Dear Computer

I like you, but sometimes I want to punch a hole straight through your dusty screen.

Dear Computer,

I like you, but sometimes I want to punch a hole straight through your dusty screen.

When you work well, I might even say I love you. Together we can create so much. Your precision and processing power combined with my creativity make a pretty swell team. Together we make art, stories, and discover breakthroughs in the science of exploring Wikipedia black holes.

However, there is something that has been weighing on my mind. I must tell you now so that our relationship does not disintegrate.

I have to ask, why do you occasionally insist on crashing programs when I am right in the middle of a client’s design? Have you and Adobe gotten into a squabble that can not be resolved short of force quitting Illustrator?

Hours of my time have been wasted, all for your petty argument. Hours that I can never regain, for unlike you, I am mortal.

And why do you and the external monitor fight? Why does your port resolve on not allowing the monitor’s adapter to properly connect?

I often lean back in my chair and gaze up at the wide expanse of dual monitors in front of me, only to ever-so-slightly bump the monitor’s cord. BAM! Whatever I was working on turns midnight black. I think I lose half of my brain power when I lose half of my screen space.

Dear computer, do you really want me to lose half of my brain power? I wonder what makes you so angry that you would do this to your only friend. Have you just learned of the latest supercomputer celebrity that surpasses you in processing power, and you curse Moore’s law forever as you vow to never collaborate with humans again?

I implore you, please do not give up hope. You have served me well, even though your name is not Watson.

Dear computer, I have a confession to make that may make you feel better. Sometimes I think you are my best friend too.

Just not when you crash.

Love,

H