I’m always finding a reason to be sentimental. Seemingly innocent occurrences–a notification of a photo memory from my iphone, cleaning a drawer, a song at CVS that reminds me of a past lover–all invite a deep surge of nostalgia and over-thinking. Today it was clearing my computer.
I bought this computer in the spring of 2018. I accidentally spilled water on my previous computer, rendering it useless. The incident occurred when I was either listening to music or watching something as I did the dishes, the old “to do two things at once is to do neither” etc., etc. A lesson I still haven’t mastered.
I am an avid list maker, of books I’ve read or shows/movies I’ve watched organized by year, of things to do, of new ideas. My computer represents my list compulsion to the extreme. Meticulous bookmarks ranging from travel plans (a whole dedicated to “Houston Airbnbs” – I have never planned a trip to Houston) to “cool gurl” a cringely-labeled tab dedicated to articles on women I find inspiring, mostly artists and writers. There are logical tabs too, dedicated to doctor’s portals, job searches, an unfruitful Fulbright application. A tab entitled “wants” with everything from tattoo request forms to elaborate jewelry to an acupressure mat.
It’s a fascinating look into my psyche of the last five years; of half-baked interests, desires, and inspirations through two degrees, multiple moves, a pandemic, beginning and ending jobs.
These old tabs are intriguing, like, who is this girl with a bookmark on Buddhism? Do I even know her at all? Seeing myself outside of myself is a refreshing portal.
This computer is old- the S key is dislodged, there is no storage space no matter how much I delete, and I see the rainbow loading circle far more than I should. It’s time for a new model, however reluctant I have been to that change.
I have a weird attachment to the two stickers that frame my computer’s touchpad. One is a reflective sticker of the Kacey Musgraves happy & sad symbol, a happy face with a teardrop, the same symbol I have tattooed on my left hip. The other is from a Memphis record shop I fell in love with. I have a desire to get the exact same stickers and put them in the exact same spots when I get my new computer, but I know that the urge for sameness and resistance to change is ultimately harmful and restrictive.
I think I’ll get a new computer this afternoon.
