I've left the portable 'girl in the bubble' security of my pink breast-cancer-awareness Dell laptop for the vast spread of screen which is our iMac home computer. The latest update for my iPhone led me here, but the comfort of the large screen keeps me here. I feel more aware of my environment from this technological perch. Though, to be totally aboveboard, a few hours back I was mildly irritated with the thing for not being more transparent per deleting apps once my iTunes had synced with 'Girlfriend.' A simple Internet search regarding the RIGHT CLICK function on iMacs cleared the road. Everything is in sync now.
It's a strange turn of events when I consider that on the other side of November 2009, I was the horse led to water who would not drink. Who didn't care to drink. Heck, this equine didn't even know she was thirsty and needed to slake that thirst! Yet, here I am, head buried in the trough most of the time. Well, perhaps that is a slight exaggeration of the facts. A significant portion of my day -- meaning minutes and sometimes hours which are of value to me -- passes in rectangular chunks of touch-screen and widescreen. Keyboards and key words, searches and status, MSN and mouse, Blogger and Bing.
It's all so accessible. And now I know it. My awareness has grown to include this knowledge. So much so that the absence of my portable window to the world often stirs a sense of bereft akin to nakedness. It has usurped my pocket dictionary, my purse notebook, my home computer search projects. I carry a phonebook, direction finder, mini-office, right at my fingertips. Literally. Still, what I manage to utilize with great appreciation and abandon is but a drop in the bucket to many more savvy than I. So, who are these people and how can I reach them the next time I have a difference of opinion with my phone and my home computer?
Tonight, I approached the epitome of personal tech multi-tasking. My younger brother, who is presently receiving therapy in a California state psychiatric hospital, recently moved to another ward, leaving his new found friends, including a young lady, behind. Though he can place calls from his ward to that ward, they cost 50 cents apiece. His funds are limited. So, until a new job presents itself whereby he can beef up his account, I volunteered the merge-call function of my iPhone for his chats. He calls. We talk. I call her, add her to his call, put the phone on MUTE and lower the volume, and let them have their conversation as needed.
During this evening's operator duties, I minimized their screen. Wandered over to the library. Checked in. Checked out a book ready for pick-up which I was notified about by e-mail. Also accessed by phone. Then, I proceeded to download the book to an app. It struck me then. While Gary and friend enjoyed their discourse on whatever myriad subjects they cover, I was visiting the library and checking out books. To think these actions were foreign to me less than a year ago.
And now, I can't stop drinking!
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