Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Woe to Those Behind the Eight-Ball of Technology...

Brief post today, cuz I'm fried. I was up until about an hour or so before dawn working -- I used to be able to pull the occasional all-nighter, but that's a thing of the past.

As a youth in my twenties, it was hey -- no sweat! I caught up on sleep later. After hitting 35 or so, the toll was harsher on the ol' bod: still, I miss the magic hours twixt dusk and dawn for creative work, especially after midnight when the phone won't ring and the night stretches in directions one forgot was possible.

Point being, I'm toast this morn.

Sleeping four fitful daylight hours doesn't suffice, and with a long drive to and from the Center for Cartoon Studies ahead of me before and after teaching, I'm dreading the drive home tonight (one word: "cof-fee," which will keep me up upon my return home and further disorient). I'll make it, but I'm prepping for a fall-down all day tomorrow as I pay the piper for working into the wee hours this morn.

Anyhoot, the point is, I opened the Yahoo email this morning on my old steam-powered iMac and -- I can't reply to any email! The beast has altered itself in fundamental and no-longer-functional ways. What the -- ??

Overnight, Yahoo has magically "upgraded" the email reply function in such a manner that all sorts of ginchy bells and whistles now appear in a colorful bar atop the reply window -- two of which the little 'warning' boxes on my screen alert me to this iMac's inability to load -- and I can't write a reply to anyone! Nada! Nothing is working as it had for years until 9 AM this morning! YYYYYYyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaggghhhhhhhh!

A "heads up" notice or instructional email or just a fucking option to engage or disengage would be nice, but nooooooooo, computer geeks never ever think that way. A choice would have been nice.

I loathe "upgrades," particularly unannounced ones on my low-tech, functional old 'puter. They always require hours and sometimes days of additional labor and time I haven't got to pour into this box, all to arrive at roughly the place I was comfortably at before.

Too exhausted to fuck with such frivolities this morn, my apologies to all I would normally have communicated with by this hour, and ta-ta for now.

The Luddite is leaving the room.