tech therapy

For the past couple of weeks I have been having an affair. It is intense, emotional, obsessive and fraught.

I know what you're thinking: 1) at last, she's going to write something interesting and b) poor Turk is going to be devastated.

Wrong on both counts. The first point is self-evident and as to the second, Turk is completely acquiescent.

"I'm expecting another call from Trevor," I tell him.

"Didn't you just talk to him for a couple of hours yesterday?" he inquires.

"Yes," I say defensively. "But we haven't dealt with all of our issues yet."

"OK," he says.

"Couldn't you be even a little bit jealous?" I ask. I mean, after all.

"Hey ~ you gotta do what you gotta do," he shrugs, not glancing up from the crossword puzzle. Too true. The heart wants what it wants. And mine wants a functioning computer.

Trevor (name changed to protect the innocent) is a true knight in shining armor over at HP, whose customer service is utterly beyond reproach. In fact, I would recommend their product to anyone wholeheartedly just so that they too could deal with the likes of Trevor if it were not for, well, you know; The Operating System That Shall Not Be Named. And in this we are all in agreement at last ~ the good folks at Epson, Abobe, Corel, HP, NAACP, the AFL CIO etc. etc ~ that said system is at fault. And it is making me very sad.

But not Trevor. Trevor calls me at scheduled days and times to see how changes we made together are affecting performance. When they do not work, as they invariably do not, he holds my hand and reassures me as I log on, log off, boot, reboot, go into the registry, toggle settings and generally just beg the OSTSNBN to behave. We have developed a relationship, Trevor and I. We share a sense of humor, and a certain net-based paranoia. He, like me, was an art history major in college, in his case with an eye toward a career in architecture. He went on to understand and embrace the beauty and wonder that is computer technology. I took an oath to embrace my inner Amish.

No matter. We are friends. We trust each other. If he lived closer and not in Oregon I envision he and his girlfriend, Tracey, and Turk and I enjoying many a backyard bbq, drinking wine and discussing the merits of Gaudi and Neutra, PC and Mac. How we'd laugh...

The day before yesterday, all else having failed, we decided it was time to do a system recovery in the hopes of turning back the clock to a time when my lovely HP Desktop was as pure and virginal as the day it was born; a mere twinkle in Bill Gates' eye.

"Don't forget to back up your files," warned Trevor, again and again. "You've got all your graphic files. You do not want to lose them."

"I won't," I assured him.

And I didn't. Except that I did.

I was sure I had burned the document and picture files to CD. I have done it successfully often enough in the past. As it turns out, however, I had somehow managed to burn the path to the files, and not the files themselves. This is my fault, and mine alone. I cannot even blame TOSTSNBN for this one, as much as I'd like to. I am just a moron. And now, a moron without pictures. Every photo, every video, every project in progress; every graphic image ever taken, stored or created by me since April is gone, with the rare exception of the few posted here. Untold hours of work and energy and love and tears evaporated with a stroke of the keyboard. I was inconsolable.

When Trevor called yesterday, as per arrangement, my voice shook as I told him the news. "Oh, NO!" he cried, sounding quite as shocked and devastated as I felt, even as he proceeded to talk me down from the ledge.

I bought another gig of memory, and it's due to arrive this week. Trevor is going to call me Saturday to talk me through the installation. So it looks like I won't be able to make the show after all, Robbie.* I'm sorry, but the heart wants what it wants.


Oh! Darling, if you leave me
I'll never make it alone
Believe me when I beg you
Don't ever leave me alone

Oh! Darling, if you leave me
I'll never make it alone
Believe me when I tell you
I'll never do you no harm

Oh! Darling,please believe me
I'll never let you down
Believe me when I tell you
I'll never do you no harm

~ the Beatles






*just kidding!