“Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.” ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay
I missed you. All this week I wanted to text, or send a photo. I just wanted to have a talk… you weren’t there. It is a terrible void felt… not having your mobile phone.
Yep… it just died. It worked fine all day Saturday and Sunday morning, and then it wouldn’t charge. What the hell!
Someone reminded me that phones are made to die, like a car devaluing when you drive it off the lot. I thought about that comparison… and we do connect some of the same terms to our phones like upgrades, energy conservation, bigger, better, more powerful and efficient!
People always used to wonder what it was about men and their cars. You could always tell a little bit about someone’s personality by the car they drive. Now it’s the type and way they use cell phones that have become part of a person’s identity. I’m an iPhone guy, and have had debates over the years about the pros and cons of the different platforms with Android and/or Blackberry users. Passions run high.
But I don’t care about these other people. I was left abandoned… alone for four whole days!! This personal hell contained endless chunks of time that I was detached from the world. Whether it was driving in my car, or walking down the street… minutes and minutes of zero communication! Or those other mad moments when I didn’t have access to information like maps, or game scores, or a clock… what the hell time is it????
What if I needed to take a photo or video? Possible precious moments missed… never to be repeated and shared with a breathlessly waiting world. And business… Everything ceased! It was a nightmare.
I went to a concert on Thursday night and I was unable to easily find my friends. I did, but it wasn’t easy. Elvis Costello played a song during his set, and I had no way to immediately determine which album it was on. I did, much later. And I found my way home without my Waze app.
But I was roughing it!!
Of course, these laments are made tongue firmly in cheek… nothing of consequence was missed. Two customers left me voicemails that were handled the following day. Certainly no one died or was injured. In reality being without a phone was a bit inconvenient, and also a bit liberating.
This geek does have an iPad to pick up some of the slack. But I did find myself absentmindedly reaching for that invisible phone a few times. And once or twice I picked up the dead phone and pushed some buttons… #resurrection?
After four gruesome days I got a nifty, brand spanking new iPhone 6, replacing my rotary-like iPhone 5. How did I survive so long with such outdated technology? The nightmare was over. I was connected once again after a quick setup, restore from backup, and a new lock screen photo – Stay Classy!
It is delightful, sleek and sexy, just like me… opening that box felt like Christmas Day! And it’s way better than a Galaxy S-whatever, I am completely positive… how dare you say otherwise!
Learned lesson? Understanding suffering helps one appreciate the gifts you have, so I am thankful to those who helped me through this rough patch.
I’m back, world… if you’ll have me.
Protesters finally take well-deserved break to eat tasty treats rescued from local Pathmark.
The craziness kicks off this week with a wedding that I AM OFFICIATING. The circumstances of how that came to be will be the subject of another post. But it is truly humbling to be asked, and I’ve spent most of the past week preparing for this great event.
Last weekend I attended the Pennsylvania Writers Conference in Pittsburgh. It was a solid two days of education and inspiration about the craft and business of writing. My biggest takeaway was that I have to make a commitment to work at it. To write.
I’ve realized that the key is to understand and prioritize time, and commit. I am vowing to read more, to be inspired. Observe more, to see things differently. And share time with creative people, to be uplifted. I’m writing this blog post as a public promise to myself… hopefully those who read this will hold me to it.
When I was nine years old, I spent an entire summer visiting relatives in Colorado. It was there I first played in an organized sport… baseball, on a team sponsored by the Market Time Drug Store in Trinidad, CO. My memories are very vivid… the grey flannel uniform, maroon stirrup socks, and the green wooden dugouts on the fields. I also remember clearly that I was a terrible baseball player. I could throw and catch okay, but the bat was a useless piece of equipment in my small hands. I’m pretty sure that I did not hit the ball once that season – in practice or in games. But I do remember the experience fondly, and not just because of the cool uniform. Even though I was not a good player, the coaches encouraged me and always made me feel good about my place on the team.
When my son was about nine years old, he decided that he only wanted to play soccer… and I jumped into it with both feet (PUN!). It was great for both of us, mostly because we learned and fell in love with the game at the same time. He played through high school, and even worked as a referee for a few years. All in all, mission accomplished. He had a very positive experience.