I activated my new Android smart phone yesterday. I entered a realm of fascination, fear, and frustration. Whoa, baby! I read the booklets. I did the step-by-step process of getting Google by following my husband’s directions as he read them off the computer. So, I now know that I have an interesting list of credits to my name, including recognition for reading segments of a book published in the 1980’s. Wow. Thanks Isaiah, where ever you are!
However, success was fleeting.
I struggled to get a Facebook account set up because, hey, I want just once to see the cute little icon that indicates “mobile” under my status. I don’t want to stay stuck in the-er-last year. When did this mobile stuff become so “gotta do it”? I fall asleep (hypothetically because I don’t sleep well) and when I wake up, there’s a new wrinkle. Or handheld device that controls peoples’ every action, it seems.
I got used to the ubiquitous Blackberry when it became crystal to me that my husband had to have it up and running all the time. I must admit that watching him answer email while we waited in line to view the Electric Light Parade at Disney World seemed excessive. Still his is a tough business, so I am working at accepting that “thing” with the widgets and its sort of a phoneness.
Now my new phone? It’s way cool. That’s because it looks like R2 D2 of Star Wars fame. My son and I were on a high after immersing ourselves in the celebration of the 30th anniversary of The Empire Strikes Back. The celebration absolutely awed me. We got autographs, we got tee shirts (naturally), and we got to see George Lucas himself at THE MAIN EVENT.
So–not long after the furor died down, my son got an email about the ultimate droid phone. It’s a real deal android, with Artoo’s white and blue markings. When it rings–or more accurately, when it is telling me someone wants to talk to me, I get Artoo squeals and beeps and raspberries. As of today, I also have a voice telling me, “Number 888-555-1212 wants to speak with you.” That’s unnerving.
I also cannot figure out how to repeat actions, like the little video clips from the Star Wars films. Weird. But that whole thing it says about being a phone I can figure out “intuitively”: don’t buy into that. I consider myself an intuitive woman. There is nothing intuitive about this whole process.
I’ll figure it out. I’ll bug my son until I do. But, ya know, it is very cool to have R2-D2 right to hand. I wish he were a bit bigger, because I’d love for him to open car doors and stuff.
The next adventure is how to figure out this site. I really hope I haven’t written this in vain.
Hello, my name is Twana and I’m technically challenged.
And–may the Force or some other benign power (like God) be with you.
Scratching my head,