Many have described history as a cycle, a tide, a repetition of events and eventualities whose players change as the games remain the same. However, we here at not-Yale have been taught to be different, to be the people who fight these patterns, to combat these cycles, to change history. We are bred to be the innovators, the explorers of new pathways, those who turn the tide of history, and should we fail, well, we have to say we went to not-Princeton or something equally humiliating. So imagine my pain and surprise this Monday morning when I watched as my computer once again became possessed with the spirit of an angry and vengeful demon, some wire-spirit or hardware-dwarf whose presence in my computer was causing the keyboard to act out like a pre-teen who has seen that Hannah Montana movie one too many times and now would like to have "the best of both worlds" just like Miley. As I stared in shock and horror at my screen I was struck by how similar this morning felt to a morning not long ago when my youthful smile was demolished in the face of a demon-computer. I thought back to my wild and crazy adventure running around the suburbs of Connecticut in desperate search of an Apple store, and shuddered at the thought of reliving such a time in my life. But what was I to do? Where was I to turn? Why didn't I go to not-MIT where computer technicians are a dime a dozen?
Deciding that these questions were counter-productive, and reflecting that nobody likable goes to not-MIT, I searched for options to fix my computer. This task was made more difficult by the fact that at this point the keyboard on my computer was making every other word all capital letters and was refusing to type the number 6. Throwing up my hands in despair I decided, with the urging of my gallant friend Cory, to do something I would NEVER have otherwise done, something dreadful, something insane, something absolutely unspeakable. That's right, I was going to leave my computer with the not-Yale Technological Services.
Now, normally I would never venture down into the scaly underbelly of one of not-Yale's many libraries to visit the pale and brilliant men and women who know the ways of the computer world. But this was an emergency, and so, with Cory's support, I timidly tread into the office gingerly proffered up my insane computer for their ministrations. When I asked them for an eta on my computer's return date I was met with awkward looks and the term "sundayish" got thrown around a lot. Heart sinking, I turned to Cory, who gave me a "cheer up little camper" look. Okay, I thought, I can do this. I can deal with this. I can read and write on paper, and go to the gym a lot and learn to quilt or sew or make jam or whatever it is that the Amish do. I could deal with this. Think about all of the people who don't have computers at all! Parts of Africa, South America, Asia, the entire island of New Guinea, I mean, what, I'm going to let some tribal islanders beat me out? No, I was committed to a life without my computer. Whatever came my way, I could take it.
Of course, with this attitude, it stands to reason that two days later the nice tech people emailed me to say my computer was ready. No sooner had I gotten used to life without my laptop and they give it back to me. All of my grand plans to read and lounge and learn to drive a buggy where for nought. I had a brief moment of mourning for my lost hopes before I turned on my computer and realized all of the hulu I could be catching up on. Thank you, good techies, thank you, you have given me back my computer all demon-free and shiny. I really am going to do my best to make sure that this doesn't happen a third time.
Leah Franqui is a fairly interesting person/director/writer/reader/eater/drinker. She likes ugly dogs and dislikes her hair in the morning. She's a sucker for environmental causes and plays hardball with deals on chewing gum. She is a struggle.