My phone, a Blackberry 9790, is a temperamental little thing. It used to work for months without incident, and then it would choose a day to have constant manic attacks before resuming normal service again for months. But that was before. Now it refuses to behave itself unless it’s teetered to the PC. If you ever hear me utter swear words, you should understand that the little-devil of a phone is to blame.

Dealing with my phone is an exercise in patience. Some days, it chooses to go off once I pick a phone call, or freeze the moment I touch it more than three times in a row, or it just goes dead without reason—just dead. Today was one of those days. There was a time when its antics used to fill me with the urge to hurl it across the room, watch it float, crash and shatter. But my pocket often reminded me that rage is a habit for the rich. Then I found a use for my phone’s mania.

Anytime I’m in one of my moods where I don’t want to talk to anyone, I just allow my phone work its magic without doing anything to stop it. When people ask, “Why didn’t you pick my call?” I bring out my phone and allow it do the talking. Like a trusted friend, it backs me up on cue and starts to misbehave. It has become the perfect crutch for my bad habits.

We—at least most of us—are often like this. We develop strange relationships with our defects and use them as an excuse for our misbehaviour.

We hang our disadvantages on our necks like beggars and expect people to understand us, or pity us on account of those things: I’m an introvert so don’t mind me when I snob you; I’m an extrovert so pardon me while I invade your privacy. On the internet, we see things like: I have freedom of speech, so I will say whatever I like. You might get offended, but it is not my fault that I say abusive things. It is who I am. It is your fault for reading my abusive statements and responding like a normal human would.

We are like the kid who refuses to use drugs because his illness gives him an excuse to skip school, stay at home and watch TV. We will rather nurse our defects and use them as crutches than open them up for healing.

So I called a friend who has a dealer in Blackberry batteries and sells them for a good price. He told me he just set out on a journey and could have gotten it if I had called earlier. But he promised to get it to me by Sunday. I have one more weekend to use my phone as a crutch. You can’t say I didn’t try.


9 Replies to “DECEMBER 4: CRUTCHES”

  1. “…rage is a habit for the rich.” Funnily realistic.
    I was almost wondering if it’s the phone that disables your “last seen..” function on WhatsApp maikng you sometimes somewhat untraceable. But I digress. LOL.

    Your writes/rants about the everyday is gripping.

    1. Bunmi, don’t come and spread my dirty laundry here nah. And see, my laptop is not even a crutch, it is really to blame for some silly errors. That is the only explanation for many of my spelling mistakes.

  2. “We—at least most of us—are often like this. We develop strange relationships with our defects and use them as an excuse for our misbehaviour.” Good one, I’m thinking about my crutch . . . haven’t located it yet, but I know it’s there . .

    Btw, my BlackBerry is also misbehaving *sigh*

    1. I guessed there’ll be people like Timi who have broken all their crutches, that’s why I added “at least most of us.”
      As for misbehaving BlackBerries, let me join you and *sigh* O ti su mi.


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