Grade 1- the 8-inch original floppy disk Apple; each student was allocated to for one hour per week
Grade 4 - the the all-in-one Apple Macintosh my father brought for us to do "neat" assignments for school
Grade 5 - Forest Gump buying shares in a fruit company
Grade 8 - the Mac lab at school for computer music
University - my first laptop, now framed, the sleek metal finish of the original macbook I brought and framed it after I killed the harddrive
Now - the system I champion in rants and am unhealthily addicted to using
Ahh the brilliance of lifetime enmeshment in product placement and marketing. I admit I am completely brainwashed. And am happy about it.
On a normal note, the last week has been huge. The fog of spring has kept me near locked in my bedroom. After just getting my job back, I may be fired for not being able to leave my new husband. I don't think the disability act recognises spring fever. I have gotten to the point where I cannot look at him before I leave. I wake, keeping my eyes closed tight, and fumble my way into the bathroom; collecting mismatching clothes on the way. After locking the door - fat chance it will stop him if he wakes up - I shower and dress and try to leave. I make my breakfast, dreading and secretly hoping that hands will appear around my waist, and run to the car breathing through my mouth. So far I have made it out once before 9:00.
Nothing happens at work; nothing of note. I work. Typing brief after brief on historical inaccuracies. I figure when somebody writes about today they will note that a large-scale fruit dealer died of causes unknown, and for some reason technology shares fluctuated.
I just want to be at home. So much so that I keep smelling the sandwich wrapper that Elliot touched while making my lunch.
