I’m not sure if I’ve told you this story before, Zonk, but I’m going to assume that I haven’t. Which means that I’m going to tell it anyway. Perhaps I repeat myself. In which case, my apologies to you, O Weary Reader. I can imagine what it must be like to spend all day sitting in the same chair at the same desk before the same screen while your head explodes from boredom or stress or frustration or whatever it is that heads explode from. I can hear the drone of caffeine in your veins. I can imagine your brain going numb from the inertia of it all. I can see your very soul struggling to explode from its tiny orbit around your futile existence. Believe you me, I can.
Fyi, Souls have a way of exploding like that. You can take my word for it, because I happen to be something of an Expert In That Field. I’m even working on a research paper titled ‘Rocket Science and Soul-Fried People’ as we speak. Back when you were still struggling to tie your shoelaces, I came up with something called The Theory Of The Pressure Cooker Effect. It got me pretty famous and stuff too. If you don’t know about it, it’s only because you aren’t geek enough to read up about these Things Of Utmost Importance.
But I digress. I’m not here to tell you about philosophy or astrophysics. I’m here to tell you a story that I’ve probably told you before, and I’m apologizing in advance for putting you through the brain-broiling agony of hearing it twice. Not that it’s not a good story, mind you. It’s a nice enough story, actually. Even pretty awesome, if you really think about it. And I wouldn’t even dream of apologizing for telling it twice in a normal context. Just that I can really imagine your pressure cooked soul exploding into the internet in search of fresh air and daffodils and cornflower blue skies, and ending up here instead. Where I imagine it’ll be pretty pissed to find itself reading a story it’s already been told..
And now we’ve got that dramatic disclaimer out of way, it’s time to move on with The Story itself.
When I was 11 or 12, I had an apple paperback called The Mozart Season. I loved that book, and I’d still reread it regularly if I had it. I don’t know if you read any apple paperbacks when you were a kid, Zonk, but I did, and I really believe that most of those books are not meant for children at all. They all tend to be beautiful and depressing in ways that are bound to turn kids into whiny adults with issues.
In any case, The Mozart Season was about a little girl and her dead grandmother and the Holocaust and a tramp with a lost song. And violins.
I was blown.
This was back when I was only a tiny inconspicuous book-devouring backbench-adorning somewhat-ugly misfit of a schoolkid. I didn’t know a thing about music. It’s a terrible thing to admit to, but I didn’t even listen to any music back then. And still, I read that book and I decided that I needed to get myself a violin and learn to play it someday.
Eventually, I got to college and found music. I looked for violin teachers and stuff, but ended up with a guitar. I’ve stuck with it all this while, but last year I discovered An Equal Music and read it thrice. So now there was absolutely no way that I can not get a violin.
I did what any self-respecting, unemployed, aspiring-to-be-musician would do in my place, Zonk; I asked for a violin for my birthday.
They got me a cycle instead.
Because I had too many extra-curriculars already and almost absolutely no curriculars. Fair enough. For some reason though, by the time another year rolled by my family seemed to feel more confident about the brightness of my future or something. I asked for a violin and they said okay and I was kicked and announced it all over facebook and everything. My birthday came and went.
And I got a phone instead.
My family tends to do these things. Like, I told my mom I wanted an easel; so of course she got me new jeans instead :D
I was upset a little that my violin slipped away again, but only for twenty minutes or so. Because after twenty minutes of being upset my sister showed me how to open the back of my new phone, and I slid my sim in. After that, it was Awesome. I really feel a connect with this phone, Zonk. I like it better than even my sister’s old Sony Ericsson that I used to Love and that got stolen while I was buying chips.
Okay fine. Maybe it got stolen after I got the chips and left it behind on the counter of Hot Chips. But it was still theft of phone and not merely loss of phone and I still felt horrible about it.
Anyway, I haven’t felt a thing for another phone since I lost that one. Until my brand new phone came along. I love it, Zonk. It’s got 2 panels, 4 font options, a separate security lock for each menu, and a supercool mobile tracking device that will allow me to locate it if I ever lose it, and remotely access it in order to delete private contacts/message/images. And it has internet :) This is my first facebook phone. I can even use it to blog!
I love Technology.
Just so you know, it’s a Samsung Corby TXT, and it’s called Boo Radley. I’ve been looking for free apps to download for it, but I can’t find anything fun. I found a lot of really cool apps. Specially this one that turns your phone into a torch or a tubelight or something, but it’s for the Samsung Wave phones or something only. Sucks. I don’t want java games, or apps to convert pdf files or videos. I need something cool. Like GPS or this torch thing or maybe something that does accounts (now that I’ve become money-conscious). If you know of anything I can get, Zonk, please do tell.
And it’s taken me more than a year to figure this out, but I have a theory. There’s some things so sacred that the Universe makes sure you don’t get them easy. Something that costs 3k is really not hard to get. But if you’re being made to wait for it, then maybe there is a bigger plan. Except I don’t really believe in stuff like that much. So maybe it’s just time I figured out that this is something I should be buying for myself. Maybe getting it as a gift will take some small magic away. Or maybe it will jinx it. I’m not sure. Maybe after this long post that I’m falling asleep at the end of, someone will gift it to me anyway and I’ll discover some hitherto unearthed talent and be a virtuoso violinist of some sort. Or maybe I’ll whine for a few more months and then manage to get it for myself after all and discover that I can’t stand the screeching sound at all. Either way, Zonk, it doesn’t matter at all. Because the thing about violins is, you never know what you’ll end up with. But it will be awesome anyway :)
Ps: There must be a million typos here. But I’m too sleepy to go over it and edit right now. So if you’re the grammatically correct type that can’t stand bullshit typing, my apologies again. *bows*