Cell Phones

As much as I love my Android, I find with the new cell phone models, we're losing hanging up impact.

The first phones were bricks. When you put down that bad boy, you made a point of it, in fact each time someone hung one up, the earth shook a little. Throw a cement block to the ground, you get a good impact.

Then came the matrix flap, the little useless plastic cover that slip over the keys. It was useless, broke instantly, but when you wanted to show attitude when ending a conversation you slid that thing closed with your chin and message sent.

Then came the king. The flip phone, thick and bulky at it's best. It was by far my favorite non-smart cell phone. There was nothing more satisfying then ending a conversation by snapping the phone closed. "Yeh well I dont care SNAP". Hmm Hmm.

Texting became popular and so the slider phones walked in. You could still get a decent snap. But mostly after a text "No. I wont." slide-snap.

Now, when I want to end a conversation I am completely unable to give it attitude. Especially in winter where it goes, take off mitt, swipe in my code gently, and lightly tap the screen.

I find the end of a conversation completely unsatisfying. Perhaps they can make a Samsung case with a little flap for my pure enjoyment?

Written

I hate to admit it, as I do most things that involve admitting, but I miss writing – in all its forms, and even including those rush thesis school essays done mere hours before deadlines on unnatural levels of caffeine.

I would always start those about the same way, wait for the very last minute to get that adrenaline pumping, make a playlist, go make a snack – watch a little TV – refocus, change the music playlist and read the course assignement. 12pages? Twelve?

Fuck.

I would always cure blank page syndrome by typing furiously the lyrics of whatever was playing. Somehow that always worked for me.

My design ethos is highly dependant on the philosophy Na Na Na na what the hell is ADD, my friends say I should act my age, What’s my age again? Na Na.. of the narrative perspective.

I even had a Fan Fic phase, made a story based off the popular series ER, had followers eventually gave it up after an impressive (relative to my ability to stick to things) amount of chapters.

Now I write emails. Well formulated, correct office etiquette pieces of un-originality.

Good Afternoon Mr Sponge,

It will be my pleasure to pretend to be a nice person while I assist you on this mundane task that you could have done yourself.

Please advise, Fake compliments & Kind Regards.

And as much as I whine about not writing, it seems I am completely uninspired (unless I am trying to sleep.), drawing me to the conclusion that I must by definition be getting old. That’s an unpleasant thought.

I’m just losing my connection with ‘it’ as I’m not forced to it anymore, and honestly, brain let’s sit down an hour a week and type completely politically incorrect stuff for our own pleasure. Well at least till Honney Boo Boo comes back on TV, then we’re back to that.

Overthought..

What do you put in your first blog post, when you’re trying to start a comic-narrative blog?

I started thinking about making it about me, who I am and situating my audience into my life. Then I started thinking that it wasn’t interesting as a first post, the first post should blow people’s funny bones off – Addiction at first post. But then I started thinking that if I start at the top where do I go from there? Then again, I’m thinking that I’m putting way too much pressure on one blog post and quite frankly I’m thinking that I am over thinking.

*Breath*

I often live way too far inside my head and terrorize myself by over thinking.

About 2 weeks ago I got a notice that I had a parcel to pick up as of next day. As I had not ordered anything, I was overjoyed, someone sent me a gift!

Perhaps my friends finally noticed my Amazon wish list! A gift! For Me! Oh my!

Then I started thinking, there’s no decadent amounts of snow outside so it’s not my birthday, and I haven’t been especially nice to anyone lately..

What the hell is in the package?

It’s from Ottawa. Oh my god. That’s where our government is. I’m getting sued. It’s a registered letter, the government is suing me.

Shit.

I passed from gift, to lawsuit, eviction, living on the street, eating gross soup. I don’t want to eat soup, I hate soup!

I called my mom pretending to be calm, telling her about a parcel and how curious it had me, and like always, in her somehow soothing sarcastic mom tone, she told me - Weren’t you waiting for your new passport?

Oh.

So there it is, I over think.