The Saga of the Smartphones, or, Suffering Under Warranty

(This entry is very very dry.  I suck at choosing smart phones.  I worked within a warranty system. It sucks too. I got a new phone. Details are an insomnia curative.)

Last year, I updated  to a smartphone for my birthday.  I had been using my trusty Motorola Razr for 4 years, and it was just time to move into the 2010s.  I had been contemplating over the iPhones for some time, but also wary of them—so many friends had cracked theirs, lost them or had them stolen. There was also the problem of dropped calls.

After much deliberation,  I decided upon trying the newest thing—Motorola’s first Android phone for AT&T called the Backflip.   The first deciding factor was that it was insurable, unlike the iPhone. The second was that it was a cute little thing with very interesting form function—the keyboard flipped out from the back instead of sliding in.  It had a 5 megapixel camera with flash,  (compared to the iPhone with 3 mp and no flash) , video camera,  and Motoblur, for quick access to social networking and email.

Alas, its cuteness was soon spent with the first one because it kept rebooting itself after I took a picture, or sometimes just at random.  I was still within the first 30 days though, thought I had a lemon and traded it in.

In about a month, I traded in the second one because it lost its ability to receive 3G, or internet connections at all. 

In a couple of months after that,  I had to get another one, because it had started freezing up or rebooting.  It also was calling people at random.

I kept with the phone, though, and AT&T’s warranty system because when it did work, it worked really well for what I need.  It was a breeze to text on it.  I loved the camera.   It had low radiation levels compared to a lot of other phones. It didn’t drop calls.

But this month, after one year of the Backflip, I decided it was time to get rid of the darn thing.  The latest one started slowing down to a crawl, was overheating, and was still calling people when I wasn’t near it. 

I had followed the warranty rules, and agreed to get for the rest of my 2 year agreement, a Motorola Flipside.  Instead, I was mailed the Motorola Flipout. 

Neither of these two phones were perfect, (but were adorable looking) and I did call warranty and told them that if the Flipout didn’t work (customer ratings on AT&T website were frought with frustration with both replacement phones,) I wanted to be able to do an early upgrade without penalty.  I gamely worked with the Flipout.  It was faster, it fit easily into my pocket, but it had a 6 hour battery life with moderate usage.  It was adorable and small, but with my over 40 year old eyes that still don’t need reading glasses, it was a little eyestraining to use its screen.  I could live with it though, it made phone calls and didn’t drop them….except that within two days, it shut itself off and would not turn back on again. 

I went to my local AT&T store, where they know me quite well now, and they helped me get the upgrade I was looking for—one without penalty, to a beautiful monster of a phone, (cue dramatic music) The Motorola Atrix. 

Yes, I stayed with Motorola.  Why?  A few reasons.  My husband works for Motorola.  I don’t HAVE to buy their products, but I like to be supportive.  Also, as much as I think the iPhone is sexy,  their ads are snotty.  The Motorola phones that I have had the troubles with were out of a group that is no longer working at Motorola.  It’s a shame, because the interesting form factors were intriguing, but suffered mightily from a lack of support.  The Atrix though, is moving towards the future of these smart products, and has been painstakingly designed and supported.

When Motorola makes a high-end phone, it is a quality instrument.  Its duel-core processor and speed  are a marvel to behold.  No calls so far have been dropped, and I can be heard crystal clear on the other end. I can multitask several aps at once. If I wanted to secure the phone to only work with my fingerprint recognized, I could.  It doesn’t have a slide out keyboard, but the touchscreen version is sensitive and it’s not hard to type accurately.  Back to a 5MP camera with flash and night vision. It works with Adobe Flash Player.  I will get a dock for it and a Bluetooth keyboard that will make it possible to turn the darn thing into a computer  with any HD screen.  Battery life—I got 18 hours out of it despite intentionally heavy usage.  It’s a smartphone work of art. 

The thing I worry about though, is that it’s too much power. It does so much and I just STARE at it!  It can be insidious, the attraction of this phone with so much computing power and easy access to information.  I don’t want to be one of those people who gets stuck into their machine. That truly would be like going over to the dark side.

