iPhone, a love story.

I confess: I have been a hold out on the smart phone pretty much since their inception.  I was really not sold on the idea of my entire life being contained in a single device. Especially since I am prone to dropping things. And/or misplacing them. This is not good when it comes to expensive devices inextricably linked to my survival as a human in modern society.

And then I met the iPhone.

It all started one charming August afternoon as I travelled by canoe to the Island with a group of fellow camp counsellor types.  We were enjoying the late afternoon paddle across the harbour, intent on arriving at our BBQ destination on Centre Island, when a few of the rather burly canoeing instructors decided to rock the boat. Both literally and figuratively. We were an outdoorsy bunch and really not afraid of a little water, but sadly the many expensive electronics onboard felt differently about the H2O situation, concerns that we kindly expressed on their behalf to the burly, boat-rocking gentlemen.  More than once, might I add. Sadly, the pleas of our poor electronics fell on deaf ears…

Have you ever had that experience where you can see something happening before it does?

I knew the canoe was going to tip.  Saw it coming a mile away.  I’ve spent a lot of my childhood in canoes, it’s sort of a rite of passage…so I know how to balance and counterbalance and well, not fall out.  But, alas, sometimes the plunge is inevitable.  Mercifully for my plain little phone, I had the presence of mind as we were going into the water (the icky, slimy, weed-filled water of the section behind Centre, the regatta course part) to grab my purse from the seat next to me and hold it over my head. 

And so my boring little $80 phone survived the great canoe dump of August ‘09.  Only to be killed when I dropped it in the toilet the next week. 

Twice.

I am seriously that awesome.

It suffered a slow death, one in which I could text and answer the phone, even though no one on the other end could hear me.  This is incredibly inconvenient when one is job hunting.  And as it passed slowly into oblivion, I had time to contemplate my phone future.  Would I continue on my road of barely just the basics plans with no contracts and a seemingly waterproof, drop-proof, not particularly exciting little phone?  Or would I go a different route?

It was around this time that my poor, sad six-year old green iPod mini caught my eye.  Here was an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone (or get two birds stoned at the same time, as the Trailer Park Boys and The Photographer say).  And I chose to embrace technology.  And Rogers.  Although that second part was far less exhilarating…

Reality: the world at large has jumped online.  And if you don’t get onboard, you’ll be left in the dust.  This includes the biz.  Casting notices, job opportunities, contacts, connections, they’re all on the web.  And most artists don’t have day jobs that allow us the luxury of checking our email (that is, if we have day jobs and steady incomes, but isn’t that another tale and less of a love story?) at regular intervals.  When I leave my house in the morning, which is a relative term, I’m gone.  I don’t generally make it back before the sun goes down.  Which means that I miss out on hours and hours of email communications, job board postings, opportunities, in short.

Plus, it’s shiny.

In the week or so since I jumped on the bandwagon, I’ve managed to secure an internship, a job, and a good interview largely as a result of my newfound ability to communicate quickly and efficiently.  And all that music I stole from my sister’s collection of burned CDs?  I now know the track titles and artists, thank you very much, Shazam.  I’m damn near unstoppable at Sudoku.  I have the Complete Works of Shakespeare at my fingertips.  I can make electronic fart noises.  And I can track the Leafs on their way to the playoffs (ok, maybe I’m getting ahead of myself).  In just a few days, I’ve spotted a trend…

With iPhone, the world is my frikkin’ oyster.  Which is exciting.  And I don’t even like oysters.  They remind me of snot.