Zen and the Art of Butt Dialing

Who dialed You was me indeed
And me Wireless with one flaw
Tho' Yuppies, blue in tooth and claw
With chagrin, phoned despite no need. ~Alfred Lord Tennyson***

---

A few months ago I went to call (who I thought was) the last person in my call history, which I can quickly do from my mobile phone by simply hitting "send."

But the name that popped up wasn't someone I had ever called before. In fact, it was the friend of a friend who called me once when he was in town visiting — several weeks prior to this — trying to talk me into hanging out with them. I stored his number just in case I needed to call him later that evening.

I didn't.

So imagine my surprise when I see his name there and — thinking I'll need to call my friend to make sure everything was all right (my immediate response was that something was wrong, as the call had come through around 7 a.m. that morning) — I press further into the matter only to realize I had called him.

For four minutes.

It's called "butt dialing" — and it's an epidemic that's infecting gym bags, book bags and tight pockets nationwide.

***
But it's rare I accidentally call someone I seldom and/or have never called. Generally, my blasted Blue Tooth headset — squeezed tightly into the corners of my shoulder bag — will automatically turn on if pressed. And then automatically dial the last person in my call history with one additional short press of the button.

This, I am sorry to say, happens far more often than I care to admit. In fact, I'd estimate I "butt dial" at least once every couple of weeks, thanks in part to the fact that there's no convenient way to store these tiny headsets (how about a compact case, for crying out loud!), and in part to the fact that Motorola decided it was wise to activate these beasts by simply exerting a modest amount of pressure (I'd prefer a small switch, though I realize those could break off).

Now, I don't mean to blame technology for my own shortcomings. It's true I can turn off the Blue Tooth feature on my phone, but that means if I want to use my Blue Tooth headset (which I only use when I need to make a call while driving, or when multi-tasking from home), it takes four more steps to fire it up each time I want to call someone — which pretty much defeats the purpose of hands-free dialing. ***
So, anyway, I've long had a reputation among friends and family for not revealing too much by way of my personal life, or for participating in community gossip.

I decided fairly early in life that I should carry on private conversations as though they were being overheard. In other words: be wary of saying anything that could hurt someone's feelings (even if they're nowhere to be seen) or leaking any details about my life that I wouldn't openly share with Mom and Dad.

And as I sat at the Swedish restaurant Saturday morning and got out my phone to set the ringtone to silent — and realized I was unwittingly "involved" in a five minute conversation with someone's answering machine —

I decided that — now more than ever — it's best to be careful what you say (or do) aloud.


***Just kidding. That's me revisiting the original Tennyson. In 2008.

The Beauty of Anorexia

So, listen, I don't consider myself to be poor by any means. On paper my salary looks fine, but when you add in living expenses it's just enough to make ends meet in this city (and take the occasional plane ride to wherever) — provided I stick to a reasonable budget.

But in the past three months, things have been a bit unreasonable. I'm lost without my camera, but my Sony decided it was time to leave me. So I got a new one.

I was under a time constraint to make a VERY expensive fix to my old, beaten up car that literally wasn't worth the cost to fix it. So I stressed about it for weeks, weighed the pros and cons of all my options... and finally got a new one just in time to avoid a pink slip (and a huge fine).

And then almost immediately thereafter, my computer showed gross signs of distress. I tried to make it last as long as I could, waiting for my savings to recover from the amount lost for the down payment of my car. I spent the interim researching laptops (mine was five years old), in search of the best proverbial bang for my buck.

But I realized early on that I couldn't wait for long — my computer was getting worse and worse, so I ordered a new one, finally.... only to have the old one officially give up (taking all of my files with it) two days before my new one arrived.

I still haven't figured out if my files are retrievable — been working too late to even try, except to note that the new cord does indeed work, and my old machine will stay on for however long I care to look at the blue screen of death. Believe it or not, that's a good sign as it means my hard drive isn't necessarily fried (though maybe it is) — it probably was a matter of the recurring electrical shorts making it very, very unhappy until it eventually gave in altogether.

Last night I purchased an enclosure for my laptop hard drive, and will try accessing my files that way... I'm told (thanks AJP and Washington) that even though an operating system is installed on my hard drive, when you convert an internal drive to an external drive, a new computer will treat the old drive like a storage disk, from which you can pull data.

