I love my iPhone, but I feel cheated out of truly loving the iPhone the way it was meant to be loved: as something I had that nobody else did. This was a rare feeling I looked forward to when my parents finally decided to let me have a piece of technology that was TOTALLYEFFINGSWEET as well as borderline unnecessary.
See, most everyone from my high school had an iPhone before graduation thanks to parents who are eager to please their children and AT&T being the most readily available wireless network around (which also happened to had the monopoly on the iPhone.) So when I finally got mine, I was not super special.
EXCEPT IN NEBRASKA WHERE NOBODY ELSE HAD ONE YET! I mean, sure there were a few people here or there. But it wasn’t like you walked into a bank and that familiar ascending text-tone goes off and everyone in line checks his or her pockets. For the first month I purposefully left that signature marimba song as my ringtone so EVERYONE IN A 20 FOOT RADIUS knew I had an iPhone.
But almost 2 months into my iPhone ownership, Verizon got their greasy paws on it, and now everyone who was alive during the the Reagan administration and younger has one of these fuckin things. So thanks a lot, Verizon. Now, instead of making me feel like I am tech savvy, hip, current, and better at locating Taco Bells than most people, my iPhone reminds me that I am not special. I am not a unique and beautiful snowflake, or whatever that Fight Club line is. And as the iPhone continues to update, I am constantly reminded of my average place in the world since I still have the iPhone 3 and everyone else has the iPhone that talks to Zooey Deschanel.
But that isn’t the only message my phone sends me. Oh no. Every so often I get this gem, and for lack of a better phrase, it freaks me the FUCK out:
Just as I am trying to carry on with my telecommunicative social life, every decision I’ve ever made or regret I’ve ever had are called to mind. This list includes (but is not limited to):
1. Saying Regis Philben was my hero on national syndicated television
2. Quitting the piano
3. Eating 24 tacos in one sitting
4. Not calling a racist douchebag a racist douchebag.
5. Burning rice while I was cooking and subsequently eating it all before my mom got home.
But how would my iPhone know all these things? How could it? Aside from the fact that Apple and Google know everything about everyone already. They can probably tell my biggest fears from my self-loathing text messages and ironic love of bird photos.
I think when you are me, nothing is insignificant or doesn’t have the ability to send you into an existential spiral. Like when I was 5 and The Last Unicorn made me feel my own mortality. Even iPhone ownership is proving to be too deep to handle, despite the fact that many blame this technology and other similar forms of technology for the decline of the human mental and emotional capabilities.