High school: “everything must be typed!” Teachers claimed it wasn’t our terrible penmanship but rather an institutional initiative to integrate. Adapting teaching with technology was old hat for me, so I excelled naturally in the classroom environment The school used eMacs and OSX instead of my preferred Microsoft Bob for Windows. Back then I was less distracted by the functionality differences than I am today, the catch-22 of an HFID major. It was still all black hat magic to me.
Massive sixty-four bit color screens and sleek all-in-one curves accented by the vermilion glow of optical mice composed in concentric circles in front of the circulation desk. Quickening my pulse during my first full-screen music video on YouTube; I gasped aloud when I realized how much bigger the sniper scope appeared in Unreal Tournament; practically fainting when by accident I enabled multiple browser tabs - my head was spinning. I was used to a heavily fragmented, firewalled, freakish excuse for a computer – eMac was suave, sexy, and smooth. The velocity at which I could prune the vines was the vindication of my victory.
I could care less what lipgloss the hoochies in the hall were wearing, how many times I got stuffed in a locker, or who I sat next to at the lunch table. On the Internet I got inklings I was uncovering the secret potion that kept me so transfixed. I realized if other people used the Internet, they could be playing the pretending game just like I had. These people could be writing stuff on websites that wasn’t true, or worse, writing code for viruses that would ruin it for everyone. Google changed the way I looked for things, but it only aggravated my rabid raucousness for random knowledge. I would retrieve and arrange elaborate towers of oversize books around my workstation in an attempt to conceal myself from any and all human contact. Although I was at first scolded repeatedly by the persnickety librarian, I eventually won her over in confidence so I could engage in my enchantments worry-free.