I had the rare opportunity for some alone time this evening, in which I did a lot of computer work. I have a lovely little Mac Book Air upon which I sit like Miss Muffet on her Tuffet. I am now questioning whether or not I should have sat on it as hard, because it’s having some issues with being as slow as an old dinosaur. Coupled with the observance of my boyfriend’s iPhone 4S slowly downloading it’s way into the dead cellphone abyss, I have come to the conclusion that the reason these contraptions are not operating full force is because of Planned Obsolescence. For those of you who did not take Economics of the New World, “Planned obsolescence or built-in obsolescence is a policy of planning or designing a product with a limited useful life, so it will become obsolete, that is, unfashionable or no longer functional after a certain period of time. Planned obsolescence has potential benefits for a because to obtain continuing use of the product the consumer is under pressure to purchase again, whether from the same manufacturer (a replacement part or a newer model), or from a competitor who might also rely on planned obsolescence.” Thank you, Wikipedia.
In essence, it’s the idea that rather than create repairable, long-lasting durable machines and devices, manufacturers create products that will eventually fail so that you will have to keep on purchasing and upgrading until one day, YOUR programming fails and ceases to exist. I’m hoping for a coffin with wi-fi, but I’m not getting my hopes up.
Since my computer is reaching that point of worrying me, I have become proactive and begun ushering my files off to a safer place, better known as my G-Drive. And no, that’s not the same as a G-string.
The G-drive is a magical place where you can discover and re-discover yourself. It’s like opening a box of reports you wrote in high school. A great self-centered, ego-boosting learning opportunity.
Looking through my G-drive, I found oodles of pictures that I had forgotten about. Places I forgot I went, people I forgot I was friends with, or made out with, and enough pictures of me sleeping in various places to fill a small art museum. What can I say? A girl needs her beauty sleep.
I thought about why on earth I have hung onto these photos, and documents for so long. Some of them seemingly so silly. I can’t seem to get rid of them, and I can’t seem to escape the desire to print out every journal entry I’ve ever logged and pour over it. I want to hear the words of the past Emily and see her thoughts. How have I changed? What silly things did I write about then? Did I have a blog about my likeness to a clumsy cartoon character?
People are always telling us not to dwell on the past. Not to live in the past, but I think, actually, that the past may hold some valuable answers for some of us. Answers about thought patterns that we may have carried throughout our lives, emotions that we seek to trace to their origin. There is a reason history books exist and it’s so that we can learn from the mistakes of those who came before us, so we can see an accurate depiction of what was, rather than just the blurry memory in our brains retelling stories. I found the entire archeological self-study to be fascinating and much needed on a Tuesday night spent alone.
And I dug up little gems like these….