My blackberry keeps seizing and restarting so I decide to take it to the Sprint store near work. The Sprint store is busy and understaffed. The Sprint tech tells me to leave my phone and come back, so I decide to walk my dogs at a park near my office building.
I arrive at the park and get 10 steps from my car when a security SUV swoops down from a hill and informs me that no dogs are allowed on campus.
So I throw the dogs back in the car and unsuccessfully try to find parking near the Mississippi trail. I try Minnehaha park next, realize that I forgot quarters for the meters, and then end up back in Minneapolis.
The dogs and I eventually tumble into Loring Park.
The day is beautiful, but my inability to update my location on foursquare or to send pictures to twitter makes the walk feel uncomfortable. I am so used to instantaneously documenting and broadcasting my experiences that the inability to do so makes the experience seem less real.
The ability to share and archive what happens is as important to me as the original experience. It is the difference between seeing the tree fall in the forest and recording it. The record is what turns the experience from something ephemeral to something tangible, richer, and permanent.
Sure, I have plenty of pictures of downtown Minneapolis, Loring Park, and the basilica of St. Mary, but I feel like there was something lost by my inability to record the great day in the park, even if it was objectively mundane.
Good thing I have the blackberry back now.
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