Graf 9: Object

It is common knowledge that people tend to be obsessed with technology, but why? Our society is being pushed in the direction of being able to do things quickly and efficiently. I happened to sleep with my cell phone. I keep better track of my cell phone then I do my own boyfriend.

If you were to look at my cell phone, at first glance you would notice it is a white blackberry, but is that all that it is? All my friends and family would tell you that I am glued to that silly thing. I often wonder why that is a bad thing.

If you were to examine my phone a little more closely, you would see that the shiny white casing around the corners is dull and scratched. There are chips and divots in the white plastic case and the lettering on the keys is faded and worn from frequent use. If you picked it up and turned it over, you would see that the back panel is missing entirely and the rubber that use to cover the buttons on top has been ripped off.

To most people my cell phone looks like a piece of junk; something dirty and scratched that no longer has much value. What they don’t see is a piece of technology that has been with me through some pretty big changes in my life.

I have no desire for a new shiny phone that boasts of faster web browsing or the added music playing features. My beat up old blackberry is more than capable of doing everything I need it to.

The scratches in the plastic casing are the resulting of being dropped on the pavement in a parking lot and then stepped on. When I hear the phone grinding against the rocks I thought it was broken, to my surprise it was just scratched.

The worn out lettering on the keys is a result of countless text messages being sent back and forth between my boyfriend and myself. I would stay up all hours of the night clicking and tapping away at those keys. Tucked under the covers holding that phone tight I learned the most amazing things about someone I really cared about.

The torn rubber on the top was bitten off by a teething one year old excited by the clicking of the buttons and the way that they glowed. His baby drool dripped down the front filling the gaps between each button.

The back panel of the phone is in a landfill somewhere in Bangor or Hermon, wherever the Sherman Landfill station sends it to. I remember throwing up for days on end so hard the blood vessels in my eyes would rupture. In a moment of carelessness I accidently bumped my phone and the panel fell off and dropped right into the toilet. I considered for a half second the idea of cleaning it off and putting it right back on, but opted to throw it out instead.

Although my phone is a bit battered and bruised I have such delightful memories with it that I could not fathom replacing it. Store on its memory card are countless pictures I am so proud of. Yes, I may sleep with my phone, but it has earned it’s spot on my bed right next to the worn out pillow.