Obituary for a Dead Macbook

I never named you, even though it was cool to name laptops when I got you. I regret that in this moment, because now that I’m writing to you, I don’t have anything to call you. But you died and now I have to write you an obituary. Because that is the logical thing to do at this time, for an inanimate object.

srsly though, it is super ded

You came into my life four or so years ago. Packed in the slim, exciting boxes that macs come in. Both my housemates had macs too. Each night we’d sit in our lounge room, macs on knees, being really social and stuff.

I got you a red hard case that clipped onto you and made your little apple glow red in the darkness. I fell asleep next to that glowing apple so often it was almost a comfort. During the day, the red case made you stand out from other macbooks. I’m sure literally no one ever thought this, but I always liked the idea of being ‘the girl with the red macbook’ in cafes or in the park.

You were a chunky white beast in a red shell but I lugged you all over. You kept me sane during times of insanity. I watched Doctor Who on you, I dropped nutella on you, I listened to new music on you. I took you with me on holidays when I probably should’ve been enjoying the sights, not trying to find wi-fi.

You came with me when I moved towns, and the connection you gave me to my old life and my online life was so important when I had no friends and no job. It was just you and me, alone in the house, drinking tea (me) and downloading Avatar the Last Airbender (you).

Internet Party

Every blog I’ve ever written, I wrote on you. Except this one, and the last one. I sort of associate blogging with you, and when you left… well I won’t pretend it was the only reason the blogs dried up, but typing a blog on a different computer still doesn’t feel quite right. Even though you had started making terrifying whirring noises. Even though you would get so hot on my lap it literally burnt.

I hope you don’t see my new macbook air as a betrayal. I needed something to write on, and you were gone. And they don’t make you anymore. Also you weighed possible 10kg, no offence. I know, I know, it’s so skinny, and shiny, and fancy and I’m SORRY. You’ll always be the first, and while perhaps you’re not a superior model, I loved you, and

I’m really sorry I spilled water on you. That was dumb.

R.I.P nameless red macbook baby. See you in technology heaven (I assume I’ll get robot parts at some point and be allowed in on a technicality).

By Sir-Heartsalot (Deviant Art)

P.S In August I'm going to be doing this thing and it's pretty cool.