Feel The Evolution

I finally did it.

I turned my non-picture taking/receiving, non-keyboard, non-cool status, barely better then a walkie talkie 5 year old phone in and got a Blackberry Curve something or other.

The 20 year old sales clerk was all, and I quote, “Whooaaa, like seriously, according to your account you’ve had that phone for 5 years, we give credits ya know, as in it wouldn’t have cost you anything to upgrade.” ~ Ya, Whatever

Sprint doesn’t have iphones, so I settled for a Blackberry ~ It does have gizmo’s and I’ve only figured out 5 out of 30+ built in applications. I’m sure those other applications have some cool potential, but for now I’m just happy I can:

1) make and receive calls
2) text
3) twitter
4) take a picture and send it
5) Receive emails and painstakingly plink baby keyboard emails

Such advancements in my technological evolution have me feeling like Alexander Graham Bell must have felt when his first telephone connection crackled over the airwaves. I feel like I freakin rock. Sadly, it appears everyone else is already on the cell phone parade so basically I’m the only one truly impressed these days. Evidently, waving around a smartphone doesn’t score any ohhs and ahhs anymore, which is just fine because I ooh and ahh over the new girl enough to give it a complex.

When I first got the phone and was fiddling with it compulsively,  someone who shall remain un-named (cough, husband) asked, “Are you going to turn into one of those people who are on their phone all the time?” to which I responded, “I’m the one who had a 5 year old phone, I hardly think I’m a cell phone junkie. Today I just want to figure out all the bells and whistles, that’s all” Yup, I’m still eating those words……….

I’ve decided getting a smartphone is like introducing a newborn baby into the house. High Maintenance!!! The thing is always beeping and singing and crying for my attention. Beep ~ new email ~ Beep ~ text message ~ Beep ~ picture mail Beep ~ phone call ~ Beep ~ news update ~ Beep ~ come change my diaper all these messages are piling up and I’m getting uncomfortable BEEP

So today, on this early morning, with my Blackberry sleeping peacefully beside me only burping the occasional BEEP out, I’ll admit, I’m hooked. A Crackberry whore, waiting for her next beep hit, addicted. I feel completely aligned with the times and up to date now. My official mainstream integration is complete. Rebecca Anne is a loyal slave Mama to the cell phone influence for which there is no escape. Now I just need to figure out what to do with the jealous Papa…….

Him: “Are you going to be on that blackberry every time we get in the car?”
Me: “It keeps beeping, it needs me!”
Him: BEEP BEEP, goes the car horn-
Me: “Ya, ok, fine,” tucking Miss Blackberry safely back into her pouch, “point heard loud and clear. Geshh”

Mark my history books.
The invasion of the cell phone body snatchers has gotten another, ME ~

~Now that I have stepped up my technology stock with the mini-me laptop I was sure this occasion would float me for awhile on an electronic cloud of coolness. I’ve been strutting around the house with my babytop riding solo in my palm, just to make sure everyone noticed that Miss Lovely was my new favorite toy.

So yes, maybe I was shoving it under the noses of my children suggesting they take a sniff of it. Perhaps I was giving permission for them to touch it with a single finger if they wanted a zing of specialness. I might have taunted them with, look, but ya can’t touch teasing, when bam, these high tech kids and all their tech savvy righteousness did a big old smack down on Moms new found glory.

One of them and once again I shall not call the guilty party out by name, said this dart throwing, balloon popping, tech deflating sentence.

Teen: “Seriously, Mom, now that you have a mini-laptop, don’t you think it’s about time you got a phone that isn’t a total embarrassment to the entire race of cell phones?”

Me:” Whats wrong with my cell phone? It rings, I answer it, I talk, I hang up.I can even text on the damn thing!”

Teen: “Ahh, it doesn’t take pictures, it doesn’t go online, it doesn’t play music, it isn’t even pretty. It’s OLD FASHIONED. As for your texting, it takes you 5 minutes to text back on those number keys. Your slow as a snail because you don’t have a keyboard. Come on Mom, on your birthday 3 people sent you picture texts and you asked me how to ‘see’ them. You couldn’t because your phone and your service really sucks. Mom, it’s time to grow up and get with the times, seriously!”

My Next Phone, Cool Eh?

Well bite my phones ass with a good dose of youthful perspective why don’t ya~  

Evidently, I’m still a loser. A mini-laptop might have given me a few inches on the tech ladder, but I’m still a mile behind everyone. It might be time to up my game.

