by: Sam Gruetter

Editor-in-Chief 

I recently made a substantial, luxurious, and adulting purchase (at the expense of my parents): I got a new phone. This new device has several qualities that make it a noteworthy contribution to my already eccentric lifestyle. Most notably, the fact that the color of the display is so pink that it rivals only Barbie’s humble abode. Now, one may incorrectly assume that the transition from an iPhone 11 to an iPhone 16 is an insignificant shift, but just like the extremely tumultuous years of my life between the ages of 11 and 16, I have experienced a multitude of changes with my new cellular device, not all of them positive. G

The first adjustment I had to make is that my phone (generous even calling it that due to its insurmountable girth) is an absolute behemoth of technology. Every time I whip it out, I might as well announce to the world, “Hi everyone, I’m such a loser that I require a mini-tablet to function, rather than a normal-sized phone like the rest of you.” As a matter of fact, the first text I ever received on this phone was from the International Space Station asking if California had acquired a new rocket landing spot, an easy misconception that has occurred much more frequently than you’d think. It’s always “Are you holding a rocket landing spot in your hand?” and never “How are you doing today, Sam?” You may think this is the last of it, but boy, it is just the beginning of my plus-sized phone journey. Jeers such as “the San Diego Zoo called and wants its rare, largest-on-Earth elephant back” and “that phone would need to buy two seats on an airplane” are frequent and never-ending. However, I choose to ignore the haters because the only thing bigger than my phone is my dairy intolerance, and that occupies a significant portion, if not all, of my thoughts. 

The abrasiveness of my phone does not end there. Sporting a hard-to-miss Pepto Bismol pink shade, I might as well walk up to you and shoot a confetti gun in your face, scream a couple of times, and top it off with a good smack, because taking my phone out in public has the same effect. While the outside of my phone sucks, the inside is really what matters, and it sucks, too. Remember when everybody was getting motion sickness because Teslas drove too smoothly (not to be confused with the abhorrent nausea I get from the values of the brand itself)? Well, I have the same experience with my phone. My apps open and close quicker than Kris Jenner can diffuse a scandal, causing me to immediately recoil at their swiftness. While I greatly appreciate the efficiency, its effects on my circadian rhythm make me want to personally bring Steve Jobs back from the dead and tell him to get back to work, because my tummy still hurts every time I open an app. 

While I am extremely grateful for my new iPhone and all of the several applications it possesses to my benefit, I must admit that when it comes to technology, I have the approach of a sixty-year-old white woman who frequently abuses Facebook and thus have found the adaptation period rather tumultuous.