On September 11th, 2010, a dear friend left this world for a better one. A six year old full of vibrant youthful energy decided life just wasn’t good enough anymore. As it descended into heaven, I wished it the fondest of farewells, knowing that it went to that great tower in the sky.
My computer meant a lot to me. I did my best to take care of it, to restore it back to life after nasty virus attacks. But at some point, you just need to let it go. I like to think that my enlightened treatment gave it a rich and fulfilling life. Those Google searches I did on it were different, bizarre, and unique to me. Looking back, perhaps the weirdest ones were probably looking up Tuvan throat singers or Yasunao Tone. I hope it lead a cultured existence, as opposed to those computers asked to endlessly spew out sports statistics or what the Meta Critic thought of their favorite TV show.
It is interesting how much of our personality becomes infused into such a machine. There won’t be a “rise of the machines” like so many have predicted. Perhaps it will be some variation on the 60s “Summer of Love” where man and machine frolic in endless green meadows, seeking enlightenment and additional Facebook friends.
Like so many others, I feared this day would come. An escape pod of MP3s and word files left the smoldering ruins of what had once been a glorious citadel of knowledge. Now these files are stranded in roughly a terabyte worth of vital knowledge and relevant MP3s, waiting for a new civilization to begin again, better than before. I have an IPOD, so that will help me hold over during this very difficult time in my life.
I’m already working on getting a new one, unburdened by history, ready to start a fresh slate. Building up my necessary bookmarks and programs will take time and perhaps some work on my part, to learn to love again. Hopefully I’ll never have to go through this again until about another 5 years, when I’ll be ready to change over into a new computer once again.
The caterpillar that my old computer had been grew into a beautiful butterfly, only to become Icarus. Like, how does that even happen? I thought butterflies couldn’t transform into characters from Greek mythology. But I was wrong. Repeatedly I warned it not to fly too close to the sun, to just stick with looking up MP3s, various geography questions and to keep me connected with the outside world. Perhaps I should have watched over it more carefully, maybe my expectations were too high and it got burned out. But I feel like those 6 years we spent together were magical, like completely different from any computer I ever had before.
Whatever the future may hold, I’ll treat the next one differently. RIP old friend.
MY COMPUTER 2004-2010.
