You served me well for four years but now it’s time to bid you farewell, send you into the arms of some other (lesser) writer. It’s not my fault. I would have kept you, even though your processor was dated, your software malfunctioning, your power cord sucking the big one, and your e and i wearing off for the third time each. But the old employer wants you back.
Okay, they would have taken more than double your market value in exchange for your freedom. I passed. Sorry.
It’s not you, it’s me.
In the time that we were together, I wrote brilliant ad campaigns. Brilliant, original, award-winning, career-changing ad campaigns. No one will ever see them, of course. What’s that adage about advertising being better without the clients? I wrote some good campaigns too. And some mediocre campaigns. Sometimes at 6 am. Sometimes at midnight. You didn’t sleep a lot, and neither did I.
I spent my entire first pregnancy on bed rest with you on my belly, branding my thighs with permanent red marks from the heat of the titanium casing. You can still see the scars. I wrote letters to my unborn daughter. I researched fetal development and fetal positions and fetal anomalies that I pretended not to have read. I spent far too many hours researching crib bedding. I spent far too many hours creating my registry then changing my registry, then changing it back. Then changing it back again. Then just…oh ok. I’ll leave it.
No I won’t.
I banged away on anonymous mom message boards. I learned the meaning of CIO, CVS, SAHD and OMFG. I used the term snarky. I used the term LOL. I denied ever using the term LOL.
I wrote very, very bad poetry.
I started my first blog with you. I created a pseudonym that stuck, only because citymama was already taken. I left my first blog comment. I got my first blog comment. I got my first email from a blogger kind enough to tell me that my comments were off.
With you I learned that html wasn’t pronounced hatemail, and that wysiwyg wasn’t a typo. I got my first paycheck from blogging. I started my second blog.
I found my voice.
I had my second daughter. I managed to find a name for my second daughter.
I lost my cat.
We traveled the country together – LA, San Jose, Boston, Providence, North Carolina, South Carolina, Atlanta, LA, Orlando, Pompano, Tampa, Washington DC, Maine. And LA. And LA.
And of course, Chicago. By way of Houston.
I’ve made friends with your help and I kept them. And I believe I will keep them for a very long time. But you, my friend, you are going across country tomorrow and you’re staying there. Our time together is up. I’ve got a newer, sleeker, faster model. Not that there was anything wrong with you that we couldn’t have fixed. It just wasn’t worth it.
I’ll always have the memories. And, probably, the red splotches on my legs.
20 thoughts on “Breakup by Blog”
LOL>>Wait, I take that back. Very funny.>>And sad. I miss your computer already.
What a great post. Funny, yet it’s true, we do humanize the objects who see us sweat every day. It’s inspiring to read about your success in blogging and how you got there.
Your computer is thinking, “ADULTERER! THERE IS ALREADY ANOTHER, ISN’T THERE?!?!?! TELL ME! TELL ME!!!!!”>>The new computer is beaming in its case nearby. Gloating at its victory. >>(I really need to stay away from the computer after two drinks).
It’s always sad to say good bye to a good techy friend.>>It will be a sad day when I have to retire my computer.>>Well, at least until I open the box of my new one.>>Heh.
Great post! I never LOL either. <>never<>
For a second I thought YOU were breaking up with ME! As in breaking up with US! The interwebs! Phew! I mean, no offense to your old computer but I’m slightly relieved it’s getting the boot. The alternative (you leaving) would be very bad.
Glad it’s the computer going bye-bye and not the blog.
okay your post to sage a couple of days ago made we weep big fat wet tears because I knew exactly how you felt. i couldnt even comment because i was WEEPING.>>but this post? can’t see through the tears. again! I am such a sap! Giving up an old laptop is SAD! Just like seeing someone drive off in the car you just sold.>>but black macbooks kick ass! 😉
Your black macbook and my white macbook can play together, just as MLK might have dreamed of…>>I love you, girl, and I love your blogs.
Things to never say to your wife or husband, No. 39:>>“I’ve got a newer, sleeker, faster model. Not that there was anything wrong with you that we couldn’t have fixed. It just wasn’t worth it.”>>“wysiwyg wasn’t a typo”<--------instant classic
Sigh. I’ll miss the emails without the letter “t” or “q” or whatever was on boycott at the time. >>That’s why I keep calling her “Halia”
I had the same reaction as GGC and got all panicky. Then I caught on and was all “Phfft. Just computer. Not me. Ha ha, computer.”
I also thought you were leaving the interwebs and I nearly freaked out! >>It’s amazing how much our computers are a part of our lives. They’ve been with us thru so many life experiences, like a favorite pair of old, worn in sneakers.
Farewell, computer! And bring on the MacBook! (I take mine to bed with me every night. Husband is getting a little jealous. He should be.)
I just got my first *laptop*, have always had a desktop. I don’t even want to think of saying goodbye to it yet.
Hm, I still don’t know what CVS means.
What Becs said. I WAS FREAKING OUT for a minute there.>>PHEW.
Tomorrow I’m tutoring a 9th grader and one of the areas we’re covering is personification. But this is entirely different. The keybaord really does lover Liz and Liz really does love the keyboard. So a poor example this would be for my student. What a shame.
I’ve had several desktops that I haven’t given a second thought to when swapping them for newer models. >>But my laptop? She’s my first (not counting the one I had for three days that was taken during the break in), and I hope we’ll be together for a long time. Because I’ve grown accustomed to her quirks and we’ve gone through a lot together. >>Here’s hoping your new model will be just as good to you or better.
heheheh dats really nice and funny 😉
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