مشروع تعبير بالانجليزي حول الهاتف الذكي كمشروع كبسولة زمنية للماضي والمستقبل

مشروع تعبير بالانجليزي حول الهاتف الذكي كمشروع كبسولة زمنية للماضي والمستقبل

يسرنا الترحيب بالزوار الكرام، أبنائي وبناتي الطلاب والطالبات في موقعنا التعليمي الذي نسعى من خلاله الى تقديم كل ما هو هادف ومفيد.

يقدم الموقع خدماته التعليمية والمعرفية من خلال عمل الملخصات والمشاريع الدراسية، و الحلول والإجوبة لأسئلة  المناهج والواجبات والإختبارات للإبتدائي والمتوسط والثانوي بالإضافة  إلى  المقررات الجامعية. 

نرحب بآرائكم ومقترحاتكم

مشروع تعبير بالانجليزي حول الهاتف الذكي كمشروع كبسولة زمنية للماضي والمستقبل

last Friday, I went with my mother to visit my grandmother at who are living in our old home, and, finding myself stranded in my childhood bedroom, began rooting through the drawers of my old . Among the detritus of my teenage years (novels, old CDs, and books of stories that would thrill the heart of any would-be blackmailer) I found something unexpected: my first “proper” mobile, an eight -year-old Windows phone- Nokia Lumia 521 that saw me through most of university.

I was incredibly proud of this phone when I bought it, and it still retained all its old charm. Straight away, I plugged it in to charge. I didn’t just have my old phone back, I had all my memories, too.

The date on the phone hadn’t been changed for ten years, and neither had its contents. There were text messages organizing nights out long forgotten; photos of friends I haven’t spoken to in years; and old playlists full of songs that once thrilled me, but now seem little more than throwbacks. Browsing through the phone’s contents I felt like I was exploring the life of a video game non-player character. “This is some incredible world-building,” I thought, “the way it’s all so believably cringe-worthy. Did this guy really just end a text to his crush with the sign-off ‘’?”

 

Usually I’m all for this sort of navel-gazing. To give you some idea of my character, know that that under the bed in my same teenage bedroom I have a trio of shoe-boxes labeled “Nostalgia,” volumes I through III. I like to sort my life into lists, and find that this instinct dovetails neatly with the archivist quality of the digital world. I right-click-save-image any pictures art or architecture or food that I like the look of online; and when I delete old tweets, I always grab a copy first. Just in case.

But something about my old Windows phone felt weird, and eventually I realized the difference. Unlike my shoe boxes — which are curated; their contents whittled down to a few, choice items — my old phone was an inadvertent time capsule. One I had no idea I was filling at the time.

The picture of me it had captured was bracingly if embarrassingly complete, but the longer I spent looking through old texts, the more I felt I was spying on a stranger. If I was a wiser person I might have found something teachable in those old messages; their anxieties and boasts, and apologies. And if I were less neurotic, maybe I’d find it funny. Being only myself, I found it strange. I thought: delete all this. You don’t need it any more.

But these sorts of digital caches are commonplace. The world is full of old phones, and old computers and hard drives. On top of these there are the online accounts you’ve already forgotten about, with their data stored unattended in some server rack in my country. Even if you could hunt down every bit of digital information you personally created, you’d still exist as a silhouette of data, outlined in every interaction and picture stored on friends and families’ phones and computers and tablets. My old Windows phone had been snooping on me without my realizing, but it was hardly the first.

In the end I just chucked my phone back into the desk to be forgotten for another ten years. My future self can deal with my past self, I thought.