Age

This morning, I awoke to a major crisis.

For one, my phone alarm didn't wake me up. This normally gets me in a bad mood, because I like to think I've grown past needing the Multiple Alarm System (one alarm under the pillow, one by the bed, one by the dressing table, one being my Mum In A Bad Mood). In any case, being late is never a good thing (not being dead, but not being on time, that is).

The crisis well and truly began to unfold, when I checked my phone to see why it didn't go off. I turned it on, and waited for the welcome screen. Then I waited some more. And some more. And then some more.

But the welcome screen never came. My phone just lit up, displayed a very friendly blank screen, then beeped non-stop like a happy idiot.

My brain woke up in double-quick time. The entire list of potential repercussions flooded my mind as I mechanically tried to restart and save my phone. The first beads of cold sweat rolled down my brow.

How could I rescue the priceless SMSes I'd stored? What about all the contacts from my fan club? Most importantly, and by far the most worrisome, how would I ever adapt to a new phone?!?

It is well-known that when the human brain is unable to handle extreme shock, it will unfocus to allow some other more pleasant thought to occupy the owner of the brain, to prevent the owner from doing anything stupid.

In my case, a distant memory of a conversation between Enying and I was dredged up. That day, we were discussing the merits of different brands of laptops that the school made available to us. Eventually, an Apple vs. Microsoft issue arose.

In response to the query why she was reluctant to purchase a Powerbook, Enying said that she did not embrace the idea of learning to adapt to a completely different system. I concurred then, saying that the whole notion of having to relearn the basics from scratch just put me off.

Only after a further five minutes of griping about why things had to keep changing, why consumers were always being forced to adapt and update, did we stop to listen to ourselves and the things we were saying. As the awful realization sank in, we simply burst out laughing.

Yes. If you haven't figured it out by now, we were laughing at the way we sounded just like our parents griping about keeping up with technology.

Oh, the way age creeps up on you.

One moment we were the upstarts, the firebrands, the young ones brimming with the energy to change the world with our ideas and actions. Out with outmoded rules and archaic systems; the young are here to infuse flexibility and invigorating lifeblood.

And the next moment, we're sitting comfy among our established habits and practices, tsk-tsking radical ideas and hating the way iTunes and MSN Messenger keeps asking us to update.

Eventually, I managed to save my phone, and avoided the unimaginable alternative of having to learn to use a Samsung or a Sony. How did I fix my phone? Did I troubleshoot the phone systematically, slowly identifying the problem? Did I go on the Net, source for solutions from support websites and attempt electrical engineering on my own?

Nah. I just did what my mum would have done - I dropped my phone on the floor, and prayed damn hard.

I hope my mum never reads this.