Whoever said “eyes are the windows to the soul” would be ecstatic to see my smartphone.

It’s been a year and a half after making one the most important decision of my life…switching from an Android to an IPhone. My family members, whom till this day remain loyal to their Androids, declared me crazy and asked if I had too much money to spend. I just thought that it would be more convenient to connect the phone to my MacBook and another major decisive factor… the phone was rose gold. Case closed, no more deliberating and hesitating as I placed my order.  I wasn’t too concern with the gigabytes, pixels or any other feature as a matter of fact because I would use any other smartphone the same way.

Last week my touchscreen wouldn’t respond. The buttons luckily did, so I thought it might be a software problem and tried turning my phone off. I pressed the off button. My phone screen lit up and showed a sliding button. I had to swipe the screen to turn my phone off. “Ahhh, the irony” I thought. I decided to quickly pop into the Apple store and prayed any of these ‘Geniuses’ would be able to magically fix my phone. As I hurried to the store, in my head I ran through all the possible scenarios what could have been the cause of the problem as I tried finding any possible excuse which would masquerade my neglected use. Truthfully, I drop my phone at least once a week, it doesn’t even faze me. However, these ‘Geniuses’ don’t have to know that. “It’s probably a production fault, right?” Luckily, as I neared the Apple store I noticed the lights were still on and saw two employees cleaning the display. “Please be open, please be open” I repeated in my head as my hand reached the doorknob. Closed.

It’s been about a week since I’ve send my phone to the repairing service. The worst thing is, is that I can login and check the maintenance status of my phone, which I do about 5 to 10 times a day. Currently I use a spare Android which belongs to my and allows me to be available the world. However, all of the files, apps, mails remind me day in day out that this phone isn’t mine. All photos, memes, accounts and apps I’ve collected and stored on it aren’t available to me.

I’ve never been the type of person to update their Facebook status every day or vigorously post every meal I have on Instagram. I’ve always considered myself as a ‘quiet’ user. I check what other people have posted, react by liking and following and tagging others into memes or videos that are totally relatable to us and 103.532 others judging from the comments. I rarely post, share, tweet, snapchat, yet this is effecting my daily lifestyle. I feel less included and aware of the people around me. Even though I could do the same things on my laptop, but it’s not the same. It’s not the end of the world and I’m still adjusting so I’ll use this opportunity as a moment of reflection.

Why do I ❤ media? Because it’s a part of me, it’s a reflection of myself. My IPhone is a mirror in which I see everything that is part of me and my lifestyle. All those countless Notes containing my ‘private’ thoughts and grocery lists, the different playlists I’ve created for every mood and time of the day, the photos and memes I conveniently saved to use during my WhatsApp conversations, the notifications from YouTube telling me which videos I should watch. After I’ve poured all that time and effort into customising my IPhone and making it my own, it’s sad (and very inconvenient) to lose it.

To my dearest beloved IPhone, I want to say I’ll treat you with more care in the future and I’ll buy you a screen protector, but habits are hard to break and I know I’ll drop you within the first 3 days as soon as I have you. Just know that this isn’t my intention, so please don’t crash, die or leave me in the future.


Published by Life in Media

Website dedicated to the Media Life/Life in Media project of Mark Deuze, Professor of Media Studies, University of Amsterdam (The Netherlands).

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