The day has finally come, something I had loved to until it literally overheated, had finally died. My large HP entertainment like 600-inch screen has finally kicked the bucket.
I know it seems stupid to “mourn” a laptop, but I’ve had this baby for 7 fucking years. The only other thing I’ve had for that many years is my dog, I mean shit. 7 years is a long time for technology. I’m gonna let it all out, but I’m a sentimental fop. I cry over everything and anything. If you look at me funny? I cry. I cry and cry and cry, that my days are measured more by how many days has it been since I’ve cried.
Just so we’re all clear here, I’m not bursting into full blow ugly-crying. Sometimes I just tear up and very sentimentally touching things
My laptop was this big ol’ behemoth that was basically obsolete in like a year due to just the fact that it weighed like 15 pounds. Keep in mind, I had the larger version of this laptop, so things got heavy.
I still remember the day I got it. It was Black Friday, and even though I had been 17 since February of 2009, I just got the license like in September because I kept failing the drivers exam.
WHAT. I ONLY FAILED TWICE OKAY
My previous HP laptop was so cumbersome and infected with viruses and shit out of the wazoo because I had downloaded so much spammy random custom content for The Sims 2 (before I discovered clean sites), that my old HP was basically useless. It didn’t even charge anymore. I had to wrap the cord around it a certain spider web-like way just so the stupid fucking thing accepted the power cord charge.
So, it was Black Friday, and we were at home, and I said: “Dad I need a new laptop”. My dad hemmed and hawed about needing to drop another money bag worth of money on a laptop (what, I like expensive laptops) until he devilishly smiled at me and said: “Ok, I take you if you drive.”
Drive? Me? Drive to… Best Buy? Go…. on the highway? Me??? Surely my father doesn’t me MOI??? I didn’t drive at the highway dammit. If something was out of the 4 or 5 towns I could drive to on local roads, it didn’t goddamn exist, okay?
But you know what truly motivates a 17-year girl to conquer her fears? Better fucking graphics.
What? Not you as a 17-year-old girl? You say makeup and dicks? Yeah, that happened to me at 20. I’m a late bloomer, what can I say?
So here I am, in my father’s rickety jeep, with a steering wheel as light as flipping through a magazine, driving on the highway all the way to Best Buy in search for A New Laptop.
Yes, it was such a mythical adventure, it needs to be properly titled.
We get to the store, and I had no idea what I wanted. I just wandered and wandered until my eyes laid upon the beauty that is the HP Pavillion dv6, with this largest screen (17.5 inches) and with a REAL nVida graphics card, not so I can play funky fresh titles from 2009, but so I can play The Sims 2, a game that originally came out in 2004, and was still releasing expansion packs.
Yes, ladies and germs, I got like a thousand dollar laptop to play the fucking Sims and fuck around on photoshop (so I can edit my sim photos and share them with the Simming community).
I remember feeling like a really special snowflake standing there in the middle of all of these men because I impressed some random employee with my knowledge on wanting a good graphics card.
“I’m going to play Half Life 2” I fucking lied like the dramatic bitch I am, “I am going to download Steam and the Orange Box.”
The imaginary boners and instant undying love for me from all of the sweaty boys in the immediate vicinity fueled my vanity.
I carried that laptop box like a fucking proud ass bitch all the way to the register, where I continued to brag / lie out of my ass about my astounding knowledge for a video game trio that was released two years prior to 2009 and I didn’t actually play until a year later.
I’m such a fucking rat dick. Seriously. I was the worst spoiled subhuman of a teenager ever.
Well, anyway, I come back home, dad by my side, and me driving like a maniac just so I can finally begin my new adventure.
Sitting down on the island, I proudly told my mother that I drove, much to her hysterics against such a thing. Opening the box, the new technology smell hit me in a way that it never had before. This laptop was going to follow me to college, I realized. This laptop would be full of my senior year of high school too.
Ruminating on what to name the computer I kept stalling, unsure of what to name what was going to be essentially my new child. I ran my hand over its smooth keyboard with the cool touch buttons at the top and thought, “I shall name you Freckle Face – Little One”.
Why? Was she not my child? Not spotted with “freckles” of her own? Was it not comical to a 17-year-old girl, a 10-pound laptop was called “small”?
Little One became my closest friend. I beat Portal in 2011 with her on my lap and my high school boyfriend next to me, two weeks before I cruelly broke his heart.
Little One saved cute images and memes for my college boyfriend that I would email to him constantly, only to be ignored by him.
Little One held my annals and annals of horrible soppy shit poetry that I performed at my school’s first Open Mic night, in an honor of my break up in college.
Little One started my blog, Little One carried the photos in her motherboard, all of the circuits holding together the very essence of this whole little corner of the internet that I own. With her, I created something larger than I ever imagined I could.
I wrote my first Sims 2 story, using her parts to create a historical Edwardian town that I never finished. In her, she holds my secrets.
A girl at 17 is not the same as a girl of 24, the content of my laptop holding everything in between, torrid fanfiction I wrote and never published, to love letters, to recipes I’ve fooled around with.
It’s pathetic to cry over a piece of machinery. Clearly, I know. Yet there is something about this computer, this little freckled laptop that has just tugged at my heart strings. She sits in my heart.
The exact cause of her death is unknown. She turns on and goes into a booting loop. No matter how long one leaves her alone, gives her space, let breathe and cool off, she just stays with a backlit black screen, forever humming her sad swan song.
Little One, I’m sorry I couldn’t retire you and leave you to peacefully while you completely and permanently lose charge. That was the honorable death you deserve, alas, like real life, even our robo friends sometimes have unsavory endings.
Here’s to you little guy, and your new sibling (once she arrives) Little Two. 🙂