As a child of the much contested Generation Y, I am familiar with technology and all its follies.
I listen to music on my iPod whilst I lodge my tax claim online and simultaneously download the latest episode of my favourite television program which I foolishly missed last night whilst I was you-tubing that hilarious cat which plays the keyboard. You could say technology, were he a person, and I hold hands frequently and are about to tell our friends that we are ‘getting serious’, and are thinking of buying a dog. Or possibly a new computer.
Needless to say, much like a young couple embarking on a serious relationship, technology and I frequently have our differences with result in shouting and hammers being thrown about, after which we ignore each other for days at a time.
Like that time I got excited about Simon and Garfunkel touring Australia and, through my rather vigorous arm movements, knocked my coffee all over the keyboard of my computer (whom for some reason was known in my household as Byron; but that’s another tale for another day).
Byron didn’t believe me when I apologised and promised it was an accident, and swiftly reposted my pleas by shutting down and refusing to turn on for three successive days. On bended knee I begged and pleaded with Byron. I showered him with gifts of new printer cartridges and I even cleaned all that feral dust off his face. I even flirted with the idea of buying a newer, more advanced laptop and leaving Byron in my technologic dust as I skipped off with my latest love Mr MacBook Pro.
But, oh joy! Byron, after his week-long slumber, arose from the sleep of the dead and rejoined me in our harmonious world of Facebook-ing and word processing, and together we made our first purchase together; Simon and Garfunkel’s Greatest hit’s album from iTunes.
Yet while I can accidentally spill coffee over my electric other-half and drop him on his head when re-arranging my bedroom, Byron can give it as well has he takes it. I’m sure I’m not the only person in the world who gets frustrated by their computer telling them what to do. You know what I mean. You go to delete an old discarded word file or photograph from three years ago that you no longer need. Simple. Or so you thought.
Before I delete anything, just in case I’m not sure, Byron likes to just confirm that I do indeed intend on deleting this file. Yes Byron, I’m sure.
“This file will be sent to the trash bin. Are you sure you wish to continue?”
To all you computers out there; hear this. I have pressed the delete button; I am pretty sure that I intend to DELETE SOMETHING.
It’s much the same as my Wii game. Every 15 minutes or so, Wii likes to ask, no not ask, more like demand: “Why not take a break?”; which is accompanied with a pleasant image of curtains swaying in the breeze by an open window and a table, where presumably I will be taking my ‘break’.
Listen here Wii, if I was in need of a break, I would have TAKEN ONE! This is where, sadly, the fractures in the bedrock of my electric relationship begin to show. This, is the beginning of the end.
I, much like many involved women, can hold my own in my technologic relationships, yet every time Byron did that annoying thing where he freezes and needs to be restarted was just once too many; and that squabble we got into over the possibility of deleting that file titled ‘hot Hollywood dudes’ from Year Eight was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Byron and I have had to part ways once Mr MacBook Pro came on the scene with his promises of simple deleting processes and his remarkable ability to dry out quite quickly. Wii and I have also experienced similar artistic differences and I have once more reverted to my old Playstation 2 and Crash Bandicoot game which never tells me to take a break, but rather orders me to pick up my game and SHOOT THAT BADDIE! Bazooka guns and simplistic 2D graphics, come unto me as the evil Cortex yields to my furious shooting efforts. Gen X eat your heart out.
So, as for technology ruling my life; thanks but no thanks. I like you, but not in that way.
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