A Pair of Young Quail Scurries Down the Street and I Laugh Out Loud as I Watch from Above

Sometime between one and two o'clock Saturday morning, I lost an individual very dear to me.

Between nine-thirty a.m. and twelve-thirty p.m. I made various attempts at resuscitation, resurrection, even reincarnation, but to no avail. A few fellow mourners participaring by phone from their cubicles in New Delhi could assist me only with the autopsy. Conclusion: hard drive = toast. Unfortunately, it is not the kind that makes a delightful breakfast when smeared with homemade strawberry jam, but rather the kind that you forgot you left in the old toaster that doesn't pop up anymore and now it is so charred that you can't salvage a single edible crumb. And that crumb, of course, represents the research paper you have been working on all week.

Lesson one: Back up important files.

Fortunately, all of my music (except those eight Gotan songs I bought the other night) are on my iPod, and that's pretty much infallible. (Right?) Besides, Naiad and Singing Leaf together have copies of just about all my music. Singing Leaf also has most, if not all, of my Spain photos, and Naiad has most of the photos I have taken here in the last several months. I did lose a significant number of poor-to-mediocre photos, plus a few of the shots I took in DC last summer which I thought were quite lovely. All of my completed schoolwork from the last few years that I really care about, I still have in hard copy somewhere. As for incomplete schoolwork, well, it's frustrating and inconvenient to have lost it, but really, it is not the end of the world. Especially when you have amazing professors like mine who say things like, "Okay, I just won't submit a grade for you and we'll work it out when you can get the paper done. And drop me a note or give me a call if you ever need anything." Really. I love my teachers. I don't know what I ever did to deserve them. Oh, this one also said yesterday, in response to my, "I lost my hard drive. So, I pretty much lost my entire life," "No! Your life is the people you associate with..." I'm not sure if he was going to continue that, because I interrupted with "I know, I know it's not that big of a deal." But it brings me to

Lesson two: Thank God (or whomever/whatever you may prefer) for what you have.

Like that teacher. And your roommate who hears you sobbing over your lifeless computer (I know, pathetic, but it is the middle of finals week) and is immediately at your side trying to soothe you. And another roommate who hears you scream and curse at the Dell OnCall tech who won't help you because you can't remember the phone number you had two and a half years ago and rushes out of her room to see what is the matter. And your dad who calls you back and manages to find that cursed phone number. And your mom who listens to your ranting and then entertains you with a million frivolities (and some more important topics) for a good hour and a half until you have to go take an exam. And the amazing memory you were fortunate enough to be born with. And warm sunshine and blue sky and spring flowers. And books. And paper and ballpoint pens (and a piece of pencil). And hint-of-lime Tostitos. And memories of freshman year with Singing Leaf. And... and... and... tarps. Never mind.

This is getting way too long and rambly. Remainder abridged...

Lesson three: Detach yourself (surgically, if necessary) from technology every once in a while. For your health.

Lesson four: Start term paper earlier than two days before extended due date, so when computer dies you don't have to worry about re-writing/finishing it in between taking final exams, conjuring translation projects, flying cross-country for three days at home, and leaving for a two-month stay in Mexico.

Lesson five: Something about timing. Being able to label the timing of such an occurrence as sarcastically impeccable, curiously convenient, cynically just, ironically perfect. Not sure where I was going with that.

Lesson six: When you contact a Dell technician with a dying (really, you're just hoping it's not dead yet) laptop on your hands (or lap) four days from the end of the semester, and he or she asks you how you are doing, honestly, what do they expect you to say???

Hmm, that wasn't really a lesson. I guess I'm done. Stick a fork in me. Or in my computer. If that's the best you've got. Are you familiar with that scene in Office Space with the fax machine and the baseball bat and the gangsta rap music? Yeah. So inspiring...