some of this is true

I bought a new watch, to usher in a new era. Or simply to tell the time.

I hadn’t had a watch that worked in a long time. My other watch — a gift — the batteries died. But before that, the strap was not working properly and needed to be replaced. So I just did nothing, and left it to rot. Now, metal being the resilient material that it is, the watch, of course, did not rot.

It did not rot and when I looked for it two weeks ago with the intent on finding how to fix it and then, finally, getting it fixed, it was still there, just as I’d left it. Not working, but still correct twice a day.

Yesterday in the newspaper there was a story about how technology was going to kill the wristwatch. That, as the rich people of the world use their cell phones and PDAs and game boys to tell them the time more and more, the wristwatch will lose its allure.

I hope not. It won’t for me, anyway.

I remember my first watch, or at least one of my first watches. It was from Australia. It had a blue strap, with the Australian flag — blue with the stars and the Union Jack — either on the strap or watch face. Being a children’s watch, it had a small face and an even smaller strap, which was cloth, not plastic like so many other kids’ watches.

I think I still have it somewhere, probably in my old house sitting in a box somewhere, with other memorabillia we took back from the land down under. Boomerangs, for example.

I’ve gone through a host of watches since then. Digital watches, digital watches with built-in stopwatches, novelty watches with holograms. When I was around 10 years old, I had a yellow sports watch, complete with count-down timer, stopwatch (with lap settings) and a pacemaker — it beeped at preset intervals so, if you wanted, you could set the pace of your running to the beeps. And it had these red and blue bars that would flash as it did, which served no actual function but looked cool, nonetheless. Of couse, I didn’t run, and could hardly be called athletic, but it looked cool, and it was waterproof so your head would implode before water would get inside. A real work of art. I scratched the face all to hell through my adolescent adventures. The strap — which was a rubbery sort of plastic — was the first thing to break, after most of the ink that made up its sporty design wore off.

And there were others. The tan and brown Timex Expedition. Grade 10. My transition from the digital world to numbers and moving hands.

Grade 12. A Guess watch. With three extra small moving hands, that spun around when the stopwatch was on. Again, not that I needed a stopwatch, but because I liked watching them spin around so fast.

Two years ago, the Armitron watch (refer to the first three paragraphs). Silver and simple. Hands but no numbers, but I’m real good at telling the time.

And now this one. With a small leather strap, brushed metal face. And it works, and I wear it on the right hand (which I’m frequently told is the wrong hand), and I love it.

I love my watch. And I’ll be damned if the technological revolution is going to take that away from me.

when you move away from home — when I move away from home — you look for things, grasp at things, that you can look to as milestones. for the most part, you create them. things that signal a change, a transition. a sign that you’re gone — or that you’re here — and that it’s official.

like voting in a new riding.

it’s an interesting feeling suddenly living in a place that isn’t the same old party, stuck in the right so very far away. it’s liberating to be in a place where, while still not likely, you can imagine change. not that change is the best thing that could happen, but that it’s a possibility. a beautiful possibilty, and if only so many more things were like that.

but more than anything, being able to vote here — choosing to vote here — signifies a sense of permenance, a sort of citizenship or residency. a change in focus. you have to take an interest in life here, in the issues and the conversation and the dialogue not looking in from the outside but being a part of it. in it. it’s also an abandonment, the severing of a link — one of many, most of which remain intact.

it’s a made-up milestone, but a milestone nonetheless.

so i voted.

and i lost.

and i’m glad.