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Computer repairs still in progress. Since we are currently about 400 miles apart, Tim has had to coach me over the phone. Most of our session between one and two a.m. this morning went like this:
"Okay, now do you see your hard drives? What kind of cords are connecting them to the motherboard?"
"Um flat ribbony ones."
"'Flat ribbony ones'. Okay. Are they brightly colored?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. Unplug the first one from the motherboard."
"I uh. How do I do that? I don't see where I do that."
"The motherboard. The thing screwed into the opposite side of the case. The thing all the cords are going to."
"I don't see anything like that!"
"Are you looking at your computer?"
"Yes and I still don't-- oh, wait, my bad, I see it. Okay, it's unplugged."
"All right, turn your computer on and see what happens."
"It did the same shit it's been doing all day."
"Then that's the drive you want to leave unplugged. Unplug it and plug the other one in."
"Now it's not doing anything!"
"Did you turn it on?"
"What do you think I am, stupid? Of course I-- oh wait. Okay. Now it's still not doing anything. It rebooted itself."
"Did you tell it to boot from the disc?"
"...Yes?"
"You're a terrible liar."
Something of an exaggeration, as I am computer-savvy enough to know that my computer needs to be on to do anything. The motherboard really did disguise itself, though.
In other news, this is fantastic. I've been talking Celldweller for a few entries now and I'm sure you're all sick of it, but I'm still in love. Partly because I associate almost every single one of his songs with some character or story of mine. (Unlike Stephenie Meyer, I have no intention of publicizing that fact if I'm ever published. I doubt Klayton wants to be associated with the kind of stories I write.)
The computer being broken has been something of a blessing as far as my writing is concerned; I've written six pages longhand, which is already more than I wrote most of last year. Now I am anxious for my computer to be fixed so I can type it up properly and fling it at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
uniformautumn and beescratch all "LOOK WHAT I DID!" I have poor impulse control when it comes to sharing my stories. If someone encourages me or, God forbid, makes me believe they enjoy my writing, they are doomed. As doomed as the mariner after he killed the albatross. Yay out-of-place, pretentious literary allusions.
Also thinking about firing up Finale and working on that opera. The problem there being that Finale is on my computer, not this one.
"Okay, now do you see your hard drives? What kind of cords are connecting them to the motherboard?"
"Um flat ribbony ones."
"'Flat ribbony ones'. Okay. Are they brightly colored?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. Unplug the first one from the motherboard."
"I uh. How do I do that? I don't see where I do that."
"The motherboard. The thing screwed into the opposite side of the case. The thing all the cords are going to."
"I don't see anything like that!"
"Are you looking at your computer?"
"Yes and I still don't-- oh, wait, my bad, I see it. Okay, it's unplugged."
"All right, turn your computer on and see what happens."
"It did the same shit it's been doing all day."
"Then that's the drive you want to leave unplugged. Unplug it and plug the other one in."
"Now it's not doing anything!"
"Did you turn it on?"
"What do you think I am, stupid? Of course I-- oh wait. Okay. Now it's still not doing anything. It rebooted itself."
"Did you tell it to boot from the disc?"
"...Yes?"
"You're a terrible liar."
Something of an exaggeration, as I am computer-savvy enough to know that my computer needs to be on to do anything. The motherboard really did disguise itself, though.
In other news, this is fantastic. I've been talking Celldweller for a few entries now and I'm sure you're all sick of it, but I'm still in love. Partly because I associate almost every single one of his songs with some character or story of mine. (Unlike Stephenie Meyer, I have no intention of publicizing that fact if I'm ever published. I doubt Klayton wants to be associated with the kind of stories I write.)
The computer being broken has been something of a blessing as far as my writing is concerned; I've written six pages longhand, which is already more than I wrote most of last year. Now I am anxious for my computer to be fixed so I can type it up properly and fling it at
uniformautumn and beescratch all "LOOK WHAT I DID!" I have poor impulse control when it comes to sharing my stories. If someone encourages me or, God forbid, makes me believe they enjoy my writing, they are doomed. As doomed as the mariner after he killed the albatross. Yay out-of-place, pretentious literary allusions.Also thinking about firing up Finale and working on that opera. The problem there being that Finale is on my computer, not this one.