Blog on a rigged keyboard

The Apple Store has the replacement parts, but wants my laptop for 3-5 days.  I will relinquish it this afternoon, but in the meantime, I found that the keyboard from my 2003 Mac will work as an extension.

The People's Four Seasons  had its press weekend and survived with good mentions.  We had a prop malfunction at a key part of one show, but we worked with it.  We had a cast get together after one of the shows, and I met the Quest superfan, Martie.  She was delightful, and the world needs more of her type. 

I have been on a real job hunt, but just to be perverse,  the universe is sending all sorts of voiceover bookings and commercial bookings my way, giving me a real person income for the past few months.  Hey, universe, I am grateful for that.  I don't mind that at all!

Yesterday, I judged a preliminary round of the 11th Annual Louder Than a Bomb Youth Poetry Festival, and that was so AWESOME!  There were four high school teams, and they competed individually and in a group round. This year, there are 72 teams in all.  Even in this preliminary round there were several jaw-droppingly good performances from some amazing young poets.  I am going to get more involved with Young Chicago Authors.  I may even approach our high school about starting a slam team.  It was electric, and when poetry makes you want to stand up and cheer, you know you have something amazing going on, something empowering for the performers and the audience.

Life is sweet.

Missing letters on the Keyboar

The laptop is getting ol .  To ay for no reason, two letters  stoppe  working.   an you tell whi h ones?

It's a little tragi .  I will take it to the Apple Store tomorrow to see what the genius bar  an  o with it.

Otherwise, it has been a goo  weeken  .   More  etails when I have the letters.

A good weekend had by all

Quest Ensemble's "The People's Four Seasons"  opened this weekend, and it felt very good.  The audience laughed, they cried, and they stayed after to talk with us and compliment us even if they didn't know anyone in the cast.


Our high school speech student that made it to State competition in humorous interpretation made it all the way to State Finals, which is extremely difficult to do--we have only had one kid do that in the past decade! She came in 7th, but she's only a junior, so I am sure she will be amazing next year.  All us coaches, past and present, pat ourselves on the back, because we all coached her and feel we helped her with something valuable to her performance.

The only bug in the weekend is that I tweaked my back again, but I am hoping it will not be a long recuperation.  It's calming down.

The best thing?  It's President's Day tomorrow, and I get to do stuff with the boys, who will be off school.  The weekend is long, and it is good.

Tech Weeks!

This week we start 2 weeks of tech for the Quest Ensemble show, "The People's Four Seasons."  Technically it's a very complex show, but it tells a simple story of a man looking back on his life.  It is done with imaginative large-scale puppetry, original music and spectacle. 

I am tremendously excited about it.  Andy Park, the writer and director, is a genius. He has directed Cirque Shanghai, spectacles for Lollapalooza, over 10 original shows (several Jeff recommended) and is currently the artistic director at the Shedd Aquarium.  I have worked with him on some of original shows before, and he amazes me with his insight and vision. When they first approached me for being in the show, and I read the script--I actually cried.  It's written in a poetic style that is just lovely, and very truthful and wise.

Right now, we are putting all the elements together, and it's rough, but you can already see  how cool it's going to be.  The puppets are all made, but not painted yet.  It's going to rain onstage.  Awesome!
The singers are sounding gorgeous,  the dancing is getting worked well, and coordination of the puppetry is working very well for this stage of the production. 

I hope to have pictures soon.  Part of Quest's mission is to never charge admission, but instead ask for a donation of what you can pay, or what you think it was worth.  This has worked very well for them, and they continue to grow.  Check them out at www.questensemble.org.  The show runs February 17- March 27th.  Make reservations for a ticket--it's going to be amazing!

Snow!

We had a little bit of snow last night. About 20 inches, with whiteout conditions.  Since we were home and cozy, and our power didn't go out, it was just a big adventure going on outside our windows.

I love snowstorms.  Last night we went out to walk around in the 45 mph winds and snow falling at 2-3 inches/hr and it was such an exciting experience.  Of course, having  a warm place to run back to makes all the difference.

Blessings

I have let most of the month of January go without the dreaded blog about resolutions, probably because they are pretty banal--lose weight, get more sleep, write more, exercise more, find a meaningful day job and not something that feels like running a cheese grater over my brain, etc.

