We need a therapist but they're all too high tech.

Confession of a Mac-Abuser
by Tova Gabrielle
1066 Humor



I feel so dirty, so ashamed!

I know I should stop myself but something-- the thrill of transgression, perhaps- is provoking me to abuse the blockhead. I just get this itching to get up and do something to him when I see his square little head, always masking the same pretense that his game is simple. But Mac and I can't even agree on language and neither can we afford professional help.
He starts every new program I try on him by leaving these stupid little notes on the desktop: " READ ME". Who does he think I am, Alice in Wonderland?
I used to be more attentive but he's such a bore and he's always trying to sell me something.
He's so DIGITAL, and I'm so KINESTHETIC.


Naturally I move too fast for him, don't think in bitsy pieces like him. I'm too abstract, he's too rigid. If I do things MY way, he gets totally overloaded and shuts down.
I try turning him on. Think we're making a connection, when he freezes without a clue to me that something is different.
I can not stand how he thinks, it is so tedius and pedantic.

There has to be a way to work with this guy that doesn't give me a headache. I start probing him, as if I can change him, like a fool I start moving things around and his whole system falls apart.



I hate myself. I keep abusing him and I can not stop.
My little habit started out innocently. When he got stuck on some stupid task, I only messed around a little. First I tried taking things away, then putting them back, kept pushing his buttons. Got a big rush when my interventions worked, too.
Mac acted like everything was back to normal.
What I didn't know was that I had to document my every move!
It all happened so fast- It was a casual experiment, see, I didn't expect to get involved that way again.
The next time I went overboard trying to cure him, after he'd started getting a little loud and was acting and sounding kinda buzzed.
I was over-confident, just because I'd dabbled once and got away with it. I opened him up like I was some amateur brain surgeon. I must have been mad, toying with his convoluted system, one I could not possibly have created nor understood.

I tried to just use him after that, to find someone more human. He even helped me send a picture, claimed I’d it was a "successful attachment", said, "no threats detected".
Then he notifies me: "You are disconnected."
Like I need to be reminded!

Why do I keep going back? The answer, of course is that I just HAVE to feel that connection. ...The worst part is that I am getting others involved now. Mac is no longer on speaking terms with the printer. His memory is lousy, too, and he doesn't even recognize the scanner.

Everytime he crashes from all the excitement of being with me, I believe this time I've figured him out. But in reality I've just become stupider and braver. I dawdle longer and go deeper, which he absolutely abhors.
He plays dead.
How can he just cut me off like that?

I've really started loosing it lately. Illicitly, feverishly, I search his memory for what went wrong between us. All friendly extensions have disappeared.
I'm at a point where I'm admitting I'm completely powerless over my habit. I will NEVER understand nor control it. I'm asking only that someone restore his functioning. Without my external brain, there is only insanity.


I finally tried getting some advice, confessed to a computer-whiz who is generally soft spoken and understanding. "Obeng, you've been through a lot," I begin. He groans without looking up from his computer.
I press on, "Obeng… it happened again".
My friend from Ghana puts a disk into his CD burner and I begin feeling creepy.

Maybe I didn't sound sorry enough." I really don't mean to get so involved. It's not like I'm trying to mess things up."
Obeng scowls, and I quickly remind him that I’m a good person... that I, like him, am just fascinated with computers!

Obeng looks down at his big digital watch and I feel so useless I actually get jealous of the stupid thing.
The silence has become unbearable. I turn to go upstairs.
Then, just as I’m about to leave and never speak to him again, he remarks that, "...it’s really kind of weird".
My heart pounds. "Weird?"
"Yes, kind of typical too…." .... "it's really kind of intrusive" to be "messing around" with my computer’s head without knowing anything about it's needs or preferences. I'm messing in files that even HE wouldn’t touch.

When his voice raises and he adds that I am, "like the mother who..." I cry out in pain, "Shut up!" and retreat up the stairs from his basement lab, hurrying out to my car.

Who is he to judge me, anyway? I came to him in confidence! And the worst part is he BLAMES me--as if I fooled around on purpose!

So I go to see Adam at Second Chance Computers; he’s more liberal, understands creative types with Adult A.D.D.
I have a face-saving strategy too: I will say the worst possible conclusion anyone could make about my behavior before he can.
So I tell Adam, right off that I’ve just completely lost it. I recklessly messed with and harassed my computer.
He can turn me in or he can help me.

It works: Adam tells me to just take a cold shower and forget about it; that everyone fools around, they just don’t talk about it, that’s all.

Still, I leave feel guilty; knowing that I probably won't stop…. So what if this abuse of innocent objects is a backlash.It's passive-aggressive, an unconscious transference of my deeply repressed anger against all men. Women didn't could think up such non-intuitive crap.

Still, it just isn't working for me to get so involved. Mac can't help it that he has to have his way. He wasn't created to be divine, just functional. So, I have finally decided to sell out: I am stooping to reading the directions before I get in bed with my laptop again.
Don't try to talk me out of it. I’m tired of feeling sleazy. The whole "trip" was an act of desperation.

I just hope that my computer guys will stay friends with me, understanding that addictions don’t go away overnight, when I come crying to them again.