My wife is the proud owner of a new iPhone. She absolutely loves it, and I can’t say that I’m not a wee-bit jealous.
I, however, am also the proud owner of a new phone. It’s the Pantech Breeze II, and were the year 2006, I’d be the motherf^%$ing man.
But it is 2010.
And I am lame.
It is, however, completely by choice. I don’t want to become a phone addict. I just don’t. Catherine’s new phone is fantastic, but I just don’t feel the need to be locked into mine all day long. And if I had an iPhone, I surely would be.
I know I sound 38 going on 80, but I’m not loving where society is going with this whole phone thing. People are, literally, addicted, and it seems like general, eye-to-eye, voice-to-voice communication is dying out. People text, they Tweet, they post Facebook updates (guilty!). But whatever happened to calling someone up and shooting the shit for 45 minutes? It so rarely happens. Almost never.
Which leads me to Gripe No. 2: Where have all my friends gone? I don’t mean that completely literally–only sort of. Back in the day, I had dozens of friends to call. And I would. But over time, with marriage and kids and more job responsibility, people just don’t call. My list of people to gab with has been watered down to, oh, five or six—two of whom are my parents. Maybe I smell bad (Wife: No maybe about it), but it brings me down.
I blame humanity.