My mother had computer issues last night-today. She calls me early this morning, asking about their "slow computer." We determined she had disc errors... so I told her to try to fix it from the UNIX command line; when that didn't work, she ran the hardware CD.
She later admits she doesn't have a good surge protector, and the power goes out often with summer storms. Great.
So, I leave her be... and call her later when I'm at the grocery. "Mom, what all goes into gazpacho? I'm making it."
She was not in a good mood.
"I dont know. Tomatoes, I think."
"Yeah, professor, I have those... onion, garlic... a chile pepper... what else? I can't put in sherry..."
"I don't know John. Listen, I ran the hardware test and it said it was the software."
"No it didn't," I returned.
"Yes, it did."
"No, it didn't. It never says "it was the software," so what did it really say?"
There was a pause as I was getting my prosciutto.
"It said the hardware was fine," she added.
"Aha, so it wasn't the "software" it just said the hardware was okay..."
"Yes."
"Ok... well, re-install OS X again, and wipe the drive clean; it may help if the drive wasn't physically damaged."
"I have to wait. We have another storm now."
"Did you unplug the computer?"
"No."
I now rolled my eyes.
These things would be so much easier to fix if she lived near-by.
The other exchange we had was over "AppleCare," their extended warranty program. I never got it on a desktop, but I did this last time around, as my G5 tower has a liquid cooled processor core.
I suggested my parents get it. You have a year after you buy the machine to buy the extra coverage.
"Did you buy the AppleCare?"
"No."
"Why not? I told you to."
"We didn't buy it, OKAY."
Then I rubbed it in. "Well, if you have to get the drive replaced, you're going to have to drive down to the mall and carry it in."
"WE can't do that. I don't want your dad to strain himself."
"So, if you had the AppleCare, they overnight you a box; you put the computer in, and it goes to them... and in 2 days, you get a working computer."
"How much does that cost?"
"Nothing; it's part of the AppleCare service."
"Why don't we have that?"
"You're cheap. I gotta go, Mom..."
I just read something online that piqued my interest. It was the "about" page, or more formally, a "mystory" page about a 27-year old blogger.
He talked about going to therapy, goals for life, etc.
And before this I listened/watched a YouTube! video of Bach played by Glenn Gould.
Now I'm listening to Glenn on my hi-fi, thinking about the reading. The music talks to you.
Some years ago I wrote a long letter to my mother, and in that letter, I mentioned that the music spoke to me. Not like "Kill the guy down the hall, now!" so to say, not in a demonic, eerie type of way. But music (specifically here, the music of Bach) spoke of truths. I have abandoned that thought, until again, tonight.
I guess the music is so good that we might let ourselves believe whatever drifts into our minds.
But imagine if you will, if this piece of music (one of the WTC played by Gould) were a sage, a visitor, or a therapist. Yes, it's not speaking English. But through Gould's interpretation, it is in fact conveying a type of human communication - a message - and while abstract, it is rich in what it says.
I think I like to contemplate my lot in life with music like this. The music, perhaps tells me how well or not I am doing.
What makes me so sad about this reflection is how solitary this exercise is. For all the things I wish for in life, from the material, to the gustatory, to whatever else, I wish I could share this experience of attempting understanding of this divine music with someone else. I sometimes dream about what it would be like to sit, side by side, and talk about what is being said--or suggested--within the music.
Or maybe Glenn's sing-along is just giving me some bad vibes.
