ACCOZZAGLIA

I’m typing this from my beloved blue iBook, the very same iBook whose eleven-month-old hard drive failed. I clamped down on the bit and dug in my heels by dropping $100 on a new replacement drive. That was Thursday. With the help of my friend (who supplied the tools and watched while I performed delicate surgery on extracting the drive), I made the replacement and installed Tiger on said new drive.

All this showed is that I now find taking apart hardware to be a bit unremarkable now. There is no intimidation. Old drive out, new drive in. Big deal, eh? What hangs on my mind is something far less tangible, but far more crucial, and right now, it is in transit between Indianapolis and Seattle, probably via Memphis.

An entire lifetime of work — which somehow found its way onto that drive this year after a near-uncountable number of hardware and drive failures I’ve experienced in this year on multiple machine — is either in transit somewhere deep in the bowels of the U.S., or else it no longer exists. I don’t know yet. When it arrives with chitah on Monday, he’ll have a look at it and suggest a prognosis. I trust the guy. He knows what he’s doing. And a majority of what I know when it comes to computers, to networking, to data management and to all the geeky stuff relating to the black boxes of things like servers, laptops and towers, are things he has taught me.

The defective drive is extraordinarily well-packed and housed in protective foam and other material. In fact, I’d wager to say that it’s better-packed than pretty much anything one would buy new from a reseller or manufacturer. It has to be. It has my entire life on it. All my professional, personal, academic and intimate content resides somewhere on that volume (which is actually three parrtitions on a 40GB device).

When I finally was able to free it from this iBook, I looked at my friend and commented how there are times when even I forget how humbling it is to see something so small be the storehouse for so, so much information. In such a short time, this is what has been made possible by engineering, by technology, by whatever. It’s so taken for granted. We all take it for granted. Meh.

On an unrelated note, a song on Toronto’s 92.5 Jack FM just came on. It was one I’d not heard before. I spit out the words “This is Images in Vogue. It’s got to be.” Echoes of the guy’s voice from the song “Call It Love” (huge on CFNY in April 1985) were so obvious. To confirm, I just went to the Jack playlist to see what was on, and it was “Lust for Love” by none other than Images in Vogue.

I belong here. I so do. :)

OK. Must go meet with my gf for a trailer trash date at her place. We’re doing KD with crumbled hamburger, Fresca, Kool-Aid and me in my Gilley’s strappy tank before an hour of (drum roll please) all-new COPS episodes! YESSSSSS. Oh, and Degrassi-something-or-rather, which is something I’ve evidently missed for ages.