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Thursday, 25 June 2009

Comparing Apples to Blackberries...
Lo and behold, an accident so well timed as to coincide with the newest release of the Apple iPhone 3G S. Yet my hesitation reigns because I still have loyalties to Blackberry and all my Blackberry user friends and family. I've read reviews pitting Apple against Blackberry, iPhone 3G against Bold. I still can't decide. Here's what I really want to know:
- Which phone will sync best to my old Dell Inspiron E1405? (Yes, I'm a PC)
- Which phone is best suited to someone who uses gmail over Outlook?
- To view google calendar?
- Which phone makes better calls?
- Which is easiest to send text messages on?
- Is there an application for weight and exercise tracking? Which phone has the better one? The cheaper one?
- I may listen to pandora or mp3s. Is there a difference? Is Apple really the best for this? Can I do the same on Blackberry?
- Is there a way to chat with all my Blackberry buddies with an iPhone?
- What are the drawbacks of either phone? (I can read all about the good stuff, but what am I going to have problems with?)
- Which has the better battery life?
- Better tech support?

Wednesday, 13 May 2009

Pour me a glass of wine

Why are we so fixated on what we're not getting, that we forget about what we have?

Are we really sacrificing and settling or are we just looking for an excuse to sabotage what's good?

Do we need to hear it or experience it?

Should we feel hurt if we share what we need and that person doesn't come through?

Should we just be thankful for what we have instead of wishing for what we had?

Why do we cry when we're sad and cry when we're really happy?

If we miss how things were, does it mean we like how things are less?

Is there really a difference between being in love and just loving?

Does it only happen once?

Does it mean less to actually say it?

Should we care when it seems others don't--or at least, not as much?

Tuesday, 07 April 2009

A Short Story

She walked straight to an empty table in the center of the room. She had seen the one in the corner, but four empty chairs surrounded it, and she knew that meant three chairs too many.

She had come prepared with a book to keep her company. She was not uncomfortable with the fact that dinner would be experienced alone. If that had been a factor, she would have broken routine and not dined out at all. She ordered and continued reading.

Still, she kept glancing at the door as strangers worked their way to surrounding tables. The romantic in her imagined him walking through the door to join her--imagined that he didn't like the thought of her sitting alone for even one meal. It was a silly thought she blamed on the margarita she paired with her dinner. She laughed at her unusual preoccupation with the "alone" part of her dining experience; it wasn't the first time she'd gone out to a restaurant unaccompanied and it certainly wouldn't be the last. She let go of her romantic notions, ate her dinner quietly, finished the page she was reading, paid the bill, and headed home.

Monday, 30 March 2009

Lunch and the New York Times

My coworker handed me the Fashion and Style section of the NY Times today because it had an article about Sean Avery and his fashion sense off the ice versus his fist sense on it.

He also pointed out that I might enjoy an article titled, "Modern Love - My Clock was Already Ticking."
It's about a woman, who at 34, was pregnant and her boyfriend didn't want a baby. She had a plan and since that plan included a husband, a home, and a baby--in that order--she terminated the pregnancy. Still, she found herself without a boyfriend and baby and up one parting gift clock. She eventually married another man and they made a home together. She was unable to conceive naturally again, but two adoptions brought two babies into their home.

I surprised myself with my reaction. The article made me sad. Yes, she eventually got it all. Although the article painted a positive picture and stressed the whole things have a way of working out theme, I ached for her inability to conceive. I felt that loss. We make choices that can have lasting repercussions. Why is it possible to only learn if the choices we make are wrong until it's too late? Even "wrong" choices can end up in happy endings, does it make it any less a regret? It is easy to say that had she kept the baby she may not have the husband, the house, the other two babies. It's just as easy to assume it all could have worked out anyway.

It's still hard for me to pinpoint what made me so sad about the whole thing. I don't relate to any of the details (for the record). I'm in no rush to get married. I often joke it's not going to happen, but I hope that's not the case. Maybe it was the fact that at 34 she didn't have it all yet. It's a scary thought that at 34 I could find myself at a similar juncture: struggling career, unmarried, unable to have children if I wanted.

It's difficult to imagine what will make us happy so far down the road. We can only make decisions based on the here and now.

I think I know what made me sad:

"So despite what my heart advised, I did what I didn’t want to do."

Sunday, 29 March 2009

Reminiscing in the Digital Age

I just finished looking at some old albums filled with pictures from high school. I saved the albums from a life lost in the garage of my parents' home in Corona. Maybe only a handful of days are captured, but the pictures made me laugh out loud alone in my livingroom. Ah, high school. When we were all cool. When we posed for most pictures.

Although I always had to worry about having enough film and then getting that film developed and printed, I think I took more pictures back then. Or maybe it was that not everyone had a camera, so it was important that someone captured the moments on film.

I'm a little sad that I can't have a similar experience in my livingroom with old pictures. I can't stumble across old albums and sit and take them all in. At least those taken with digital cameras. With digital pictures, I'd have to open folders to look at pictures and scroll through hundreds of pictures. There's no limit to the pictures I can take for one event. And with one click, I can delete any pictures I hate. The embarrassing pictures of high school seem to stick around--it seems wrong to throw anything away when the money was spent to print it. I just don't take the time to choose the set of pictures I'd like to get printed. That stage of the picture process is now irreversibly removed from the equation. I can view pictures immediately and that usually ends the experience.

Reminiscing in this digital world just isn't the same. Sure, I look back at old pictures sometimes. There's perfectly organized in folders. It's not like finding an old box of pictures that never made it into an album and there's you as a baby and suddenly you're in high school and then another one with you in junior high. You can sit with a friend and go through albums at the same time and share thoughts and exclaim at how silly we look or how serious we took ourselves. No, now we have to crowd around a computer screen, which doesn't seem as heartwarming.