Well. I lost my phone. I'm still hoping that somehow I can find it to get my pictures and videos and such off of it. It's funny, I've had quite a few phones in my life. Three different types of phone, broke three of my first one and two of my second one, and I've had this last green LG for over a year. It survived being lost at Cornerstone. It has pictures of the Dashboard acoustic tour, Spitalfield's last tour date in Omaha, Chiodos playing in the Underground, and Kris Roe's acoustic tour. Not to mention tons of photos of friends that I never did get a chance to send to my e-mail. It has numbers from hundreds of people that I've met. Friends from on tour, in Grand Island, in Omaha, and everywhere else I've been. It has numbers of my family members; grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. That phone has an amazing history. Pictures and numbers in that phone serve to document many of the events of this past year.
It's a strange thing to consider. I'm not upset that I lost a little piece of plastic and electronics. That's any easy thing to replace. But all of the numbers, photos, videos, and memories contained in that one little piece of plastic might never be seen again. How long can these things remain as simple memories with no proof or physical evidence of their existence? I don't even remember what I ate for breakfast yesterday.
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