Woman Typing Phone Message On Social Network At Night
Young woman using cell phone to send text message on social network at night. Closeup of hands with computer laptop in background

Today, if you asked me what stress is, I’d say stress is dropping my phone in boiling water, burning my hands in the process of trying to save it and having to fake a three day patience as I buried it in a bowl of uncooked rice with the hope of bestowing its usefulness (sometimes you got to give these kitchen hacks the benefit of doubt). And just when I thought I’d hit the bottom of the blackest pit, I realise fate had one more arrow in it’s quiver-my mom! She would wait until the dust settles then lob in a grenade of a comment to ruins things, ‘I warned you this phone will be the death of you…’ I was actually hoping she’d conclude with the famous SYL (see your life) slang but hey, this is my mum we’re talking about! and were it not for my ‘old’ age we would have been on a different path, probably half way through some serious ass-whooping.

After all was said and done, I tried not to have a PTSD by giving myself some pep talk, like…there’s more to life than losing a fucking chinku phone. It sort of helped but just a few seconds for it’s always easier said than done. That’s the moment you realise the contacts you took for granted and forgot to back up, the naughty phrases you scribbled on your note pad, your gallery of over a thousand great memories among other things are all gone and you’re most unlikely to retrieve them. And then comes one of those times you’d go over the if-life-gives-you-lemons bla bla bla kinda quotes to try and psyche yourself a bit because whether a blow leaves you disjointed or bruised, it still needs healing.

Life is what happens when we’re busy doing other things, and by other things I mean Facebook, Twitter, WhatsApp, Instagram, YouTube…you name it! I  look at my grandma at times and can’t help being jealous of how simple her life is. She only needs a phone to make and receive calls and texts, for M-pesa transactions and well to look at the time. Yeah, she just needs a Mulika Mwizi and voila, life’s great! (LG if you like). The point is, none of those phone-to-do activities will require more than an hour (not unless the gossip gets juicier). So basically, she doesn’t lose track of time engulfed in some headless conversations hiding behind emoticons, doesn’t have to deal with the newest bae and boo in town who gives the rest of us minute by minute updates on their relationship like the future of the universe depends on it and better even prepares her own food as opposed to ordering online takeaways.drugs

By now you probably want my head on a spike but just to be in the clear, I never said I hate technology. In fact, I loooooooooooove (did I even put enough zeros) technology…like let’s marry already! I wake up before anything else take my phone check the time (who doesn’t do that) turn on my data and start answering all the chats I left hanging and perhaps be glad to start new ones. Oops! I bet you didn’t notice I hadn’t even thanked God for the opportunity of seeing another sunrise. Maybe its because we’re together in this messed up generation of digitalization or our arrogance just got ahead of us-whichever it is, don’t despair there’s hope! Oftentimes, there’s always about five chats; three from groups and some two individuals who were just wishing me a goodnight. Other times, I even expect much more when my last seen ironically stands at 2:11am (sighs).

Never in my most deranged of moments had I ever envisaged a happily-ever-after that didn’t include my phone. But here I am-living the perfect (almost) life. Am no expert in this kind of thing, but as I blog my way out of September am glad to have had a taste of both worlds. And if perfect is anything to go by, I’d recommend you borrow a mango from the traditional guys and a beetroot from the modern guys- or vice versa if you like, either way make yourself one hell of a punch life. And while at it, try not to loose your phone…it ain’t funny.

Thank YOU!

Sharoe.

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