Stream-Of-Consciousness Questions Upon Having My Phone Snatched

 Y'all, what’s the best carrier in Chicago?  Should I get another iPhone or some other phone?  Should I wait for the iPhone 6?  Should I just get a really crappy un-smart phone? What's the crappiest phone I could get that still has WhatsApp capabilities? Or should I get a landline?  Should I rely on carrier pigeons to reach my beloved ones?  Walkie-talkie system?  Or should I work on training cockroaches to carry messages, as they did in Orange is the New Black?  How will I take so many pictures now?  Disposable camera?  Really amazing camera?  Take up sketching and painting?  How will I share said images with the world?  Invest in a scanner?  Make replications of every image and snail mail them to my friends?  Post them randomly in public places, such as in the Walgreens pharmacy waiting line area or on the Bean?  Should I just move to the top of a really tall building such as the Sears Tower and shout with all my might to talk to my folks back in Virginia?  Would that be illegal?  How will I wake myself up in the morning, y'all—alarm clock, or invest in a rooster?  Will the rooster get along with my roommate's chihuahua, Buddy?  If my roommate is a vegan who never feeds Buddy meat, will he still try to kill and eat the rooster?  Nature or nurture?  How will I know how fast I am running without my RunKeeper app—stopwatch, or borrow someone's small child to place on my shoulders as I run, and said child can just count loudly?  How far can children count at the age they are where they are small enough to sit on my shoulders?  How will I know in the mornings if my hair is in place or if I have lipstick on my teeth without using the camera on my phone—purchase a compact mirror, or just ask everyone on my morning commute, "Do I look hot today?  Like, would you date me based on how I'm looking right now in this moment?"  How will I tweet?  Wait until I have access to a computer and the Internet to log into Twitter, or just verbally offer up my unsolicited thoughts as they pop into my head to every casual bystander, businessmen and schoolchildren alike?  How will I listen to music (because my headphones fell out of my iPhone as the thief ran away, so at least I did not lose those)?  Should I buy a cassette tape player, or a portable CD player?  Are those items considered vintage now and therefore more expensive than in my youth?  Do I give up music on my commute entirely, or should I just create my own music by snapping my fingers and singing in my off-key voice?  Will my wretched sounds reach the ears of the fellow who stole from me, and will he then curse the day he ever laid eyes on me and my pink-encased phone?  How will I ever navigate my way in the city when I get turned around?  An old-timey compass?  Just wander until I cross county lines and state lines and, feeling haggard and hopeless, give up entirely on civilization and become a lady of the wild?  But how will I navigate the darkness in the deep, thick woods and rugged terrains of this planet without the flashlight app on my phone?  Do I carry matches around everywhere with me, and would my life then end sadly, much like Hans Christian Andersen’s character?  Should I carry sparklers in my bag should I ever want to shed light with a little pizzazz?  If my phone was so easily stolen, will people try to snatch my bag as well?  If I crawled over the ground like a tortoise, with a sack attached to my body much like a shell, would my personal property be protected from stealers, or would they just scoop up and run off with my entire self?