Silently, the years have fallen by. The leaves changed colours, my hair grew long, presents were received and given, in many cycles until my mid-20s became my turning-30s. If I was lucky, there were times when I found the pile of sand comfortably moving in my hands. On closer inspection, it's funelling, impressively efficiently, through the cracks of my fingers and out of my hold. So soft, they form fine rivers that flow unintrusively along the lines of my palm. So light, I can't notice how much has passed me by, and it all vanishes from perception as quickly as it was found. So effortlessly, sand falls through my hands.
A glass half-empty is a glass twice too big
The past years, I had really tempered my iPhone use for leisure. I don't play mobile games and have no social media to browse. I wasn't anti-digital, but at some point, being online became more stressful and harmful, than inspiring or exciting. My phone was soon only for authenticators and bank information -- a huge overhead for something in my very careless pockets. Why would I carry this risk around? This unnecessarily valuable device was holding more risk than I wanted, and doing more than what I needed from a phone, which was travel and communications.
This phone was designed to encourage the behaviours of one who would fulfil its full purpose of common leisure, which at this point, I didn't have any use for. And so, despite my efforts to cut down on browsing and scrolling, having this rectangle in my pocket at all coerced vestigial behaviours, like launching apps and scrolling sites so I could time-pass and silence-fill. My hands were sleepwalking these behaviours I thought I had drained all pipes to. I found myself opening Discord chats I don't frequent for content before realizing where I was. Like re-opening the fridge door just in case new food appeared, it was a disappointing zero-calorie habit.
The iPhone did not fit me. It overshot my needs to the degree of coercive excessive behaviour and expectation. But I also needed something to not underperform to the degree of alienation from society and my relationships. I needed a phone to meet me where I was already at, a glass that fit as much water as I wanted to drink.
Don't attribute to malice what is explained through ignorance
6 months ago, I got a CAT S22 Flip phone. The plastic feels cold and rubbery, the battery door secured by a gigantic bolt. It's comically large in my palms, and sinks like a brick in my pockets. The flipping-open is clumsy; the snapping-shut, obnoxious; but I have fun pretending it's as satisfying and cool as I think it should be. The flashlight must be a fire hazard because it's so bright it almost burned my skin through my pants. It's a crude phone that sticks out at every inconvenience.
To be clear, it's not a "dumb" phone -- it runs a bad (old) version of Android and can do everything I need it to. To say this phone "rejects" technology is misattributing. I can find my destination, order an Uber, and message my ETA, just at the cost of very aware minutes and nervous success. Any amount of scrolling, browsing, or USING the phone is a waste of time, in a more visceral form than than usual.
My thumbs, though dextrous from video games, still yields to the lengthy tedium of a T9 keyboard. I start abbreviating messages not with the economic naivite of 00s phone slang, but with the concerning unnaturalness of hostage communications. When using apps that aren't expecting barbaric hardware (all of them), the screen still supports touch functionality. It's a novel test of dexterity, trying to navigate a version of Google Maps that fits on your screen like a shirt many sizes too small. Its unflattering and cramped modals will have you determined to commit information to memory than to have to try again later. And, instead of "ordering a ride" on cue, Uber sometimes has a neat feature where it can "experience the beginningless cycle of samsara" through crashing from bloated popups and relaunched with admirable optimism until it loads properly. I reassure skeptical friends that this phone does indeed work. It eventually does.
The friction of glass
To express any entitlement of time or convenience towards an object so disinterested in urgency is impossible. When every action is so time-costly, it encourages a slowing-down from you, turning a relationship of expectation to one of intention. It starts to negotiate for your time, questioning your needs, and putting up enough speedbumps for you to notice the road.
I notice when morning-coziness flips into catatonic-unmotivation when I don't have a phone to keep me under my blanket. I notice I've been getting out of bed earlier. I notice when I overindex on mundane decisions, like if this is the best restaurant in the neighbourhood, or the best can opener I can buy. I notice a 4.4 vs 4.6 means nothing from anonymous tastes. I notice when I'm about to lose my phone, because I always notice this brick in my pocket. I notice I default to rideshare when transit is not THAT inconvenient. I notice I'm saving money from not using Uber. I notice everything needs QR codes. I miss the small restaurant personalities that peek through in the graphic design of menus. I notice when other people are on their phones, and how I feel about that. I noticed I want attention when I want to check my messages, but can't. I notice I can engage with conversations fully when I leave them to be checked at home. I notice when I'm bored. When my hands itch to do phone things. When time passes, because I notice my hands more. How once, fine sand sifted through my fingers unnoticed but the Flip's abrassive hardware has crystalized it. I notice glass in my hands, uncomfortable, frictionful, loud, and never again silent and falling, unnoticeably.