The
first
time
I
used
the
Light
Phone
2’s
GPS,
I
drove
to
Los
Angeles
for
a
date.
I
ended
up
parked
in
a
red
zone,
hyperventilating
to
the
rhythm
of
my
hazard
lights.
All
I
did
was
get
lost,
and
yet,
I
was
seconds
away
from
puking
all
over
myself.
(I
didn’t,
thank
goodness.)
I
should
have
picked
a
lower-stakes
event
to
test-drive
the
navigation
feature,
but
I
assumed
it
would
work
as
well
as
Google
Maps.
I
was
wrong.
The
Light
Phone’s
GPS
was
awful
a
year
ago.
It
often
thought
I
was
on
a
surface
street
instead
of
the
adjacent
freeway,
or
vice
versa,
so
it
would
incorrectly
tell
me
to
keep
going
or
take
an
exit
that
didn’t
exist
and
not
register
my
actual
location
until
a
few
minutes
later
—
if
it
registered
that
at
all.
It
also
took
several
minutes
to
find
my
location
when
I
started
it
up,
and
it
wasn’t
great
at
finding
an
address
if
I
typed
in
the
name
of
a
business.
I
was
furious
that
I
had
spent
$339
for
the
phone,
case,
and
screen
protector
so
I
didn’t
have
to
rely
on
my
smartphone,
and
all
it
had
done
for
me
so
far
was
trigger
my
anxiety
and
nearly
ruin
a
date.
This
phone
has
survived
many
drops
without
a
scratch.
But
I
decided
to
make
it
work,
and
the
Light
Phone
2
is
still
my
primary
phone
a
year
later.
To
be
fair
to
the
Light
Phone,
the
situation
wasn’t
entirely
its
fault.
Yes,
the
GPS
was
awful,
and
it
did
get
me
lost,
but
driving
around
Los
Angeles
makes
me
nervous
on
the
best
of
days,
and
I
should
have
tested
the
navigation
around
town
like
a
good
little
tech
reviewer
before
driving
30
miles
across
county
lines
to
go
on
a
date.
This
2020s-era
mashup
of
a
phone
—
with
its
chunky
plastic
body,
E
Ink
touchscreen,
and
deliberate
absence
of
apps
—
isn’t
for
everyone.
Reviewers
and
tech
enthusiasts
alike
have
come
away
from
using
the
Light
Phone
2
with
little
more
than
a
shrug.
Others
genuinely
enjoyed
it
but
couldn’t
find
a
way
to
integrate
it
into
their
lives.
Even
The
Verge
wrote,
“We
might
say
we
want
to
kick
our
tech
addictions,
but
who
among
us
is
ready
to
shell
out
$350
for
a
gadget
that
does
so
little?”
back
in
2019.
But
the
“dumb
phone”
boom
is
real,
and
people
are
looking
for
ways
to
peel
their
eyes
from
their
smartphones
like
a
layer
of
Elmer’s
glue
from
their
hand
—
to
remove
a
part
of
themselves
that
really
isn’t
a
part
of
themselves.
There’s
1GB
of
space
for
about
200
songs,
just
enough
for
me.
The
Light
Phone
works
for
me
because
I
was
ready
to
commit
to
living
a
smartphone-free
life
as
much
as
possible.
Muting
notifications
and
deleting
the
apps
off
my
smartphone
had
done
nothing
to
curb
the
compulsion
to
check
my
accounts.
If
I
felt
anxious
or
bored,
reaching
for
my
smartphone
was
an
automatic
reaction,
to
the
point
where
I
sometimes
didn’t
realize
my
phone
was
in
my
hand
until
I
was
10
cat
videos
deep
on
Instagram.
I’m
the
kind
of
person
who
likes
to
retain
control
over
my
faculties,
so
that
terrified
me.
By
making
the
Light
Phone
my
primary
phone,
I
hoped
to
separate
myself
from
easy
access
to
social
media
and
change
my
relationship
with
how
and
when
I
accessed
the
internet.
