Our most dear and cherished accessory, the cell phone, has attempted to increase quantity and convenience of communication, but has ultimately lowered the quality of it. Especially for me.
Firstly, the delay that infuses awkward choppy pauses in the conversation that actually have no meaning, but in a weak moment we are convinced that they might and may read into some emotional cues that are simply not there.
Probably the worst part of all is that conversations take place at the most inopportune times and as you balance your little portal to the world on your shoulder and pay for your coffee at the same time, you dont count the change as you repeat in blank half listening mode "Right, Riiiiiight".
Your coffee truck man and your friend on the line both suffer in tandem and don’t receive the proper honor of your full attention. In the city, buses, trucks and blaring fire engines seem to flock to me like ants in springtime to a cup of sugar when I am on the phone. Not to mention the annoyance of others on the phone around us, revealing their voice and inner thoughts that you never wanted to hear.
I long for the days of the heavy rotary phone receiver that spanned my entire face and embraced it with the clear and uninterrupted voice of a friend in a long and detailed conversation about nothing of which I was unwaveringly engrossed in. Also, I seem to have no time for such luxuries anymore.
But I am sure I am most bitter because my loved one never charges his cell phone and it burns me every time I call and am ushered unceremoniously to his breezy happy voicemail that I know he never checks. This is what happened this morning, hence this post.
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