osprey_archer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
osprey_archer) wrote2010-04-15 11:54 am
osprey_archer) wrote2010-04-15 11:54 am
Entry tags:
Cell Phone
I have a friend who names all her electronics, which I always thought a bad idea: anthropomorphize your electronics too much, and it's going to be traumatic when they inevitably end up in the garbage.
But this week I lost my cell phone, and now I understand. I searched for it - ransacked my bag because surely it must be there, caught in the seams, wedged into a folder - but it was gone.
So I called my cell phone, in the hopes that a good Samaritan had stumbled across it and offered succor., It rang... and rang... and in my mind's ear I could hear it ringing, disconsolately, with no one to answer its call; it would ring and ring, forgotten, abandoned, pushed off the table in the cafe and kicked absently into the corner, where - in the dark, in air heavy with the chatter of cafe-goers, comforted only by dust bunnies - my cell phone soon would die, alone, believing itself unloved.
Fortunately, these visions did not come to pass. My roommate, blessings be upon her, picked up my forgotten cell phone and delivered it up to our room, and set it gently next to my computer so the electronics could commune.
And I, unworthy though I am of the reunion, tucked my cell phone into its charger, where it slept the sleep of the just. I, meanwhile, sat up: for the cell phone which once was lost, and now is found, deserves to be given a name.
But this week I lost my cell phone, and now I understand. I searched for it - ransacked my bag because surely it must be there, caught in the seams, wedged into a folder - but it was gone.
So I called my cell phone, in the hopes that a good Samaritan had stumbled across it and offered succor., It rang... and rang... and in my mind's ear I could hear it ringing, disconsolately, with no one to answer its call; it would ring and ring, forgotten, abandoned, pushed off the table in the cafe and kicked absently into the corner, where - in the dark, in air heavy with the chatter of cafe-goers, comforted only by dust bunnies - my cell phone soon would die, alone, believing itself unloved.
Fortunately, these visions did not come to pass. My roommate, blessings be upon her, picked up my forgotten cell phone and delivered it up to our room, and set it gently next to my computer so the electronics could commune.
And I, unworthy though I am of the reunion, tucked my cell phone into its charger, where it slept the sleep of the just. I, meanwhile, sat up: for the cell phone which once was lost, and now is found, deserves to be given a name.
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I'll be interested to hear what name you give it. Glad it's safely back with you.
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I suspect most people don't develop that sort of relationship to their cell phones, but hey, I gotta grow where I'm planted.
The naming may take some time, because it must be exactly right (and also because the cell phone, while animate, is not gendered, which cuts down the list). But I have high hopes.
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I think your cell phone is doing the cell phone equivalent of blushing with delight at this record of your affection :-)
Gender neutral names! Yesss!
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I also used to sleep with 21 stuffed animals, because I was convinced that if I left any of them out they would feel too sad.
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I switch out the stuffed animal in my dorm room at least once a year, because I don't want the others to think I'm playing favorites. I'd bring them all, but then there wouldn't be room for anything else...
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