The Death of a Little Mean Machine

SAM_0170

January has been going slow to begin with. with all the resolutions I made at the end of last year I got a little overwhelmed and I’m still not on track. But part of that is also because my webbook, the machine, has died.

I’m in mourning. I’ve had it for about five and a half years and I got it when I went to the U.S. to study there for a semester. It’s linked to that time, of course. I will always think of it when I think of sitting in the library at all hours, looking out at the huge magnolia there. I will think of sitting on a bench tapping away at yet another essay or paper.

But it’s not just linked to that time. It’s linked to my writing of these years, to my studies, to… my life. I’m not saying they were the five best years of my life, but you go through the good and the bad and you barely realize how accustomed you grow to the devices you use. The machine was such a device – and more. It was the means to escape, it was my main writing tool. I cherished it, I treated it as a friend.

You may think I’m crazy but I feel lost now, uprooted. Luckily (and it was really only luck), I haven’t lost any of my writing. I’ve become quite obsessed lately and have made copies of everything. Other things I lost, nothing major but I’ll be looking for things in the future and not find them – it will make me sad to think of them and how I lost them. I’m weird this way, yes… five years.

I’m trying to get back to work but I’m depressed over this loss. I’m trying to write – here on my mother’s laptop; it’s just not the same. This is not mine, it is not home… I can’t concentrate long. I will have to get a new webbook, possibly a laptop, but I’m stalling. Is this how people feel when they lose a pet? And would they feel insulted that I compare my feelings to their loss? Possibly, but I’m sad. I miss the machine.

SAM_0970

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