Wired Up

I hate computers. And guess what? They hate me too. And they always find some way to show this hatred, of course. So I end up hating them even more. It's a vicious cycle, you see. I've tried to get out of it but each time I try, something happens and my hatred increases slightly. Like I would be writing a huge report when suddenly and for no apparent reason the computer turns off. Or I would be writing an important e-mail to the Dean and it would get sent without me actually pressing the "send" button, sent before I do spell and grammar check. The result? The Dean thinks I am not worthy to be in his University, and I end up hating the machine even more.

My brother always tells me, "Stop swearing at the computer, Rims. It's a machine with no feelings. All it does is wait for your input so it can follow your orders and do what you want it to do."

And I always retort, " But...the thing hates me!" and he just rolls his eyes and walks away. He can never understand my ever-deepening conflict with the computer. And neither do my friends. My friend Sara, a computer science major (and consequently a great mystery to me) always tells me,

"Look, Rims. The computer doesn't hate you. People like you invented it (Which I highly doubt). So how can it hate you when it doesn't even think for itself?" That's a good question. I can't seem to find an answer, though.

I will never understand these machines. I mean, will someone please explain to me why, when I click the mouse on an icon, nothing happens. And then later when I call someone within the vicinity to come and help me get into the damn file, he comes and does the EXACT SAME THING I DID and it works with him. Then there's this thing with CD-ROMS and how the drive always happens to shut down when I want to use it. The next day Dad or whoever gets at the family PC after me uses it and its fine and he doesn't believe me when I tell him that it didn't work with me.

Oh, and the best is when you send an e-mail and it never arrives at its electronic destination. I mean, where does it go, outer space? Is there some sort of e-mail heaven where all lost e-mails end up? Do they sit there and discuss their fates up in e-mail heaven? How can they just disappear? I'm telling you, computers hate me. What other explanation could there be? I mean, God forbid that I should be doing anything wrong, because that almost never happens. Right?

I deeply respect and fear those elite people who can take apart a computer, look in the mess of wires and metal inside, then say "AHA! THERE'S the problem. You see, the RAM build up of excess wiring in the docks of the motherboard all seem to be connected to the disc drive not the hard drive where all wires go into to ROM." At least, that's what I think they say. Not that I understand a word of it, but I just nod along cheerily while they explain the importance of megabyte bits to me. Who am I to argue whether or not the motherboard is overloaded? Do I even know what overloaded means? Nope. I can tell you what a fetus's nutritional requirements are and where red blood cells go to die, but start talking to me about RAM and my mind shuts down.

Much like my computer when it is mad at me after I call it a bad name.