This uncool status isn’t sitting well with me. However, I am afraid that if I upgrade I’ll get hooked on the high of advanced capabilities and then I’ll become a text whore, and an email junkie who dives for her phone anytime it beeps like this man wrote about…..Paul and his entry, Why Can’t I shut Up?  (by the way, if you’re not reading this blog, you are risking uncool status. Not uncool like I am phone tech uncool because I’m told that’s the bottom of the barrel in uncoolness, but blog uncool because his blog is cool and don’t we all want to follow the coolness of a blog on dry ice? Paul, you can pay me my cut later, via paypal, for that pimp job)

Now that I have mini-metop, maybe it is time to go phone global. I’ve been avoiding the phone upgrade for some time now, but how conflicting will it look if I whip my minitop out of my purse and dazzle the people around me. I can imagine the oohhs and ahhs filled with jealousy and admiration, but then my phone would ring and I’d pull it out just to be suddenly surrounded by a round of snickers, laughter and pointing. Not good. Not good at all. Sigh, a new phone…..if I succumb, I could crown myself  Queen of the Tech hill for at least a good week or two until the next latest and greatest tech toy comes out and makes me all antique once again~

Oh La La, I’m feeling it. The clarity of a non-drugged mind. It took me less the 10 minutes to type this and I felt honest to goodness enjoyment in doing so. Folks, I think I’m back. Yay Me…….ehh, lucky you (grin)

Mama Laptop and Baby Palmtop

I’m here! I made it! I didn’t blow my Rebecca Anne world record count of blog entries in a row. I’m sure I’m the only one that was worried about it. I imagine a few of you were thinking, well thank god she gave it a rest for a day, but no, no can do, I’m on a mission from Oh Holy Blog~

This just happened to be the first day I felt human in over a week and I didn’t dose myself up with mind numbing drugs in the first 5 minutes I woke up.

One minute of brain clarity dissolved into another and suddenly I was walking, talking, and gasp, working. I would have enjoyed spending the day catching up on blog feeds, a zillion emails, thinking, house work and writing, but I was forced to act my age. I’m all grown up now, 37 years old, responsible and all that shit~

As for my birthday, it was a good day considering I was surrounded with love, a bit high still and spoiled rotten by the people around me. Now, I had given the kiddoes and husband 3 hints as to what I’d be delighted to receive for a present. Item number 1 was of course, Miss Kindle2. Item number 2 was a decent camera that I could do more then point and shoot with and lastly, number 3 was a mini-me laptop.

As you can tell from the picture, I got a mini-micro laptop and I’m typing this entry on the little bugger now! It’s my new toy, humor me, I must play. How’s that for the evolution of technology?

I’ve got a laptop that fits in my purse. As I age the size of my handbags seem to get larger and larger for all the crap I feel the need to drag around, might as well toss a laptop in there as well….Now, I’m locked and loaded. I can write anytime, anywhere without dragging around my big old laptop bag as well. I am in my form of writing at whim heaven~

That is all. Mission accomplished, play time temporarily over (grin)

I’m still traumatized over my 15 hours of blog-be-gone wipe out. A post blogmatic syndrome that may linger and have far reaching effects. If I was afraid of pushing upgrade buttons before, I’m terrified now. That little experience could elevate my previous trepidations of technology into an all out techphobia.

I can see it, 3 years from now I’ll be envious. All of you will have high tech blogs that can serve coffee and a muffin via hightech applications and I’ll still be using my 2009 Athalupa 2.2.3 version of a template. My template will need a cane, wear dentures and have long flowing gray hair and I still won’t push the upgrade button~

Since I have seen the strobe light beyond the pearly gates of Internet oblivion I should write something profound today. Surely this qualifies me to write a book about the feeling of loss and non-existence my 15 hour flat-line represented.  Now that I have experienced official error-404 Blog death, and then resurrection, shouldn’t that make me a messiah, or a blog prophet?

At the very least, a newborn blog psychic! Have you lost touch with an old blog? A former blog read, perhaps I spoke with them on the other side of the light. Send me an email, I’ll see what I can do. I’ve got enhanced outter limits connections now (the kind you can only obtain from being pronounced officially blog dead, error-404) and they have a message for you.~ Standard fees apply and I do take paypal. 

My friends on facebook all suggested cake in celebration of my second coming. Ehh, ok, I’ll do cake, but it does fall short of the national holiday I was thinking of petitioning for.

You are correct Marc, my appreciation level for my blog is off the charts now. I will never neglect it again. On my honor! If you love something set it free, if it comes back, you’re meant to be together right? I got it, loud and clear.

Some of you may be wondering how Robert is faring……..Well, he has been extremely proud of his abilities to revive Provocation via the phone with tech support. I can’t tell you how many times he said, “Who’s the Man! Who saved your website, I did, thats who” yesterday. And then he would strut off like a model walking down a catwalk. Not once did the words “accident, delete, whoops on my part, I messed up, my fault” hit the line of thinking.

Men. Are. Interesting. Perplexing. The way they can twist any situation into a hero status- knight in shining armor scenario. As woman we have something that has been passed through generations of female genes. It’s timeless. We have choice. We can remind men the only reason we had a problem in the first place was because they did something BAD, thus squishing their cherished ego and manly status. Or……..we can choose to let them bask in their afterglow. We’ll smile a lot. Thank them. Let them marinate in their solution based glory without pointing out the obvious facts that lead to the need for resolution. Yesterday. I was grateful, appreciative and nice. Promise.  

