The First Echo

I've hit a personal record. And not in a nerdy-cool, I-saw-69-movies-last-year kind of way. Last month I had received 84 text messages on my trusty little Nokia. My plan with T-Mobile only covers 50. The overages were not pretty to look at on paper. The dollar sign on my last statement taunted me, laughing at me as if to say, "Those friends of yours? They must hate the sound of your voice." One morning I finally sucked it up, calling my carrier to request an upgrade in my service. My text allowance has now quadrupled for a mere $4.99 a month. Before the upgrade, I had found it annoying, having friends send messages to my phone several times a day to communicate a plethora of trivialities. A sampling: a) The new Maroon 5 sounds like Hall and Oates merged with Simply Red! b) OMG, watch Tori Spelling's new reality show. Sooo good. c) Ali Larter's waiting in line at Pinkberry and looks pissed. d) Happy Hump Day. But then I appreciated the gesture, the effo

I am an only child. I am an only child who was raised during the decadent 1980s. Only Child + Lavish Decade = One Spoiled Brat? I realize my desire to acquire more and more friends and acquaintances in my life stems from the fact that I am only child. Do I constantly surround myself with smiling faces and warm hearts because I never had brothers and sisters to play with, or do I yearn to have everyone focus on me because I am that attention-hungry, spotlight-hogging, sibling-less sycophant? Or is it also a combo-manifestation of living in a city where, in order to survive, connections are more important than oxygen? I also get high off seeing every person I know (or just met a few weeks ago at a cocktail party) interacting in one place. I love the eclectic mix of personalities, introducing people to others who wouldn't normally find themselves sharing the same space with each other. I like throwing everyone together and seeing what happens, like one of those abstract artist