I always tell people I like change–new projects, furniture, friends, places, whatever. But the truth is I often resist change, especially when the status quo is so comfy. Sometimes even if it’s not.
Take the example of the new computer I’m writing this on, an HP Pavillion dv7, that replaces an old Compaq running on a very tired Windows 2003.
I am thrilled with the speed on the internet.
I could even edit video, if I got the itch to follow that trend. Just yesterday I watched a Microsoft video where a guy, who introduced himself as a writer, told me how to change the wallpaper, which of course my teen daughter had done within five minutes of turning on the computer that she is already coveting.
I could have read the information in a fraction of the time. And as someone who was recently dazzled by all the special effects and flashy stars of the movie Inception I can’t quite see the point of staring at a video of a guy sitting beside a computer. Worse still, I`m worried that us writers will be forced to become talking heads.
What`s making me tear out my hair, though, is the keyboard, even though it’s a big mother by laptop standards. I could hook up my old one, but I need to learn in case I`m ever caught in a Starbucks between meetings and want to look cool.
I`m developing a nasty rash over the little dialogue boxes, menus, icons, French accents and toolbars that keep popping up for no apparent reason. Don`t get me started on the cursor that is dancing all over as I write this post.
Also messing with my serene concentration is the sound the computer makes when I do something wrong. It sounds almost like a typewriter return. No doubt this was invented by some young hot shot who has watched too many episodes of Mad Men.
It reminds me of the ping of 30 carriages randomly returning in high school typing class… Wait. I`m having a teen trauma flashback… I`m back.
I feel like I`m in that I Love Lucy episode when she`s working in the chocolate factory and the conveyor belt keeps coming faster and faster. Unlike Lucy, who shoved the chocolates in her mouth, I have no place to stash those freaking icons and chimes.
I should be enjoying the fact that I can work anywhere in the house, especially since my teen son spends so much of his time on his computer in my home office. He uses the headphones, but he`s still irritating me with an unintentional teeth click sounding. If I get upset, he will end up with post-teen traumatic disorder.
Yesterday I tried the dining room. The trouble was I was too close to the kitchen, with its fridge and chores.
This afternoon I`m on my shady patio. Much better.
I know every new system has a learning curve. And I’m so grateful I skipped Vista.
But what I want to know is why I can drive a new car off the lot but with a computer I have to watch lots of boring videos starring writers who would probably rather be writing.