In Chips I Trust

I have been pretty busy lately... about a month until I'll be homeless, and I have a lot to do to try to make the transition a smooth one. It's amazing how much energy it takes just to get out of Switzerland.

But that's not what I want to write about today; my hard drive crashed. My external one, that had my iTunes files on it (thankfully, so did my iPod), and a whole bunch of my pictures.

Before you say anything, yes, I learned my lesson, and I now have an online backup/archive plan, and more or less the entire contents of my computer is being uploaded as we speak. Or, I guess, as I write and you read, unless you read this in March 2009 or something.

Anyways, I'm hoping that it can be recovered, that it's just the power for the disk, and that perhaps if I buy another one the same and swap out the disks, I'll get my data back. The problem is, when it comes to technology, I am a complete and hopeless optimist. This shouldn't be a huge surprise - that's more or less what I'm like about other things (like people), too. And I love being an optimist, being trusting. The problem is, it doesn't always pan out.

I bought this external drive from a friend, and when it went down, I asked him where he got it, so I could see if they could help me with it. He was pretty concerned... "did I give you the receipt?". I wasn't sure, but I had a pretty good hunch (knowing him) that he did and that I (knowing me) threw it away.

Why would I throw it away? Because I somehow believe that nothing will ever go wrong with any piece of electronic equipment I buy.

Of course, I say this as I type on a PC that's been through more than one hard drive, took about 3 weeks to accept a firewire card, writing on a monitor that often shows little streaks beside text as though it had been smeared across the screen. Never with pictures - only with text. Beside me sits a mixer which used to have 2 firewire ports (hence the need for the card) but now only has one that works. Behind it is a keyboard which is currently willing to produce about 15 of it's purported 800 or so sounds. And the iPod that saved all my music is one that had died twice within 9 months of buying it - and the last time, they couldn't even fix it.

Yet I throw out every receipt for everything electronic that I ever buy. Strange, eh?

I'm not sure why it works that way. Part of it, now, may be to keep me from ever having to deal with aggressive, suddenly-no-one-in-the-store-speaks-English "customer service" people, a real treat in Geneva. Part of it may be some misguided idea that the object of my trust can be made reliable simply by me placing enough trust in it. THAT's a tough one to learn, I'll tell you.

But I think that mostly, it's just this: I'm surrounded by the stuff. I make my living with it, pursue most of my recreational activities with it, and even use it to keep the little chick acquainted with her grandparents. If it doesn't work, where does that leave me?

Frankly, I'd rather think about the move...