For sure, there's plenty to work on--but the one resolution I  keep--and one that everyone can benefit from--is to count blessings regularly.  It's easy to get caught up in negativity--and even if it increases the number of hits to my blog, (eye roll, sigh) it really isn't where I live.   Counting blessings keeps me grounded. 

I am blessed. I have good health, and I love life.

My family is awesome.  I have teenage sons who are easy to get along with, and really make me proud of them for having good sense (most of the time) and their eyes on the future, not just the present.  I feel blessed that we actually have long conversations and laugh together a lot.

I am blessed that I have been married for a looooong time and it doesn't feel like it. I married the best guy, and I am amazed by him constantly for his wisdom, good sense, and wicked sense of humor. He's also a much better cook than I am.

I am blessed with a great Dad who is doing really well since my mom passed away. He's working, staying active, and jokes about cruising for chicks when he's going to the public library.

I am blessed that my in-laws all great people, and they have never once fit the stereotypes.

I am blessed that I can run again, and in yoga I can bend all the way down to put my hands flat on the floor.  After a debilitating back injury a couple years ago, I can't tell you how much this makes me happy.

I am blessed to work with such awesome people on my side job with the high school speech and debate team. I feel blessed that we are focused on the development of the students instead of just priming them for competition. We develop good speakers and actors and debaters, not good forensicators. (Though it is nice when they win anyway. I won't deny that we've been ranked one of the top 100 teams in the nation out of 3000.) It is a blessing to teach kids who want to be there, and to watch them grow from uncertain children to outstanding adults. It's nice to know that sometimes, they let us know we had an influence on their lives in profound ways.

I am super blessed to have the support and freedom to pursue passions such as theatre, music and art. I can't always be as involved as I would like to be, because life/work/family happens, but there is still room, and I am so grateful!  Right now I am so excited to be rehearsing a show with a new script so beautifully written it made me cry, and it's being directed by a person who is truly a genius.

Blessings lift you, and reminding yourself of them keeps the eye on what really is important.   Life is very, very good.

Growing growing growing

Yesterday I took my youngest to buy clothes. This is a remarkably rare thing--he doesn't care if he's wearing hand me downs, and still doesn't really care about his appearance. However, he's in a tremendous growth spurt, and we don't have any hand me down pants in his current size since his brother is still wearing his gangsta style to make the legs fit. (Honestly, I would like to take him shopping too.)

I was waiting for my youngest outside the dressing room, and it occurred to me as I looked around that this was probably one of the last times, if not THE last time I would be taking him to shop in the boys section of the store. The boy has grown to be one inch taller than me, and this is just the beginning.

I am now not only the only female (besides the cat) in the house, but I'm now also the shortest person in the house (besides that cat and the bird.)

The bittersweet side is that everyone is growing up. The up side is, I will soon have an excellent wardrobe of hand me down hoodies, jackets, and sweatshirts.

Shall I be blunt...

As a youngster, I was often tactless in how I would convey my opinions. I had to learn through hard lessons and trial and error how to diplomatically convey my concerns with grace through many years of practice. I became really good at this as a sales manager, and use my skills to this day guiding my high school students.

I have been mostly successful in this, but lately, I have lost patience with some people and found myself reverting to blunt, frank expression for getting people's attention--or at least catharsis when at wit's end with otherwise smart people who are being too arrogant, too brainwashed or too idiotic. It has surprised me, because I have been out of this mode for a long time, and it only comes out with certainty on my part that disaster, minor or major is imminent. Pay attention if I am blunt with you. I don't do it easily or lightly, and I mean business, and I only do it if I AM RIGHT and you must be heading for disaster.

Here is the update to my previous post. I was probably too quickly blunt with that artistic director, but by damn, his script was a mess, frighteningly so, and it was not close to being ready for anything. I was frightened for them, really. These are not bad people. I WANT them to succeed. Sure enough, the reviews are terrible so far, and the blame for the show's failure are all being laid right on his doorstep as writer and director and no one else's. The critics could be reading my words to him EXACTLY from three months ago because they are now being brutally blunt, publicly. I was 100% right, and now his show is in jeopardy, as is his reputation, as is his theatre company (update--A grant came in. Bad show will only be a bummer. Whew.) He should have listened to me. Small comfort. This does not bring me happiness at all (except that the grant came in so they aren't ruined.)

