Born to Write

Inside joke/reference for my parents...

Today is a day to rejoice my blog readers; today I got my computer back!  Very exciting news, at least for me, I took it to get it fixed because the power cord would no longer connect and I have been forced to use Dan’s Mac.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my iphone and my ipod and I am sure I would like the ipad as well, however, when it comes to computers “I’m a PC”.  I, like a lot of people of my generation, grew up using PCs with the exception of those beige skinny Macs they had at school that we played Yukon Trail on...  damn, that was a great game.  Yukon Trail aside, here’s the reason why I don’t like Mac’s: where the hell is everything on them??  So if there’s something wrong with a program or something on my computer than I know exactly how to go in behind the scenes and look at all the files and whatnot.  On a Mac, I can’t seem to find anything.  I installed Microsoft Word on Dan’s computer and when I go to open files it gives me an option of programs to open it – Microsoft Word isn’t on it, apparently it’s not considered an application... I don’t get it, I just find it frustrating how there does not appear to just be a “My Computer” location on a Mac where you can just go in and do whatever you want – I could go in and delete some completely essential file if I wanted to.  I don’t know why I would want to, but I like knowing that I can do it.  Maybe I just don’t have a clue how to use a Mac, that’s a distinct possibility...  And I do love how their laptops seem to run forever, and they are about a third of the weight.  Damn, Mac’s are good, but I love my overweight, short-battery life PC, I really do.  That random little rant reminded me of when I was a kid and I desperately wanted a laptop.  I had beautiful images in my mind of taking my laptop and sitting on top of this hill in the park and writing stories and poems to my heart’s content while being surrounded by trees and a playground...  So I asked for a laptop constantly: birthdays, Christmas, Easter, Labour Day, any occasion at all, I wanted a laptop!  So my parents decided to get creative with this one, one Christmas there sat a present for me and I had the feeling this was my laptop...  I was ecstatic, I don’t think I had ever held one or seen one in person before, and here I was about to have one of my very own.  I tried to pick it up, I was amazed at how heavy it was, so I sat down right there, ripped off (or maybe I meticulously removed the paper without ripping anything at all.... I liked to do that, it stretched the presents out longer) the paper, to expose this hard metal suitcase – weird, I didn’t know that laptops came inside metal suitcases.  So I opened up the case; shocked, this was no laptop.... I stared it, selfishly disappointed – it was a typewriter, a very, very heavy typewriter.  At the time, as a self-centered child, I didn’t realize that my parents couldn’t afford to buy me a laptop and it was because they loved me so much that they got creative and found something similar instead of just ignoring my constant requests.  I know that now, if you’re reading this, thanks.  Ironically, I bought myself a typewriter just a few months ago...  Anyhow, I had this massive, heavy typewriter and this idyllic dream of sitting on a hill in the park down the road from my house.  So, one day I climbed onto my bike while holding the massive, heavy typewriter in its metal suitcase in one hand and had a lope-sided bike ride down to the park and I dragged that typewriter up the hill and I sat there and wrote some poorly conceived poem about nature because I had no real life experiences to write about yet.  I may have been heart-broken when I opened that typewriter on Christmas, but now I love that story because I think it illustrates the fact that I am a writer and I always have been even if I don’t always have something to write about.
Oh ya, I worked out today.

Day 17:
40 minutes
45-55 rpm
12km
+
50 sit-ups