As if the devastation couldn’t get any worse for me…
In addition to witnessing the visceral and very much alive hate being demonstrated in society as of late, I, too, found myself personally suffering a new set of trials that seemed to unrelentingly test my limits. I’ll discuss the [vastly] lesser of the two evils, if only for the sake of maintaining a bit of levity: My trusty MacBook deciding to show its age (once again) with the trackpad becoming more or less “sentient.”
Since purchasing it in 2010 — and, thus from then on having bitten the proverbial Apple —Maxwell (my Mac’s surname) has allowed me to explore and redefine the boundaries of my capabilities not only from a creative perspective but also regarding computer customization, troubleshooting, and repair. Suffice to say — due to circumstance or personal preference — it had also come a long way from the stock innards with which it shipped. Furthermore, not withstanding it’s near invulnerability to viruses and the like, I’ve also remained vigilant about where I go and what I do in the ‘ol WWW (AKA: wild, wild west).
However, regarding Mad Max’s) current issue: although it didn’t come as a much of a surprise — again, given its age — it did leave me both officially out of commission and with the slight inclination of breaking down and going to the Apple store. I mean, I’d since gone away and beyond my encyclopedia of fixes when the “obvious” proved unfruitful: Multiple virus checks from two different kinds of programs. Muddling with entries in the sometimes hidden subfolders. Going into Terminal and messing around (which is still a fully unexplored country for me). And, of course, Googling like crazy.
Upon finally finding myself at a complete impasse — among other things — it made me reflect on both the immediate situation and greater implications. It was yet another long-held, much-depended-upon institute in my life slowly stripping away from me. And, like it or not, I had to come to terms with it. It wouldn’t be a total loss, anyway. I mean, I was a disciple of the “golden rule” to which all serious computer users adhere; a cautionary composed of two succinct words: Backup. Data. (Which, in my case, resided in two different sources.) It was with that foresight, and in spite of the notion of Apple products holding up longer than PCs, that I was prepared. Never ready, but nonetheless prepared.
Then. All of a sudden… I discovered the fix. Or, rather, after being in that “place of peace,” the fix discovered me.
And, in apropos fashion, everything in my peripheral also seemed to begin to work itself out. The computer thing — relatively small as it is — stood as an example of how I needed to respond, and I think I did alright. I started off by following my own set of processes, and when that didn’t help — short of outright paying for it — sought additional resources. However, and most importantly, even at the end of my rope, I remained zen-like. Because I understood that beyond what was within my power to control, things were going to happen. My response to it with respect to whether or not it would happen was a non-factor. So instead of hastening a heart attack by the time I’m 54, I started singing the famous hook by a certain ice princess.
In the end, I’d become more resourceful, with also having acquired an appetite for attaining such resources. My legal affairs — which is pretty much one of the tentpoles of my current existence — should, in and of itself, stand as testament to the previously mentioned sentiment/resolve. So far, I am navigating that whole other also uncharted territory with an acute heading; which, so far, has gone on to confirm my theories regarding life in general.
Lastly, if given the right people and implementation of the most tactful plan, I believe this national issue of ours will also resolve itself. The way I see it, it’s not any more difficult than fixing a computer.