I've had my cell phone -- my only phone -- for several years now. I recently discovered that it's a camera-phone, too. Oh. Who knew? Not I. Call me old-fashioned, but when I want to take a picture, I reach for a camera.
Funny we don't have cameras with secret phones inside. Or do we?
Anyway, this morning there was a text message. Now, T-Mobile sends me a text each month after I've paid my bill. It annoys me. I know what it is, yet I seem to have to retrieve it anyhow, else it'll keep reminding me. I also think I pay ten cents per message, but I could be wrong about that.
Once a friend from Ghana's kid brother texted me. And that's another thing: I really don't like this trend of changing nouns into verbs. This is an alchemy I'm not quite sure about. Yes, it's been done before but it seems that it's being done too much these days and too quickly, too. Didn't we used to have to wait a couple decades before we'd make a switch like that? Good heavens, one person sent a text message to someone and by the next Saturday, they starting "texting" each other.
And sure, I google things and soon you'll see that I even texted someone. Or did I message someone? It's just not right.
Anyway, this young African sent me a message on my phone all the way across the Atlantic. Happy Mother's Day! he wrote, not knowing that I neither am nor currently have a mother. So when I got a text message this morning (or did I just get a text?) that said, "Who this?" I thought it was from an African. If whoever wrote it could come up with a question mark, I should think s/he could've come up with an apostrophe-s, too: "Who's this?" But English is the second, third, or even fourth language for every Ghanaian I met, so they're forgiven.
I decided to respond with just my last name. I mean, maybe someone was scrolling through his or her numbers and didn't recognize mine and just wanted to know if it could be deleted. So I hit 6 to get me started with MNO. Is it possible that my readers know all about texting? Maybe the majority does. I sure don't. It took me way too long to type Nicolazzo. It was additionally maddening because Nicolazzo was actually suggested to me by the djinn who lives in my phone (possibly next to that camera), but I couldn't figure out how to access it until I was on the second Z.
It took a moment to figure out where SEND is, but I did, and I sent it. There was an immediate response. Pin me and send pic please.
I am a shade too young to have been "pinned" by any boy in high school. I think that went with poodle skirts somehow, which I saw in first grade. Was it a fraternity pin a boy gave a girl to signify that they were Going Steady? Does that mean he was in college? What was he doing dating a high school girl? Well, whatever, I was never pinned so I don't know how to pin someone else, especially if I'm to do it electronically.
If there's a picture of me in my phone, I don't know how it got there or how to send it, so that's out, too. Not to mention: Who is this yahoo? And how'd s/he get my number? I have no doubt that if I sent a photo of myself, s/he'd toss her/his phone into the gold fish bowl and run from the room screaming while I got shoved into the backseat of a cop car, my head being pressed down so I don't bump it on the door frame even though they intend to work me over when they get me in that small dank room with an unshaded light bulb hanging ominously from a single sizzling cord.
It ain't easy being middle-aged.
Well, I managed to text No and the person wrote back Okay, which seemed odd. I mean, we're texting. Doesn't that mean that there should be no extra characters? In fact, I feel a little bad that I kept that second Z in my name. Maybe I should've typed ... er, texted Ncolzo. Anyway, the kid actually spelled out Okay instead of using OK. Maybe that means it really wasn't a kid, but was a geezer of some sort and s/he's the one who needs to be in that dark scary room with the dangling light bulb. S/he's some ninetysomething pervert trolling for innocent nearly-sixty-year-olds who are merely trying to get along in these troubled times.
Of course I know that language is always in flux, and I'm okay with that. Again, I remember when judgment had two E's: judgement. That's fine. But the changing language is like global warming. It's a natural phenomenon. It's been happening forever. Nature simply adapts, as is Her wont. But mankind has been too thoughtless, so the earth is warming much more quickly that it used to, and Nature simply can't adjust that quickly.
Language took centuries, then decades to change. Now it takes a week or two. And I can't keep up. On Etsy.com, artists invite potential customers to "convo" them about custom orders. I don't know what that is, and neither does my brand new Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary.
Okay. Of course I just googled it. It relates to "conversation." Then why not conver? It's like people who want my addy. Usually it's typed anyhow, so why not call it addr? Or gee -- splurge and spell it out! Address.
And here's my reaction to all that ... Here in Blogtown and also in my emails, I spell out every frappin' thing. I spell out the time: I'll be there by eleven-thirty, although sometimes I use a colon instead of a hyphen: I'll be there by eleven:thirty. There are three colons in that one sentence. I believe I've overdrawn my account ... er ... acct.