A Letter to My Computers

Dear Computer 1 and Computer 2:

Let's start this at the beginning. Last summer, I wrote a play. It had an "Around the World" theme. The idea was as follows: A bored group of kids gets a visit from the magical Story Fairy, who brings a magical Storybook. They experience four stories: the Legend of Perseus and Medusa, the Legend of the Sun and Moon, Pandora's Box, and The Emperor and the Nightingale. These stories, each from its own culture, show the kids that it really is a small world after all. I spent hours writing this play to make it as perfect as possible. I agonized over the Nightingale's song, ultimately deciding on one my friend had written. She was sweet enough to record a copy for me so I could learn it properly.

My cousins and I (a total group of 7, with ages ranging from 17 to 4) practiced until we were sick of it. We did makeup and planned costumes. Finally, one night, we performed the play in front of relatives. My father did me the favor of filming the play, and taking pictures, so we could see ourselves perform.

He uploaded these movies and photos onto you, Computer 1. I began editing the movie. I know you may not understand this, being a computer, but for us humans editing a movie takes a REALLY long time. I worked hard, winced at my singing, and found the perfect songs, titles, and transitions to bring the movie together. Just as I finished the first edit, Computer 1, you declared that my original source clips were "no longer available." So my hours of work disappeared...I had a black screen with lovely transitions on top.

Maybe I understand this deviance. I was working out of both iPhoto and iMovie. You got confused about where the movies were. I know these things can be confusing.

Annoyed though I was, I got back to work. I worked like crazy - I needed the movie done in time for my mother to take it to my cousin when she (my mother) visited Brasil. I begged permission from my very, very generous friend to use her song recording in the credits, and she (grudgingly) granted it. I let a few editing details slide to get it done in time. I patiently let you, Computer 1, be while you focused on the difficult task of burning this movie to a DVD. I even drew - on paper, with pens (primitive, I know, Computers, but just bear with me) - a gorgeous DVD cover, and removed the DVD case from my Confirmation DVD to give this movie a spot. As you can see, I invested a lot into this movie.

Then, Computer 2, you can onto the scene. Dad decided I could use a better computer. No harm meant to you, Computer 1 - we all have to age sooner or later. You were a lovely worker, but it was time to move on. I know you're in good hands with my mother, though. With help from my tech-savvy father, I transferred my info from Computer 1 to Computer 2. I placed my photos and movies on a blue hard drive.

Then, Computer 2, I found out that I was going to Washington to visit friends - including the generous friend who gave me her song. She wanted to see the play (understandably, I suppose). I decided it would be nicest for her to see the edited version - maybe even on a DVD? I began to open it up through the hard drive attached to you, Computer 2. You told me I "did not have permission" to access that movie.

What is this, Computer 2? Do you have some agreement with Computer 1 to get me back for replacing it? Is there something going on that I should know about? Or are you having problems coming to terms with the fact that someday, you, too, will have to go, Computer 2?

Computer 2, my friend is going to see a nicely edited version of that movie. If I have to re-edit the whole thing, it's a lot more work for me AND you. I don't see where you gain anything. It also makes me unhappy. And do you honestly think you'll be happy if I'm not happy? I strongly suggest you reconsider your decision here. Your other option is meeting the previously mentioned tech-savvy father. His technological power should scare you. Do you want to be scared? I don't think so.

With regards from your owner,

Patrice