I've been thinking about a new computer for a while now.
Not that my trusty laptop isn't "it" anymore ... I love my laptop, and intend to write more stories and articles and novels on it for quite a while. But I don't think it was ever intended to stay ON from 6am until 8pm or later, continuously. I have a fan under it, but still. It gets HOT and balky after a long day of work in Photoshop.
In spite of my best intentions, I end up using Photoshop a lot. I joined The Piker Press as a writer, in order to keep myself writing regularly. Alas! When not editing and uploading other people's work, I find myself spending time on photos and sketches and -- Photoshop concoctions.
Today I found a machine I could get cozy with, a Compaq Presario with a 200 gb hard drive, and an upgraded 1 mb RAM; plus a Pentium 4 processor and not too many extra bullshit programs loaded on for me to try to delete. I can load my photos directly from my camera's memory card; a little add-on has me connected with that machine to the wireless network in the house. It's quiet, an essential to me, and all that hard drive can store all my photos with ease.
It was a bit of a wrench to my heart to detach my old computer, a 4 gb Micron laptop, from the power source and monitor. After all, the Micron was my little workhorse for writing Time Traveler, and Character Assassin, and editing Dreamer. My friend Tedi Trindle sent it to me in the mail, back when I needed a second computer so that both Bernie and I could be online at the same time. I love that machine, not only because it was of sentimental value, but because it was so reliable. But it can't keep up with all the stuffz of Photoshop.
The new computer is sitting on my art table now, quiet and dark. I imagine it watching me, waiting to see if I will give it an honest job. My laptop, on the other hand, is grinning widely. It's having a drink with me, and admitting frankly, "I'm a writing machine, not an artist."
Tomorrow, the new toy starts its Honest Job.