Friday, August 22, 2008

Farewell to Hudson

I sold Hudson last night. Hudson is my sleek teal monster of an iMac, who has traveled with me half-way across the world and resided with me in 4 apartments. He is also ancient. I bought him used in 2003- a lifetime ago for a computer. He still works fine and I am still very fond of him, but for the past two years I have been forced, due to my work and the fact that Israelis seem to have no idea what to do with a Mac ("What's a Mac?" is a common refrain), I have been using Ba'ab, who is a laptop and not a Mac and therefore inherently inferior. So Hudson sat there on my desk, sadly neglected, and I decided that the time had come to pass him on to someone who would love him and use him.
I started him up one last time, reveling in his familiar chime and hum. I opened all the documents I had left on the hard drive. I found forgotten papers, bad poetry, general drivel and a cache of letters I had written over the course of a year to one of my oldest, dearest friends who was in the army at that time. Re-reading the letters, I was struck by my intense fear of losing him and my desperate attempts to connect with him. I suppose I loved him. He never wrote back, though he called often, leaving messages on my answering machine at odd hours of the night. I was also struck by how nice it is to have some reminder of my own life outside of the academic exercise that was college. I wrote to him about the concerts I attended, my roommates, the kids I taught; about life. It's important to remember those things as well.
I saved the papers, and the poetry (which is actually growing on me) and the drivel. I erased the letters. Said friend is married now and has moved to his wife's hometown. He is once again across the ocean and not prone to writing back. I miss him, though I am no longer so afraid, nor so desperate. I don't miss that part of me.
I sold Hudson and I started a blog. I'd like to have some record of myself and the odd commentary on my life that floats through my head as I stumble about. I'll probably post all manner of things-drivel, poetry and general going-ons. I don't know how often I will post, or how long this experiment will last, but it will do for now.
Farewell, Hudson. I hope the nice grandmother who bought you really will love you and treat you well and use you to communicate with her grandchildren who are far away and far more technologically savvy than her. I'll miss your Macness, your teal sleekness, and calming electrical hum. The time has come, the walrus said...

Thesis watch: 8 pages

Book rec: The collected works of W.B. Yeats

Cubbie watch: 5.5 games up.


Joseph said...

Did you know that Henry Hudson's crew mutinied on June 22, 1611 when he wanted to continue exploring what would be named the Hudson Bay? "The crew left Hudson, his teenage son and eight others adrift in a small boat. No one to this day knows the fate of Hudson and his loyal crew."

From time to time you should call to check that Hudson's doing fine. Don't forget to get him the flu shot every year, at his age it would kill him...

Thesis: 8 pages to go or 8 pages into it?

Rogue Unicorn said...

I think I did know that somewhere in the recesses of my mind.

Alas, I am no longer responsible for Hudson's health.

Miri said...

You may no longer be responsible but you will always care. Congratulations on the new blog, and btw excellent commenter name - as long as I still get to keep it for the band. I mentioned I'm learning how to play the guitar right?

nechama said...


(i have nothing to say, i am too tired for words, but seeing your blog and reading your post made me happy, and if you had to lose some teal sleekness to reach this point, it was a good trade-off as far as i am concerned.)

Tobie said...

It kind of freaks me out when I think that our blogs will be the stack of old love letters that our children find in the attic, and our thirty-years-from-now selves will be forced to account for them. (I have no idea how much that sentence made sense. I'm guessing not all that much).

Rogue Unicorn said...

Miri, you can have the band- so long as I"m allowed to write the lyrics and play air guitar. (Or real guitar, should I ever learn.)

Nechama, I'm glad my blog made you happy. When are we painting?

Tobie, thinking about it that way is a terrifying and somehow prematurely nostalgic.