in a completely natural setting allows the brain to rest. Urban existence involves constant information intake and analysis. Think about all you take in during a one-block walk down a city street: flashing colored signals, the lingering smell of exhaust, a sidewalk sale to consider, the bare shoulders of strangers brushing your own, a string of “excuse me”s and blindly moving feet as eyes stare captivated at smart phones. It’s a jungle out there, and it’s a wonder the brain can even keep up.

Unsurprisingly, the ability of the brain to interpret new gadgets and information flow has become a huge area of research. In fact, the study of focus has become so popular that researchers have now mastered multitasking in their study of multitasking. Another scientist on the trip, Mr. Yantis, demonstrates this notion as he states; “We can study the brain and mind together in a rigorous scientific way.”

However, despite the use of multitasking to study multitasking, behavioral studies show that “performance suffers when people multitask.” One interesting example of this is the theory (provided by Mr. Yantis) that “the expectation of e-mail seems to be taking up working memory.” This leaves less space for reasoning and storing ideas. Essentially, as we try to enhance our ability to take in information by staying connected, we actually inhibit it. The addiction to technology in tiny moments of boredom has become an obsession—likely leading to poor decision making (like texting while driving for instance.)

Uninterrupted by e-mail or cell phone service, the men on this woodsy adventure were able to let their brains function organically for five days. The ideas flowed. Hiking, rafting, and reflecting, the group discussed neuroeconomics, neuroimaging, and research as time ticked by slowly and the scenery remained breathtaking. By the end of the trip, morning coffee was skipped and watches were freed from wrists. These were small yet significant steps toward cleaning up technology-infused brains.

To prevent the sort of reverse-evolution that seems to be going on in our brains, (focus being reduced rather than enhanced by streaming arbitrary media), perhaps we all just need to go on vacation in the deep, deep woods.

Privacy has definitely changed. “Places” only offers the opportunity for less of it. If I want to get a group of friends together, I think I’ll stick with the mass text message. I don’t plan on staging any “spontaneous” run-ins with friends I stalk on my news feed. I am not looking forward to the day when “Hey, my Facebook page told me you’d be here and I just thought I’d drop by (wink)” becomes the new pickup line.

Today, I discovered the comics. Most mornings I skim through the front page, maintaining my vow to stay informed, yet also buying into the whole “there’s never enough time” mentality. On a week long vacation however, there are ample hours.

As I sat writing a letter to a friend from school, my grandmother asked me if I ever read the funnies (later she would state her surprise at the fact I was writing “snail mail.” I could tell she was proud I wasn’t letting the art of letter writing die out like so much of my generation has…) When I told her that I don’t often get to them, she placed the paper in front of me and told me that I had to today. I stumbled across this one, and found that it puts everything I’ve been writing about into three tidy boxes and sums it all up in 29 words. Sometimes I think we could all use a significant amount of time at Camp AwannaGoHome.

In her last letter, my friend told me about a two-day power outage she experienced in her Minnesota hometown. She wrote the letter by candlelight, saying that it was all so romantic at first, but now the food in the refrigerator had spoiled and life without the internet just wasn’t as fun. Everything we do depends upon continuous innovation and transforming technology. Do we have the ability to give it up? Even camping trips to the wilderness involve battery operated lanterns, GPS systems, and cell phones for emergencies. Maybe someone should create a camp like the environment portrayed in this short comic strip—A camp where kids are taught to miss their parents more than their game boys and electronics. Whether or not this camp would have any occupants is the only issue.

The music is diverse, and the people watching is some of the best you will ever come across. Now that I’ve given a brief image of the chaotic panorama that is Summerfest post-sunset, and pointed out that those over age 35 don’t exactly fit into the scene, I’ll argue that my generation’s use of technology helps to maintain Summerfest’s nighttime setting of youthful shenanigans. Like every other public setting these days, we don’t leave home without our cell phones. We don’t wear watches, and we rely on their blue-lit screens to plan everything.

The texting begins around 7 pm. Sent out en mass to groups of friends, these messages ask first: “What’s going on tonight?” “Who’s playing at summerfest?” “Where’s the pre-party?” and continue on to “Which bus are we taking?” “What stage are we meeting at?” Inevitably, the group is split up into segments of 4 or 5, all planning to meet in one location. At a festival where you can hardly hear yourself think let alone answer a phone call while being swallowed by a mutating crowd, texting is essential.

Dancing atop a row of bleachers at a concert given by the reggae/electronic band “Thievery Corporation,” my friend clutched my elbow and leaned in to yell into my ear the whereabouts of different members of the group we had come with. After every song finished, and we had erupted with the crowd with out own shouts of appreciation and standard waving of arms in the air, we checked our phones again—a clockwork addiction.

Yes, our constant use of cell phones, connected to our hips, does help us to keep track of each other at somewhat sketchy locations like this. In allowing us to be in such quick contact, we have a new freedom. We scatter. We don’t have to stick together in one huge pack. Instead, we run around in groups of two and three, confident that we can find our way back with the light of technology. But with this undying faith, we don’t account for potential mishaps. We assume that everyone has a phone at all times. We decide that if a text message was sent saying that a group is leaving on a bus at a certain time, it’s up to the person who receives it to figure it out and make it there. “Well I texted you!” becomes a rampant excuse in angry arguments when buses are missed or groups feel “ditched.” Not to mention the loss of musical experience when screens are checked incessantly. It’s a sort of Catch-22. Our technological connectedness offers a sense of security and unparalleled ability to socially organize a night out, but this sense of security can leave us ultimately less secure and more divided. We are offered both more and less freedom. And let’s not forget, our personal squares of technology aren’t invincible. In Cream City, the possibility (and inevitability) of spilled beer is definitely something to cry over.