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♫ Infinity Shuffle ♫
28/398
I enter the corridor and immediately jot it down in my journal: “I enter the corridor.” Since I started using a tablet instead of a notebook and pen, I can record what I do and experience—how I spend my day—much more directly and in real-time. I can also share everything important as a tweet right away. Before going to sleep, I can retrace my daily routine on my Twitter account, divided into small fragments.
What did I come in here for? Oh, right, I’m looking for the tablet’s charging cable. It says so right here: “I’ve misplaced the tablet charger. Maybe it’s in the kitchen.” I can’t find it anywhere in the kitchen. “But in the kitchen, I can’t find it…” But now the tablet makes a strange electronic noise, dropping in pitch, like a disappointed “Oohch.” I’d love to note and tweet that, since I’m hearing it for the first time and it obviously needs to be documented, but now the thing won’t accept input on the virtual keyboard; instead, it saves the text as a last-resort emergency measure and shuts down.
What now?! How am I supposed to write this down? In the kitchen, there’s a roll of paper towels, and in a drawer, I find a pen next to some tealights. I need to record all of this! But the pen won’t write on the paper towel. I lick it, shake it, the whole nine yards, but it just won’t work. All of this is at risk of being lost because I can’t write it down. My eyes fall on the cutting board. Could I carve something into it with a knife? At least some keywords? So much has happened already. Prepping paper towels, licking the pen, considering the cutting board… How am I supposed to remember all of this? And on top of that, trying to memorize the act of memorizing! I need to find that cable; that much is clear. All my thoughts, the excitement, my actions—just when things are finally getting dramatic and life is really popping off, I can’t write it down, let alone tweet it!
I finally discover the charger while searching for a pen and paper in the bedroom, plugged into the outlet by the nightstand. With fingers already trembling slightly, I plug it in, and the tablet comes back to life.
I type as fast as I can to catch up with my life again.