![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I can't believe the guilt
Sep. 4th, 2010 04:36 pmSo. Right now I am duplicating everything I can from the old blue dinosaur computer to my external hard drive, just in case there's something I've forgotten to switch over. I can't think of anything, but then again, I did forget my Semagic drafts, so I'm sure there are other things that I might not have remembered.
The new computer is fast, extremely quiet, and fantastic. I already love Windows 7. I love using this computer. I can't believe how much time it saves. I can't believe I finally have a machine who can match me for speed, as I am completely attention-impaired and I constantly jump from one thing to the other. Hence having ten programs running at once, usually. I am not exaggerating.
Behind me, my old computer is copying files.
It's the last thing it will do in its current state. It's the last thing before I wipe it clean, reinstall Windows, and give it to my sister.
Yesterday was the first day in seven years that I have been home and not turned it on.
The guilt is killing me. Seven years of an awareness, of sorts. Seven years of fantastic companionship, of helping me do what I'd like to do, of entertaining me and letting me reach out to other people with other computers. I love the blue beast so much. For so many years it has been by my side, loud fans whirring. It's one of the first things I do in the morning. It's one of the first things I do when I get home from work; I turn it on, let it slowly get up to speed. It's been there through thick and thin. I remember unpacking it in 2003 and being so in awe of its giant blue case. Little did I know what a boon companion I had ordered, and how long it would stay in my life, and how important it would become.
Soon it will not remember its own name.
I feel this so keenly, and I know it's ridiculous. But it has been such a much-beloved part of my life. Once I begin the wipe, it will only exist as a ghost of itself on my external hard drive. Some of it has been brought to this computer, true, but it will not exist in its current form ever again.
I am weird, I know. But I can't help but feel terribly guilty. Thank goodness it's going to a wonderful new home. My sister will take very good care of it, and it's still a pretty good computer, so it should be stable for at least a few more years.
Oh, how it will hurt, to press the key that starts the wipe.
( Goodbye, Faithful Blue Dinosaur )
I will miss you, computer.
The new computer is fast, extremely quiet, and fantastic. I already love Windows 7. I love using this computer. I can't believe how much time it saves. I can't believe I finally have a machine who can match me for speed, as I am completely attention-impaired and I constantly jump from one thing to the other. Hence having ten programs running at once, usually. I am not exaggerating.
Behind me, my old computer is copying files.
It's the last thing it will do in its current state. It's the last thing before I wipe it clean, reinstall Windows, and give it to my sister.
Yesterday was the first day in seven years that I have been home and not turned it on.
The guilt is killing me. Seven years of an awareness, of sorts. Seven years of fantastic companionship, of helping me do what I'd like to do, of entertaining me and letting me reach out to other people with other computers. I love the blue beast so much. For so many years it has been by my side, loud fans whirring. It's one of the first things I do in the morning. It's one of the first things I do when I get home from work; I turn it on, let it slowly get up to speed. It's been there through thick and thin. I remember unpacking it in 2003 and being so in awe of its giant blue case. Little did I know what a boon companion I had ordered, and how long it would stay in my life, and how important it would become.
Soon it will not remember its own name.
I feel this so keenly, and I know it's ridiculous. But it has been such a much-beloved part of my life. Once I begin the wipe, it will only exist as a ghost of itself on my external hard drive. Some of it has been brought to this computer, true, but it will not exist in its current form ever again.
I am weird, I know. But I can't help but feel terribly guilty. Thank goodness it's going to a wonderful new home. My sister will take very good care of it, and it's still a pretty good computer, so it should be stable for at least a few more years.
Oh, how it will hurt, to press the key that starts the wipe.
( Goodbye, Faithful Blue Dinosaur )
I will miss you, computer.