Voice Control = FAIL

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Grabbed my iPhone this morning and decided I'd be cool and use the voice control option to call my best friend. 

"Call Trisha Emish," I instructed into the mic.

"Finding Genesis music," agreed the female voice. I Can't Dance started blaring out of my iPhone.

I tried again. "Call TRISHA," I said. 

"Shuffle Genesis," said the woman. I was treated to a version of There Must Be Some Misunderstanding.

"Trisha," I insisted. "CALL TRISHA."

"Shuffle," said she who will not be budged. 

I couldn't figure out how to turn off the music and just place the call myself. I finally put the phone into sleep mode and started over. 

 Either I need to work on my enunciation or my friends need to acquire easier names to recognize. 

Kirk To Enterprise... Come In. Over.

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Well look at me and my big, bad, high-tech self with my Mac laptop, iPhone, and iPad. My shoulder bag now beeps and vibrates as I walk. I feel so sci-fi I can't stand it. 

I owe a debt of eternal gratitude to my friend Christopher Laney for sitting down with me for almost two hours today and getting all the Apple doo-dads in sync and showing me shortcuts and how everything works. I am having MUCH more fun with these devices now that I have some small clue what to do with them.

In fact, I think I'm getting too comfortable with them. At one point, I had all three devices spread out and was tapping on the iPhone then tapping on the iPad and when I turned to my laptop, I started tapping on the screen and wondering why it wasn't responding. Oh yeah... keyboard. How quaint. 

I've also made the quantum leap and given up my paper calendar. (GULP.) I break into a bit of a flop sweat thinking about it. But I'm sure within a month I'll be engaged in mocking those who are, like, sooooooo lame and behind the times with their little paper calendars. ☺

The trust is not yet entirely there though. I leave tomorrow for Ohio for my cousin's baby shower and while I'll be using the GPS app in my iPhone, I've already printed out the directions from MapQuest.

You know, just in case this Star Trek stuff isn't all it's cut out to be. 

What My Phone Case Says About Me

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There are too many options in life. No surprise there. I've written before about being stymied trying to buy a flat-iron and don't even get me started on how long it takes me to select a bottle of nail polish (deciding if I'm a "Carnation Pink," "Sunset Sky" or "Crimson Glow" is just beyond my decision-making capabilities). Now there's a new horror to add to the list: shopping for a shell for my iPhone. 

 

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My First iPhone

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I did it. Made the leap and bought an iPhone. I bought the old model three days before the new model came out, which freaked out all my techie friends. To make it worse, I bought a refurbished model. I don't need the latest and greatest technology. I just need it to work. 

I warned Blair before I opened the phone that while I was sure within a month I would be attached at the hip to my phone and wondering how I had ever lived without it, the first 2-3 weeks would be full of complaints and regret. Why? Even intuitive technology is not intuitive to me. And I get really, really frustrated really, really fast when things don't work the way I think they should. 

Sure enough, within 30 minutes of playing with the phone on Saturday, I was in a foul mood. "Just turn the stupid thing off," I told Blair. I didn't touch it again for over 24 hours. Luckily, I had dinner with friends on Sunday and they showed me a few tricks that made me think maybe this whole phone thing wouldn't be a total disaster. (I LOVE the "Bump" app.) 

However, I'm worried that my addictive tendencies have already kicked in. I had an eye doctor's appointment this morning and instead of reading a magazine, journaling, or just sitting still and paying attention to my thoughts, I whipped out my little rectangle entertainment center and started pushing buttons. So long, moments of quiet introspection. You are my past. My future is rearranging the order of my apps and deleting e-mails whenever I have down time. 

For those of you eager to start texting me, DON'T. One step at a time. I'm still trying to figure out ringtone options. And for those of you who keep asking me what plan I signed up for and did I get in on the old plan or the new tech-something plan, shut up. Just. shut. up. 

I know I'll grow to love my phone and its myriad of options. And that I'll soon be using it like a pro. But for the moment, if you need to reach me, just send smoke signals or something simple. 

Thanks,

Dena