An Open Letter to My iPhone

Me. On my phone. In Monte freaking Carlo.

February 27, 2011

Dear iPhone 3GS,

You’re so overbearing.

You are such a strange conglomeration of metal, plastic and seductiveness. I recall when you were just a longing of mine; back when I first saw you and my once hip Blackberry became defunct and archaic. You wouldn’t remember this since you weren’t yet my most loved and hated possession, but an iPhone toting friend of mine, use to ridicule the track ball on that cute little Blackberry. He tried to pass his mockery as endearment by stating that his favorite video game of all time was the early 80‘s arcade version of Centipede, which had a hand size track ball on it. This statement made my cellular device seem like a relic of the Flintstone era. I was so ashamed of it.

Oh how I longed to have a sexy little iPhone, a phone with the “real” internet on it that you could make cute little pinching movements on. Despite my covetous ways, I resisted the temptation for financial reasons. You were so out of my league back then. We both know, though, that I couldn’t stay away forever, and wonderful you have been. Though, I can’t say you’re all good. In fact, you kind of remind me of that Charles Dickens classic, A Tale of Two Cities. You are SO the best of times and the worst of times for me. Maybe I’ll start calling you Charlie because of that.

Speaking of names, why are you called an iPhone anyway? The phone is one of the least used functions on you, followed only by the compass and stock market apps. Perhaps some more fitting names for you would be iFacebook, iText, or iWikipedia. While I enjoy so many of the wonderful conveniences you offer, you really have overtaken my life. I often wonder if my iSight will someday become fixed at 18 inches, since that is the distance at which I hold you and I spend so much of my waking hours looking at you. You know, I often complain that I have no time, but if I were to condense the 3 minutes here and 10 minutes there that I spend staring at your little screen, I would easily have many extra hours of time in my day.

I’m ashamed to say that I don’t read anymore. Seriously. Unless you count reading Facebook status updates as reading. You, dear Charlie, have killed my desire to read real literature. It’s partly that I am tricked into thinking that I don’t have time to read, but also because you have given me A.D.D. When I do read, I don’t make it more than 5 minutes without wondering if I have an email or remembering that I still need to respond to my sister’s text. I haven’t been able to get through a book in months, however, I can tell you at any given moment what my first grade teacher’s granddaughter said to her last night because it’s right there beckoning to be read on Facebook.

You’re not all bad. You have provided me untold hours of entertainment. That dollar I spent on the Angry Birds app was easily the best purchase I’ve ever made. That one dollar has amused me for hours. I hope you will keep it a secret that I played Angry Birds obsessively during my European vacation last year. I tried to force myself to look out the windows on the trains, but eventually my compulsions would win and I would return to the ritual of placing tiny birds in little slingshots and flinging them in an attempt to destroy swine filled structures. I knew I had a real problem when I would be strolling down an ancient road, gazing at a thousand-year-old cathedral and would contemplate which bird would most easily demolish it.

As you know, my obsession with Angry Birds eventually receded, but you are also ever aware that one game is usually replaced by another, the most recent being Scrabble. I try to justify my Scrabble attraction by rationalizing that at least it’s an intelligent game, at least it’s keeping my left hemisphere conditioned. You’ll recall my excitement over that 123 point play against my cousin who is a certified genius. Like, he’s been tested and he’s a genius. It had me gloating for days and did wonders for my self-confidence. Do you think that’s worth the time I spend deriving good plays?

Beyond myriad time wasters, you provide many conveniences that I can no longer live without. Since we are inseparable, I am never without access to my email. And let’s not forget that you carry within you thousands and thousands of songs and photographs. Beyond that, I am literally always equipped with a camera and video camera in the event that my children do something adorable or I spot an alien spacecraft.

I could kiss you for being an always current encyclopedia inside my pocket. By sliding and tapping my fingers on you, I increase my knowledge and understanding of random things at least a dozen times a day. In the last 48 hours I’ve googled or wikied (is that a verb yet?) such fascinating subjects as antimatter, the Dead Sea Scrolls, carbon, steel cut oats, coconut oil, Joan of Arc, Pioneer Woman’s salsa recipe, and who knows what else. In fact, because I never watch TV, without you and status updates I would be utterly oblivious to current events and most pop culture. I didn’t even know it was football season until you displayed the cheers of my Facebook friend’s during the Superbowl.

Despite my many complaints about you, you should know that I’m enamored with you. When I need to be productive I always consider putting you in airplane mode, or just turning you off so I won’t be tempted to stare at you. You know as well as I do that that never happens. I can’t live without you. I should warn you, though, that I’m a fickle girl and I’ve been feeling the slow seduction of what will inevitably be your replacement, the iPhone 5. I hope you will find good company with the trackball in my junk drawer.

Love,

Rachel