I know we rarely use epistolary methods of communication with one another. I humbly admit that many of my communications with you are either unfortunate one-syllable phrases, or the encouraging-but-hardly intellectual cheer "come on, come on".
Yet I find that if I but take the time to read them, you are full of interesting messages. To be honest, I rather miss the little paper-clip man who used to pop up and tell me things like "if you hit 'save', it will save the current draft". Yet I know that even in this less heady time, after the infatuation has mellowed down into a relationship, and, dare I say it, a friendship, you still have much to tell me.
I'd like to tell you straight off the bat that I appreciate the directness with which you tell me of problems which you are having with my utilization of your many talents.
I notice that when I probe into your help directories, seeking new ways to understand you, then I often find your explanations far more cryptic and allusive. Sometimes these episodes are like watching a Japanese animation in which one is dimly aware that the story must be from a myth-tale foundation which the audience is assumed to know, but which I do not in fact know.
Yet perhaps there is a kind of relationship magic in someone who is very open about matters involving others, and a bit mysterious about oneself. I believe that some self-help manuals of the 1920s suggest that one should smile a great deal, avoid use of the word "I", and focus conversation on other people. I have personally believed this since I read a book by Mr. Dale Carnegie about winning friends and influencing people back when I was 12 years old or so. I did not cease to be a shy person back then, but at least I gained a methodological understanding of what being non-shy might entail.
I am always intrigued to hear what you have to say. Lately,though, you puzzle more than even your charming allusive veil of mystery usually does. When you boldly announced that I am nearly out of space on my C drive, I was skeptical. When the message persisted, even after I deleted several large podcasts and a number of lovely-when-I-got-them-but-never-used freeware programs, my skepticism grew. I have used your utility to reduce the disk file size a few times, and yet I find that you keep giving me the pop-up message.
I hate to introduce a note of doubt into our dialogue, especially as we have worked together so closely and so well. But when you tell me that the "properties" of my CD drive is that I have used 179 GB out of 180 GB available, I am stunned to the core.
I am not a gamer. I run a fairly lean ship. I save a few 4 MB songs a week, and perhaps
half a GB of pictures once in a great long while. It's true that I could be more judicious about deleting pictures snapped by mistake or in the darkness, but overall I am not a huge, porcine GB working farm animal. I am a modest man of modest uses for my computer.
I concede that when I sent mountains more things to the recycle bin, including an entire library of wave samples that I no longer ever use, 3 GB of additional disk space cleared up from my C drive.
Yet I have the nagging feeling that my entire life fits in less than 120 GB, and your math skills may be in question.
This is all a dilemma for me, as I have never bought additional memory for a computer before, and I have no idea how to install it even if I do buy it. I am also secretly concerned that some Foreign Power must have somehow occupied 100 GB of my disk. Im the great Monopoly game of computing, you see, I am Mediterranean and Baltic, not Boardwalk and Park Place.
I know you prefer to respond in your own language, filled with charming Finnish-like phrases like defrajimentaki-on and disjk-klin-up. As with Finnish, even saying "thank you" appears to require at least six phrases impossilbe to spell and unthinkable to pronounce.
Yet I implore you to arm yourself up with the google language translator, and please tell me:
A. is our relationship really in peril becaues you believe my dance card is too full?
B. Should I add more dances, or rest more often?
C. how can I remember all the things you tell me if I cannot store the thoughts you've shared?
You know that you are an essential part of my life, my friend, but I think that in life I am all too often the accessible, nurturing one, and too infrequently the recipient of comforting assistance.
Can you assist me here, my dear computer?