Obsolete

You build your life around a machine and when it collapses, what's left? The full story remains to be seen, after three different days of three hour phone consultations with the Apple Help line. They really tried to be helpful and I remained calm through the frustration of "Let's try this…" repeated over and over again. Finally, we all agreed that I needed to go to the Genius Bar of the local Apple Store. I met my affable helper and wanted him to know that I hoped he had the skills to light candles for seven days and eight nights with just one small jar of oil. A Virgin Birth would also be acceptable. Because to get my old computer funcioning the way I need it would be nothing short of a miracle.

Well, he tried. I can say that much. But the candle did not stay lit and there was no visible Star in the East. I have one more chance at a Mac Repair shop that I'll try tomorrow. You would think it would have been as simple as buying a new computer a few months back. But you would be wrong. Because my existing Sibelius, Word, I-Photo, Powerpoint, perhaps I-Tunes, all of which I depend upon in my teaching and writing life, would have to begin anew. All the Jazz History PowerPoint's and lectures, thousand plus photos I took before I got my phone, thousand plus recordings I downloaded from my CD collection, 200 plus arrangements I made on Sibelius and all my countless documents on Word— gone. With this one last ditch hope to remove the hard drive, transfer it to some capsule, put in a new hard drive and reinstall on the old computer, with perhaps a slightly upgraded operating system. That might do it for now. "Might" is the key operating word here. I'll know more tomorrow. Isn't planned obsolescence wonderful?

Eventually, I will need to migrate over to a brand new machine and keep the old computer as the storage place. But for now, I'd be oh, so happy, to just see my old desktop again on my old computer and be able to resume a little bit more of that life as I've known in. 

It's a long story, but I'm writing this on a friend's slightly newer computer that she gifted me a while back that I did try to migrate things over to. It's allowing me to keep up with e-mail, but won't let me write on a Word document. It didn't let me post on this Blog and miraculously, I, all by my lonesome, figured out the e-mail account Blogspot wanted and I can actually post again. But instead of first writing it on Word and transferring over, as I do, I'm writing directly on the Blog. Which doesn't allow me to control the spacing and the font the way I would like it. Bear with me as I navigate through it all.

Meanwhile, so strange to be wrestling with machines on the same day I played piano for someone on their deathbed. (See last post). That certainly deserves its own post, but first, had to get this out of my system. The old operating system of my own mind and body, constantly upgraded in small increments as I wrestle with life's big and small obstacles, with their death-like grip sometimes relaxing into a loving embrace. If the gods are with me, more tomorrow.