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My laptop hasn’t worked properly in a long time. A little over a year, in fact. I’ve barely used it in that year—I think the last time I tried to use it was three or four months ago. It won’t turn on if it’s not plugged in, it won’t install the wireless card, and it won’t play DVDs. So besides being a warm, expensive, heavy Solitaire machine, just about the only useful thing it can do is let me type documents. Tonight I needed that—someplace internet-less to sit and type up take-home exam questions. I plugged in my laptop in my room, set it on my bed, plugged in my flash drive, and got to work. As the laptop warmed up, it began to make that smell that it used to make freshman year in the dorms. The faint, warm sheet/hard drive smell. At first it reminded me of Jamie, but only oh-so-vaguely—after all, that smell wasn’t present the second time we dated. I worked a few minutes longer and finally figured out what exactly the smell reminded me of.
Civilization II.
I used to sit with my laptop on my bed and play Civ II for hours. Near the end of winter quarter, I’d sit with my laptop on Jamie’s bed and play Civ II for hours. Always, that faint warm sheet/hard drive smell accompanied the game. It’s such an innocuous smell, and such a pleasantly neutral, emotionless memory, that I left the computer on and moved it to the other side of the bed so that side could smell like freshman year too.
I went to take out my contacts and got to thinking about freshman year me. The person that used to use this laptop was so different. I had completely different bookmarks in my browser freshman year. I interacted with the internet completely differently freshman year. I used AIM differently freshman year. I used this computer for school; I relied on it and kept my soul on it. And just… my personality was different. I used to sit up at night after Ann went to bed and type out blog entries full of emotion and love. My entries aren’t about emotion and love anymore; they’re about anxiety and loneliness, and often apathy. And not just the content is different; my writing style has also changed. It’s just strange, to sit and think about what a difference only three years makes. I don’t even use the same blogging site.
I miss that girl, the quiet one that was so madly in love with the boy down the hall. She went to class in her pajamas and did integrals in her head when she was drunk. She believed in magic and was completely dependent on her circle of friends to support her. She wanted to be a marine biologist and go to grad school at Scripps. She didn’t know where Scripps was. She had a thing for guys who knew how to play guitar but she only knew one who did. She felt like an adult and a 6-year-old in the same body, with way too many responsibilities and a completely naïve view of the world.
At least that much hasn’t changed.
***********
And now, my friends, I leave you. I'm going on a date. And I'm surprisingly... nervous as all hell.
Civilization II.
I used to sit with my laptop on my bed and play Civ II for hours. Near the end of winter quarter, I’d sit with my laptop on Jamie’s bed and play Civ II for hours. Always, that faint warm sheet/hard drive smell accompanied the game. It’s such an innocuous smell, and such a pleasantly neutral, emotionless memory, that I left the computer on and moved it to the other side of the bed so that side could smell like freshman year too.
I went to take out my contacts and got to thinking about freshman year me. The person that used to use this laptop was so different. I had completely different bookmarks in my browser freshman year. I interacted with the internet completely differently freshman year. I used AIM differently freshman year. I used this computer for school; I relied on it and kept my soul on it. And just… my personality was different. I used to sit up at night after Ann went to bed and type out blog entries full of emotion and love. My entries aren’t about emotion and love anymore; they’re about anxiety and loneliness, and often apathy. And not just the content is different; my writing style has also changed. It’s just strange, to sit and think about what a difference only three years makes. I don’t even use the same blogging site.
I miss that girl, the quiet one that was so madly in love with the boy down the hall. She went to class in her pajamas and did integrals in her head when she was drunk. She believed in magic and was completely dependent on her circle of friends to support her. She wanted to be a marine biologist and go to grad school at Scripps. She didn’t know where Scripps was. She had a thing for guys who knew how to play guitar but she only knew one who did. She felt like an adult and a 6-year-old in the same body, with way too many responsibilities and a completely naïve view of the world.
At least that much hasn’t changed.
***********
And now, my friends, I leave you. I'm going on a date. And I'm surprisingly... nervous as all hell.
