My accent may be too thick

My life right now:

My computer is still acting questionably but now, I’m starting to think that I am the problem.  Maybe I am some sort of oppressive computer user.  Maybe after growing up using PCs all the time I’m caught in a culture clash.

Yes, the first computer I ever used was a Mac but what did I do on it? Play Oregon Trail? Watch other people play Oregon Trail?

It wasn’t until my young adult life when I really took to the personal computer and I was all about the PC.  My trouble shooting tool belt consisted of control-ALT-delete and the ESC key. Sure, I’m pretty much fluent in MacBook Pro, but perhaps I still have a pretty thick PC accent?

Maybe my computer can’t understand me but it is too polite to let me in on its confusion.

In any case, if I am the problem I should probably go on a digital journey to find my spirit animal or at least try to get some karma on reddit or something.

The end of an epic break (dance)

Well it’s 2011, I’m about to leave the Northwest (land that I love) and I have a million tiny cuts on my arms from the sequined tiger shirt I wore and danced in all night on New Years.

I don’t want to leave, but since my flight, tuition and books are already paid for, returning to Savannah seems like the logical choice.

To recap my last week here: the cabin that we stayed in after Christmas (with no cell phone service or internet) was full of dead animals.  And, I don’t know, maybe you’re into that sort of thing but I don’t really want to see this when I look up from reading a book on the couch:

"So, watch'ya reading?"

Even without modern technology I managed met up with some friends and joined them for some night skiing/ hot tubbing while at aforementioned cabin.

All seven of us packed in the van, helmets and goggles on incase of a crash. Safety first.

When we got back I celebrated the New Year by dancing the night away and being loca con mi tigre shirt.

Then I spent the first day of the new year trying to dissuade my father from taking my computer to the “genius” bar. He went anyway, and was even surprised when the “super” CD/DVD drive they replaced still didn’t read a CD when he got home and they couldn’t find anything else wrong with my computer.

So I went back with him to the store to provide some thug muscle presence (I almost made a shirt that said “super genius,” just to fit in.) After about an hour wait in the store suppressing my urge to yell something about how it represents everything I hate about humanity, they decided that it was a software issue (A STROKE OF GENIUS?) and gave me vague instructions about wiping everything and reloading the system completely.

I mean, come on. I wish they would just call it “Mediocre Bar” and say it like it is.

But my good friend’s New Year’s resolution is to be more optimistic so instead of being disgruntled by the Apple store I’m going to thank Steve Jobs because he’s given me one reason to be happy about leaving the west coast: I will be far away from him.

And even better  is that tomorrow I’m going to see Sesapus.

A Festivus grievance dedicated to Steve Jobs

Today, on the eve of Festivus’ eve I am going to share with you my largest grievance of 2010.  I direct it towards Steve Jobs, Apple and Mac products in general.

You sold me a(n expensive) computer that crashes if it is not shut down every night, that cannot hold my iTunes library without freaking out, that becomes fatigued easily and is constantly dirty.

Every time I go to the “genius” bar to get things fixed they inform me that nothing is wrong.  They “max out” my systems and say that my computer didn’t crash.  I then take it home and THIS HAPPENS:

Followed by this:

And then eventually that little screen comes up telling you to restart your computer.  And when you boot it back up:

I always send a report.

At first I would simply say what I had been doing (listening to iTunes while typing on word and surfing in the internet).

But then I got angry.  So my grievance comes to you, Steve, in the form of reports I sent in that I am sure were keyword sorted and not read by anyone.

Most of the time I was too upset to be clever and just wrote:

Well done.  Your marketing team should get a raise.

Or simply:

CURSE YOU STEVE JOBS.

I don’t even care that you insist on wearing terrible jeans and a black turtle neck.  I will overlook the fact that you said okay to the name  i-Pad.

But please, can you get my computer to work or at least send me an external hard drive so I can back up all of my shit before it explodes? (My AppleCare protection is still valid…)