Elegy (of sorts) for a Laptop

Pixabay

Yesterday, I finally got frustrated enough with my MacBook to cave in and take it to the Apple Store, not-so-secretly hoping that a new MacBook was the answer. Don't get me wrong -- I love my MacBook -- but at six years old and counting, its age is showing. The lag time between typing in, say, a web address, and having it appear on screen is not as bad as the old AOL dial-up connection delay, but let's just say it's frustrating to try to do much of anything in a hurry. In addition, it was no longer possible to work for any length of time without plugging it in. Case in point: I teach from 11 - 1:45 on Tuesdays and Thursdays. One day, when I forgot to plug my MacBook in between classes, it died partway through my second class, giving me that sad, sad, red, empty battery icon and forcing me to figure out what to do in the absence of any visuals while it powered back up.

Oops.

So, when the technician at the Genius Bar referred to my laptop as vintage (better it than me), I had a feeling my dream of a new laptop -- one that responded in real time -- might actually be realistic.

In the end, the only rationalization I could come up with for replacing the battery instead of the machine itself was price. In addition to its speed challenge, the old MacBook no longer accepts the newest software updates. I could very easily end up spending over a hundred dollars on a new battery only to have the old machine outlive its usefulness.

And useful it was. I wrote two novels (almost three) on that MacBook, one of which I've already published. I wrote more blogs and articles than I can count, along with two book proposals, including the one for Know Thyself: The Imperfectionist's Guide to Sorting Your Stuff, which is currently in my editor's hands. I learned how to use Keynote and Pages and Canva, creating course materials, promo materials and playing with presentations and graphic design just for fun. I learned how to use Twitter and refined my skills on that machine. I poured out my heart in personal emails and wrote my mom's obituary.

It was a very good MacBook.

And so I did the only thing I could. I retired it while I still have fond memories of it and before its power is gone completely. Like any outgoing expert, it can train its replacement, sharing files and wisdom (okay, maybe not wisdom) and serving in a limited capacity while being allowed more rest than a full-time laptop can manage.

I wasn't thrilled by all the bells and whistles on the newest MacBooks, so my new MacBook looks exactly like my old one. Over time, it will earn its own place in my heart, (its shiny, clean screen and increased power are an excellent start) as I finish old works and start new ones I haven't even dreamed of yet.

Zazzle.com

But I'm not counting the old one out just yet. After all, a Jersey girl's laptop is bound to have had some stubborn determination transferred to it after six years of tapping away at its keys. Battle-scarred (you should see the keyboard) or not, it's tough and I suspect it has more life in it than it lets on.

Twin MacBooks, six years apart. What more could a Jersey writer wish for?

10 Things You Probably Already Know About Me

Rafixx via Pixabay

Today is one of those Mondays. It started with rain, but morphed to sunshine. My overbooked schedule righted itself in a win-win fashion. The guest speaker in my class this morning left me feeling upbeat about myself, my students and the work I do, leading me to bounce off campus, delighted with the life I have. 

Yeah, I know. I'm nauseating -- or fun to be around, depending on your perspective. And, while I've tossed a few blog post ideas around this morning, no one topic stuck, so today, I'm going with a list post that reflects where I am on this now-sunny Monday. If you're a long-time reader, few of these will come as a surprise -- and you might even have a few observations of your own to add in the comments (please do). 

So, here's me. 

1. I love my job. Sure, I complain sometimes about the details but, big picture, I love working with young adults and daily, I meet young people who shatter the notion of a lazy, entitled younger generation.
2. I am an optimist. Most days, #1 fuels this.
3. I appreciate excellence and have little patience for people who don't do the work.
4. I love creating characters, whether for the stage or the page.
5. I live for a flexible work schedule. I've done the traditional work day, and this is much, much better, but I also work more hours now than when I did the typical work week.
6. Becoming a mom is the best thing that ever happened to me.
7. I have a love-hate relationship with technology. When it works, it's a fabulous tool, but I'm always not-so-secretly afraid something will go wrong and I will look foolish. (It's happened).
8. I love to learn new things. These days, you're more likely to find me reading (and writing) non-fiction than novels.
9.  I am grateful beyond words for the life I have. Yes, bad things have happened and no, I haven't simply ignored them. But, I know that neither good nor bad will feel that way every moment of every day. I know what I'm good at and I'm willing to work hard. And, I have a husband whose job provides health insurance.
10. No matter where I am or where I live, I will always, always be a Jersey girl.

