The Tao of Mac

Gary sprained his hand last night at work, and it's swollen up like one of those old fashioned baseball mitts. For years I've kept bags of frozen peas on hand for the purpose of icing my aching wrists and hands after hours of typing. I got one out, and it was frosted solid. I realized I haven't had to ice my hands since Gary gave me this MacBook Air for Christmas.

I'm not one of those Apple heads. (I haven't been thrilled with my decision to switch from a Droid to iPhone - especially since a recent update left it navigating like a drunken sailor.) But I have to give credit where it's due. I love my MacBook.

Please understand, this was a profound improvement in my quality of life. There are times when my ghostwriting schedule forces me to crank out 3K words a day (and if you're a writer, you know that 3K good words means also typing 5K off-the-mark words that end up cut or reworked.) Many was the midnight hour that found me lying on the floor fighting tears of agony, my forearms decked with frosty delights from the Valley of the Jolly Green Giant.

The realization that it's been 10+ months since I had to plan for and facilitate that pain - it just blew me away. How did I not notice that? How was I not celebrating it every day?

I suppose it's because the MacBook allows me to focus on (and celebrate) what I'm writing. The presence of pain is impossible to ignore; the absence of pain is something we take (if we're lucky) completely for granted.

A hallmark of great technology: it disappears into its own functionality. Instead of cluttering and upstaging life, it provides a vehicle for it. Like a really good bass player (or a really good ghostwriter), it provides structure and soul without calling attention to itself.


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