Moving Forward, like it or not

My telephone just died -- just like that.

Now that I'm trying to reconstruct my telephone directory, which I was foolish enough not to back up (I'm an idiot. Idiot!!) I realise how many numbers were there and, more importantly, from whom. I had a ton of numbers on there which I knew were no longer in use -- many american numbers of my friends from Cambridge who went back to their home country, for instance.
So it's kinda pointless to ask these people for their phone number. Heck, it's almost pointless to ask my UN friends here for their phone numbers because I'm leaving so soon.

Yet it feels weird -- a strange kind of closure. Phases of my life that were recorded on that phone's memory - France, US, even last summer working in Indonesia - behind for good. While I wasn't really ready for that.
It was familiar seeing these numbers. Even the number labeled "girl at the Fairmont bar" (I honestly can't remember her name and I actually never called her) made me laugh. Plus it was very useful -- the other day I couldn't remember Eugenio's last name so I searched it on my phone.
Now I'm kinda forced to move beyond all these phases. I know, it's silly but I never pretended to be otherwise, did I...

Oh, and a conclusion word: fuck motorola. Seriously.