I was naked in the HUB-Robeson Center. I was naked on the streets of State College. I was naked in my living room.

Without my battleworn and scratched pink Razr, I felt naked. I felt like something was missing. I reached for it, and it wasn't there. I told people to call me, and then I realized they couldn't. The right pocket on my jeans was conspicuously empty -- and a little lonely.

For the past week, I have been living cell phone-free. To some people, this would be heaven. To others, this would be hell. To me, it's been a little of both.

I had relied so long on its high-pitched alarm to drive me out of bed each morning. It had survived plummeting falls down flights of stairs, with its batteries and back piece scattered apart like rubble. It had come back from the dead after freezing in my car over a cold winter night. All right, so the battery had to be charged twice a day and some of the buttons didn't work. And a little red dot inside the phone claimed my Razr has suffered "water damage" that I doubt had ever occurred. It isn't pretty, but we have been through a lot together.

Since I don't have a landline at my apartment, my cell phone has been my only way of contacting most of my family members and friends at home. Using it, I've gotten some pretty important news over the years: births, deaths and the all-important "I've put some money in your account" phone calls. I've been able to comfort my best friend instantly from 200 miles away on the night his girlfriend broke up with him, and take the phone outside so my roommates don't have to hear what a crazy mess my friends from home are. I've been able to wish my grandmother a happy birthday from the halls of the Willard Building the day she turned 92 (after my sister called my cell with a last minute reminder). When we can't be there in person, hearing the voice of someone you love is the next best thing. And when we're on the run, getting something done via cell phone is often better than not getting it done at all.

Then there are the calls that aren't quite fun, but do save us some hassle. Making that restaurant reservation via cell while at Beaver Stadium sure beats waiting three hours to be seated on a football weekend. Being able to interview over the phone for your internship really comes in handy if you can't drive hundreds of miles away during the school week. And calling the bank for your balance while on your way to Dunkin' Donuts sure beats paying hundreds of dollars in overdraft fees over a couple of coffee runs. Thank you, Motorola.

With all the conveniences cell phones bring, you might imagine that going without one was sometimes frustrating. I needed to talk to my parents about depositing my rent money immediately. I wanted to talk to my sister about meeting up for dinner on my way home from class. I almost resorted to using the P.A. loudspeaker when I got separated from my mom inside an entirely too large Super-Duper Wal-Mart. Instead, I remained phoneless, poor, hungry, lost and presumed dead -- at least for the past week. Just when I was about to throw away the phone I didn't have in frusteration, it happened.

Silence.

It was a strange sensation. It was the first time I heard it in a long time, and I kind of liked it. No calls interrupted my sleep. No one distracted me away from the work I was doing or whom I was with. No annoying texts required a dodge and a lame excuse. By the end of the week, it was almost relaxing. I stopped missing my phone.

Although I'm not about to give it up for good, I now see the value of a little break from the cellular world. I think even the most hardcore cell-phone junkies might enjoy an hour -- or even a day a week -- where they turn off their phones and focus on what's right in front of them.

With a little cell phone etiquette and an occasional hit of the "off" button, you can use your cell instead of having it use you. After all, cell phones, like any other tool, can be useful or harmful -- depending on who is holding them.

Caitlin O'Malley is a junior majoring in international politics and public relations and is The Daily Collegian's Friday columnist. Her e-mail is cmo160@psu.edu.