Wyman recently posted on the T9Word function of most texting programs on cellular phones and it got me thinking.

I’m a hopelessly-addicted iPhone user. The fact that it carries my calendar, my email, unlimited data, and works with many useful applications means that I’m rarely without it. In fact, as times I’ve probably been one of those “iClones” — people so absorbed with various tasks on the phone that they tend to run into people, miss steps on the stairway, fail to realize they’ve been fired, etc. I’ve never been more efficient at getting back to folks and keeping track of my schedule, but at what cost?

When Apple introduced the device nearly two years ago, the mobile market as we know it changed. Sure, we didn’t realize it at first; I mean, the initial iPhone cost over 400 dollars, right? But even then, what Steve Jobs showed the world that it was possible to combine most day-to-day online tasks with a phone and a semi-decent camera into one sleek, simple package. Such a shame that only the technophiles and the well-to-do could afford it.

Then Apple recycled the hardware and had AT&T subsidize the price through a two-year contract. Suddenly, only paying 200 dollars for a phone made it much more attractive to everyone — from diplomats to teenagers to Taliban leaders. And companies like RIM (maker of the BlackBerry) and Palm collectively wet themselves when they realized that Apple’s little miracle device was a real threat to their market share.

Before the iPhone, I could barely remember seeing even one or two commercials for a BlackBerry. It was something pushed toward the business folks who needed to be tied to their job 24/7. Sure, having email that close all the time could be convenient, but who really needed it?

Fast forward to the present and suddenly we’re seeing BlackBerry advertisements all the time — including the (well, to me, at least) semi-annoying ones from Verizon for the Storm voiced by The Office’s Jim Halpert.

But what’s the cost of convenience? We put our entire lives onto this lifeless device and then spend a significant portion of our day interacting with it. And when we can’t, we go into a strange sort of withdrawal.

Why, just this week, actually, I had iWithdrawal when I had to visit the hospital for a routine procedure. I can remember sitting in that room watching daytime television for over two hours, waiting for my turn in the OR, and all I could think was, “Man, I wish they’d let me have my phone right now.” At least I was thinking of keeping my family and loved ones up to date and not about what the latest scores were, but that’s when this post started mulling its way through my frontal lobe.

Before we even had cellular phones, what did we do in situations like the one mentioned above? We sat around, praying and freaking out, hoping that a phone call would eventually come from somewhere. But now, with everyone and their mother having ready mobile access, suddenly there’s not really an excuse. It puts a lot more pressure on people, this era of instant communication.

It’s also changed the way we get our news. Who was the first person to break the story about the airplane landing in the Hudson River? It wasn’t some crack reporter — it was a man with a mobile phone and a Twitter account watching the events from an office building, wasn’t it? Jurors with mobile phones are causing mistrials because they can’t keep their thumbs at bay while the prosecution is arguing. No wonder NDA clauses in employment contracts have beefed up so much — there’s now no time to control the dissemination of bad or good news.

So what am I arguing for? A return to simpler times? More self control? I’m not really quite sure. I’m too preoccupied trying to figure out why the auto-correct on my phone keeps replacing “I love you” with “I lob yoy.”