Tuesday, December 18, 2012
If graphical infidelity is an accepted phrase, then we’re in good shape tonight. And if it isn’t? A submittal to UrbanDictionary may be in order. That’s because I’m typing this post on–wait for it–a sickly teal desktop at 640×480 resolution in dazzling 4-bit color. What’s more, my application of choice is Microsoft Notepad. I’ll explain how I arrived at this sorry state of affairs in a moment, but do excuse any typos tonight–and treasure the rich palette on whatever device you’re using now, be it 64-bit or 32-bit or, shit, even 16-bit.
I finally began my quest to clean this weekend, the first order of which calls for donating a hot ton of antiquated computer parts to Goodwill. The plan was to rebuild my desktop first, of course, using the “best” hardware culled from the carnival. The entire ordeal would take three hours, tops, followed by an easy trip to the neighborhood donation center. That’s what I told myself, at least.
It took the whole weekend, and I’m still working through issues. My living room looks like the aftermath of an unholy union between the A/V and art clubs. There are DVD drives and RAM chips blanketing the coffee table. A power supply sits by itself on the couch, flanked by a mess of ribbons and parts on the adjacent loveseat. Hollow computer cases dotting the floor. This is either the advent of delayed spring cleaning, or the avant-grade of furniture art may be gestating here. I haven’t decided yet.
Three builds later, I traced the source of my frustrations to an errant motherboard, and the final box I built was only marginally different from what I started out with. But assembling a configuration of parts that would actually respond to electrical current wasn’t enough. Now, after a fresh install of Windows XP, there appears to be some kind of driver conflict between the motherboard and my video card, the net result of which means I’m not allowed to have colors. Why so much drama? Partly because I’m rusty, I think. It’s been years since I tried my hand at this stuff. Mainly, though, I don’t think I have the stomach to do this anymore, in my old age. There’s still a sense of pride, to be sure, from putting together a bunch of parts and watching them magically work in concert. But sometimes you just want the milk, you know? You don’t want to buy a plot of land, raise a barn, put a cow in it, learn the craft, and then teach the cow to go the store and buy a carton of milk for you.