My mom is probably reading this and thinking, “HER computer?! Hey! She doesn’t have a computer!” Yes, yes, I know. But no one else uses it and it’s less confusing to call it my computer than “the computer I use but that my parents own”.
It’s time we had a talk.
I am not very happy with you.
Let me back up. I don’t hate you. (Yet.) Almost every story or essay I’ve written on a computer, I’ve written on you. You’ve gotten me through two NaNoWriMos, two Camp NaNos, and one Script Frenzy. I’ve used you since I started blogging. You do all kinds of cool things for me, like playing music, saving my writing, and letting me upload my photography. You spoil me by having a gigantic screen so that when I use a different computer, I always think the screen is tiny even though it’s normal size.
I thank you for that.
But sometimes, you have terrible technological temper tantrums. You scream, “ERROR! INSUFFICIENT MEMORY!” at me when I try to save a document or upload photos. You obviously have a grudge against YouTube because sometimes you won’t play videos from there. You hate WordPress because quite often lately, you won’t load any pages other than Stats and the list of my Drafts.
In fact, I’m having to write this letter to you on my mom’s laptop because you had a hissy fit and refused to play nice with WordPress.
Do you enjoy torturing me? Is that it?
Well, guess what? I have an awesome little brother, Quentin, who is really good with computers. I’m sure if I ask nicely enough, I can get him to figure out which of your innards would hurt the most were I to slowly pull them out while you shriek, “ERROR! UPDATE FAIL- OWIE! OUCH! OK, OK, I PROMISE I’LL BE A GOOD LITTLE COMPUTER!”
So quit misbehaving. Or else.
P.S. I’m changing your name to Adele because you are one. A Dell, I mean.