The whole law of cause and effect really bit me in the posterior recently. It did so recently, only because I spent almost a year postponing the inevitable. (You see, I know it's always there, and avoidance is my best defense.)
Last January, my computer died. Dead. No resurrecting it. Since it was only a little over a year old, and it was the second Dell in a two-year span to just unceremoniously give up the ghost on me, I counted my pennies and decided it was time to jump ship to Mac. Off I went and bought my very first Apple computer. Now, the computer itself has been lovely, even if there are still many things I don't know how to do (not the computer's fault; I tend to learn what I need to know only when it becomes beyond urgent to do so). But the Dell printer I owned, which actually worked extremely well and with which I was content, was not compatible with my Mac. After weeks of research and downloading useless drivers, etc., I accepted this with my usual stoicism, born out of long experience with my hideous computer karma. And for 11 months, I had friends print my boarding passes for flights, I had relatives print documents I needed ... and mail them to me ... you can see that at some point, even I realized I'd avoided reality long enough and I resolved to buy a printer. Trying to shield myself from utter frustration, I found a friend who is just a little bit more technologically intelligent than I, who also owns a Mac, and who is happy with his printer and bought one just like it. Sigh. After four hours of attempting to set the printer up with my computer, I gave up and asked my friend to come help me. He only wasted a half-hour before realizing we needed the Canon people's help. Of course, this was a Sunday and the Canon people were nowhere near the office, so we waited until Monday and called. A two hour phone call later, I was told that the router was too far from the printer and once I moved it, I should call back. So I had my tenant bring the router and modem up from his apartment where it lives (due to his complete geekiness, he requires these things near him, and I haven't cared till now) and called Canon. Another two hour phone call later, I was told that the router is the problem. So I tried to hook this up using the USB port, but even that didn't work. (Though I was able to make far more progress than before.)
I am now torn between two options:
1) I haunt antique stores and thrift stores and eventually buy a typewriter. My understanding is that they have limited scanning and faxing ability, but I have a better chance of doing either on an old-fashioned typewriter than I do on my up-to-date brand-new printer at present.
2) I refuse to give in. Tomorrow, I dedicate my day to getting this thing hooked up and I either get it hooked up or die trying.
I will probably go with option 2. Details of my memorial service will occur on someone else's blog.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
Those Pesky Resolutions
I've been giving some thought lately to New Year's Resolutions. In past years, I've strictly followed tradition by making them and promptly breaking them. In the recent past, I simply didn't bother to make any - why waste the mental energy on making promises to oneself that one knows one will break? And after all, we're all supposed to be constantly trying to improve ourselves, right? (Right??) There's no reason to focus on one time of year for improvement.
Still, there's something about the idea of a new year, of a new start, that makes the idea of resolutions somewhat compelling. In that spirit, I've tried to come up with some resolutions that a) I might keep, and b) that are at least minimally worthwhile. It's probably my own mental limitations at work, but this was harder than I thought it would be! Nonetheless, I persevered and here is what I came up with:
1) Have more parties. This works because I love throwing parties, so it should be do-able, and throwing parties makes me get the house cleaned up (worthwhile!). Plus, people actually ask me when the next party is throughout the year, so I assume they enjoy my parties, which means I'm doing something nice for my friends. (Unless they are making sure they have enough advance notice to come up with a good excuse for missing it.)
2) Call a friend to chat once a month. Now this might seem like a no-brainer as far as do-able, but I'm allergic to telephones. I'll happily write long letters, e-mail back and forth, and I adore getting together face-to-face, but whenever the phone rings, I channel my inner Dorothy Parker and silently moan, "What fresh hell is this?" Nonetheless, I have friends who are too far away to see often and who don't share my passion for the written word, but they are valuable to me and I think it's time I made them more aware of that.
3) Become comfortable with my router. The woodworking kind - not the computer kind (I did say these should be possible to accomplish.) The worthwhile-ness of this should be apparent (just think - how many times every day do you say, "Gee, if only I were better skilled with a router, I could do "X""?) but the do-ability is in question. It's not like I've not tried. I took a class in using a router. I've even read the instruction booklet! But every time I wander through a woodworking store and browse the router bit section, my eyes cross. Each bit is designed to do something different ... but they all look alike! And are they named in a useful way? Such as "will make edges curved bit" or "will create a 1/2" indentation bit"? Silly question. On the other hand, I've become quite conversant with my table saw and my compound mitre saw (well - I don't actually know what a "compound" mitre cut is, but I can do other things with the saw) and I feel downright passionate about my nail gun, so I feel as though my stand-off with the router is lowering my builder cred. And improving that HAS to be worthwhile!
