I used to love computers. I was 5 years old. I remember sitting in the bedroom office, typing away at the computer. My dad worked - still works - with computers, so we had a home computer as far back as I can remember. I was confident and computer-literate. Yep, I was great with the spacebar. I wrote long stories and used the spacebar to navigate to the next line. I also used the spacebar to play the best game of all time: Space Invaders (our version had color, I don't know what's up with that one). I excelled at all that computer stuff. There she is, the same model that we had. (pic from here)
Jump forward a decade or less. I was sure I was a genius when I took that same computer, now sitting in (complete) parts in a corner of the basement, plugged everything together and...wait for it...turned it ON! Yes, that was a moment. I thought I had succeeded in something truly momentous, certainly far beyond my years. I guess that speaks for itself, doesn't it.
You would think having been raised with dinner conversations about gigabytes, software and hard drives, not to mention frequent "field trips" to visit Dad's office and the ridiculously noisy computer room -1980s air conditioning at its finest - I would be a natural with all this technology stuff.
The easiest A I ever got was my high school typing class. It was an elective and I needed an elective. That was what all that exposure got me. One A. In Typing. The rest was - and is - far beyond me.
Why am I on this rant, you ask? This evening I wanted to write a blog post about all the fun we've had during the past month or so. I wanted to include some great pictures that my in-laws took from our family vacation to the North Shore. But could I? Could I? Well, I could look at them in photo stream on my Macbook. I finally figured out something and got them somewhere. I'm sure I'm going to get the evil eye from Mark when he gets home. Quite frankly between super-important things like sorting through our finances and not-so-important but perhaps more urgent things like changing a zillion poopy diapers a day, do I have time or energy to try to understand what I haven't understood for 25 years despite a full-immersion lifestyle? I don't think I need to answer that for you.
Oh, and don't get me started on this new blogger configuration. I'm going to stop writing this now so I can find a pen, paper, bottle and cork. If you find my SOS, I'm lost somewhere in the land of Utter Frustration.