It’s a scary feeling when you realise that technology is moving faster than you are.
I’m young, I’m hip, I’m street, in advertising speak I’m an “early adopter”. Or at least I thought I was, I've never quite understood the term. Come to think of it, the last time I can recall 'early adopting' anything was when my mother, God bless her, made me wear Warnock's-bought brushed cotton shirts a few months' prior to Nirvana's Nevermind being released.
Even so, why is it when I'm faced with new technologies that I increasingly feel like my mother does, God bless her, as she squints in concentration while trying to programme the family VCR to record Target?
I tell myself I don’t need many of these new developments being offered up with every twist and turn of a fibre optic cable. Why do I need my cellphone to tell me where the nearest Coke machine is? Maybe when it comes to technology, need isn’t the point. When I got my first computer, did I ever need to spend hours tapping away, to make it perform inane routines?
10 PRINT “DAMIAN RULEZ O.K!!!”
20 GOTO 10
RUN
DAMIAN RULEZ O.K!!!
DAMIAN RULEZ O.K!!!
DAMIAN RULEZ O.K!!!
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DAMIAN RULEZ O.K!!!
DAMIAN RULEZ O.K!!!
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DAMIAN RULEZ O.K!!!
DAMIAN RULEZ O.K!!!
DAMIAN RULEZ O.K!!!{ctrl-c}
(fig.1)
As my tired old late twentysomething body increasingly refuses to cooperate as it once did, my mind is becoming correspondingly stubborn at jumping in on the new tech trends. I catch myself reciting mantra-like “my mobile does everything I need, why would I need to upgrade?” There was a time this wasn’t even a relevant question.
I’m still not entirely convinced that I’m past it however – despite all indications to the contrary from my short-lived and now truly-former gym instructor. Perhaps I’m the smart one: Surely these new innovations aren’t truly technological leaps worth investing time in, but mere dalliances for the weak-minded. After all, what’s inherently worthwhile about learning how to play a txt-based mobile phone “game” that makes my early attempts at programming (ref fig.1, above) appear worthy of its own Show&Tell sesh at the Pt Chev. Mensa Society by comparison?
These sorts of add-on technologies are in their infancy, and to me it seems absurd that we should be compelled to prop up the advancement of the phone companies while they’ve got their trainer-wheels on, by paying for every supposed bell and whistle. Come to think of it, even your average bell and whistle combo would be more entertaining than getting corporate-sanctioned jokes via your mobile every morning.
Let’s wait for technology to catch up to us for once. Email me when my palm pilot can tell me whether my milk has turned, before I pour it into my coffee. Txt me when you’ve worked out how to locate the nearest opener when a quiet romantic night is being foiled by a sealed bottle of wine. Page me with the location of a cold beer and a cute brunette.
Until then, I remain yours,
DAMIAN RULEZ O.K!!!
DAMIAN RULEZ O.K!!!
DAMIAN RULEZ O.K!!!
DAMIAN RULEZ O.K!!!
DAMIAN RULEZ O.K!!!
DAMIAN RULEZ O.K!!!
DAMIAN RULEZ O.K!!!
DAMIAN RULEZ O.K!!!