Going viral--and not the good way

It's unlikely that anybody even noticed that this blog has been down for awhile, but it wasn't laziness or even a running out of ideas for posts that was behind it. I didn't go on any brilliant vacations, though it was a busy August and I didn't particularly need a break from blogging, or didn't think I did. No, my computer caught a cold from someone that not even my virus protection caught, and it's been convalescing elsewhere for a bit. I really wasn't expecting to have it back on Labor Day of all days, but like me and pretty much everyone else I know, the computer guys were working this morning and called me to tell me the surgery had been a success. Although, like surgeons leaving stuff inside the patient after operating, or really the opposite of that, I brought it out of the bag to discover that the bottom covering was missing, and all the innards are exposed. Ah, well. You can't have everything.

I've had enough virus and malware problems over the time I've had computers that this one left me not so much anxious as a little depressed. I think it was only the first time that I really can say the blame lay with me--every other time I've had what I thought was sufficient security, only to find it gotten around in some way. This time I didn't even know I had a virus issue--I thought it was a modem problem. The depression comes from thinking, "So, this easily compromised network is what we've really decided to hand over our thoughts and memory to?" It's a little like living in California, knowing another earthquake is inevitable. Which is another crazy position I happen to be in.

But putting this all into perspective a bit, there's been another virus lurking around California. A couple of people have died up in Yosemite as the result of coming into contact with deer mice droppings, which spread the hantavirus. Deer mice are cute, but I'd rather get a computer virus any day of the week, no matter how much data I lost.

  Oddly enough, my first real job out of high school was working as a maid in Yosemite, and although I didn't live in the tent cabins, which is where people have contracted the virus, I had friends who did. And I have stayed in them since. I am sure there are thousands of people who have nostalgic memories of their stay in these dwellings, and it's a shame that their image is a bit tarnished by all this. 

As for my week or so away from the internet, well, it's not really a real abstinence when you can check your email at work. I'm not sure how far any of us are from the internet anymore, really. But I did find myself going through a kind of withdrawal at home, because I would reflexively want to turn the machine on, and then have to think of something else to do. Not that I used that time so wonderfully--I caught up on some TV shows I'd missed and got sucked into the Republican convention spectacle. And I did actually take care of a few things around here that I wouldn't have--not that you could tell.

And I wrote a short story that I sent off--I'll let you know if that goes anywhere. It took some ingenuity to pull off, frankly. I typed it on to this little gizmo I bought called an Alphasmart Neo.

 
These are really simple little word processing machines, and I bought one a long time ago on a hunch that it would come in handy, which it has on several occasions. You can keep many files going at once, it runs on a couple of small batteries forever, and when you're using it, all you can do is type. No games, no internet connections, no email. And when you're done, you can find a computer with Word on it, or whatever you use and upload it by means of a cable. It's fun watching a mysterious invisible hand type out your words on to the screen. Okay--I live for simple joys.

One thing I did realize from that process in particular--or realized again-- is that blogging and writing stories are two very different activities. I've somehow fallen into the world of blogging, and I'm not planning to give it up, but writing fiction is a different thing and closer to my real self. I don't make any claims for the result, but it is a different process, and one that has a more mysterious or magical component for me. It does different things to my brain than this does, and I need to remember that. A friend told me today that the way to do that is to  put a post-it on the mirror, and though I know that reminders to myself become invisible to me in a remarkably short span of time, I'll try to put a post-it on my mental mirror all the same.