My phone is dead. And I don't mean like "tee hee I forgot to charge it", I mean it hasn't turned on in three weeks, charger or not. As I haven't been without a cell phone for more than 24 hours in the past six years, I anticipated confirming millennial stereotypes by suffering greatly. However, my life has remained largely unchanged. Here are a few things I've learned from my involuntary phone cleanse:
My phone didn't bar me from the real world
My human interaction has not increased since my phone died. I still eat meals with friends as frequently as before. To be fair, that wasn't too frequent to begin with. I usually eat one meal with people, and the other meals alone. And I realized it is not just because I want to check facebook or whatever, I just genuinely like eating alone. I realize that wouldn't be the case with everyone, but for me, dining alone is relaxing and comfortable.
The only problem is that when you eat alone, well-intentioned people assume it's not by choice, and then they come join you. That is why I thank the Lord above for earbuds, the international sign for "please don't talk to me". So in order to appear less pitiful, I listen to music on my phone while dining solo. Since I'm out a phone, this has posed a problem. Technically, I could wear the earbuds and just stick the unplugged end in my pocket (and I'd be lying if I said I've never done this before), but that's just sad. Fortunately, I recently found my old ipod. It's great. It's an ipod nano, the kind they have in technology museums now (no, really). Third generation, four gigs, unlimited middle school memories.
And speaking of memories...
I took more photos that I thought I did
I always worried (though probably not enough to use the word "worried") that I wasn't updating my Instagram enough to keep it interesting. I was disappointed in myself for not taking enough pictures. But the first few days after my phone quit, the number of times I reached for it in order to snap a photo was astounding. I realized I was putting more effort in to photography that I thought. I also realized how accustomed we are to always having access to a camera. It's kind of like losing the "screenshot" button on my computer. You mean I have to write all this down?
Something I've heard said is that with a camera, you don't take the time to really appreciate what is going on around you. I disagree (with one exception: putting concert videos on your snapchat. If you're taking video, you're not really listening to the concert. Also, none of us are going to watch your story if it's 100 seconds of loud, bad audio and flashing lights).
I haven't spent any more time appreciating my surroundings than I did when I took frequent pictures. In fact, I may have been spending less time, as I don't have to think about angles or whatever. On that note, sorry I haven't updated my Instagram in 3 weeks.
I actually have navigation skills
This was a shocker. I mean, I can find my way to places, but only if I've been there before. And I'm a landmark person, who could tell you where CPFA is in relation to the marching band field and the out-of-business Mexican restaurant, but not the name of the street.
Perhaps because Arizona is one big grid, perhaps because it's flat and therefore bike-able, I've been doing a lot of biking for reasons other than riding a bike. Everything is within a 10 minute radius, so running errands (with a navigation app in hand) is a breeze. For this reason, when my phone died, I didn't want to just give up going places. So I forced myself to memorize the major streets and where they intersect, and now I can get just about anywhere without having to stop and make sure I'm going the right way.
Now if only I could talk myself into biking the 40 minutes to the nearest Apple store...
