Two things dawned on me this week.
1. I am lost without my blackberry
2. I drink way too much diet coke.
Let’s start with the first one, shall we?
Last week I realised that I really would be lost without my blackberry. It’s always there, everywhere I go like some strange extension to my hand. In fact, it’s been there so long now that I think I might have forgotten how to hand-write. I mean, when do I ever need to hand-write anything anymore? I’d like to say maybe the odd shopping list, but even that gets typed into my memo pad. And I’m not sure how unusual this is for a writer, but I even draft chapters on my blackberry. I have a beautiful new notebook, given to me by a dear friend and apart from a few serial-killer-like scrawls, it’s been left blank because all my notes, all my thoughts, all my ideas get typed into my blackberry.
If I need to write to someone, then we have glorious email. You can type it all it AND send it, all from the comfort of your armchair. No need to find a stamp. No need to trudge to the postbox (which incidentally is at the end of my road). Type in the address and at the click of a button – ZING! Off it goes. Woop!
And whilst we congratulate ourselves on such a marvel of the modern world, I can’t help but feel a bit sad about that. Yes, you’re right, I’m about to get all nostalgic on your asses because I used to LOVE writing letters. I was the master of letter-writing! I loved everything about it. From picking out cute stationary, to ensuring I was using my best hand-writing, sealing the envelope, yes even licking the stamp! Then off you trot to the postbox, with a beautifully written letter in hand, usually in some pretty coloured envelope to ensure it stood out from all those boring white or brown ones. A jewel in a sea of bills, greeting cards and junk mail.
I used to write letters on a regular basis to one of my besties. After working together for three months, we went our separate ways and as she lived in another town we took great delight in writing letters. Nothing of great importance to anyone else, I’m sure, but just a lovely way to stay in touch. And then there was the DAILY letter writing between myself and my husband back when we first starting dating and I was away at university. Every day I would rejoice in receiving that little white envelope which he used to doodle all over, in fact, somewhere in my attic, I still have ALL those letters, all packed away and treasured.
These days the only letters I get are ones that I would rather not receive. And I send virtually nil. How tragic is that? The email has killed the letter and the smartphone has killed the art of hand-writing.
And yet, I still can’t be without my blackberry, even though every day I know I lose the ability to write using one of them things called a pen.
And then came Tuesday Terribilis! The day the blackberry server went down! Oh. My. Fricking. Gawd.
I examined my phone in utter panic. I took out the battery and rebooted it. That didn’t work. I shook it a bit, because that often works doesn’t it? I pressed a few buttons in sheer frustration. Then I heard the news that the whole blackberry network had gone into meltdown and I spent the whole day sulking. Every now and then I would poke at the blackberry in the hope that my touch alone would bring it back to life. Nothing worked. I had to watch TV instead. I sulked some more and went to bed feeling more than a little lost.
Today it pinged it a brief existence before it all went horribly wrong again. It seems I’m going to have to remember what I did before I had a blackberry.
Oh yes that’s right…..I used to read……and write letters…and talk to people face to face. Now that’s an interesting concept isn’t it?
And as for realisation number two?
Ah, who cares? Not me!