Once again, it occurred to me this morning. I was working on an email to a coworker and my phone suggested what I was going to say next before I even typed a single word. Instead of a single word, it was a complete sentence and surprisingly, the exact one I was thinking about. I was struck stiff, fingers poised above the keyboard, going through what I now refer to as “auto-complete anxiety”: an anxiety…

I’m standing in someone’s living room and my coat is barely off and I begin to feel it: The twitch of my fingers, the muscle instinct that goes into action at the beggining of any setting. Without even accepting the offered drink, I get the urge to ask: “What’s your Wi-Fi password?”. The passwords spill out of my mouth autonomously, words one might use It can quite literally be interpreted as: Testing out phrases a…