I sat on the bus in the early morning, casually glancing around me on my way to campus. Three girls sat at evenly-spaced intervals behind me, each appearing half-awake, but relaxed. They went about their morning routine, sipping coffee or reading a book, each one of them alone in their own little world.

Then suddenly, the energy on the bus dramatically changed.

The girls tensed like gazelles that had just spotted movement in the nearby brush. I turned expecting something predatory, but it was just an awkwardly dressed young man climbing onto the bus. I had never seen him before, but I could tell the girls had, because all three simultaneously produced a set of earbuds and popped them quickly into place.

The young man looked around the bus, sighed, and then sat down across the aisle from me. I almost felt sorry for him. Until he started talking to me. Within two minutes of the most bizarre, uncomfortable small talk ever, I understood why those three girls had a sudden need for music.

I had recently started leaving my iPod at home, and, at that moment, I seriously missed it.

I nodded apathetically to his questions. I shrugged non-committally. I yawned and stared out the window, but not a single social cue was getting through to this guy. Eventually he just started talking loudly to himself. Or to the entire bus. I'm not really sure.

I didn't have it in me to get up and move to another seat, but for the rest of that excruciating five-minute bus ride, I daydreamed about making a sign I could hang around my neck with bold, red letters that said “do not disturb.”

When the bus finally reached my stop, I got up and glanced back at the girls, still blissfully in their own little worlds. As I headed for the door, one of them gave me a small smile of sympathy. Just then, I realized that the iPod, complete with it's extremely visible white earbuds, was the technological equivalent of my imaginary “do not disturb” sign—only far less bitchy.

As I walked to class, I noticed every person who was wearing earbuds or headphones and felt a little pang of envy, still missing my own.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that when I had been using my iPod daily, the walks from class to class had seemed shorter. The beat of the music set a quicker pace, yet I wasn't as tired at the end of the day. I didn't dwell as much on the massive amount of work I had to do every day. I got more done, because I wasn't as distracted by non-essential things.

I had to look into this further.

Kelsey Lynch, Overland Park senior, was sitting in the Underground, engrossed in finance homework as the drone of hundreds of students’ conversations reverberated off the walls. As I approached, I noticed a focused, almost serene look on her face. As the lunch rush reached its apex, the Underground surely became one of the loudest places on campus. Yet I imagined Lynch was only hearing her favorite playlist.

I hesitated before talking to her, realizing that I might be about to disregard her own “do not disturb” sign and be that guy.

It turned out that Lynch was completely friendly and unperturbed by my interruption, saying that she generally uses her headphones just because she works better with music playing, and because headphones help her block out noisy distractions.

Lynch did admit to using her iPod when she works out at the gym as a way of isolating herself from the other people there, so she could focus on her workout without interruptions.

Elizabeth Anne Bond, Lawrence junior, says she uses her headphones primarily just because she loves music. It makes her day more interesting, she has more energy, and her walks on campus tend to go a bit quicker. However, she too admitted that, on rare occasions, she had caught herself using her headphones to avoid certain interactions, like when she passed people handing out fliers on Wescoe Beach.

“I can kind of see it as subconsciously avoiding people, because you're in your own little world,” Bond says. “I'd hope that's not too detrimental. I guess it can isolate you a little bit, though. I've been told by friends that they'd seen me on campus and waved, but I didn't notice. I'm like, 'Whoops, I must have had my music on.'”

Brian Donovan, associate professor of sociology, says he doesn't necessarily see frequent iPod use as a problem. It's just another example of what he refers to as “cyborg behavior,” describing the way we are continually changing our bodies’ relationship to technology.

Citing rebellious teenagers of the ‘80s who used Sony Walkman cassette players to ignore their parents without any lasting negative consequences, Donovan predicts no ill effects from this next generation of “cyborg behavior,” and he predicts that in five to 10 years, another new device will come along and once again change the way we interact with each other.

Michael Bull, a professor of media studies at the University of Sussex in England, has become the leading expert on the cultural impact of personal music devices.

Bull says iPods give people an unprecedented way to choose their own soundtrack for their setting, allowing them to insert their own mood into the environment they're in. Ultimately, Bull says, this could result in a big city filled with people who are close in proximity, but each isolated in his or her own private bubble.

A couple days later, walking between Haworth and Lindley Halls, I found myself in the middle of a small group of about five other students, all wearing headphones of some kind. While we walked, I heard only the sound of tennis shoes on concrete. No talking, no laughing, no conversation, no witty banter—just feet on pavement. It was almost surreal. I was surrounded by pod-people, each inside his or her own audio cocoon. A bus roared past our group, shattering the strange silence, and I once more wished I had my iPod with me.

Since that day, I've made a point to have my iPod charged and in my bag, ready for those rare times when nothing else is going on and I want to be in my own headspace for a minute. Or just in case I feel the need to wear my “do not disturb” sign.

The trick, I guess, is knowing when to slip into your own bubble and crank the soundtrack that will help you get through the day, and when to take off the “do not disturb” sign and start a conversation with a fellow Jayhawk.

You never know. Something great might happen that will shift your day from needing a soundtrack to deserving a soundtrack