I had another occasion this week where bluntness happened, because being compassionate an understanding didn't get anywhere and time is running out. I have a friend who is allowing themself to be pulled around by their nose by a cute looking psychopath who knows how to spin a mean mindfuck, and I can just see a really, really bad situation is just about to happen. It's like seeing someone is speeding in their car towards a brick wall, and all I can do is shout, "WATCH OUT YOU IDIOT!!!!!!!" And hope they steers away in time. I was completely blunt with the facts, which caught that person off guard, and I hope to God they got shaken out of their stupor in time to get away from a bad situation.

I don't feel that verbal "blunt force trauma" will or should become a habit. It really isn't pleasant for either party, though I am probably getting the better end of the deal. I feel like a crude Cassandra. For them, they got straight facts forcefully snapping them awake, and if they listen, good. If not, they have to deal with knowing I warned them, and now they have to pay a steep price.

Minor drama, for sure.

Here's an "easter egg" for anyone who is looking for dirt on a certain little "drama" unfolding in my life.

Early last year I was asked to be on the board of directors for this theatre company. I thought it might be an interesting project, but what the position entailed was never really defined, so it became frustrating.

I decided to leave when offered a part in one of the productions that happened to be written by the artistic director. This was a show that had not been shown to the board, mostly because it hadn't been written yet. I read the working draft of the show and to put it nicely, "it needed a LOT of work." It was 4 hours long and still unfinished. Plotting and characters were hard to follow and undefined. Lots of women naked and brutalized for "edginess" out of sheer misogyny and not to make a statement or more importantly, move the plot forward. I also couldn't tell who his target audience was or even what the story was really about. It was a mess.

I got "into dialogue" with the artistic director, and apparently it didn't matter what anyone said to him, it was "all going to work itself out in rehearsal." He "didn't believe" in staged readings or "feedback" before going into full production.

Being a veteran actor of one too many plays that were half finished at the beginning of the rehearsal period, I knew this was a recipe for disaster. I didn't want to be viewed as responsible for allowing it to commence (though it had in truth, never been offered for review before production, nor had we approved it as a group anyway as a new show.)
So, I quit. Wrote a friendly, tactful resignation letter. I feel sometimes people have to be allowed to make their own mistakes, and it isn't up to me help them find money or support to pay for it.

About a month ago, the artistic director must have thought that my quitting would make a great publicity angle. I'm not really sure why. I was asked for a statement, and I made a very bland, boring one; that I felt producing the show that I was shown as a mistake, my concerns were not listened to, so as a volunteer, I quit. It's one thing to have a strong difference with someone, it's quite another let him use you for some bullshit PR move. Pressed for more details, I declined.

The article came out this past week, and since I was declined to elaborate, the artistic director decided to give the magazine my resignation letter for fodder. UPDATE: This was a misguided but apparently not malicious move on the part of the assistant artistic director. Resignation letters are internal communication, and not for broadcast. They did not ask my permission. It doesn't make me look bad, it makes them look questionable for giving it over after I refused to comment. I had phrased everything in that letter pretty kindly though, so the article still didn't have much "controversy" to it.

The show opens this weekend. With the weirdo publicity angle, he has already cast doubt on his own show. This is not a good thing to do. It's still over 3 hours long. The publicity stills popping up on Facebook make everyone look lost. The set is relentlessly orange and brown, and so are the costumes. I have little hope that this is going to turn out well.

So, that has been my ordeal of "swirling controversy." Stay tuned for more "drama" as it happens.

Christmas and New Years!

Christmas was hard, as expected, but because we limped along with what we have always done, I think it made it easier on the whole family in the long run. Having one important person missing was change enough, totally changing everything else we do would have been traumatic.

New Years Eve, my nuclear family exchanges gifts as if it was Christmas Day. This started back when my husband and I were first married and couldn't afford to fly back to Ohio and do family presents, then also give each other gifts as well. We decided that we would celebrate our Christmas one month later. It ended up working so well, we've been doing the later holiday ever since.

