|
…
and anyone that tells you different doesn't know what they are on about.
But
wait! What am I on about?
I
am talking about living with a computer, having it sit in your home -
and not just going to work and using a computer there (cos
babycakes, you can use that computer every day of the week but if you
leave the job you leave the machine too). I mean having a computer share
your own personal living space, switching it on every day, sitting for
hours on end staring at it, muttering to it (example: "come
oooooooon, faster"), talking, singing, SHOUTING your head off
(example: "what the fuck are you doing?"). Also (I
guess) cleaning it (does anyone do this?), buying it new peripherals,
sticking li'l pictures or notes around it, and letting your cat/s
sleep/walk on it (harhar, like you let a cat do anything, what
choice is there?).
Your
comp becomes your friend (and, at times, your enemy).
I
got this comp in May '96. Since then I have upgraded lots of
times: memory, processor, etc. I still have the same printer! - or I did
until two weeks ago when it chewed its last and croaked on me. I even
still have the same monitor - but not for long buddy, no more will I sit
in front of this matchbox trying to juggle four different windows, I am
moving on up - oh yaay! Moving up to a big big monitor.
It's
not just the monitor I am changing. I am buying a new comp with gee-whiz
amounts of memory and a much prettier mouse. Gulp* I kind of didn't want
to write that in case my comp read it and just flaked out in protest.
The time has come to trade up and my little friend has just got to go.
The time is now. But it's quite sad too and here is why
I
am fond of this comp and have kept it longer than I should have out of a
combination of 60% laziness, 20% fondness and 20% pity (amounts
approximate and variable on different days). Really. And I just don't
personify inanimate objects; even in childhood I was unable to name
stuffed toys. I know people who give their cars names, or plants, or
whatever, but I am unable to do this.
This
comp has served me well. When I moved to a different city a couple of
years ago I wrapped all the bits in some bubblewrap and strapped it into
the back of the car. It's the nearest I'll ever get to having a small
child ("there you go, don't look out of the window if it makes you
feel sick, no, we're not there yet"). And when it got here it worked
and it works still (it works very hard) and has loads of
stuff on it, I have tons of stuff which I would just have to shift over
which is boring and takes ages, and I couldn't be bothered to look at
new ones and traipse about so blahblahblah... we stayed together.
In fact it became a typical scenario of many close relationships;
they boil down to: laziness + pity + some fondness. That fearful mix.
Now
though, like an old but faithful dog, my comp takes longer and longer to
get out of its basket in a morning, it takes longer and longer to find
and fetch things. And I - heartless bitch - sit cursing it, I bang my
fist on the desk, I cuss and mutter dire verbs and adjectives (of which
only 1% I would ever utter in front of my mother). So the time to trade
up really is here - time to get a new puppy that does all kinds
of cute and snazzy stuff and let the old dog lie in the corner in case
of emergency. But it's a melancholy thing as well as a happy thing so I
am writing this dedicated to my computer, despite the fact that it is an
inanimate and not very attractive (grey!) object: thank you for
the music... and the words, and the pictures.
Sam |
