My laptop died. Feel free to weep accordingly.
And even though the title of this post is “Blue Screen of Death”, I never even got the Blue Screen. I got the “White Screen Slowly Fading to Black in the Center and then the Corners”.
So I’ve lost some things. Like entire stories, books, and ideas.
At the moment, the offending piece of equipment is sitting at home gathering dust. The guy at the PC repair place tells me that the problem is with the motherboard and that it won’t be fixable, but the hard drive should still be in tact. Which means that my data, my stories, books, and ideas, are safe in there. I just can’t get to them right now.
I once read that our own memories work a bit like that. That the majority of our memories, especially the ones we recall most often, don’t reflect the reality of how things actually were. That the process of remembering itself changes the memory. Distorts it. By having access to our memories, we risk ruining them.
The only memories that are truly safe are the ones locked away in the brains of amnesiacs, who cannot recall them at all.
Of course, memories are pretty useless when you can’t get to them. Just like my laptop, at the moment.
Fortunately, new laptops only cost a few hundred dollars. Retrieving memories from a broken brain is a lot more expensive, I’m sure.
And while I’ve just put a silver lining on the death of my laptop, it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t have an extra few hundred dollars laying around for a new laptop. Ah well. For now, I’ll just remember the good old days when I did have one.