Falling hard for the Mac mythos in my university years, I’d bartered a trip to Germany for a clamshell graphite iBook. I don’t know if it was the best decision I’ve ever made, but the time I spent with it sure was some of the most fun I’ve ever had. Heck, I even wrote a fleshly poem about it.
But after five years or so of marvellous contentment, I got tired of my iBook. Though I firmly believed in the tao of the Mac, I became accustomed to a faster way of life on a spanking new peecee. Then one day I tripped over its electrical cord and it smashed straight into the ground.
Mind you, it had fallen a few times before, including a metre-high tumble from a wobbling stack of books. But this time, though its innards were a-OK, there was a heartbreaking crack right across its screen. Yes, guilt pierced through the very heart of me.
Go to the repair centre, you say? They told me a new screen would cost SGD2,000 — why don’t I treat myself to another Mac, they suggested. But dismay and stinginess overtook me that day, and I’ve lived without a Mac by my side ever since.
Boy, did I yearn whenever my mind’s eye flitted to that scene from Legally Blonde where Elle Woods’s tangerine iBook is surrounded by a sea of Dells (from hell) / Thinkpads (from heck). Though Macs today are light years away from the OS 9 world I’ve been used to, I’m still steeped in the mythos all right.
So it’s coming to seven years since I first had a Mac. And I’ve come full circle. This time, no bartering was involved — just a massive flattening of the bank account. Yes, I’ve taken the plunge and am issuing forth my first words from what I hope will become a long-time companion. My MacBook Pro.
I feel more serious-minded already.