4) Last (less this list enter the realm of too-long-to-be-possible), I'm going to become friends with my cat, Arthur. Arthur and his brother, Merlin, came to me because their servant (humans might say "owner") was choosing impoverishment (grad school) and couldn't afford to keep them in the style to which all cats are born accustomed. Being at the time, catless, I took them in. For weeks, I was the pariah who was expected to feed and water them, clean the litter box, and provide nightly kitty treats, but both of them vanished like the last drops of good champagne the moment I entered a room. In the intervening months, Merlin has accepted me. He sleeps on my bed, demands to be petted several times a day, and solicits tummy rubs. Arthur, however, continues to look at me with the look most of us reserve for rapidly approaching cannibals carrying weapons and a large pot. Obviously, accomplishing this would be worthwhile. I'd have a good relationship with all the living creatures (of whom I am aware) in my house. Do-able? Well, I did save the biggest challenge for last. It is not in my nature, however, to accept the disdain of a cat - certainly not one who lives with me and of whom I have become inexplicably fond.
Check back in six months. I hope to have talked to six friends by phone, had at least three parties, and, if all goes really well, I'll have used my router and remain in possession of all my fingers .... And if things go exceptionally well, I'll have a new relationship full of love. With my cat.
Still, there's something about the idea of a new year, of a new start, that makes the idea of resolutions somewhat compelling. In that spirit, I've tried to come up with some resolutions that a) I might keep, and b) that are at least minimally worthwhile. It's probably my own mental limitations at work, but this was harder than I thought it would be! Nonetheless, I persevered and here is what I came up with:
1) Have more parties. This works because I love throwing parties, so it should be do-able, and throwing parties makes me get the house cleaned up (worthwhile!). Plus, people actually ask me when the next party is throughout the year, so I assume they enjoy my parties, which means I'm doing something nice for my friends. (Unless they are making sure they have enough advance notice to come up with a good excuse for missing it.)
2) Call a friend to chat once a month. Now this might seem like a no-brainer as far as do-able, but I'm allergic to telephones. I'll happily write long letters, e-mail back and forth, and I adore getting together face-to-face, but whenever the phone rings, I channel my inner Dorothy Parker and silently moan, "What fresh hell is this?" Nonetheless, I have friends who are too far away to see often and who don't share my passion for the written word, but they are valuable to me and I think it's time I made them more aware of that.
3) Become comfortable with my router. The woodworking kind - not the computer kind (I did say these should be possible to accomplish.) The worthwhile-ness of this should be apparent (just think - how many times every day do you say, "Gee, if only I were better skilled with a router, I could do "X""?) but the do-ability is in question. It's not like I've not tried. I took a class in using a router. I've even read the instruction booklet! But every time I wander through a woodworking store and browse the router bit section, my eyes cross. Each bit is designed to do something different ... but they all look alike! And are they named in a useful way? Such as "will make edges curved bit" or "will create a 1/2" indentation bit"? Silly question. On the other hand, I've become quite conversant with my table saw and my compound mitre saw (well - I don't actually know what a "compound" mitre cut is, but I can do other things with the saw) and I feel downright passionate about my nail gun, so I feel as though my stand-off with the router is lowering my builder cred. And improving that HAS to be worthwhile!
4) Last (less this list enter the realm of too-long-to-be-possible), I'm going to become friends with my cat, Arthur. Arthur and his brother, Merlin, came to me because their servant (humans might say "owner") was choosing impoverishment (grad school) and couldn't afford to keep them in the style to which all cats are born accustomed. Being at the time, catless, I took them in. For weeks, I was the pariah who was expected to feed and water them, clean the litter box, and provide nightly kitty treats, but both of them vanished like the last drops of good champagne the moment I entered a room. In the intervening months, Merlin has accepted me. He sleeps on my bed, demands to be petted several times a day, and solicits tummy rubs. Arthur, however, continues to look at me with the look most of us reserve for rapidly approaching cannibals carrying weapons and a large pot. Obviously, accomplishing this would be worthwhile. I'd have a good relationship with all the living creatures (of whom I am aware) in my house. Do-able? Well, I did save the biggest challenge for last. It is not in my nature, however, to accept the disdain of a cat - certainly not one who lives with me and of whom I have become inexplicably fond.
Check back in six months. I hope to have talked to six friends by phone, had at least three parties, and, if all goes really well, I'll have used my router and remain in possession of all my fingers .... And if things go exceptionally well, I'll have a new relationship full of love. With my cat.
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