Finding Ly-Ang #24: Wacky Wednesday: Buzz, Buzz... Where's My Phone?!

It’s been six long, torturous, finger-twitching days without my phone. SIX DAYS. Feels like I’ve been exiled from my own life. My hands? They’re confused. Swiping at thin air, trying to zoom in on a piece of paper, even attempting to tap the microwave like it’s an app. The only app here is the sheer desperation I feel.

I tried belting out Beyoncé and Lady Gaga’s "Telephone". Guess what? Nobody called. Why? BECAUSE I DON’T HAVE A PHONE! Instead, I’m left pacing the house, chanting, “Where’s my phone?” like a modern-day mantra. I even caught myself whispering, "I miss you, my precious," in full Gollum mode.

Let’s be honest—phones aren’t just devices anymore. They’re practically extensions of our bodies. They hold our schedules, our memories, and, apparently, a big chunk of our sanity. At this point, I’m not sure whether I own my phone or it owns me.

When did this happen? When did we all sell our souls to these pint-sized wizards of a device? It’s like there’s a genie living inside them, granting our every wish and then some:

?? Need to organize your life? Your phone is your Filofax.

?? Paying for coffee? Tap your phone.

?? Calling your crush? Pray they answer.

?? Looking for love? Swipe right.

?? Capturing memories? Click, click, click.

And let’s not forget about WhatsApp, the sneaky little app that has somehow taken over my communication universe. SMS? What’s that? FaceTime? Oh, sure, I could use it, but apparently, my brain only associates calls and messages with the WhatsApp logo. I even have an iPad and a Mac that could stand in for my phone, but let’s be real—it’s just not the same. Texting from an iPad feels like eating soup with a fork: technically possible but deeply unsatisfying.

Then there’s music and audiobooks. I own multiple devices that can stream them, but nope, my brain refuses to accept it. It’s as if my phone has somehow trademarked joy. The other day, I sat staring at my smart speaker, willing it to play music, but it just didn’t feel right. The betrayal! I mean, how did I let this little gadget monopolize so much of my life?

The answer, I think, lies in convenience. Phones have made everything so ridiculously easy. From finding love to losing it in a text thread, from managing your finances to doomscrolling for hours, it’s all right there. But it comes at a cost. The moment your phone is gone, you’re left with a gaping void—and a sobering realization that maybe, just maybe, you’re a little too attached.

I’m not exaggerating when I say I’m going through withdrawal. The symptoms are real:

1. Phantom Vibrations: I keep checking my pocket for a buzz that isn’t there. It’s like my body is playing cruel tricks on me.

2. Swiping Compulsion: My fingers now have a mind of their own, swiping at random surfaces. Yesterday, I tried to scroll through a printed newspaper. A newspaper.

3. Lost Time: What do people even do with their hands when they’re not holding a phone? Wave them around? Knit? Start interpretive dance?

At this point, I’m seriously considering starting an ATA (Anonymous Telephone Addicted) association. The first meeting would probably look something like this:

"Hello, my name is Esther, and I’m in a committed relationship with my treasure—uh, I mean my telephone."

Phones were once just tools for communication. Remember those days? Back when we had flip phones and T9 texting? Now, they’re the command centers of our lives. It’s unbelievable how something so small has gained so much power. They hold our bank accounts, our medical records, even our deepest secrets. Not to mention all the hilarious screenshots we swear we’ll delete someday.

And let’s not forget the buzz, buzz of notifications—or, ahem, other uses. You know what I mean. Phones are more versatile than Swiss Army knives. No wonder we’re so attached.

But here’s the scary part: I can’t tell if I’m using the phone or if the phone is using me. Has it made my life easier? Sure. Has it made me a little bit of a slave to its whims? Also yes. Take WhatsApp, for instance. It’s not just an app—it’s my lifeline. The idea of texting without it feels barbaric, even though, ironically, that’s how I communicated before it came along.

So what have I learned from this involuntary detox?

1. I Need a Backup Plan: Phones break, get lost, or run out of battery. Having a backup device (and the patience to use it) is key.

2. Technology Isn’t Everything: The world doesn’t stop turning because you’re offline. But let’s be real—it feels like it does.

3. We’re All Addicted: If you’ve ever panicked about a low battery, you know what I mean.

Until I’m reunited with my digital soulmate, I’ll keep wandering around the house swiping at walls and chanting my phone mantra. If this resonates with you, drop a comment—on your working phone, of course! And if you’d like to join ATA, let me know. We’ll set up a WhatsApp group… eventually.

Live Laugh Love – and may your phone never leave your side!

#WackyWednesday #PhoneAddiction #ModernLife