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Friday, November 23

On the move

That title might suggest to the wary cynical types that this entry was composed on the toilet or something. Ridiculous conjecture I say.

In other news, I managed to delete a whole bunch of texts from my phone. On purpose, which means it now has enough spare memory to enable me to send the occasional clog entry from wherever I happen to be sitting. Work provides me with a Blackberry, but that adds some crap to the end of emails, which finds its way, along with some other crap, into the blog entry. The simple text based email of this piece of shit Nokia 6233 is actually just the ticket for writing occasional thoughts to send into the pit of posterity that you are currently reading through.

I suppose that I now take mobile phones for granted. I've had a mobile since 1995 and I've just become used to the idea that I can call or text whoever is on my mind. The long car journeys often pass by with my handsfree headset thing and a friend in my ear. There's a lot of 'sorry can you repeat that', but there is a lot of company too when I would otherwise feel isolated.

The down side is that you can start to expect your friends to be at your beck and call all the time, and then feel slighted if they're not. The phone almost makes the friend seem like they're always present in compact form in your pocket. It can seem more isolating when you can't get in touch with someone, or if they take more than a few seconds to reply to a text. I'm also not sure that you can always get a fair interaction with someone else by text, which is too concise a medium to contain much of the writer's intent, yet I know I react strongly to words on my screen, suggesting that I'm providing a lot of the meaning myself out of thin air.

Mobile blog entries are a boon, though. Earlier in the year, with a long train journey to undertake, I'd happily whack out a few words of the moment, safe in the knowledge that one day I'd come back, read them, and have my own first hand account of what it must have been like to be me during those formative experiences that will leave me needing to know where it all went wrong.

It's at this point that I should probably question why I am always so negative about myself in what I say and write, but then, I'm not. I can be scathing, and I'm feeling the need to be self critical a lot, but it is not related to this particular subject, so I'll stop.

Send. Then wipe.


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