Monday, April 6, 2015

Me And My Nightmare

It is only when they go wrong that machines remind you how powerful they are. Clive James

Hello. Hello. I'm still here. I didn't go anywhere. I just came through a nightmare with a mean machine. Have you ever been so frustrated your ears were on fire, and you saw smoke pouring from your quivering nostrils? Well, that was me a couple weeks ago when my computer showed me who's boss in our relationship.

That computer suddenly gave me a blank page, and the hard drive roared like a storm raging through a tunnel. At first I was patient, but after the 3rd time of this, I had enough. So with a few choice words, I projected my frustration onto that machine. And in malicious retaliation it bellied up and died. Stone dead. I may be semi computer illiterate, but I did nothing to antagonize that monster.

Some people develop good person-machine relationships. But some find machines daunting mysteries that have an ability to drive you up a wall. The closest I ever came to any machine proficiency was when my old Chevy died at red lights. Someone taught me to lift the hood, reconnect 2 wires, close the hood, jump back in and go, and ignore my children yelling and other drivers honking at me.

I'm pretty good at a lot of things, but computer stuff isn't one of them. Years ago when I was a bar waitress on an Air Force Base, I knew how to deal with guys who had too much to drink. There's a method to that, and I learned quickly. When I lived in Las Vegas, I went to the desert and learned to shoot a gun. I was pretty good at it, but the gun scared me, so I got rid of it. Then when I worked in a jail as a Mental Health Counselor, a violent schizophrenic was no problem for me. The officers called me to handle those situations. And I'm only 5ft 1in tall. I also remember a time I was alone in a London, England airport, and I couldn't figure out how to get my huge suitcases from the first floor to the second floor to change planes. You'd think the airline would have done that for me. I felt pretty stupid, but I finally figured that one out. There are carts to do that. Duh.

In my later years, I actually wrote a book, Silent Echoes. It's a memoir, but it has lots of adventures in it. I reveal some of my stupid escapades, but I had sense enough to survive. Then I wrote Me And Granmama In The Hill Country, and now I'm writing about the years I worked in the jail.

So why is a computer such a mystery to me? I understand what makes people tick, and they fascinate me. But the computer is like a giant stranger hovering over me, chiding me, because I don't understand that piece of solid mass with a mind of its own.

I missed my old computer after it was gone, and I was kind enough to give it a proper burial. Then a very kind friend, who understands my ignorance, got me a new one. He called it an upgrade, and he spent 2 hours instructing me on how to work with it. Now I realize that if that computer and I are to have a future together, I'll have to make some concessions, because that computer ego will never give an inch. So I will practice patience, and only in extreme anger will I reveal that other models are available. I also have good contact with my friend who is willing to come to my rescue, and will treat my computer with utmost care.

I wish you many happy days with your computer. And don't forget to treat it kindly. It's hard

to live a full life today without it.


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