Let me prelude this rant with an apology for my long and painful absence. If it weren't for the wonders of overseas shipping and other serendipitous occurrences, I might not have been able to write this blog post so leisurely. Due to my fortune, I can now honestly apologize to my loyal readers, all 3 of you, for leaving you out in the dark for so long. If I still have your attention thus far, then I guess I will actually have to follow up on my promise of a explanation.
Crap...
So it seems, technology is something we all agree is frustrating as Hell, yet we can't live without it. Unfortunately, a month ago I had the wonderful pleasure of learning the true meaning of both of those facets: my dependency on technology, and my bitter distaste for when a simple error causes irreparable damage to one's communicative life.
Upon following up on a lovely excursion to the French countryside with the intention of uploading and updating my Flickr account (my newest cyber-substance abuse), I quickly came to the conclusion that a black screen showing up on your laptop instead of the standard what-have-you is a VERY bad sign. And bad it was, for it forced me to deal with French technical staff, which, believe it or not, makes French bureaucracy look like a handling a Starbucks barrista. With an estimate of roughly €12,000 to simply replace the broken motherboard (you know, the things that SHOULD NOT break after roughly two years), I decided to find another option that would helpfully alleviate the situation: my parents.
WRONG!
With potential solutions dead-ending every second, I decided that it was time to put on my Geek Squad gloves and tackle the technical world myself. If you though Homer's The Odyssey was a trip, then grab yourself a faulty Mac or iPod and seek a replacement.
Ha! the naïvety pleases me.
After trying to call the Apple store from France (because they don't offer an international number, although they are an international enterprise, so I thought), and sending a few detailed and polite e-mails in their generally direct direction, nothing came back. I slowly began to realize that all those phone calls and e-mails were sent on a suicide mission, and I just watched as their caskets came back home.
Fortunately now I have access to a lovely handed-down Mac, but yet I bare the scars of a binary battle and certain digital diplomacy. It's not that I didn't receive a genuine good product to begin with (it was actually a REPLACEMENT for the first MacBook Pro that crapped out on me), nor that it didn't extend its life beyond two years of college, but the horrible response that I received from a enterprise that is supposed to be involved with the consumer, and actually be concerned with the product that it divulges onto the general consumer population. Living in Paris and not being able to even FIND an existing Apple Store makes the experience all the more enjoyable, because quite frankly I was under the impression that Paris was a major city. Not according to Apple it seems.
But alas! Revelation! After reading an article online about a new Apple Store opening underneath the Louvre pyramid (yes, I said LOUVRE), I came to a very bitter understanding with the company: they have the money to open up a franchise underneath one of the most iconic structures in the world (might as well bought the Eiffel Tower), yet they apparently don't spend as much money into quality control of their products, nor into their customer service. Someone should tell Steve Jobs that his employees aren't the only ones buying Apple's products, but us little people too. We're the ones stupidly bobbing our heads in the metro with our iPods (mine just started to act up after only 3 months; more like iPod Touch-ed by an angel), we're the ones making crappy rap songs with Garageband and taking stupid distorted photos in Photobooth. Not you, Mr. Jobs, nor your fellow serfs in the Genius Bars. Surprised?
Don't get me wrong, I still, and probably will always prefer an Apple laptop over a PC. I grew up using PCs, and Microsoft, and pushing the overly complicated Start button and whatnot, but now I found a better niche that is spelled M-A-C. The exterior design alone is superior, for it's sleek, practical, light, and plain aesthetically pleasing. If I want a blocky, heavy, awkward amalgamation of plastic and metal, I will go PC. Until that day, I start my mornings with the quintessential Apple start-up fanfare, and it's smiles from then on...
My point, finally, is that technology is a beautiful creation, but at the same time it can be a terrible plague that devours time and patience more than Grendel did Danes. It is a modern retelling of Dr. Frankenstein's monster, complete with crashes and glitches instead of the occasional siege on the village folk. Having lived over a month in a foreign country without a laptop, having to adopt the AWERTY keyboard over the traditional QWERTY (my fingers will never heal), having to get up substantially early to commute to an office to use barely 30 minutes worth of Internet, I learned a lesson on humanity's dependence on technology, and how things like Facebook, e-mail, Flickr, etc. demand acknowledgment like eating and sleeping do. Though you may find that sad, it is the true. If you don't believe me, cut yourself off from anything computer or technologically more advanced than a toaster and tell me that you don't find yourself rocking alone in a corner à la Charles Manson. Consider it a dare even. Might do us all some good.
Once again to my readers, thank you so much for you occasional check-ups to see if I were ever to return to the blogging scene. Personally, I don't feel like I have accomplished much with this blog, or as much as I had initially intended, but I do decree now that that is going to certainly change. I've realized on all those longs metro rides, or even waiting in the grocery lines for the old women to pay in euro coinage, that I have a lot more to say about the world, music, film, LIFE in general, and if you do enjoy my commentary, please let me know! Anyone who knows me certainly knows that I do have an unhealthy relationship with talking, for I talk more than anyone should who doesn't get paid for it. I figure why don't I transpose that communicative libido into the fine lines of my blog, and perchance I will see some beneficial development from it in the future.
Ha! my own naïvity makes me laugh. But really, I have too much energy to not use it towards criticizing apathetic enterprises or under-appreciated indie bands whose big break could rest with some eccentric blog post. Who knows, right? But isn't that the fun part?
All that said, please enjoy the Un-Reel Talk blog v. 2.0. Don't expect this to be some sort of a Second Coming, because I can not produce miracles, but I can certainly talk and talk and talk about them (i.e. the kindness of my own parents for re-connecting me to my ever-loyal audience). I hope to make you all want to come back to read, and I do certainly hope that you enjoy it all as well, for I certainly enjoy writing about it.
Many thanks for your patience, and until the next fatal fiber-optic flaw!
Cedric
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