I got a Macbook for Christmas.
It rules.
But some things had to change with this new Macbook. Notably, the computer I use. But also, in some deeper sort of way, an old life that I used to call my own.
Perhaps that's a little too esoteric. It makes more sense in my head.
I got my old laptop when I graduated high school. It was the first computer that I could call my own, and I felt like a king. Me and that computer, we did everything together. Well, mostly homework and browsing for music. But in my freshman and sophomore years of college, that pretty much was everything. So we were tight.
In four and a half years, that machine accrued a lot of information and data. I like to think it had a better memory of my life than I do. Thousands of pictures, thousands of songs, countless essays and little bits of words I deemed necessary to write down. It tracked my evolution from ignorant high schooler to hapless adult. Maybe that's why it got so slow at the end.
The first quarter of my freshman year of college was many things, and one of those things was an awakening in musical awareness. I had high-speed Internet for the first time in my life, and what followed was an explosion of music searches, downloads, and shares. By the end of that quarter I was hundreds of songs richer in my musical wealth, and the songs I'd gathered had chiseled the fine memories I'd created of the eclectic friends and life I'd discovered along the way into my head.
One day I had a bright idea: I should keep track of all the music I listened to this quarter. Some day, I'll listen to that playlist and take a trip back to the fall quarter of freshman year.
So I made the playlist. Then I did the same thing for winter quarter of freshman year. And spring quarter, too. At the end of the year I was so deep that I knew I'd have to do it all of college.
And so I did. A playlist for every season of college. All of it tracked on my laptop. Each playlist a book of memories, both good and bad, of my life.
I never knew what I was going to do with those playlists. To be honest with you, I don't know that I ever listened to them again. But there was something about making sure they were there on my iTunes that calmed me, like they were memories I was certain I couldn't lose. Kind of like a photo album; you don't want to forget those times, but your head can't quite afford to hold on to them.
(I'm also a pack rat. It actually pains me to get rid of things. Usually I try to find an excuse for saving some lousy old shirt, piece of furniture, or scrap of paper.)
So then I graduate college, I get a job, I get engaged, I become a big boy, and I get a Macbook. Life changes, my environment changes, everything changes.
And my laptop changes.
I transferred all of my stuff from the old laptop to the new. All of the pictures, songs, essays, all preserved. But something got lost in the shuffle.
My playlists.
Now, for all of you Mac geeks out there, calm down, I do know that there is a way to transfer iTunes playlists from one computer to another. But suffice it to say, my way around the situation - surgically removing my playlists from one digital life and implanting into another - is entirely too long and complicated for me to focus on right now. Trust me, I tried to sit down and figure it out. I deleted and reloaded my 12,000-song library twice to try to figure it out. And it was beyond me. It is just way too much work than is worth it.
And so I faced the decision: Do I get rid of these 12 invaluable playlists that have documented the last four years of my life?
Tough as it was, I made the call. I left the playlists behind.
And so here I am, on my fancy new computer that doesn't really know me all too well yet. So far, we're just acquaintances. And my old friend, together with those playlists, sits put to rest, alone on my desk, ready for retirement. (Which will probably just be a place in my closet. Remember: pack rat.)
This computer is going to see a lot of new memories. It's going to see a lot of new music, a lot of new pictures, a lot of new essays. The first iTunes playlist I made? "Our Wedding."
But this computer will never know me like the other one did. They will know two different mes. And maybe that's a good thing. Putting that old life to rest - playlists and all - helps open room for new experiences and a new life to document.
I'm just thankful I have a computer to come along for the ride.
