I Am A Computer _______.

Where have I been lately? I know it seems like forever since I last updated this page, if by forever you mean over a week. Sure the last update wasn’t much, so if you want to say that it’s been over two weeks since I had a decent update of this site far be if from me to argue.

Last night I put the finishing touches on a project I started Saturday afternoon. I decided to take the old PII 400 chip in my computer at home and replace it, the motherboard and the case, with state of the art. I put an AMD 2500 Barton in it and WOW is it fast! These are the best kind of upgrades to make, the ones that take you from that slow and pokey computer sludge, straight into the modern age of light travel.

I’ve never done anything like that before -- doing a total swap-out of parts all by myself. I usually don’t think I’m all that technically minded about that sort of thing, but apparently I’ve played just enough Dungeons and Dragons and watched the minimum amount of Star Trek hours to qualify as a low-grade Semi-Tech computer tinkerer. By that I mean that the manual that came with it was pretty decent and what stuff didn’t match up, I was able to make some good guesses at.

I imagine that reading about a computer processor and motherboard upgrade is right there on par with a long dissertation on a Jungian breakdown of the reoccurring dreams I have about shopping. But to anyone who comes by this infrequently updated site knows, if there’s one thing that’ll get me to update, it’s when I get to stroke my own ego by patting myself on the back.

Freud beats out Jung every time here at the old Trailerpark. Sure he’s outdated and most of his theories debunked, but I’ve never really forgiven Jung for my first quarter of college when while looking for water, I was instead given a book so dry that it almost made sand drinkable. Come to think of it, I never forgave my teacher, Doranne Crable-Sundmacher either. To this day in my head I still see that cracked wrinkled-skinned woman who in her youth spent too much time in the sun pseudo-intellectualizing passages of Schopenhauer and Descartes and I get all wobbly and glaze-eyed and my nose starts running.

You know, it’s hard enough to come up with something to write every week without having to keep a fresh box of dream-away nasal tissue hidden in the upper left lobe filing system of my brain.

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