My Feelings

I need to tell you how I feel. I need to tell you how I feel about Apple Computers. In 2005, I was seduced by the sleek exterior of the Apple iBook. I thought it would be a wonderful vacation from my dying Dell desktop, a massive black machine that took epochs to complete an operation and was riddled with malware and bad memories. The fan on old Blackie, as I never called it, was broken and made ominous grinding noises whenever it was on. What I wanted was a smooth, glossy, pristine laptop that I could carry with me to classes (because for the first time, I had plans to attend classes) and enjoy the bounties of the internet without much fear of viruses.

The last two and a half years with my iBook have been happy. Aunt Lorraine, as I call her, has been a sweet and faithful friend. In the past few months, I've noticed her screen has gotten a little bit dimmer and her optical drive is broken for the second time. She's on her second battery, but she's a tough old broad--just like her namesake. The thing is, last night at about 4AM, she kind of slid off the bed. Gently, like a child drifting off to sleep or a cloud obscuring the face of the moon, she eased onto the rug. I cringed, as one must do when an expensive and precision device hits the ground. I picked her up and cringed again. As I type the monitor waves and waggles wildly. I mean, it's just not attached the way it ought to be. I mean, it's fucking broken.

So I took her to the Apple Store for some TLC from a technician of some kind.

Because I love her, I will pay the $34 dollars necessary to replace her bezels and joints. I will take her home and nurture her with loving attention and frequent trips through Wikipedia.