evil twin

After months of whining about my malfunctioning Nokia 6610, I finally got a new phone today. It was not a particularly joyous affair. It was raining - the weather reminiscent of the recent drenching spell we had. People were shaking themselves dry in front of the M1 shop.

The old phone was malfunctioning, but I knew which buttons to press harder on to elicit response, and it did work eventually although it caused a lot of frustration. I knew the limits of the old phone, didn't expect anything more; I don't want to expect anything of the new phone because I don't want to give it or myself undue, premature pressure. The old phone slept beside me and often went off at the most inopportune moments, evoking the 'leave me alone' verbal response though its owner made no effort to put it away; the new one lies in a far corner. I distance myself from it not just because I've experienced suffocating closeness, but also because radiation kills and I have no wish to use up my mini-death allowance for the year just yet.

The new phone is black, and it looks like an evil modification of my old one. The new phone has a camera, but the old one forced me to construct and remember my own mental images. The buttons on the new phone are hard, not compliant like the old. The plastic feels too clean, the size alien, yet aesthetically it's acceptable, and there is this slight anticipation of being pleasantly surprised by the things it can do.

This entry is supposed to help me complete the emotional journey of a phone switch, according to a book on therapeutic writing. I think it just brought to the surface other unresolved issues.