Geek Gods

My laptop did the unforgivable and totally died a violent death on the weekend. Leaving me with a half-finished post stuck in cyberspace with nary a line out to get it. Damn you, Apple. Do not make delicious-looking computers that have Toshiba insides that suck! Luckily I had an external hard drive with most of my files. Don't worry–I still got Madonna's 'Holiday' if anyone needs it.

Anyway, open hard-drive surgery was undertaken by an expert geek without many of the tools required and it is now feeling better. That is one benefit of living in SF. You can't spit without hitting a Mac-genius-level geek. I lost some of my latest files for a freelance project, which I'll have to re-do, but I am taking that as a doofus tax for not backing up enough. Just in case you need it–Back up! Backup! Back up!

So being without my iBaby this weekend with no other computer in the house was more than unsettling. And it got me thinking. Who is emailing me? What is happening on Perez Hilton? More importantly, what's so-and-so's address and where am I meant to be tomorrow? No freakin' clue. Why? Because hard copy and grey matter memory are turning into one of those quaint nostalgic things we'll remember from the good old days, like good penmanship or cassette tapes.

In a post-apocalyptic world I imagine us all wandering around aimlessly; we can't remember how to do anything or go anywhere without Googling it first. We're hoping against hope that some geek can put together a PC with 3 paperclips and some chewing gum, MacGyver-style, so we can EBay some bread.

It wasn't my intention for this to be some kind of Luddite tirade, but I wonder if in our rush to embrace the Web we might not set ourselves up for some sticky situations. Meanwhile, I am seriously considering a paper datebook.