My hope is that I can pull data. Cause if not, there's no other option but dropping my drive off with an expert.

And I hear that's not cheap.

So, anyway, in honor of all these expenses — coupled with the fact that I've only worked out twice in the last three weeks — I've decided to stop eating.

Or, rather, to eat significantly less.

Not only will I save BIG, but I'll look smaller.

Everybody wins.

In Tangles

In addition to the significant increase in traffic, the computer woes*, and sundry other life events, the pace at work has picked up considerably.

That is to say: I've worked through lunch, and then stayed anywhere from 30 minutes to 3 hours late almost every night in the past three weeks (excepting a couple nights last week, which appears to have been the lull between two very hectic storms). And, yeah, staying 30 minutes late isn't a big deal — the average is closer to 70 or 80 minutes late a night, honestly.

I knew early on that yesterday wouldn't be much better; I had to cancel lunch and post-work plans by 9:30 a.m., when I realized there was no chance I'd have the time to get away for either. Jump ahead to 40 minutes after I'm scheduled to leave work. I drop something off with my boss (who's also been pulling a lot of late nights) and he says something to the effect of: "I know it's been a rough day — go out and have a beer."

One of his peers is sitting across from him, and nods approvingly.

Me: Oh, yeah. That's right up my alley. I'll go have a few beers and then drive home.

Boss: Hey, whatever it takes to relax.

His Friend (Laughing): Just go and do whatever it is... you do.

Me (Turning to Walk Away): Go home and cry myself to sleep it is!

They both laughed.

(They thought I was joking.)


COMPUTER UPDATE: I didn't go to the Geek Squad just yet — waiting for my new cord to arrive in the mail to see if that is indeed where the short is (the wire is exposed in one spot near where it connects to my laptop, and other folks who've owned the same machine generally complain about how easily the cord wears out, leading to shorts), and whether or not I can power up. If I can, I have a few options of things I can do on my own before I enlist the aid of professional help. Best case scenario, this is a power short that ticked off my hard drive and caused it to start in safe mode, making all of my files to appear to be missing though they're there if I can force it to start "normally." Worst case scenario, my hard drive is completely fried and data cannot be retrieved (or it can be retrieved at the $1,600 "worst case" expense quoted to Washington). There are some in-between options, too.

Nightmare on My Street

Almost a year ago to this very day, I abandoned the (not so) ExpressWay that marred my daily commute — taking anywhere from 40 minutes (rare) to 2 hours to travel one way (I've had it take 3-4 hours when the weather is bad) — in favor of a single side street that was a reliable 45-50 minute commute each way.

I mean, on this alternative route there's only one lane 80% of the time, and the speed limit is always 30 mph (though in some stretches it's easy to get away with 40)... yet you're moving almost constantly, and are considerably less agitated by the time you arrive to wherever it is you're going. And, sure, occasionally there are problems and interludes of road rage, but those moments are few and far between in comparison to the "Express"Way.

The added bonus: if traffic sucks and you want a diversion, you have the opportunity to turn off every 1/4 mile or so, which compares to the "Express"Way where there are only 5 or 6 exits on a 20 mile stretch (in other words: if things tank... you're stuck).

After months of taking the "Express"Way, my alternative route bordered on a godsend. I didn't look back and haven't bothered to take the "Express"Way since — excepting rare times when I was was traveling between 10 a.m. and 2 p.m. (a wide-open pocket of opportunity for comparably "fast" travel).

But, alas, my solace is no more.

You see, the "Express"Way is undergoing construction... a minimum of one lane down in both directions at all times — and two out of three lanes down late in the evening.

They're telling people to not even bother taking the "Express"Way, and this morning as early as 5:50 a.m., traffic was already in the red.

How does this impact me, you ask, since I don't take the "Express"Way?

I'll give you one guess as to the officially sanctioned alternative route for people traveling from my section of the city, and heading anywhere in the same general direction.

Yes. That's right.

I left 15 minutes early today and was still 15 minutes late.

