Dead computer

I opened up my laptop at work the other day and faced a black screen, which shouldn't have been there considering I rarely turn it off. I proceeded to push every button combination I could think of to revive it, but it stubbornly refused to breathe. It made that dramatic restart sound a few times, but still, nothing from the monitor. Luckily, I am working at a freelance job right now with a resident IT genius who I could go crying to immediately and get to the bottom of why this was happening. He took one look at it and said, "This doesn't look good."

My iBook G4 is four years old. I bought it a few days after my ex-husband and I split up because we had been sharing a computer. So this iBook, in a way, was representative of my new found freedom. Apparently these "old iBooks" have a common problem with their internal boards that I am not versed in geek speak enough to reiterate. The bottom line: it's dead. I had to start making arrangements for its burial and figure out how to live life without it.

The IT genius said my data should be safe so all I have to do is transfer it. Before I found this out, of course, I had been holding my breath because I have not backed up my work in about six months. I know, DUMB.

What's ironic about this whole thing is that I am freelancing at an agency that services Dell computer. So, I was promptly issued a Dell laptop to use. I have always worked on a Mac. I don't know anything else. Whenever I am faced with a PC, my fingers freeze and I begin to stutter. I opened up this loaner and immediately felt like I was trying to ice skate on one leg. I literally didn't even know how to log on or open up a word document.

After a short tutorial and set up from IT genius, I was at least reading email and working on my various projects that I had no time to finish and were taking me three times as long due to my fingers feeling like jello typing on this foreign machine. It felt like it had a mind of its own. I'd be typing along and suddenly the cursor would jump into the middle of a paragraph farther up on the page. Maybe the keyboard is too sensitive. Maybe I'm accidentally pushing one of the various buttons that are there, but I have no idea what they do.

And I feel so lost without my wubby. When you're a writer, your computer is your soul. It's half of my brain. I had all kinds of stickie notes to myself on there, keeping track of things that my mind can't contain, and I am helpless to view them.

Right now, I'm typing on my husband's Powerbook, which is also old and missing a few keys. At least it's a Mac.

Anyway, I went home the night of my computer's death and promptly ordered a new Macbook online, which should be delivered later today. Once it's here, I can go back to feeling normal again.

I will miss my old laptop. It went with me to two writing conferences, helped me find dates when I was single, recorded my thoughts on my divorce and helped me flirt with my now husband through various courtship emails. I wrote a handful of short stories on it and some editorial essays that were recently published. I crafted my portfolio website, which sucks, but that I created all by myself nonetheless.

I sequed into a new life with that computer. So it's passing is kind of sad.

Bye bye little white iBook G4. You served me well. I will always think of you fondly, and miss you dearly.