Category: iPhone

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A decision!

So you know, gentle readers, that I’ve been agonizing over a major decision. To iPhone or not to iPhone, that was my question. I hated being out of touch when traveling, but hated just as much the thought of my e-mail dogging me relentlessly throughout the day. I also worried that, nearly alone among all the people I know, as a non-smart-phone user, I was looking, and actually being, slightly behind the curve. 
A poetry reading isn’t usually the place for technological insights, but here’s my story: last Wednesday I went to a terrific reading–in fact, the first of two very fine readings I heard that night. This one was by Louise Gluck and Katie Peterson. Louise Gluck needs no recommendation from me, but she was beautiful in word and presence, reading from a book due out next fall which I will spend the intervening months eagerly awaiting. I was only slightly familiar with Katie Peterson’s work, but liked what I knew and am now a huge admirer. I got to hear both of them read, though then had to miss the Q&A to rush to the book launch of Denise Bergman’s “The Telling.” 

None of this has anything to do with cell phones.
What does, though, is that a lovely woman in a red coat, many years my junior, took the empty seat next to me and happened to take out her phone as we were waiting for the program to begin. And to my surprise and gratitude, the phone owned by this young and au courant-looking person apeared to be a cousin of mine, complete with slide-out keyboard. When I commented on it, she said something about not wanting too many intrusions on her time. Exactly, I thought.
So I came to a two-fold recognition, that I do want to protect my time and that I’m not alone in this. I decided that the answer for me was to keep my less-than-smart phone and get an iPad for when I’m traveling. And that is exactly what I did–I got an iPad Mini, very cute, with a bright blue cover and plenty of promise as a traveling companion. And, say what you will, my chunky intrepid little phone with the slide-out keyboard, continues to be just what I need. 
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It’s about time

I am the only person I know without an iPhone.  Startling, I know. No instant access to e-mail.  No games, though I’m quick to grab Dr. D.’s iPad for a quick round or two of the latest word game we’re playing. No GPS when I’m not in my car. No way to look up nearby restaurants when I’m out and about or find out what time the store/museum/library opens.
What I do have is exactly what I wanted–a perfectly reliable phone, with a perfectly ok camera, and–the thing I really like–a real keyboard. One that’s not on a screen. One with tiny keys that my fingers hit reliably and with no prompting by a chip that thinks it knows what word I’m typing. To paraphrase one of my poems, I’m fine. Though if you’ve ever heard or read that poem, “Before I Met Him,” you know how that turned out. 
But now I’m at a crossroads. In a few short weeks my not-smarter-than-me phone will be at the two-year mark. It would be a logical time to move up (?) over (?) to the iPhone. But here’s my worry: can I have an iPhone and also an “I”? 
Back in July, 2010 I blogged about trying to wrest control of my time from the devices we didn’t have just a few years ago that now seem to have us.  I wrote about how I am very susceptible to the siren call of the ping, the plink, the little indicator that the outside world wants to make contact with me. Yes? Hello? How will I resist when I have it with me all the time?
What I’m thinking about–what I frequently think about–is my time, how I use it or squander it.  I’m worried I won’t be up to the challenge of protecting it. We talk about “spending” our time and that usage says more than we usually think about. What else do we own? This is the commodity we live with and it’s finite, although, unlike other things we “spend,” we don’t always know when we’re running out. 
Of course it’s not the iPhone’s fault that it’s a time sink. We’re supposedly in control, though there’s evidence to the contrary. Writers usually need no major temptations. When we’re faced with an empty page or a blank screen, plants call out for water loudly enough to pull us away. And having so many temptations in the palm of my hand feels risky. So…should I do it?