Now, before you tell me I should take the train or ride my bike, you should know I would *love* to do either... or any combination thereof. But I live nowhere near a train stop that goes in the same direction of where I work, and between the transfers and buses and shuttles I'd take, that commute is estimated at just over 2 hours one way.

As for cycling.... I live 20 miles from work, and we have no shower facilities. Couple that with the fact that there aren't any nearby bike paths linking my home to work (in fact, I'd be on busy city streets about 1/2 of the time, and then dark forest preserves the second half), and that alternative isn't safe, either.

But that's not all!

The news just keeps getting better....

Three weeks ago I ordered a new computer, as my home machine has been giving me serious problems. I was even worried enough about it that I tried backing up some of my files multiple times, but there's a short somewhere on my machine, and it randomly shuts off, making it impossible to do anything.

But I got an e-mail yesterday telling me my new computer was finally on its way and I was ordering a new electrical cord for the old one (where I believe the short to be) so, never fear, I'll be able to transfer everything to my new machine in 3-5 days. Right?

Right?!

Nope.

Because, last night, all of my files disappeared.

All of them.

My master's thesis. All my old papers. All my stories, my poems, my e-mails, my pictures and my music.

It's all gone.

So much for getting a big hard drive on my new machine. Looks like I don't have anything to put on there.

And, now, before you tell me I'm over-reacting and it's no big deal....

I'm a writer. A photographer and, above all other things,

A sentimentalist.

I'm just hoping the Geek Squad can help without causing too much financial damage (though, honestly, I'll "charge" whatever it takes). Cause between the new car, computer and camera (why does everything have to break at once?!!)... I may just have to cut food, health care and Christmas out of my budget.

On Laziness & Technology

So there I was brushing my teeth with my $4 disposable vibrating toothbrush when the battery came to a sudden halt.

Well now how I am supposed to brush my teeth? I thought.

And then, as if by instinct or divine intervention (possibly both), my right hand proceeded to move in circular patterns -- up and down --

Ever so slowly.

Ah, yes, I thought. I remember this.

Mobile Nation

So I was back in town for less than 12 hours before another incident struck.

I was about 3/4 of the way home after a very groggy half-day at work when a Hummer -- which I had waited patiently behind as it signaled to turn left -- apparently turned in front of a Land Rover heading north (or the Land Rover was heading west and ran a stop sign -- I'm not sure who was at fault).

I heard the sound -- it was deafening -- and turned in horror as my peripheral vision detected said Hummer spinning into the northbound lane (previously, it was heading south and turning east). I double-parked my car, flashers going, and ran over to the Land Rover (which was on someone's lawn).

I'm no mechanic -- not even an insurance adjustor -- but it didn't take a genius to determine the vehicle was almost certainly totaled. The driver was crawling over his seat and towards the passenger side when I opened his door (turns out it wouldn't open from the inside). I confirmed he was (by some miracle) OK, before I did the same check on the guy in the Hummer.

"I'm OK," he said. "Is she OK?"

About that time I realized a third vehicle was involved -- a smaller sedan that had been heading south when the Hummer spun into it after hitting (or being hit by) the Rover.

The damage to her vehicle was minimal by comparison. She was uninjured, but clearly quite shaken.

The only reason I mention this is because of what happened next:

I asked if anyone had called 911. The first two drivers -- bear in mind, both were driving nice, new cars that come with moderately hefty price tags -- each told me they didn't have cell phones.

I was befuddled.

"Well," I said. "Do you want me to call?"

They nodded, and I did. It took another 15 minutes for police to arrive (we were on the border between the city and a suburb, and I half imagine they were arguing over who should take the call), during which period one guy borrowed my phone to call his wife. Later after the police arrived, the other one borrowed it to call a tow truck.

Now, I have no problem letting people borrow my phone for emergencies such as this. And I certainly understand the hesitation to buy a mobile phone, for fear of becoming a slave to it.

But I was nevertheless shocked. I mean, my car's entire worth wouldn't buy a new bumper for the Hummer.

Guess when you drive a P.O.S. you know you've gotta be prepared for emergencies.

The Future of Technology

Computers in the year 2004, as imagined by the Rand Corporation back in the day.

[Sadly, this beast is still faster than my current machine...]