Thursday, February 22, 2018

Revelation.

       My computer turned gray and then turned black. A sudden and heart rending condition that left me feeling at sea. I make an appointment at Apple’s Genus Bar for 11:30 and pace in front of Flannery ( the computer’s name) until it is my time to leave for the mall. An aside—I dislike malls.
      This, my second time at Apple in a week. The first time a kind member of their team diagnosed  Flannery and declared software the culprit—not hardware. Diagnosis—my system quit and the machine needed a new system which meant that my computer, save for the new system, is scrubbed clean.
      All my documents, applications, photos—gone unless saved in that amorphous cloud. Were all the little boxes checked for iCloud?  Had I saved all my documents to the external drive—Millie?
     It took four hours of waiting: waiting to be seen, waiting for my computer’s documents, applications, apps, and assorted sundry items to be transferred to my external drive.
    I walk both floors of the mall, up and down stairs, have a burger for lunch, people watch, check my watch, listen for a call, share a small frozen yogurt, and finally the call. I need to check that everything had been transferred. 
Then more wait time before Flannery returns to her perch on a small table. 
    Too many people roam around the mall, too many teenagers spend their time at malls, and how do some of those stores stay open. It’s impersonal opium for some people— I expect that not everyone agrees with my perception.
   Once home I realize that I still need  to spend hours putting things back on—even the printer needs to go through the hoops before it can print. 2687 photos had been stripped down to 28. The photos weren’t in the cloud nor on an external drive. Most were landscapes and macro photos. At first I blame myself for not looking in the photo folder. 
    After checking everywhere, behind each icon and bemoaning the loss of the  ocean photos I snapped on a cloudy day or the twenty photos of lupines I had an epiphany. 
   Clean slate. I remember how I meant to include info about each photo— where taken and a short descriptive fragment. Now was the time to start that process with new intentions. 
   Fortunately many of the people photos had been printed. They wait in a box for a permanent home.
   Clean slate. New Beginning. The shedding of the old way. Maybe I even can delete some of the many replications and become more selective. Did I really  need twenty photos of the same lupines?  
     I’m open to change.
   

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