Yes, my husband, Jene and I finally made the leap and bought iPhones. I feel like there should be a warning, do not operate electronic equipment while under the influence of the 20th Century.
I am beginning to text which I really don’t like doing because my fingers are about as slender as tree trunks and I keep tapping the letter next to the one I want. When I tell you this is a painfully slow process, I mean PAINFULLY SLOW. I learned eons ago to type with 10 digits, the way god intended me to and I can’t get used to cradling the small contraption with 8 fingers and typing or sliding the screen with 2. Now I know why kids are always dropping them and cracking the screens. To say that I haven’t quite mastered it’s functions is an understatement and I keep calling seri with my chin. My grand daughters made her an Aussie, my daughter has her referring to me as “your highness” which is perfectly fine with me. It takes me forever to play back a voicemail message as I’m still not sure what my thumb glances over when I finally get it to work.
Everything is password sensitive. When I was working we had to change our passwords monthly. I would keep my computer on so that I didn’t have to type it in daily and at the end of the month, I couldn’t for the life of me remember my old password in order to select a new one. Thank goodness I was friends with our IT guy who would go into the bowels of the system and retrieve it for me. So much of life is now password secure and there are days that I am lucky I remember my name.
I think that the Verizon saleswoman set up my free wifi app with my optimum account but I’m not sure. I haven’t downloaded any free apps yet because there are far too many to choose and they eat up memory and battery life.
When did life get so complicated? When did I ever have to rely on a 14 year old to show me how to communicate. I have this underlying fear of tapping the wrong button and messing things up for good. Now I have to take mini workshops to learn how to use a phone – that’s insane.
I grew up in a different world, better or worse, the jury is still out on that one but it was simpler. A party line meant you share a phone connection with another household and had to wait until they hung up so that you could make a call. Eventually there were enough lines or enough money so we got a private line. Now a party line means you can talk to several people at once. Which is sensory overload.
I skype, I FB, I don’t tweet yet but I guess I’ll move in that direction too when I can figure out the value in it. I’m not sure how many people I want following me. I will eventually master this wizardry and probably be singing it’s praises but by the time that happens a totally new form of communication will happen. Oh and I did try having seri text for me, but she didn’t correctly repeat what I said and it reminded me of the “old telephone game” where you whispered a sentence in someone’s ear and they past it along to the person to their right… all down the line and the last person had to say what was whispered to them. “I had ice cream for breakfast” turned into “I screamed and ran fast”. Auto correct.
So if you call me on my cell and you get disconnected it doesn’t mean that I don’t want to talk to you, it means my thumb glanced over “END” by mistake or you may get a phone call from me when I was just trying to find a phone number on the list of recent callers.
I know this has nothing to do with NY Metro Art scene except that I am part of it and may even start using my iPhone as a camera. Who knows maybe some images will be selected for Soho Photo Gallery’s annual crappy camera exhibit.