I have gone into technological remission. For weeks now, I have lost my desire to surf the Internet, email people I should ultimately be calling, watch TV, read blogs, check RSS feeds, and send text messages. I’m not sure why this has happened or when, really. Suddenly, I had just realized that the loop I claimed to be out of all along was no wider than the eye of a needle.
It seems that the only things Web-wise I make time for anymore are updating this Web site, uploading pictures to Flickr, and checking my contacts on Flickr. I check Spread in RSS, SPD in RSS, and IHD in RSS. Oh, and I make time for Gothamist because sometimes they have cool and relevant articles and the comments are so very Web 1.0 and therefore make me laugh. Please understand that I’m not trying to sound snotty. It’s just that, at some point I realized that I was spending a lot less time in front of the computer and at the same time my mood had changed drastically.
This could be a phase. Or perhaps it’s that I am coming out of a phase. Maybe I just want to spend more time with my camera. I have no idea. And I’m not sure if part of the happiness I accidently discovered recently (and wrote about) is because of this remission. And even if these events have nothing to do with one another, I am happier now. And it’s probably best not to rock that boat.
But yesterday the situation became a little more interesting. While we were running in the park, I had left most all of my belongings at home. I had stuffed my ATM card into my right sock. I grabbed a Dean and Deluca bag and stuffed a book into it, figuring no one would steal a book. And I grabbed my Nano for running. About half way to the park, I realized how good it felt that I didn’t have my phone with me. I realized that all calls could wait, that I didn’t always have to be available by phone. The most thrilling part about this sensation, and quite possibly the scariest, was I could not remember living my life without a cell phone. And most of my life was actually spent without one.
Later that day within an entirely separate incident, Tobyjoe brought up how good it felt to not have his cell phone with him when he visited the dentist last week. He had said he felt “grounded”. We talked about this for a while. He had left his at home when we left again for the city. I had stuffed mine into my right jean pocket something I very rarely do. I remained there all afternoon and into the evening when I dumped an entire half cup of oil onto my pants.
“Grab the salt!” He said from the living room.
He dumped salt onto the floor. I took my pants off.
“Can you turn off the light? Everyone can see my ass.”
“If I turn it off and on really fast, perhaps it’ll call attention.” He did so. I threw something at him. I dropped the shade.
He took my pants and put a little salt on the oil spill. I put them into the washer and started the cycle. Warm. One rinse. Detergent. Fabric softener. We returned to The Sopranos.
It was only after Tony received a call did I realize that I had washed my black Razr.
Today, I’m toying with the idea of not renewing although, I’m sure I’ll crumble. It’s hard to live in New York City without a cell phone. If it weren’t for the fact that my family members live in several different states and we have no landline, I might just decide to live unplugged for a while.
Mihow 
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