The Notes app was released along with the first iPhone, pre-installed among other essential applications like Messages, Photos, and Mail. I used to underestimate its importance, but it’s now an integral part of my telephone. Others feel the same, too.
I have opened the Notes app every day for the past two years, spending an average of 12 minutes on it each day. I use Notes for a variety of things, including checklists, poems, movie lists, article ideas, and even existential pondering, often reminiscent of what I have just realized: I spend over an hour on this little app each week.
For many, Notes acts as an extension of the mind, holding ideas that are important but need a place to stay. It does a great job with this—its empty, infinite space, decorated with dandelion-yellow accents and gray, stress-reducing text, serves as the perfect habitat for thought. The feeling of opening a new note is comparable to a warm embrace, for Notes’ comforting simplicity prioritizes the creator and their creation. There are no distractions in Notes; the additional features are stowed away, and do not beg to be utilized. Furthermore, the app is flexible and free of judgment, besides the occasional auto-correction. Notes inspires unapologetic self-expression. It trustingly grants users control, encouraging their creativity to flourish in a world where that isn’t always possible.
How one documents their ideas reveals their take on the complexities of living, and Notes’ leniency allows for a wide range of possibilities. For instance, some use Notes as an outlet for intense, Hemingway-esque stream-of-consciousnesses, while others use it to write poetry—even if they don’t intend to do so.
When reading through my old notes, I can’t help but think that they seem awfully poetic, even if they’re as casual as an old to-do list. This is because our notes are evidence of our presence. They’re anecdotes of our intricate lives—modern artifacts, if you will. Any kind of note is a testament to us living deeply and intensely in a certain moment in our lives, so much so that we find it necessary to document some minute details in order to remember it. The Notes app, though, is significant because it makes it even more convenient to document parts of our lives. I know I’m not going to pull out a pen and paper when I’m standing on a packed train, but Notes? You bet.
Simply, our notes are poetic because life is poetic, even if it doesn’t feel as such. Living is so beauteous yet difficult because it requires all of one’s self. There’s always something new to take on and live through, so Notes is here to help us make sense of this process.
Really, I’m trying to say that we should embrace our chaotic lives as much as Notes encourages us to. The app is nowhere near being a technological feat, but it’s perfectly suited for its users: humans. It’s a space where humans can be humans, without judgment from the app or others. Its careful, conscientious design gives me hope that we still care about one another.
While I would hate to learn how to live from a piece of technology, Notes is an exception because I sincerely hope that one day, humanity is as accepting as the Notes app.