I wondered how I would cope with the loss of my greatest friend. Together we’d spend hours upon hours staring intensely into each others eyes. My eyesight worsened and I needed glasses. After a period of time, its screen blew out and got replaced.
A week has passed since it passed away. Rather than have my own computer, I’ve been getting my fix by using other people’s computers. The IPOD comes with me everywhere; I think without it I might not be handling this as well. So it is a true friend, all 160 gigs of it. Steve Jobs never steered me wrong before, but I’m not getting one of his computers because I don’t have enough money.
Computers serve another purpose for me; they are like those little yipping dogs that people find so soothing once they come home. Me personally, I dislike dogs strongly, but computers are another matter. When I come in, I immediately rush towards it, checking emails, messages, updates, music, newspapers, you name it. Now I have nothing to welcome me home. That confidence boost, that people remained connected to me and vice versa, has been taken away from me. Perhaps this is the worst aspect, the lack of connectivity, the inability to feel like I belong to any said email list or various online groups. I feel like I’m less valuable as a person without a computer, which is a very silly idea, but it oddly seems true.
Reading about those alternative homeless kids, I truly feel even less connected. Sure, they might have attempted to copy the “Crust Punk” kids, but they couldn’t give up their electronic possessions. So as those alternative homeless children live under bridges, creating pictures in Microsoft paint, they at least have Wi-Fi. They have a true home, their computer, which stores all of their ideas, whether good or bad. I mean, look at the abstract artwork below, they clearly have met their calling. Probably this illustrious piece will sell for 8 million dollars, allowing them to move off the streets.
My blog serves as my only home on the internet. That plus the escape pod of MP3s and pieces of writing which hang out alone, with nothing to plug into. While without the internet, I’ve tried writing using caveman tools, like a pen and paper. I fail miserably at this, no matter what I write I always need to do research. Having hundreds of books and magazine articles around me at all times just doesn’t seem like a good use of space. Everything I write needs to be checked before I can finish it. Typed looks right to me, I barely understand the scribbles on pieces of paper called “handwriting”.
Later next week my new computer will come. It is making the difficult journey from China via Alaska to the East Coast. From there I’ll rejoice and be happy. Once again I’ll have a home. No longer will I be some sort of internet nomad, wandering about with no physical place to go.
Days have passed since I last combed my hair. Withdrawal is so difficult; I don’t know how the Amish deal without updating their Facebook profiles every day. I’m looking like a wreck but thankfully I don’t have to worry about my facebook picture. Even if I wanted to I couldn’t update it. All those little things, those small connections I had with people are being forever altered by my lack of access.
Phones aren’t for me. Computers are for me. I need my own, so I can rest my head again and sleep easy. As for my old computer, it will go to that great recycling town in the sky where people will tear it apart for valuable materials.