Tale of the Prodigal Laptop

It all started when my laptop of almost four years decided to call the shots by shutting itself up.

Oh you guys wouldn't want to imagine the horror on my face when it took place, I was like "what gives b*tch?" As I tried more than a hundred million times to plug, unplug, turn on, turn off and twist and straighten the power cord. As if bullying me, the laptop just didn't budge, and I was laptop-less for nearly two weeks.

During the two-week span, occasionally it turns on, after me sweating for almost 15 minutes doing that let's-twist-again routine. Out of sheer amazement to my patience; topped by the idea that I could lose that much amount of sweat just by merely using my hands, I tend to reward myself by playing plants vs zombies each time I was able to turn it on. Thereby, completely forgetting about my original plan of backing-up my stored files.

Little by little, I became accustomed to the sort of physical password of my laptop that I felt like everything is manageable. To the point that, I didn't ask for help nor did I raise the issue to my eternally techie Dad. But eventually, just like a person with a terminal disease holding its breath for the longest time, my lappie gave up. Although i've tried to revive it, with my own means of CPR, by adding more than 30 minutes in doing my let's-twist-again ritual, the red light that prompts that my lappie is on didn't even bother showing up.


It's dead, i'm dead.

With a deadline looming that time and my editor-in-chief P breathing on my neck or in a more subtle way, "reminding me" about the gravity of the articles being sent on the duly noted time, for it'll either build or crush the magazine, I was hopeless. Literally.

Yes we have a desktop, yes my Dad has his own laptop and yes my brother has his own laptop as well, I could write the article anywhere actually, even on a sheet of paper (that would be nostalgic). The catch however is that, there's an interview, and that interview is on that godforesaken laptop that seems to be sabotaging my impending break to my writing career.

No more options were left, you guys would prolly elbow me and say "M, I'm sure you still have the audio recording with you, why not transcribe the whole thing over again?" My answer would be a hard no which would be followed by my hands landing on your insensitive face.

I CAN'T! for the life of god JUST TRANSCRIBE THE WHOLE THING OVER because the interview is almost an hour, and when I reached the half of it, I was already on the 8th page. Simply put, the subject has a lot to say and I've a few energy to go over it again, do the syllogism.

Laptop-less, pressured and cuffed to the red mark deadline on my planner. I had to take alternatives, there's gotta be something.

Days later, while gorging my newly favorite buffalo wings along Katipunan, as part of the self-gratification days I received an SMS from a pseudo-angel, that'd be my Dad, asking for my laptop's password. Logic, of course dictated to me that he's able to bring back its life and that is the story of the prodigal laptop.

mashed potato and barbecue buffalo wings 

Chicken tenders

Wicked oreo

Flaming Wings Katipunan

If there's one thing that I learned from that incident, aside from backing up my files to some external drive of sorts, took me years to realize though, but my laptop needs replacement. A fab yet useful replacement at that, which I could brag to everyone as my 2010 investment (kidding on the bragging part).

Nothing else but my dream lappie, a Mac laptop. 

Since I've a new one, my little bratty sister got my hand-me-down laptop, which is very very unacceptable on my part.

I could've let it slide if she's already a college student who's already on her thesis writing sem, but people, my sister is just 10 years old. What the hell will she be doing with that? aside from packing it with loads of game which in time it won't be able to hold due to its measly memory, she'd definitely not take care of it. I know her, she's my sister for chrissake!