Quoting Blink 182
At 3 AM this morning, seven hours after I’d begun my total reinstall of Windows XP I was done. I only needed to do one more thing. I had to resinstall the video capture card. It’s a very tempermental piece of equipment. Hardware with permanent P.M.S., I might go so far as to say. Well I shutdown my computer, unplugged everything, opened it up and slid the card into it’s slot. I put everything back together again and pressed the on button. And the computer wouldn’t come on.
You can understand why I was then whimpering like a baby on the floor of my office.
This was the second time this sort of thing had happened to me. The first time it happened was with my brother’s computer a few month’s back and somehow, something I did, seemed to fry the whole computer. Now this time I had invested almost an entire day into this thing (a whole day in the middle of the night no less) and it was refusing to turn on. The fans and stuff would start to whirr but the computer did nothing.
I whimpered for fifteen minutes or so, woke up Stephanie accidentally, and then collected myself enough to try something. I took the side panel off of the computer and started it up again, crossing my fingers. The thought was that after so many hours of constantly installing programs and working like a Washington Street hooker back in the golden age of the Combat Zone (Boston’s formerly world-reknowned red light district), that the computer might be a little overheated.
It worked and that was comforting. In the span of one night, from 7 PM on Sunday to 3 AM on Monday I had totally rebuilt my computer’s infrastructure. I went to bed and got some sleep. I had a lot of things to accomplish today.
But something Stef said to me during that short period where I was freaking out, probably bringing myself even closer to that inevitable myocardial infarction, made me think, and made it harder for me to fall to sleep. She said she was worried that I was becoming obcessed. She was right. I was a hysterical madman over a fucking computer. What was wrong with me?
Why are such silly things so important to me? Why have I invested so much of my unemployment thus far on computer shit? Why haven’t I done more writing? Why haven’t I done more relaxing? Why haven’t I spent the time I’ve spent fucking with my machine on looking for a job?
I had an epiphany last night and the epiphany was this: I need to rethink my priorities. If I had to choose only one goal and aspiration of all the goals and aspirations I have… If I had to narrow my life down to the most important thing… What would that thing be?
And it hurts me to say that. It pisses me off that I say that. My writing has always been the most important thing in my life to me. Now here I am saying that family is the most important thing. I guess it’s just that I got to thinking… If I didn’t have a computer I could live. If I didn’t have a car I could live. If I didn’t have writing I would probably want to kill myself but I could live.
If I was told I couldn’t have a wife or a family… no kids… I don’t think I could go on.
Now, I’m not looking for children tomorrow or anything, (Soon. But not tomorrow.) but last night’s debacle got me thinking. What are my priorities?
You ever have a moment where you just can’t help but wonder why you’ve been stressing out so damn much?
I’m having those all the time lately. To quote that latest “hip” “punk-rock” band Blink 182, “I guess this is growing up.”