The biggest mistake I made with my iPhone, that I can’t untangle
Sharyn Ghidella’s iPhone holds nearly 60,000 photos, but that's just the tip of her digital iceberg as she confronts the modern dilemma of photo hoarding.
I must say, I’ve never really considered myself to be a photographer.
Ask me to compile a resume, and photographer would definitely not be among the occupations I’ve enjoyed.
But scroll through my iPhone and you’d be forgiven for thinking photography was indeed one of my great passions.
Because somewhere between going to work, raising two kids and paying bills, I’ve taken a whopping 58,296 happy snaps … which I guess makes me a snapper, whether I acknowledge it or not.
Of course, my kids tell me I’ve been a “snapper” for years – but that’s probably more to do with my reaction when they fail to unpack the dishwasher than taking photos in my spare time.
Still, official photographer or not, facts are facts, and currently I have more photos in my possession than I have time to look at them.
And frighteningly, this 58k stockpile is just part of the recent collection.
It doesn’t include the 150,000 more I’ve happily offloaded to some cloud somewhere, the 60,000 I’ve transferred on to CDs, DVDs and USB sticks or the thousands more stashed away (read: decaying) in plastic boxes that I’d need an advanced GPS and sniffer dog to locate.
Yes, I know they’re somewhere in the house. Just don’t ask me where.
I vaguely remember storing them near the front door, because they’d be among the first things I’d want to save in the event of a fire or flood.
In hindsight, that was optimistic. Those boxes are so heavy, if disaster struck, I’d be lucky to save myself without doing my back in first.
I’d actually have a better chance saving the fridge than my lifetime of precious memories.
Still, an easy-to-reach location is perfect should I ever wish to subject the family – or unsuspecting friends – to a good old-fashioned slide night.
Sorry Gen Z, you might have to Google that one … while the rest of us wonder why it was ever considered fun spending hours in the dark viewing crooked and blurry photos projected on to the living room wall.
And there were no selfies back then. Most of the time, your immediate family or friends weren’t even featured.
But what a treat seeing your best friend’s Aunty Mabel having a great time touring the ancient ruins of … a local caravan park … somewhere along the Hume Highway – right before the slide carousel jammed, and someone yelled, “It’s burning!”
Yes, kids … before the internet, YouTube and the odd episode of MAFS … that’s what they called entertainment!
And speaking of entertainment, imagine the fun I’ll have in my dotage compiling these photos into albums, as I’ve been swearing I’ll do for years.
Some people live in Tuscany or cruise the Mediterranean in their retirement.
Sadly, my vision of that is becoming increasingly blurred.
My golden years will be spent working out which of the thousand golden sunsets overlooking Mt Coot-tha I should keep.
And keep for whom, well, I’m not entirely certain. I’m sure my kids will really treasure those when I’m long gone.
Yes, I take photos like I buy plants – with excessive enthusiasm, and no plan whatsoever as to what to do with them when I get home.
Maybe technology will eventually come to my rescue. I’ll get AI to identify the gems, delete the duds, and group together all the near-identical shots of the family dog doing nothing.
Surely it can detect the sweetest of a million baby smiles or decide which pic of the kids mid-swing should feature in my photo series on Suburban Parks of Brisbane.
Because, lord knows, I’ve got enough photos of kids in the park to do a whole documentary series for Paramount+. Oh, AI does hold so much promise.
But until then, I guess I’ll just keep paying the overlords in the clouds a tidy sum to store the bulk of my photos for safekeeping.
No point printing them – certainly not the ones in the boxes that come with negatives. My friends Mould and Mildew have taken possession of those, which may explain why they’re called negatives: because there’s nothing positive about reproducing a picture from them.
Yes, to be honest, I’m not sure how I’m ever going to tame my jumble of nostalgia.
Maybe I’ll just let my phone’s daily photo memories do the heavy lifting, until I find the courage to face it.
Just as long as it keeps selecting photos from a time when I had a better body, less wrinkles … and no filters were required, at all.
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Originally published as The biggest mistake I made with my iPhone, that I can’t untangle
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