Sunday, August 8, 2010

I depend.

Some of you may remember my high-horse credentials of not using my iPhone, Facebook and Twitter for a week earlier this year. I concluded that I need a phone, but thank-god-I-have-one-to-fall-back-on!

Now I don't. It's been lost/stolen/whatever. I left it in studio 2 of SYN (Student Youth Network) and now it's gone.

To my lost phone from another mother:

My dearly beloved iPhone, you are battered with a cracked screen and hippified with a tesla plate on the back so as to not fry my brain (according to Mum), but you are mine.

It was so close to my heart and hip most of the time. Perfectly organised into three slides of apps and icons. The first one was the essentials (date, time, notes, settings, tweetdeck, googlemaps, facebook, safari etc) the second was the delish apps (urban spoon, ethicalshopper, shazam, netbank, tram tracker, papertoss, gmail, ABC news) and the third the rejects apple won't let me delete (organiser, compass).

Oh so many contacts from Brisbane, Melbourne and beyond, important phone numbers I really should have saved somewhere else.

And how will I cope with my dodgy alarm clock now that you, oh iPhone, with your magical tones, are gone.

I can't tweet, update or google 'it' at the swipe of your screen, I can't check tram times or emails or bank balances.

You, iPhone, are irreplaceable!

And I want a new one, but it won't be the same. Minus $500- $900 is what I will be if I am to get another to replace the old.

I just keep on wishing you'll reappear and my woes will be over.

Monday, I've told myself, is as long as I'll go without a 04 number to call my own.

But if you're out there cracked-teslar-platey-iphone of mine, please find your home again in my cupped hand.

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