Off to the sunny Caribbean next week thus THE LAST POST OF 2010.
Recapping the entire year would be too much work and—ultimately—kind of lame, in that smarmy look-at-all-that-I-did way. So, to finish off the year, I’m writing about an early Xmas present I received: an iPhone4.
People used to make fun of my Cingular LG flip-phone. Sometime, over the past two years, everyone else seems to have upgraded to sleek, touch screen models or slides with tiny keyboards. I didn’t care (for awhile). I’d been behind the cell phone curve to start. I only got one in 2003, bowing to the inevitable. In the 80’s, I was also one of the last hold outs to switch from record albums to CD’s.
For years, I treated my cell phone with benign neglect, tucking it along with me sometimes, when I could remember; and telling people: “If you really want to reach me, try my landline first.” Missed call, missed call. I didn’t really get it. You couldn’t have much of a conversation on a cell phone anyway-—reception problems, “Are you still there?”, loud noises in the background. I figured it was for emergencies and kind of handy for storing phone numbers. But I resented the notion of being constantly available. If anyone could reach me at any time, how was I ever supposed to relax?
Then the peer pressure crept in. People started to text me. Their effortless little touch screen messages mocked my clumsy 12-button phone. Sending a three or four word reply could take me up to ten minutes with ‘hit 2 three times for c, hit 3 two times for e.’ It certainly couldn’t be done while walking; it could barely be done while standing. And I was resistant to using abbreviations or slang for fear of sounding age-inappropriate. I wouldn’t even let myself slack off with capitalization, and shifting between capitals and undercase with a 12-button phone is practically like operating an 18-wheeler.
My partner and I have a family cell phone plan, and when our contract was nearing expiration, I started dropping subtle hints that I might like an iPhone. My thinking was if we were going to upgrade, we should upgrade big. This past weekend, my wish came true. We went to the Apple store on 59th Street—along with 50 percent of the tourists in NYC—and an hour and a half later, we were the proud owners of iPhone 4’s.
So far, I’ve had exactly two calls, both from my honey, both tests to see if the phone was working. But I don’t think the iPhone is for phone calls actually. It’s for checking messages, looking things up, and generally spending time doing all the things you never knew you really wanted to do. In my case, that’s poring over the map app where you can flit around the globe and check out street plans in Bangladesh and the Falkland Islands. Or obsessively checking Facebook—’Did anyone comment on my status?’ ‘What about the pics of my cat I uploaded from my phone?’ Or playing games like Cut The Rope and Angry Birds.
I don’t know if owning an iPhone is a landmark in my technological education or another sign of a midlife crisis. Should 41 year olds be texting while waiting in line at Starbucks or using the cool reverse camera feature to take vanity pictures of themselves on the subway? I have stepped off a ledge into the abyss of digital socializing…digital self-stimulation (not the dirty kind)…digital information overload. This cannot be a good thing for my writing productivity though I rationalize: there’s apps for that, it will help my research. We’ll see how things go in 2011 and whether or not my iPhone is a catalyst for bolstering my creativity or my downfall.
