November 27, 2012

Recently, I began letting my phone run my life. It was part of my whole makeover plan to live my life in an organised manner. But, like most things in my life, I have taken it to an obsessive extreme. My phone wakes me in the mornings (app- Alarm Clock Xtreme), it helps me choose and tie my knots as I get ready (How to tie a tie pro), it keeps a record of how much I walk and run (Endomondo), I read on the commute on my phone (Kindle for Android/Aldiko), once I reach work, I look at my open matters and organise them by time on a To-do List (Astrid Tasks), I make copious notes of anything new and relevant I learn on my phone (Evernote), I steal time every two hours to go through Twitter or Google Currents for interesting reads and save them on Pocket, I use apps to find places/menus to order in (Zomato/Local Beat/Handy) on days I do not want to cook, on others I use ChefTap to pull out recipes, my shopping lists are made on the phone, when I'm travelling Google Maps is a must, I have even started blogging from my phone. 

Despite this, every now and then, I am mistrustful of my phone. Everything you use tends to get a personality of its own, phones have a way of being temperamental and have their own quirks. My oldest phone - a hand me down Motorola  had this umbilical cord-esque attachment to me such that it would find its way back to me regardless of how often I lost it, plus, there was always something vaguely communist about it; I have had phones that have been prejudiced against my love interests and would refuse to let me court them by way of texting; the strangest, a Chinese phone probably aimed at kidnappers had this option to change the pitch of your voice when you spoke on it and it would do it at times on its own accord. 

My current phone has its own way of playing tricks on me. Typical behavior would run something on the lines of it showing a missed call from someone who at that point may be a source of great agony and heartache. When I wake up in the morning, there is a missed call from her, yet by the time I mentally prepare a breezy response, the log doesn't show anything. There are times I feel that I have some trouble with reality and fantasy, my dreams tend to extend into my waking hours, often times I am not entirely sure whether conversations happened in reality or in my imagination. So maybe this is not all the phone's fault.