EDC 101 result sos signal

I Keep Tapping Out SOS in Morse Code Without Realizing It

I learned the SOS pattern years ago for no particular reason. It was one of those things that felt useful enough to remember but not important enough to practice. It stuck anyway. Not the whole code, just that one shape. Short-short-short, long-long-long, short-short-short. It has a kind of balance to it that makes it easy to keep in your head, like a rhythm more than information.

For a while I kept a small light in my pocket, the kind you forget about until you need it under a desk or behind something. At some point I realized I would click it on and off in that same pattern while waiting for something to load or for someone to pick up the phone. Not signaling, just occupying my hands. It made the light feel less like a tool and more like a fidget that happened to work in the dark.

Then it started to feel a little unnecessary. Not the light, exactly, just the habit around it. I’d catch myself doing it in places where it didn’t make sense, like in a quiet room or standing in line. The clicks were soft but still noticeable if you were paying attention. I moved the light from my pocket to my bag for a while, thinking I’d still have it when I needed it but wouldn’t reach for it as often. That worked, mostly. I used it less. I also missed it in small ways I didn’t expect, like when I dropped something under the seat and had to lean on my phone instead.

The pattern didn’t go away when the light did. It just shifted. Fingertips on a desk, a pen against a notebook, the edge of a coffee cup. The rhythm shows up when I’m waiting, or when I’m trying to decide something minor, like which line to get in at the grocery store. It’s not anxiety, exactly. More like a placeholder for attention.

There’s something about carrying an object that gives that pattern a place to land. Without it, the tapping feels a little exposed, like I’m doing something visible for no reason. With it, the motion has a purpose, even if I’m not actually using it for anything practical. That’s a strange kind of justification, but it’s real. The presence of a small object can turn a habit from a quirk into something that feels intentional.

I’ve taken the light out of my rotation a few times. Each time it feels like a small relief at first. One less thing in the pocket, less bulk when sitting down, fewer items to line up on the nightstand at the end of the day. Then a week later I’m reaching for it without thinking, usually in some boring, dim corner where my phone isn’t quite right for the job. Or I catch my hand starting that same three-three-three rhythm on something else and it feels slightly off, like the timing doesn’t translate as well.

I don’t think I carry it because I expect to need to signal anything. That part of it is almost theoretical. It’s more that the pattern exists in my head, and the light gives it a quiet place to exist in the world, even if it never leaves my own little bubble of use. A small loop between knowing something and having a way to express it, even pointlessly.

Some mornings I still leave it behind. If I’m already juggling keys and a wallet and a phone that feels bigger every year, it’s easy to decide I don’t need one more object. By the time I’m out the door, I’ve usually forgotten about it. Until later, when I’m sitting somewhere with a few minutes to kill, and my hand starts that familiar rhythm against whatever surface is closest.

It’s a strange thing to carry around, not the light itself but the idea of those nine signals. I don’t use them for what they were meant for. I probably never will. But they’ve worked their way into the small gaps in the day, and the presence or absence of a tiny object in my pocket changes how those gaps feel. That ends up being reason enough, most days, to make room for it again.