I keep my phone close to my heart. Litterally, my phone rides in my left shirt pocket, just over my heart. Sometimes I forget whether I picked it up or not, and I make a gesture like a Star Fleet Officer tapping his communicator, or maybe more like an ancient military salute as my right hand flies from my hip to my heart, reassuring myself that my phone is, indeed, safely cradled near my heart.
At times I'll be using my phone for something other than a phone. I'll have it plugged into speakers, or I'll be synchronizing my calendar and files, and it is not in my pocket. But I have this ghost appendage feeling -- my hand will involuntarily start heading to my shirt pocket to look up some detail or check my email.
What's worse is when I actually have my phone in my hand... I'll be cradling it to my ear, talking to someone far away (or in those surreal moments, someone on the other side of the parking lot, whom I can see, but is just out of hearing range, so we're having some odd, movie-like remote conversation with eye contact...). But I'll forget I'm using my phone as a phone and I'll get an urge to look something up on my phone, only to realize I'm using my phone.
I guess what I'm saying is, my phone is much more than a phone. It's part of me. It's part of me like when you're in love for the first time and she's always on your mind. Like the Cat Stevens song... "Where ever I am, I'm always walking with you..." my phone is such a part of every waking moment that even when I don't have my phone, it feels like I have my phone.
It's not like I love my phone. Love is a luxury. I need my phone. I have to have it by my side, in my hands, holding it close to my body. There is nothing luxurious about it, any more than having a left foot is luxurious.
Having access to Google and Youtube is like breathing. Checking my email is like seeing. Twitter and Facebook are like hearing the voices of my friends and family. The touch of my phone reassures me like the touch of a lover...
But there is no taste... My phone never satisfies me the way a good meal satisfies me, it never gives me the visceral pleasure that a glass of wine or a dollop of chocolate can give me.
And while it comforts me, it's passing. Like fanning yourself on a summer day, my quick, furtive interactions with my phone give me a quick, furtive sense of satisfaction that passes almost as soon as I put my phone away.
And then I find my hand going to my heart once again.
You may also want to read my posting about how everyone's always connected -- You are Never Alone
My Private Life is Public, my Public Life is Private
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