Angst in a digital world of technology (Part 1)
Copyright (c) 2010 Suzanne Wells
Technology has always been a mystery for me. I am a mother of three 48 years. Lately, I feel like I just arrived home from a great battle with the culture machine technology.
THE ART OF grocery shopping … My children will tell you that I can be heard Sunday afternoons languishing for more than the good old days for go to the grocery store meant to have real conversations with real people. Today, the shopping experience was reduced to bar codes and laser weapons which rudely shout a series of beeps and growls electronic surprising to let you know that you missed the process scanning. Today, the store is a lonely landscape. You're lucky if you get a "Thank you for shopping with us!" count reception.
Even in ancient times, the store has never really been my favorite experience of all way. It took me moving to Boston, Atlanta and Ohio realize it is actually better to smile, look the cashier in the eye and politely take your change. I am a stereotypical New Yorker who tends to be regarded as the bodyline The Amazing Race, where the winner is one who enters and as quickly as possible.
When I arrived in Ohio, I practiced the label grocery for months before I would even enter the local branch line. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and repeat my tone and pace to get my affect absolutely right to ensure a pleasant shopping experience. Years of experience have honed the performance. In the rare cases where I actually met a living, breathing man in the store that is ready to have a real conversation, I still secretly roll my eyes as I hear my rhythm New York through the voice "Have a nice day!
THE END OF TIME … The other day, after arriving late unfortunately several appointments Important, I realized it was finally time to turn in my old Timex. I liked her round face turning and lived as a bracelet. She went everywhere with I happily wrapped around my wrist. We enjoyed our showers in the morning and how we cooked breakfast together. We even plunged into the icy waters of the lake at our house in Vermont together and plunged head first into the summer swimming in several states. We washed the dog, cleaned the children and hell, she even took a bit of surprise in the toilet overflow dips for me.
I spruced up her wardrobe with a new bracelet last summer and seemed to revive her for everything, but not for long. I was counting on her and she simply did not keep more time. I went the distance for his own good. Last week I went to the mall to replace the battery in an attempt to get her face to perk up a bit. The guy slipped the jewelry reassuring battery plate in his back and sent us on our way. When I arrived at the intersection in the parking lot of the mall, I was late for the red light that made me on the highway home. She was tired and I realized I had to ask.
When I got home I unhooked his battered loop and solemnly placed it in the cemetery on my dresser next to the graves of other single earrings, broken bracelets and lots of Odds gold and silver finishes. I had actually intended to bring to the crematorium to see if I could get hard cash to finance my new watch! Instead, I muttered a silent prayer for them all and started the local mall, looking for a replacement. The strip mall is home to commuter traffic neon flashing everywhere, fluorescent lighting, parking mass, everything you could want, ELECTRONICS SUPERSTORE! I cried for her a little on my way to the supermarket monolith as I glanced down at my bare wrist while naked and vulnerable like that. I repeated a look on both the dashboard just to make sure I was not late for myself again.
SHOPPING new shows … Finally, I come to the Mega Sports Authority, monolithic, all-you-want-could Hypermarket stare at the screen of the watch. I want a watch with a face. I like the idea of watching the second hand tick around the dial the clock, pressing each number as it rotates around its circle, as if they were old friends Fives slapping high as they intersect in the lobby each day.
Like earth elements in the circular face of these watches. I love how each cycle is divided 12 and how times are segmented into clean quarters of equality. The intervals of five minutes seems like a group of nuclear families all together in a large, circular bash. I am rocked by the way the figures relate to each other in a collective manner and how time hand and the minute hand seems like a father and son. I love how it all fits into her circle crazy little world. I feel I can find my way there, as I can always go home. Watches with faces soothe me, comfort and familiar feel. This is the kind of shows I want.
On the other hand, digital watches without any familiar faces on the other hand seem spinning alone without organized circular landscape the number of their families. They feel hollow and give me goosebumps. It is disturbing to watch their numbers flashing squared faces and I'm still in the pot Strangely they beep at random times. Even the strange green glow that emerge from their lined faces strong scares me a little. When I am forced to enter into a relationship with them, I'll look for later abroad bit on my wrist and I wonder if recruit me into his lifestyle. I wonder if I am forced into his bizarre alien, digital language. If I carry a digital camera to look too long, I ended up having visions of having to hire the "Coalition for Freedom for Digital Rights Watch bearer" who specialize in reprogramming sorry sacks who were naively taken in by the promise of wrist chronographs and alarms reprogrammed.
Unfortunately, in Sports Authority my search for acceptable wear wrist is futile. Selections just with faces on them seem to be digital watches for men, and they are big. After opening several packages and try a few, I find myself with a snazzy, Timex gray number that is a good choice for my wrist.
TIME CHECK OUT … As I approach the cash, I'm relieved to see a young boy who looks like he knows what he's doing. Nothing satisfies more anal my mind as a check to someone who is efficient, knows his merchandise and the register and puts you on your way. This guy has an additional advantage of being young enough to possibly be an alien himself digital and can be useful to me later.
I mentally congratulate me for my good choice in the box and the boys befriend him shortly at checkout. I act a little too friendly, but quickly recall my training in Ohio the bathroom mirror and working hard drive to replace my New York accent with a sing-Songy, trailing South. I hit my eyelashes coyly to hide the secret roll New York eyes. Digital foreigners are very useful to have alongside you in the event of a battle to bring your shows, I think.
I asked him please open the package before I left. Nothing frustrates my mind combustion efficiency, based on more non-working packages wrapped in hard plastic with incredibly tiny plastic rings that the element of cement firmly into its housing. He breaks the scissors and starts to work. It frees Finally the question and I am happy to have my watch.
I place on my wrist, smile and try to please him. The process reminds me when you meet your best friend's baby is really not cute, very simple. When you smile even in the face and cooing little guys claim that it is not really a wrinkled, bald old man with a big nose and receding chin. You hope to achieve love and reassurance that children are still growing in the nose. I complete my purchase, the head of the car and admire my new guy on my wrist. I cock my head to see if I can hear her cooing mouth square, then politely look my way if he does not notice my face at the sight of her nose.
About the Author
Suzanne Wells is author, poet and mother of three. She is a teacher of yoga, dance and Ayurveda and can usually be found at sunrise ushering the sun over the horizon with song. Her unfinished book lies floating in the Internet clouds at
http://www.roundearthsquarepeople.blogspot.com
Jewelry Haul -Forever 21/New York & Company & Hot Trendz Earrings Giveaway
This day in history...
Powered By WPHistory
