I wrote this the other day, and I thought you guys might like to read it. I couldn't really find a forum for writings on Macrumors, so why not here?
Here goes:
Fixing you is like fixing a broken iPod.
Permit me to make this vapid comparison.
At first, the plastic opening tools won't pry the casing of your thoughts open.
After some prying words and actions, I get a glimpse of the problem.
While taking you apart, the headphone ribbon cable breaks.
We have a huge fight; the replacement is on back order.
The battery and will to talk has since run the memory cells down, finally making the plunge over the curve of effectiveness.
Dust and hair and everyday pettiness clog down the important issues.
I throw my frustration in the form of this scratched up plastic and metal memory holder into a plastic bag with your broken parts.
A year later, I stumble upon the now dusty memory in my tool box.
The memory has become forgotten, just like the parts from past projects.
I order a new cable, a new battery, and restore you slowly.
The new parts seem to cheer both of us up.
Then it comes in, the back ordered part.
The headphone jack assembly is the most important part, no music no memories can be heard with out its presence.
The screws come loose and the long amiss part fits snugly into the now antique memory device.
I charge the new battery, ready to restore the memory to the hard drive.
Finally, it powers on. It spins up. The songs exude happy memories.
But, they're only copies for the original feelings, now long gone.
No longer can I sync your music; no sharing now.
Sure, technology and memories fade as quickly as they come.
But people don't forget, until our memory fades like the projected usage hours for a hard drive.
If god created man and man made machine, then why didn't man make machine permanent?
Nothing lasts essentially.
Thus, even the most grand of our creations erode with time.
Thankfully the pain fades with the memory.
And like technology, it seems that the words will never cease to change.
But there's an end to everything.
We can't stop trying to fix things though.
Here goes:
Fixing you is like fixing a broken iPod.
Permit me to make this vapid comparison.
At first, the plastic opening tools won't pry the casing of your thoughts open.
After some prying words and actions, I get a glimpse of the problem.
While taking you apart, the headphone ribbon cable breaks.
We have a huge fight; the replacement is on back order.
The battery and will to talk has since run the memory cells down, finally making the plunge over the curve of effectiveness.
Dust and hair and everyday pettiness clog down the important issues.
I throw my frustration in the form of this scratched up plastic and metal memory holder into a plastic bag with your broken parts.
A year later, I stumble upon the now dusty memory in my tool box.
The memory has become forgotten, just like the parts from past projects.
I order a new cable, a new battery, and restore you slowly.
The new parts seem to cheer both of us up.
Then it comes in, the back ordered part.
The headphone jack assembly is the most important part, no music no memories can be heard with out its presence.
The screws come loose and the long amiss part fits snugly into the now antique memory device.
I charge the new battery, ready to restore the memory to the hard drive.
Finally, it powers on. It spins up. The songs exude happy memories.
But, they're only copies for the original feelings, now long gone.
No longer can I sync your music; no sharing now.
Sure, technology and memories fade as quickly as they come.
But people don't forget, until our memory fades like the projected usage hours for a hard drive.
If god created man and man made machine, then why didn't man make machine permanent?
Nothing lasts essentially.
Thus, even the most grand of our creations erode with time.
Thankfully the pain fades with the memory.
And like technology, it seems that the words will never cease to change.
But there's an end to everything.
We can't stop trying to fix things though.
