For someone like me to try to write a blog would be comparable to Kevin Costner’s character in Waterworld to try to live in the desert. You see, the computer has always been my enemy. Really, anything that plugs itself into an outlet is my nemesis. But with the times being what they are, I figure it’s time to get over it, despite my history of violent rivalries with technology.
A perfect example of this is when I was a freshman in college.
I am and always have always been an incredibly talented procrastinator. In this case I had put off writing an essay that would be worth 50% of my final grade until the night before it was due.
At around 9pm I locked my door, hit the red dot on my coffee maker and turned on some music. This meant game time. I stayed up all night writing ferociously and I really pumped the thing out. To my surprise, I was quite satisfied with it.
It was the eleventh hour and I had just finished proof-reading. All I had to do now was to print it out. Simple enough, right? Especially since I had my own printer in my dorm room. It was a real fancy one that my parents bought for me before I headed off to college. I’m sure they recognized the fact that if I did not have my own printer in my room, I would have to go to the library to print my work off and that the extra step would have completely discouraged me from completing any homework at all. So they bough me a printer. Actually it was a printer/ scanner and the top of it was on hinges and you could unfold it to scan something onto it if you wanted.
So I hit the file button on the top left of the screen. I scrolled down to print and clicked. Nothing. I checked to make sure the printer was on and tried it again. file, print, click. Nothing.
At this point I had been awake all night and had been stressing my brain to the point of breaking. The texture on the floor was begining to swarm at my feet and I could feel my sanity slipping. So I began talking to myself. “Okay”, I said, “You’ve got twenty minutes to print ten pages and run accross campus before this fluffy paper is due” (Since I don’t know who, if anyone, will read this; I’m sensoring my actual words). “You’ve got plenty of time if you can get this piece of stool to work”.
Calmed a bit I tried again. file, print, click. Nothing. Pressure started building in my head and things started to get blurry. Through clnched teeth, “Okay. Everything’s gravy. No big deal”. file, print, click. Nothing.
“Are you mocking me?” I asked the printer as I smacked the side of it a little. I realized that it felt kind of good to hit the thing so I swung again. And again.
“Keep it together, keep it together”, file, print, click. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
“You mother frankenfurter!” I hit the machine again. This time significantly harder and I came down on it in a motion similar to how Brave’s fans do their tomohawk chop. Something seemed to give in the printer and I heard a crash within. I took a deep breath and opened it up. I had shattered the glass of the scanner and the shards were all over inside. At this point I lost control completely and blacked out with rage. I only know the rest of the story because my room mate (we’ll call him. . . Chuckles) has told it to me countless times.
Chuckles knocked on the door. (I am changing our real names to avoid hurt feelings in stories to come) “Poindexter? (?) Is everything okay? Did you just break the window?” I did not answer but Chuckles heard a lot of mumbling and shuffling about. My door flew open and I emerged with a handful of cords. I was dragging the printer behind me. The printer was spewing peices of broken glass all over the floor of our room. Chuckles tried following me and asking me what I was doing.
We lived on the first floor of the building so when Chuckles saw me start going up the stairs he knew what I was up to. Instead of trying to stop me, he ran back into his room and hustled for his camera. By the time he got around to the front of the building he could still see me in the staircase windows, printer still in tow. I was nearly to the sixth and final floor of the building and he raised his camera to catch the image. I opened the window, lifted the very fancy printer/ scanner Epson Delux Edition above my head and tossed it out the window and it quickly turned into a very fancy projectile.
Despite the fact that Chuckles was using a disposable camera he still managed to get off one descent shot of the ordeal. You can’t see me in it, but you can see the printer. It appears to be hovering just above the ground with the chords floating above it like an antenna.
After I watched the printer plunge to its final resting place I stormed back down the stairs and went into my room. I crawled into my bed and went to sleep. I never did turn in the paper and I failed the class. The R.A. (Residential Advisor) of my dorm followed the trail of broken glass back to my room and threatened to call the police if I didn’t clean up the mess. Chuckles didn’t want to bother me because he had seen the rage that was in me so he dealt with it.
So here I am, writing a blog. I have had this computer for almost five years now and I have grown to like it. I am really hoping that it does not find itself flying out of a window.