My Beautiful, Stupid MacBook

My Macbook sucks.

Let’s be clear - in the television-advertisement world, I would much rather be the sauve and attractive thirty-something Mac than the older, pudgy, vindictive PC. That, along with the near-fanatical insistence that Macs are amazing, made by various well-respected friends and family members, was why I made the transition from PC to Mac last December.

But ever since I received my beautiful, silver-plated, backlit MacBook Pro in the mail, times have been tough. Not ‘tough’ in the sense that it was difficult to use, or anything - it's way easier than I thought it would be. And, actually, I’ve been bringing my laptop in for work, and have been able to make amazing magazines and pamphlets that are cool and designy and I’d never thought I’d be able to do, and other stuff like music and using the internet have never been easier...but that’s not the point.

The entirety of the Macbook’s amazingness centres around its track-pad, which I thought I would hate, but I didn’t. It’s really freaking cool, and intuitive, and if you press the command button before you click, it’s the equivalent of a right-click on a mouse, so there’s no downside compared with a traditional PC. But, anyways, there was an problem.

My trackpad seems to be possessed from the devil. Sometimes it moves on its own. Other times, it doesn’t move at all, or moves only right, or in slow bursts, and then I’ll give up in frustration to toast a bagel and return to my laptop, minutes later, to see that my trackpad is moving in zig-zaggy waves, entirely independent of any human hand.

The demon possession of my trackpad seems to come and go, with entire months of functionality, followed by weeks of frustration and threats of holy water. When it first happened, mere days after I got my macbook in the mail, I assumed I was the problem. After all, I knew very little about using Macs, and my last nice computer had died when I accidentally spilled water on it, so my record in taking care of nice, expensive electronic equipment was none too good. I assumed I was pressing too hard, or using the wrong digit, or...something.

Eventually, I learned that I was not, in fact, the problem...except when I insisted on eating near my computer, and getting bits of crumbs and oil slicks on and under the keys, which probably isn’t good.

But this learning came with a record good-patch of only the minor-est instances of demon-possession, and I thought, perhaps, my macbook had healed itself and learned to love me as I had learned to love it. So I pretended nothing was wrong, until life decided, once again, to slap me in my hopeful, skyward face.

I tried to watch a DVD, which was for work, as part of an initiative by the World Health Organization and several local governments to encourage sedentary individuals to get active and stay active throughout their adult lives. I was organizing some events, and somebody sent me a free DVD in the mail which features old people doing two-minute aerobic workouts to peppy elevator music, which...amazing. I was trying to explain the concept to my coworkers and encourage them to join in (movements include ‘Open the door!’ and ‘Pick up your grandchild!’) when the DVD, proudly displayed on my laptop, froze mid-stride. Concerned, I pressed buttons, blindly, in vain. A few seconds later, my macbook spat the DVD out, in seeming disgust. I thought that was a little rude.

Sadly, I let my coworkers proceed with their meeting without the mandatory fitness demonstration.

A couple days later, growing worried, I tried again with another health-related DVD sent to me by an obscure branch of the Canadian government. This time, the DVD never started, and was spit out almost immediately. And when I talked about this to a friend, they suggested using my manufacturer-supplied ‘recovery’ CD to ensure that all software was functioning properly, but then my macbook spat that CD out, unprocessed, as well.

I realized that, while I used to own a DVD player, I had lost the remote, and the entire thing had stopped working about six months ago, after which it remained on my floor, where a puppy had peed on it, prompting me to finally throw it away. I had not really noticed or cared about this loss, because I had an amazing macbook and it had largely replaced by need for a DVD player or even a TV. I still owned my tiny, baby ACER laptop, which I used prior to purchasing my macbook, but tiny, baby laptops don’t possess CD drives, which means I had absolutely no ability to watch a DVD.

Which...I only own about three DVDs, and for the most part I like to watch movies in the theatre or online, and sometimes I download them from iTunes, which means that I don’t actually need a disc drive at all, but...it still seems like an important thing to have, in case I need it. Like a backup kidney.

Two days later, I realized, with growing distress, that the demon possessing my trackpad had returned with a vengeance. Checking my email and finding out my bank balance become a tiresome chore (it takes an average of five minutes and three gut wrenching screams of frustration before I can drag my stupid cursor to the appropriate shortcut tab). I realized that, with my imminent move, I had to phone people like BC Hydro and Telus, and that, because of my total reliance on laptop technology, I didn’t have stupid obsolete things like phonebooks and business cards.

...Why are you making my life so difficult, stupid demon possessed macbook that I love??

The demon possession has abated enough that I am able to blog, which I appreciate. And I finally, after seven tries, was able to navigate the web enough to book an appointment at an Apple Store, with a Genius, who will undoubtedly think that nothing is wrong but, at my insistence of demon possession, take my precious macbook away for repairs...which could take months.

And, since I decided not to install cable in my new apartment, or a phone, this move should be extra fun and interesting. How can I look up potential new furniture from the ikea website? How can I check my credit card balance, to see if I could possible finance said furniture? How can I order take-out food when its 2am and I’m sad and I don’t know the names or phone numbers of restaurants in my new neighborhood?

Damn you, macbook, I love you, but you’ve ruined my life.