The Joy of Tech

Chalk it up to a talent for consistency if you like, but I've always been young. I'm going on a 26-year streak now so I predict the trend will go on indefinitely. But such perpetual youth is not free of pain and hardship. I speak - as you have no doubt guessed - of the lack of a decent smartphone.

Notice I say "decent smartphone," not "smartphone." This is because up till last month, I stood enmired in a 1 1/2-year codependent relationship with a smartphone that had clearly, in its youth, been emotionally wounded by a sadistic mother.*  The result was an amalgam of Tourette's, dementia, low battery, schizophrenia, night terrors and chronic dropped calls. I also eventually realized my phone was refusing to receive text messages people were sending me, and as we well know from helpful posters in bus stations, when your significant other won't let you talk to your friends, that's a sign of an unhealthy relationship. But I was in too deep to realize. (Remember I mentioned I am pretty young.)

This was all part of an inexorable cycle. First, I would threaten to replace my phone and/or flush it.** Then the phone would wail and whine at me to take it back, because THIS time would be DIFFERENT. Accusations flew back and forth; tears flowed; passionate embraces were exchanged, and finally we would have a long, gratifying round of make-up texting. Then everything would be okay for any a week.

Long story short, I finally saw the light and acquired a new phone, and I have never been happier. Gone are the bad old days of no connection and under-productivity; the new phone has ushered in a bold new era of constant connection and under-productivity at a much faster rate. Now I can verify, on the way to the subway, what celebrities are dead. I can avoid answering my email en route to my very own bathroom -- or someone else's bathroom, for that matter (although they often wonder who I  am, and what I am doing in there).

And let's not forget to talk about Swype. This is a delightful program performs the vital dual functions of allowing you to type misspelled words while getting smeary finger stains all over your screen. Why misspelled? Well, the smartphone is only so smart, which means much of the time your messages are somewhat compromised. For example, say you're trying to write the following:

Dear Stan,

I will be running a bit late. I look forward to seeing you shortly.

Sincerely,
Nicola McEldowney

Before Swype, you would have had to type those words letter by letter, and you would have run the very real risk of spelling most of them correctly. But thanks to the efficiency of Swype, your message will look something like this:

Dear Arab,

I will be rubbing a nub large. I look forward to seeing you shirtless.

Sincerely,
Bucks Microfiber***

See how handy it is? As a smug and entitled upper-middle-class white person, I heartily go on the record as saying everyone should have one. And I think it is fair to say that, if you don't get one, you're not a real person.

In any case, I love my new smartphone. I've had it for over a week now and our relationship has yet to turn to pure unalloyed crap, which is more than I can say for its predecessor, as well as a few other individuals. As a matter of fact, I think it may be "the one," but then God knows I've said THAT before.

But there is no need to dwell in such places right now. Now is the time to revel in my newfound ability to plumb the depths of BuzzFeed while riding a bus. Did I mention my capacity for under-productivity? It's at least as legendary as my talent for youth, and I dare say it probably has at least three times the staying power.



* I can't know, but I imagine she was a microwave.
** On which note, flushability would be a great feature in other kinds of partners, if you get my drift.
*** This is what my phone originally thought my name was. I think it would be a good stripper name, assuming (a) I decide to adopt a second career and (b) I don't want any clients.