Please forgive the melodramatic title.
I had the strangest dream last night. I was trying to sum up what I am, according to my computer.
At first, I feared that I sum up to a word document. Them I remembered that I am much much more. There are also the albums that I listen to, the image files that I have downloaded. What funny pictures I have saved…
The contents of your personal computer are indeed personal. What you write is just a fraction of who you are, and how embedded you are into that machine. The clutter on your desktop. The methodology that you keep your files.
What hot chicks are hiding, either in that secret folder you have probably named “Old paperwork”, or a folder called “HotBabes” on the desktop – again showing a bit about who you are.
As opposed to my (very scary dream) the computer still is not who we are. But that feeling of loss when it dies, definitely means a lot. The reason, I believe, is that more and more so, for people that spend 12 hours a day with it, the computer is an extension of ourselves, and we are as embedded in it, as it is in us.
Of course, some days, computers just make us feel like this:
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