Of course, that doesn’t mean I’m not preparing a reasonable settlement for pain and suffering due to temporary enjoyment loss and mental separation from my blog. Miss Kindle2, a day at the spa, shopping…(thank you for the comments and suggestions ladies, I like how you think!) ….it’s on the list. We ladies may choose not to kick a guy in the balls when he’s overjoyed by his hero status, but, we do not forget and we will eventually receive atonement.

Let me just say, NO I DID NOT PUSH THE DAMN BUTTON.

However.

At approximately 8:45 p.m, on April 22^nd, 2009, I lost Provocation of Mine (d) into a soul sucking, gut punching black abyss of Internet Hell. I shall now call this infamous      15 hour time frame:

“When The Husband HIT some goddamn f**king button.”

Now I understand some of you may not have realized that the Earth had stopped spinning. That life as we know it had been altered between the hours of 8:45 p.m. last night until 12:20 p.m. today. Unless you had tried to visit Provocation between those hours you would not have been aware of the subtle air changes and the dramatic seek & rescue that was being enacted. I hope you enjoyed your peaceful bliss. Really I do. Sleep well?

Some of you did try to come by and was greeted with that oppressing Error 404–Not Found. Some of you emailed. Some of you twittered me. I thank you. I found great sympathy and comfort in those emails and power packed 140 messages. This is what went down………..

8:32 p.m: I had achieved official blog perfection. Beautiful Heather had sent the instructions for removal of ugly gray bar bullets on my blog, the only wart I had left to zap and I did it. I was exhilarated and at 8:36, I sent Heather an email stating we both rocked. I was on top of the website world. No more bullets and I had made that picture video for my blog. (2 bucks is in the mail by the way Heather)

 8:45 p.m. I clicked on my website to admire my bullet handy work. BUT instead of perfection, I get this ::Error 404-Not Found:: The shock was instant. Brain ramming into brick wall– splat.  

 Me: “Oh My GOD WHERE IS MY WEBSITE” as my eye’s sliced across the office to my husband who was logged onto our server host merrily deleting things  from his computer. “What DID YOU DOOOOOOOOOO???”

Husband:” What, nothing, I’m just cleaning up our files like I was told to do by that tech lady.”

Me: “It’s gone! GONE! My site is gone! Get it back. Get it back right this second. DO SOMETHING. Call tech support, backspace, undo, I don’t care but YOU get my website back up right this minute and if one hair, one single letter or line is out of place you will pay!!!”

Husband starts clicking things. “Ok, calm down, I’m sure it’s not GONE gone, Let me call tech support again, I’m sure it’s not a big deal. OH my God, all my websites are gone too! Oh shit!” (delayed panic surrounding his own sites was not a good move btw)  

Me, hyperventilating, “You should know, you’re life, existence as you know it,  is hanging by a thread right now.”

Calling Tech support from the States at 9 o’clock at night is not enjoyable. I applaud the abilities of those working in India, really I do. However 3 word sentences when one needs comforted and assured doesn’t do a lot for the soul. Things like “we work it” “we email you” “we understand” “hopefully find you” “24-48 hours you email” does not tie a pretty bow around all out anxiety attack.

This morning I woke up wayyyyy before my alarm clock. I guess I was hoping my Provocation would be like the resurrection of Jesus. I would get online, click on the link, and she would be smiling down on me with margins open wide and a new glowing halo atop her header. Instead I got the devils smile stretched across error–404.

So I prayed a lot, to the technology gods. Things like, “If you bring back Provocation, I’ll write everyday in a row for 60 days…..I’m sorry I claimed I was a technology Goddess when I posted that video I made…if you give Provocation back to me, I’ll back up, I promise!…If you let me have Provocation back oh powerful Techno Gods, I’ll never cuss at you again”

And then my mind turned to murder. Because HE pushed the damn button that murdered my precious website.  Murderous thoughts grew rampant as the morning wore on. I thought about it. I would bet if I had my lawyer get a jury full of bloggers, I could get off based on sympathy alone. They would understand the irrational panic and temporary insanity of losing their blogs. They would shed a tear for me~

I managed to make it through the morning without committing any felonies. Barely. At noon today, the husband was back on tech support begging for (marriage) mercy and finally, he and them, did something so the world was spinning again. Provocation came back to life.  (He’s acting pretty proud of that fact now. Strutting around like a peacock. I think he sees himself as a hero for pushing the buttons to bring Provocation back, personally I see him as damn lucky)

All I can say after such an experiece is this: Go home, hug your blog. Give it love, and a few hugs. Kiss the screen it walks across. Honor a comment I got just last week, Pauls haunting words that would not stop chanting in my ear for 15 hours, “Backup, backup, backup.” No blogger should ever have to go through the gut busting terror I’ve just suffered. No One.