As we get older, we aren't going all out on gifts to each other. We have enough "stuff." So, now we do small things like edible treats, and replacement items. This year, Dan got me a microwave. The one we have is 15 years old and rusting. He made it special by wrapping the new one up, and singing me the Sun TV "I Got Me a Microwave Oven" jingle from about 20-25 years ago. It's probably up there in most annoying radio jingles--it's catchy, and back when they were running it, ubiquitous. Ask anyone who grew up in Central Ohio during the 80s and 90s--they can sing it for you.

With a polka-esque gusto:

"I got me a microwave oven/a gift for my family!!!!
My wife loves her microwave oven/she says that it sets her free!!!!!
It cooks up so much faster and better/and uses less energy!!!!!
I got me a microwave oven/I got it at Sun TV!!!!!

Don't you be a kitchen slave/get yourself a microwave!!!!!
Don't get left home on the range!!!!!
Microwave food is delicious!/ Cooks faster and more nutritious!!!!!
It's time to make the change!!!!!!
I got me a Microwave oven/ I got it at Sun TV!!!!!!"

New Years Eve was 3 days ago, and I'm still humming "I Got Me a Microwave Oven" against my will. It's a gift that keeps giving.

Insomnia part 2

This is a strange week. I feel an anxiety without having an actual event to think is causing it. It could be the holidays, but actually, I am pretty cool with them, even looking forward to whatever they bring. This year, it's really up in the air, because usually we go out to Ohio and my Dad is still not sure if he wants to deal with the whole family holiday crap without Mom. I'm ambivalent as well, but I would like to have my Dad out here, if not for New Years then for President's Day.

I can't believe the evil going on in Washington DC with the Bush tax credits being extended to everyone, even the super rich. I thought they were stupid when they were instituted, I thought they were stupid when we had two wars to fund, and I think their stupid now. Not rescinding at this time for the middle and lower class makes sense, since that gets put right back into the economy, but the rich? They only saved their tax savings and not put it back in to the economy, so why give it to them right now? These are individuals, not businesses, so it isn't like a lot of jobs are going to come out of them.

Republicans are evil to again deny medical coverage for first responders of 9/11. EVIL EVIL EVIL. Users and EVIL. Self serving and EVIL.

Insomia

Tonight I will try not to wake up in the middle of the night and dwell over the tax cuts for the rich/Republicans hate America debacle. It's not up to me to resolve.

I will not fantasize about telling off all the fat old white rich men in Congress.

I will not yell in my mind at people whom I think are stupid or are acting stupidly.

I will not worry about global warming, economic ruin and the impending loss of fossil fuels.

I will just go to sleep, and tomorrow, I will work on stuff I can control.

Why I don't like Indiana

Drove though Indiana twice within the past 7 days. I don't like Indiana. It creeps me out. Here is why:

1. Basketball worship. 

2. So darn flat. Makes one ready to get out of there, away from the unrelenting corn fields and plentiful pig farms.

3. The place breeds inchoately unpleasant people. Pale, taciturn boys in the college speech circuit liked to make excuses to touch me with clammy hands (hand shaking in greeting or touching my arm while passing) and never made eye contact.  Lately, I have met several women whom I would classify as borderline personalities who delight in wrecking the lives of others. All three were from Indiana. Coincidence? (Probably. But they're terrible ambassadors.)  Many nice people come from Indiana too, but they generally move away.

4. Cross the border from Ohio to Indiana, and suddenly you are assaulted with overt and rather hostile Christian billboards all the way to Illinois. Would you convert for "JESUS IS REAL." "JESUS IS WATCHING YOU" "WE ARE A CHRISTIAN NATION" over an angry looking bald eagle and "DO YOU KNOW HOW YOU ARE SPENDING ETERNITY? DO YOU?" There are several roadside crosses vying for most obnoxiously monolithic. Today, when we stopped for Skyline Chili, the restaurant was playing nothing but Christian praise songs. I'm pretty sure that isn't part of the corporate image. It's also one of the most relentlessly monotonous music archtypes one can inflict upon others. I did eat faster, and maybe that was the point.

The thing is, I am Christian, and I was offended by the heavy hammer of fundamentalists in Indiana. I don't like being pounded on the head with it. I don't want to be associated with people who think relentless propaganda is love.

