Kicking and Screaming, Part 2

So...this is my new phone:

Yes.  It's an iPhone.

And, no...it doesn't have the QWERTY keypad I was so adamant about having.

But I guess at some point, one simply has to let go of the old technology.  When the powers-that-be are intent upon making something obsolete, you eventually have no choice but to go with the flow.

I tried...oh, I tried!  I wanted a keypad so badly that I dove headfirst into the Blackberry pool.  Only to find that Blackberry has its own proprietary data technology that does not dovetail well with standard cell phone carriers.  Bah!  Who knew?!  After two weeks of relying on bad information from my cell phone carrier and weak promises of  "I'm pretty sure we can get it to work!" I had to send the thing back.  And at least THAT ended well, as the eBay seller managed to cough up a full refund--which, since there was nothing actually wrong with the phone, was purely out of the goodness of their hearts. 

Just as I was wondering which old and possibly soon-obsolete phone I could try next (I had my eye on a five-year-old Nokia model, which had iffy reviews at best...) my cell phone carrier came up with an astounding price on this iPhone 5s.  After my "loyalty discount"--the $35 off that Consumer Cellular is offering to old farts needing to shit-can their ancient cell phones--I will pay just $165 for this iPhone.  Yes, I know it isn't the latest model, and I couldn't care less.  It does everything I need a phone to do, has a better camera than I have EVER had on a phone, and I think I'll be able to get used to texting on the touchscreen.  Best of all, I didn't have to shell out $400 for it...which I utterly r.e.f.u.s.e. to pay for a phone.   

And there is no real learning curve here, because I've had an iPad for three years, and this thing is just like a teeny-tiny iPad, only it makes phone calls. 

So...yeah.  I've been dragged into the 20-teens. 

But I will miss my solid little rock of a Nokia cell phone...  

Restoring America

I would add: 8. Recalibrate our moral compass (when it comes to attitudes towards torture, gun ownership, the poor, business practices, professional sports...well, just about everything.)

People!!!!!!

My choice can be RIGHT 

without yours being WRONG!!!!!!!!

 

Truth

I love it when I find a meme that says something I have been trying to express for a long time, and I just don't feel like anybody GETS.  I honestly think that people coming into the job market these days have no idea how raw a deal they're getting.  Hash-tag lucky to have a job...?

Fading

In recent years, aided by social media, the term "introvert" has become a label...some kind of cross between a psychiatric diagnosis and a badge of honor.  The general public is admonished to "get" us introverts, to treat us with understanding and care.  And we ourselves are encouraged to be "out and proud" about our introspective, anti-social behavior.  As if it's an indication of our superiority to the rest of the population. 

I am neither ashamed nor proud of being an introvert.  It is what it is.  It is what I am.  Often, it's just...a pain in the ass.  Because, at least in my case, being an introvert has not negated my need to be social...to belong to some kind of community.  While I'm not one of those people who is not okay alone, I do pine for some connection---and I have never in my life been successful at building or maintaining social connections.

Lately, I've been almost overwhelmed by the solitude I thought was essential to my well-being.  There is a wise saying that goes something like, "Everything in moderation."  Solitude may be something I crave and need...but too much of anything puts one's life out of balance.  I SO need a friend right now--the kind of friend that seems to be the only one that works for me.  The kind of friend I did have, once upon a time.   

When I was a girl, I had that one friend.  We met in first grade, but were only schoolyard acquaintances for several years.  In junior high, we somehow bonded and became inseparable.  We traversed the minefield of high school, early career and young love side by side.  I was her maid of honor...she was mine.   But, being  basically a bond between two introverts, it was a complicated and unusual friendship.  We hung out together.  We played sports, we played cards, we played board games.  We got involved in projects--we painted living rooms and remodeled kitchens.  We each called the other's parents, "Mom and Dad."  We were together so much, people thought we were sisters.  But we didn't...talk.  We didn't share our hopes, our dreams, our plans.  In fact, it's almost as if we were too embarrassed by deep emotion to share that with each other.  What was deep inside each of us, remained there.  And yet, the relationship worked, for many years.

I wonder if our bond was endemic to the era, when the soppy modern concept of "BFF" really didn't exist...before over-sharing became the quantifier of a worthy friendship.    When I've looked back upon our relationship, I've called it a friendship of shared experiences rather than emotions.  And lately when I looked back on those days, I have thought perhaps our friendship was a bad thing.  As if what we had was somehow inferior or incomplete.

We were friends, almost sisters, for more than twenty years.  After the husband and I moved to Oregon, my friend and I gradually lost touch.  Which kind of makes sense...we just didn't seem capable of turning that dynamic of shared experiences into a long-distance relationship.  Writing letters back and forth (which we did for several years after our move) brought into play the sharing of thoughts and emotions that I don't think we were ever comfortable with.  Eventually, she disappeared from my life--intentionally, I have no doubt. 

She ended the relationship for good, when she changed locations and very pointedly did not let me know where she had gone.  I'm pretty sure she knows where I am--we've been here 15 years and it would be easy enough for her to contact me, if she wanted to.  I, on the other hand, have tried searching for her online, only to come up empty...I can only conclude that's how she wants it.  It makes me sad, but it is what it is. 

I have a picture of the two of us together, on the day of our graduation from high school.  It's almost 43 years old...a glossy color instamatic photo that I dug out of a box and pinned to the bulletin board in my office.  But the light and air of life outside the box have not been kind to it.   

It's funny...do you remember the movie "Back to the Future," where Marty has a photo of his family that keeps changing as he changes history?  That's what my little glossy picture has done...  Over the years, it has washed out, until only our outlines are visible...our faces, our features, have faded away.  It's become a metaphor for...our friendship.  Our youth?  Our lives?  MY life? 

 

"Don't it always seem to go

that you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone?"