The concept of me writing on my phone is hilarious.
With the exception of insane Photoshop and Illustrator skills, I am a certifiable luddite.
I finally started sending a text now and then, when under duress 2 months ago. I frequently forget to charge my iPhone and more frequently forget to take it with me when I leave the house.
I have no idea how to Instagram, don’t photograph my food, cannot get on board with Twitter, thought Dribbble was saliva, and thank God I am married because the whole Tinder swiping thing I hear tell of, scares the shit out of me.
If I don’t have access to my laptop and have a story, poem, song or drawing burning in me, I will use a pen and any piece of paper available from bar coasters to napkins to trash. I’ve written lyrics on the backs of RiteAid receipts and prescription drug information. While I was driving.
Before cell phones even existed, I would sometimes unplug my phone for days just because I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Did I mention I love to be alone and just sit and think about shit? If I can’t do this at least an hour a day, I lose my mind and turn into a crazy bitch.
Just because someone calls me on my mobile does not constitute an obligation on my part to instantly get in touch with them.
I’d rather wait until I am still, undistracted and able to give that person my full attention. Even if takes a day or two to call them back.
I don’t understand multi-tasking. I don’t understand the apps, pap and crap all waiting for me to start using on my iPhone.
I am ancient.
All hail the mighty pen.