Friday, February 26, 2016

Technology Glitch

Two months ago, we were planning a family trip to Hawaii--not just our intermediate family, but grandma, aunts and cousins. We'd found one place to stay and it looked like we'd find plenty of other lodgings.  The planning had all taken place through a text thread. The texts were filled with details and evoked excitement for our future holiday plans. Then we added up the costs--during the holidays, some of the necessities, such as housing and transportation almost doubled in cost. The email thread fizzled out like a bum firework.

Today, at the height of mid terms, lingering cold weather, I received a rather chipper phone call from Paloma. I'd just sent her a text reminding her to call so we could buy the tickets--ski lift tickets for tomorrow.

"I'm so excited for Hawaii!" she exclaimed.

"Oh," not quite understanding her reference.

"We're really going?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"I just got all the texts from planning the trip, and then you asked me to call so you could buy tickets. When are we going?"

"When did you get the texts?"

"Just now."

"That conversation happened months ago."

"Ahhh, I hate when my phone does this!"

So excited, so thrilled. So disappointed.

Where were those texts for the last few months? Lingering in cyberspace? Falling, falling down the rabbit hole? Through the looking glass?

Where do all those deleted emails go? And the trashed downloads. And the blogs no one ever writes any more.

I think of thoughts and ideas long gone. Where do they go once they are used up, discarded or grown out of? Do they float off like rising smoke? Or do they all fit into one pencil tip of a place deep in the brain. Or are those thoughts rolled up in microscopic ticker tape? Could they be digested like carrots and flushed out as waste?

What about all those happy thoughts? Do they board vapor trains with floating tracks that float away and connect from one brain to the next? Do we breathe them in like the cologne from a passing man? If good thoughts reach and influence others, then what about the bad? Are they breathed in like fumes from a jalopy exhaust pipe?

When one has lived in the time of file cabinets, letter boxes, and newspaper recycle bins, it's hard to imagine all the intangibles without tangible places to go--yet I want a concrete vision, a place, a destination--at least, a pinpoint on a map.