Love at first click

It was 2002, I had returned to university after a hiatus because of health problems, was sitting again in a classroom at the most important university in my city; most of my classmates were chattering excitedly about what had happened in the last party, some were concerned because they had been told the subject that was going to begin was quite difficult, while I was gazing at the blackboard with an expectant look on my face, wondering how the classes would be and totally eager to start promptly. The professor entered and soon introduced us to the benefits of mastering the course he was going to lecture–this fact was not new to me–and then pointed out the necessity of using a computer if we wanted to succeed not only in his class but after leaving college.

Now I was convinced that I needed a computer right away, not when having a job; the problem was I could not afford it. Fortunately, my aunt Julia helped me once more (she was always willing to when necessity arose): she bought it for me. I will always be grateful for that. She told me to choose a machine that both best suited my needs and was not too expensive. Customized compatible personal computers were mostly sold in those days in Peru; the one which eventually started to be mine was no exception. A Pentium IV machine with 256 MB RAM became my most faithful companion for several years.

It came with two versions of a proprietary operating system: the last and the most used one. I was so excited that I began to use it as soon as it was put on my desk. Although I had already used computers, none of those opportunities compared to the sense of having one of mine and what was best is it was a state-of-the-art machine for that time (at least in my country), and I was told I could expand the memory to 512 RAM whenever I wanted. I was totally glad and beaming all the time, since I woke up till I went to bed, always thinking of her (yes, I began to treat it as a woman) everyday and wherever I was, expecting to see her soon if I was not at home, contemplating her as a boy in love for the first time stares at the most beautiful girl who happens to be his first love.

At university I discovered I could program the machine so I studied almost everyday and soon was pleased with the things she was able to do as long as I wrote the right instructions. No sooner had I written programs for performing engineering calculations than I got interested in the C and C++ programming languages and realized they were totally compatible with my way of thinking and were appropriate for a better communication with my computer. It would have been much better if I had learned her native language–that is, her machine language–or at least her assembly language but I did not have enough time so I stuck to the C/C++ family since it gave me more flexibility than a proper high-level programming language to make my machine carry out the tasks I wanted her to do, especially the direct access to the proprietary operating system API.

I remember perfectly the great happiness I felt when the program I had been debugging at last run properly and, as a result, I skipped around my house like a child when given a new toy. I also remember many times I would long to have a Unix-like machine and, having tried a Live-CD of a GNU/Linux distribution, I decided I had to have it installed on my computer. Shortly afterwards, I formatted my machine and installed both systems, the proprietary and the free one. This was an exciting new adventure my beloved desktop computer offered me, which I was utterly eager to embark on, and thenceforth I have been programming in these two environments.

As in all love relationships when one of the partners suddenly becomes ill, I got very worried when one day she began to make a long-pitched sound and did not start-up correctly. I was terrified that she would stop functioning forever. This very thought made my skin crawl and then I acknowledged that she may one day, sooner or later, undergo that fate. After a short period of normal operation since a technician had cleaned her, a memory management unit had to be replaced when the same problem occurred again; I thought this fact would solve it once and for all, but, unfortunately, one day this year I found out she had died after several attempts to turn her on.

Last year I bought my first laptop computer, which has become my only machine since the decease of my beautiful, unique, hard-working, faithful, desktop computer. Although it has features my old machine did not, it is completely different working with it and I miss the use of floppy disks, the boot loader screen, the capability of running full-screen DOS programs, the keyboard, and the old-fashioned mouse that were some of her more attractive characteristics.

I still have my old computer, lying on my desktop, where she was first laid, where she was always helping me each time I required her fast calculation capabilities, accompanying me all the nights I passed sitting in front of her programming an important piece of software. I strongly oppose getting rid of her despite my relatives suggest that I do it, and I will always stand on my decision. Perhaps I will dismantle her and keep her parts in a safe place as a way of preserving her for the future, for me to re-assemble her someday and be able to make her live again. This is the least I can do for the computer that has been my first technological love.

A set of memories of an intense human-machine relationship will always dwell in my mind and the warm and heart-breaking emotion that is provoked every time I see a desktop computer in a store will continue assaulting my heart, though the great satisfaction of having learned a lot with the help of my old computer wipes the tears as they are running down my face, assuring me that the knowledge thus acquired is a fitting tribute I pay to her.

I Just Like To Write

The Cambridge International Dictionary of English gives as one of the definitions of writing: “…Writing is also the activity of creating pieces of written work, such as stories, poems or articles…” (1692). What is very clear in this definition is it does not mention any specific artifacts which are directly attached to the activity. This art only involves the capacity for literary creation. However, nobody can deny the fact that the tools used for performing such a worthwhile pursuit are closely related to it. 

It is well known the tools used for writing are divided into two categories, namely the surface to write on and the device to write with. It seems the former has maintained its consistency, from the ancient Egyptian papyrus to modern-day paper. Man realized these kinds of surface were well suited for the purpose of imprinting his ideas on. Paper manufacturing has experienced several processes of improving since the medieval illuminated manuscripts epoch, and pieces of it have remained the appropriate surface to write on, both by hand and printing.

As for the instruments to write with, these days there exists a fascinating variety of them. Everybody knows feathers were used in the past for this purpose. Nowadays, one can write with a pencil or choose from a group of different pens: ballpoint, felt-tip, and fountain, to name a few. The latter was a particular beloved one by me when I was a child and in my early teens. For some reason I felt more close to being an actual writer while using the old fountain pens my mother and father would give me. As soon as I started writing with my first fountain pen, I knew it would not be the same anymore. I wanted to use it everywhere: at home, at school, at the English language teaching institute. Then I learned I had to take care of it, so I decided to use it only on special occasions. Years passed and when I entered college it was already a long time I had kept my fountain pens in a safe place. There were many times I wanted to use them again but I always put off the opportunity, until last year when I went to a bookstore looking for a new item. I could not believe I did not find any one: there was only a cartridge pen. This sort of pen looks like a fountain pen—it has a nib and a cap—and one could say they are exactly the same except that it does not have a container to fill with ink but a space wherein you must put a tube containing ink. Now I have three of them. The sensation while writing is almost the same, the results the same.

I do not know in what circumstances the typewriter was invented, but I am sure it opened the way for writers to easily migrate to the computer. This splendid and sophisticated machine offers a range of possibilities for the facilitation of the stages of the publication of a piece of writing. The combination of software and hardware makes the editing process easier. For instance, an impressive number of types of letters and page layouts let the writer customize his piece of work and permit the sight of its final appearance in advance of printing it. Never, since the invention of the printing press, had a high-tech machine contributed so much to the writer’s work in such a remarkable way until now. Furthermore, the advent of the Internet brought the omnipresence of every written work. Blogging is the ultimate example.

Many changes and useful improvements have been made to the writing instruments, different and ubiquitous means of publication are available today; and yet they appear to be a novelty that has not more importance than the act of writing itself. Having examined this matter, I realize the definition of writing mentioned above will always remain perfectly valid, and completely immune to new technologies or its variations. Notwithstanding, I still prefer writing with an old-fashioned pen to doing it using a computer.

Works Cited

Cambridge International Dictionary of English. 1995. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. Print.