Putting the machines in their place
Technology has always hated me. Today the feeling is more than mutual.
Having crafted what may well have been the finest column of my entire career, I went to the kitchen for a drink. I thought about saving my progress, but computers don’t just randomly shut off, right? If you are laboring under that misconception, drop this newspaper and go save your data. I came back to a freshly restarted computer and a little text box telling me that I should be grateful my computer had just recovered from a serious error. My article, however, had not.
This isn’t the first time my computer has been difficult, though it does seem like it only acts up when I’m writing papers for finals or drafting my plan to solve world hunger. I dare say that no computer has ever malfunctioned while its owner was playing solitaire or pricing Precious Moments dolls on eBay.
But I wasn’t about to take my PC’s subordination lying down. I am a man, and like any self-respecting man, I decided to take the thing apart and see what I could find. There are few things in this world more dangerous than a man who has decided to fix things. Lenin, Hitler, and George W. Bush were all intent on fixing things. But I’d just purchased a screwdriver last week, and I wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to take my computer apart.
This is the most frustrating thing about computers. It’s never as simple as replacing a part. The parts always work fine, but somehow the computer never does. So we all befriend the budding computer engineer down the hall, exploit that friendship and employ him as a translator in cajoling our computers to carry our wireless networks, deter data theft and host our solitaire games.
I learned this when I took my computer apart. I also learned how hot the inside of a computer can get, and have the third degree burn to prove it.
After this ordeal my computer is just as unwilling to work as it has ever been, but now I’m saving my article after every sentence.
This is, more than any other reason, why I’m looking forward to summer. I need some danger in my life, and my frequent file saving and the pervasive nature of paper writing have filled my life to overflowing with safe stuff.
Right now, there is no room for riding the bull on 1000 North naked or for flying kites in thunderstorms. In the tradition of the First Dam barbeque of the year, I want to be the reason behind the First Dam Life Flight of the summer.
Because, for all of the trouble it causes, school is safe. I go to class and to work, and when I’m not busy at either of those, things I’m lamenting how much time I spend at them both.
Unless you’re Jeremiah, lamenting is a safe bet. But after the spring thaw and the end of my self-imposed hibernation, anything can happen. I’ve got three months to fit in a year’s worth of living. I won’t turn my computer on, I won’t read anything and I will give myself completely to a life of hedonism and carelessness.
But until then, I’ll be next door talking the neighborhood computer engineer into fixing my computer. I’ve really got to do something about that column.
Zach Pendleton is a junior in English. Send comments to zpendleton@cc.usu.edu.