The
Light
Phone
2
had
the
right
lack
of
features:
no
email,
no
social
media,
no
internet
browser
or
any
other
apps,
so
it
made
the
first
step
in
my
process
easy
to
achieve.
My
smartphone
became
the
equivalent
of
the
Gateway
desktop
PC
I
had
as
a
teenager:
a
device
kept
in
another
room
that
I
had
to
physically
go
to
if
I
wanted
to
get
online.
Within
a
week
of
using
the
Light
Phone,
my
total
smartphone
usage
dropped
from
four
hours
a
day
to
under
an
hour
a
week
—
and
it
stayed
there.
By
not
using
a
single
device
for
everything,
I
reintroduced
some
of
the
same
technological
friction
that
we
had
at
the
turn
of
the
21st
century.
The
Light
Phone
took
some
getting
used
to.
The
GPS
has
improved
tremendously
in
the
last
year.
(I’m
no
longer
afraid
of
getting
lost
and
puking
in
my
car.)
Texting
is
still
frustrating
because
of
the
slow
E
Ink
screen,
so
now
I
call
my
friends
more
often
—
on
the
Light
Phone
or
on
video
from
my
computer
if
they’re
abroad.
It
was
also
awkward
at
first
explaining
to
family
and
friends
why
I
couldn’t
immediately
check
my
Instagram
when
they
sent
me
a
funny
meme
or
why
I
couldn’t
see
a
picture
they
texted.
The
Light
Phone
doesn’t
support
MMS
or
hyperlinks
in
texts.
Instead,
it
forwards
those
messages
to
my
email.
Hotspot
your
way
to
your
local
library’s
e-books.
I
used
to
consider
this
an
inconvenience,
but
reading
Cal
Newport’s
Digital
Minimalism:
Choosing
a
Focused
Life
in
a
Noisy
World
helped
me
understand
what
my
quest
to
disconnect
was
about:
reconnecting
with
the
physical
world.
It
doesn’t
mean
becoming
a
luddite,
but
to
limit
all
the
ways
our
phones
distract
us
from
the
things
that
truly
matter.
This
one
sentence
in
his
introduction
brought
everything
full
circle:
“They
agreed
with
my
arguments
about
office
distractions,
but
as
they
then
explained,
they
were
arguably
even
more
distressed
by
the
way
new
technologies
seem
to
be
draining
meaning
and
satisfaction
from
their
time
spent
out
of
work.”
Someone
finally
put
into
words
the
deep
pit
of
despair
my
smartphone
dragged
me
into.
I
haven’t
been
able
to
completely
ditch
my
smartphone.
I
keep
it
in
my
bag
in
case
I
need
it
for
certain
things,
like
restaurant
QR
codes,
authentication
apps
to
log
in
to
my
work
accounts,
and
Slack
when
I’m
traveling
for
work.
But
I
have
started
buying
digital
albums
again
and
uploading
them
to
my
Light
Phone
like
the
good
ol’
iPod
days.
(Later,
Spotify.)
I
can
get
calendar
reminders,
listen
to
podcasts,
call,
and
text.
My
smartphone
no
longer
has
a
data
plan,
so
if
I
do
need
to
use
it,
I
tether
to
the
Light
Phone’s
built-in
hotspot.
More
often,
though,
I
use
the
hotspot
with
my
Kobo
so
I
can
borrow
library
books
on
the
road.
My
life
is
so
much
simpler
and
so
much
more
focused
than
it
was
a
year
ago
because
I
intentionally
made
it
harder
for
myself
to
get
distracted
by
my
phone.
Some
critics
say
the
Light
Phone
isn’t
worth
the
price
because
it
doesn’t
have
the
same
number
of
features
as
a
budget
smartphone.
To
them,
I
ask:
what
is
the
price
of
your
happiness?
I
don’t
know
what
mine
is,
but
it’s
definitely
worth
way
more
than
$339.
Photography
by
Joanna
Nelius
/
The
Verge
(Originally posted by Joanna Nelius)
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