5. Indiana never lets you know if a rest stop has been closed until you walk up to the restroom building. Bastards!

What's going on, what goes on...

I haven't blogged for a while because life has been happening. Also, I configured my cookie permission thingy in the computer in such a way I couldn't access Blogger for a while. It didn't really matter, I didn't feel very chatty anyway.

Back in August, my Mom passed away suddenly. It was a triple whammy of a cancerous lung tumor pushing against her heart to give her a heart attack, that broke apart and spread a clot, that caused a stroke and caused several organs to start failing. Or, the cancer had spread to her brain and caused a stroke, and the blood clots were just a bonus. Anyway, it was incredibly rapid and now she is gone.

I feel I was very fortunate that I could get into town fast enough that I was able to see her while she was still able to see me and recognize me, and we could talk a little. I could tell her I loved her, and she told me she loved me. She knew I was there.

I also feel fortunate that we were able to be friends for many, many years, since she was through menopause and I was through adolescence. We had time to bond as mothers and as friends, and I will always cherish that.

The first month after she passed, I just hermited myself. I cried almost every day. Unloading the dishwasher made me sad, because that is when I would call her. I didn't really feel like auditioning, I didn't feel like going out. I didn't socialize. After about a month, I felt ready to face the world, and since then, I have been functioning pretty well. However, it doesn't take much for me to get choked up at a moment's notice, and it's always unexpected.

All it takes is someone talking about their mom, or a song or a poem, a smell, or seeing something in a store or a show that she would like, to start a little breakdown.

A couple weeks ago, Peggy, my voice teacher, and I were going through the songs of Phantom of the Opera, since I have been asked to sing it whenever I go back to Columbus at the karaoke my brother and I frequent. She started playing the song, "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" and one phrase into it, I started sobbing so hard I thought my eyes would fall out. It totally took me by surprise, but Peggy understood. She's 75, and has lost a lot of people out of her life. She knows how it goes.

Last week, I had a speech student start working on performing a poem called "The Smell of Oranges" by J.J. Jonas, which is about the son of a fruit seller. Because my student is just 15 years old, he really didn't get at first that it was a love and remembrance poem of the father, whom the son loved dearly. He just saw the grousing about the father from the point of view of an adolescent remembrance part of the poem. The student didn't understand the adult perspective. When the father died, the son then craved the scent of oranges that reminded him of his father's hands. The student asked how he should interpret that section. I read it for him, and of course, tears sprung into my eyes reading the last passage. It was kind of embarrassing, but I was able to talk to him about how things that annoyed you become cherished, and the kind of longing and nostalgia this creates. (He totally got it, and came in First at the tournament this weekend with his newly informed poetry interpretation. It is a lovely poem, you should look it up.)

My Dad is mourning in all the normal ways one mourns for a wife and friend of 50 years. He seems to be progressing very well, all things considered. I now call him just about every day, even if nothing is going on. My Dad and I have always been close, and closer in personality and likes than my Mom and I were, so it's great to have a reason to be in contact more often anyway. I am hoping he will come spend some time here with me for a while, but he isn't ready to go traveling yet. There's a cocooning stage to mourning, and the house with her and all her stuff is a nice and cozy place. He has moments of restlessness, but he isn't ready to head out just yet. No need to rush things, they will happen when they happen. Also, he may get a sweet consulting job back where he has worked before, and getting back to that routine would be financially gratifying, so he can't miss out on that. Tomorrow he turns 75, but doesn't act, move or look like it. I hope I do that well!

Since my Mom's passing, I feel more vulnerable, but I also feel more in touch with what's important. At first a lot of things irritated me very easily, but now I have a slower approach to getting upset, especially at other people. Perhaps because my own heart is so heavy, I find myself being much more empathetic and slower to become impatient. This is a good thing.

Some days, I miss my Mom more than others. Some days, I feel her just behind me, or I feel her soft, warm cheek on mine. I feel like in some way, she is with me, and I like that.

So, that's what's been going on, and now, I am back to this blog, with a heavier heart, but new understanding of...well, something or other. We'll find out together. I'll write again soon.