my mobile phone. A lot. Not proper lostness, just temporary misplacement. Every five minutes or so. Often when I'm about to leave the house. So, every time, I call it from my landline, and when I hear it twittering its location is revealed. Aha! Under the bed! Behind the cushion! In the fridge! My phone and I are emotionally reunited and EVERY SINGLE TIME I get excited when I see that I've missed a call. I check the missed calls, all gleeful that somebody wants to talk to me, only to be reminded that lo and behold the missed call is from MYSELF, from my own landline in fact because I just that second called my mobile in an attempt to find the cursed apparatus. Every. Single. Time. Technology is clearly wasted on the likes of me.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Surprise!
I lose 
my mobile phone. A lot. Not proper lostness, just temporary misplacement. Every five minutes or so. Often when I'm about to leave the house. So, every time, I call it from my landline, and when I hear it twittering its location is revealed. Aha! Under the bed! Behind the cushion! In the fridge! My phone and I are emotionally reunited and EVERY SINGLE TIME I get excited when I see that I've missed a call. I check the missed calls, all gleeful that somebody wants to talk to me, only to be reminded that lo and behold the missed call is from MYSELF, from my own landline in fact because I just that second called my mobile in an attempt to find the cursed apparatus. Every. Single. Time. Technology is clearly wasted on the likes of me.
my mobile phone. A lot. Not proper lostness, just temporary misplacement. Every five minutes or so. Often when I'm about to leave the house. So, every time, I call it from my landline, and when I hear it twittering its location is revealed. Aha! Under the bed! Behind the cushion! In the fridge! My phone and I are emotionally reunited and EVERY SINGLE TIME I get excited when I see that I've missed a call. I check the missed calls, all gleeful that somebody wants to talk to me, only to be reminded that lo and behold the missed call is from MYSELF, from my own landline in fact because I just that second called my mobile in an attempt to find the cursed apparatus. Every. Single. Time. Technology is clearly wasted on the likes of me.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Friday, June 15, 2007
America
I just lost Harvard. I mean, the one I had imagined since I first heard the word reverently mentioned in hushed tones that implied great wisdom and ivy-ness. In my head it was broad and green with the university ambling in the middle, a bit like Trinity College (I never said my imagination wasn't limited), and in some kind of wide open, sprawling space in the Massachussets countryside.
Today Mike brought me to see my imagined Harvard. Except it turns out that place doesn't exist. There were buildings and coffee shops and different colours and cityness. And it wasn't autumn, and the trees weren't rust-coloured with students swishing learnedly through piles of leaves. Poof! My Harvard is gone. Replaced with the real one. I'll tell you one thing, I'm NEVER going to San Francisco now.
Today Mike brought me to see my imagined Harvard. Except it turns out that place doesn't exist. There were buildings and coffee shops and different colours and cityness. And it wasn't autumn, and the trees weren't rust-coloured with students swishing learnedly through piles of leaves. Poof! My Harvard is gone. Replaced with the real one. I'll tell you one thing, I'm NEVER going to San Francisco now.
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