Thursday, February 21, 2008

Love and Hate and Cell Phones

Yes, I have a serious love/hate relationship with my cell phone. And it’s probably not healthy. Let me start with the love. I love people. I love talking to people. OK, some people, some times. But the soothing sound of my Alberto Gonzales (I don't recall) text message alert ringtone telling me that there is a new text from my girlfriend is always exciting. And when I hear "it’s business time" (by Flight of the Conchords) and I know there’s good news, it’s pretty exciting. It is, after all, business time. Oooh yeah, it’s business time.

But there are a lot of times when I don’t want to talk to anyone, and when I’m trying to get away from work, the last thing I need is for it to be "business time." I have another ringtone for restricted calls, and I get the appropriate apprehension when I hear Nixon say, "Well, when the President does it, that means that it is not illegal." When I get a call without caller ID, I’m reminded by Bush himself that, "I’m the decider!"

Caller ID is the greatest thing since sliced bread. Well, it’s the greatest invention since the cell phone itself. OK, to be honest, there have been a lot of good inventions since sliced bread, and that’s a damn stupid thing to say anyway. But I love caller ID because it let’s me say, "Cool, I can just let this person leave a message, and I don’t actually have to talk to them!" But if they listen to my voicemail recording, it tells them that they’re better off sending me a text message. That way, I can even answer them without having to talk to them! Actually, it’s just a lot quicker than having to dial into my voicemail and listening to a tedious voicemail.

I never want to talk to reporters who don’t know what they’re doing. I just got asked by someone who is covering PTSD issues to give me some examples of my daily symptoms. "For instance, do you drink more now than you used to and does that effect your life...missing meetings, getting out of control, sitting alone depressed and crying?" How fucked up is that? I don’t even drink. And I get a lot of calls from people who want to invite me to something because I’m an IVAW member and then want me to tell them my whole story as if they don’t believe I’m a real Iraq vet. That on top of the phony soldier bs that messes with my head on a whole other level.

Then there’s the death threats. Apparently, calling out the YAF for their racism set off a lot of their old timers. When I get a call from an unrecognized number, that’s the worst because I have to answer it. It could be a vet in need of help, it could be a big interview request, but it could also be a whacko "Eagle" who wants to castrate me and then try me for treason.

Love or hate, I am undeniably dependent on my phone. It is my lifeblood and my livelihood. It is the alpha and the omega.

The best of my ringtones I got from