Tellyphones and adulthood

I just e-mailed my Mom about a new phone venture, and I think I accidentally sounded a little British (what an awful mistake ) with the use of words such as mummy, and telly. Maybe my recent Harry Potter binge is influencing me in less than favorable ways.

I’ve had my phone for over two years, and I wish it had saved every text message I ever sent. I always like re-reading my journal (that I’ve diligently [not] kept since I was 14) for an excavation into my past. Mostly I just cringe at the maelstrom of ridiculous feelings, but I generally like having it around as a record that maybe I’ve aged a bit. Actually maybe not, I still just write about boys. And any cats that I am in possession of at the time.

So having a phone that deletes friend conversations after 30 days is a bit heart-wrenching for me. And getting rid of that phone is even a little more painful; it was the phone that communicated me through most of college, saw a lot of arguments play out in 160-character Cold War snippets, exchanged sweet nothings and sweet somethings. There’s nothing tangible or archivable after it’s gone, all you remember is the feeling of getting that particular message or call. I suppose that’s the (well, my) problem with phones in general, their method of communication is meant to be more fleeting.

Really, it’s essentially just a hunk of plastic to which I’ve attached a lot of meaning. And my journal is essentially just a hunk of fancy dead wood pulp with ink and graphite in it. But both are symbols of my personal history, and it’s hard to let go of those no matter which form they take (maybe that’s why I’m reading Harry Potter lately, who saw me through my adolescence).

Lives are spliced into many eras though, so I guess the era of my little orange phone is ending. It’s funny; I generally have a the-grass-is-greener mentality (just ask my roommate when we were apartment hunting), except when it comes to giving up things that I’ve learned to trust. Then the other grass is definitely a brown, crackly, parched, late August lawn. Anyway, I guess I’ll just have to learn to gamble and take a few more risks (that are carefully researched and calculated).

And OMG I’m going to have smartphone with apps and games and twitter…I jest. Well, not games, I don’t like games. Generally I don’t think anyone with less than three important appointments or meetings a day should have a smartphone, but they’re all that exist in stores anymore! What is this rumpus!?