One Last Jaunt to Jersey

Photo: The Odyssey 

If you're a regular reader of this blog, you know I'm a Jersey Girl, as in, "you can take the girl out of Jersey, but you can't take the Jersey out of the girl."

For several years, however, I've been trying to get my parents to move to my adopted state of Pennsylvania. After my mom got sick, we (my mom, my sister and I) convinced my dad that a move closer to my sister and me was a good idea. Last month, we outfitted his new place with the basics and last Wednesday, he made the move official. Though my mom's presence can be felt everywhere in the apartment, from the large, framed photo in his bedroom to the furniture and furnishings throughout, this is my dad's apartment.

I'm thrilled to have my dad close by; it's a lot easier to drop by for a visit or go out for a meal when he's only three miles away. Though we've talked practically every day for the past year and a half, I'm really excited to have him "just around the corner." He worries about asking too much of me; I'm glad he's here to ask.

Last Saturday, we went to my dad's place in New Jersey to get the remainder of his things and to clear out the basement. Although I thought a lot about how my dad might feel about leaving his home state behind, I didn't really give much consideration to how his move might make me feel, Jersey-wise. On Saturday night, as we drove away from the condo, car stuffed to the gills, we also drove away from my last direct connection to my home state. I still have family and friends in New Jersey, of course but with my parents no longer there, I can't imagine when I might visit again.

I'm still not sure how I feel about that. After all, you can take the girl out of Jersey, but you can't take the Jersey out of the girl. As I've said before, no matter how many years I live in Pennsylvania (closing in on forty now), New Jersey will always be home. It's not like it's that far away, of course, or that we can't plan a trip to the shore, but it feels strange knowing that spur-of-the moment trips "home" are now a thing of the past. Then again, I guess "home" is more than just a place. Anyone who knows me knows better than to question my love for the state I will always call home.

I just hope my dad's as happy in his new home as I always was in my home state.

On Jersey Girls, Writers and Social Media

As a writer, I spend a lot of time cultivating a professional online presence. This blog, which doubles as my website. Facebook. Twitter. Pinterest. LinkedIn. In general, I try to follow the standard rule of thumb: don't put anything on your page you'd be embarrassed for your grandmother to see.

As I'm old enough to be a grandmother myself, that's not usually too difficult. I have no desire to post things that are vulgar or graphic, and I try not to post things that I suspect will hurt other people's feelings. 

Lately, though, I've been feeling passionate about a lot that's going on in the world. Perhaps it's the stage of life I'm in. As the parent of a young adult, I look at a lot of things through the lens of how it will affect her and her future. As an instructor at a college, I urge my students to view things through this lens as well. And I feel the need to speak out about things that bother me, whether it's to spread the word, express an opinion or spark conversation and inspire critical thinking.

Toward that end, I keep separate personal and professional Facebook pages and I try to keep politics off my professional page. But Facebook is something of an open book, making it easy to be found, and there is tremendous crossover between my friends (real world and Facebook) and my readers.

The other day, as I scrolled through my personal page to find a post I'd put up more than a month ago, I got to take in the big picture. As I moved past posts about education, equality and health care intermingled with silly Facebook quizzes, family stuff and humorous videos, it hit me.

This page is me. It clearly represents what matters to me in terms of people and issues and life. As such, it accomplishes exactly what the Dag Hammarskjold quote above describes.

Which is what I aspire to.

Toward that end, I'll continue to keep separate personal and professional Facebook pages, with my writer page being an island of books, writing and things relevant to those two topics. My Twitter feed is a mix of the personal and the professional, with what I hope is an undercurrent of respect. Pinterest is just for fun -- all pictures, no politics -- and LinkedIn is purely professional. Somehow, I seem to have achieved a social media presence akin to a conservative financial portfolio -- one where I don't shy away from risks, but rather, make sure my risky investments are counterbalanced by safe ones.

I hope you'll join me online in whatever location interests you most. More important, I hope you know that I appreciate everyone who takes the time to read my work, and that I will do my best to make sure maintain a tone of respect wherever you may find me, regardless of any difference of opinion or point of view.

But, as a 50-something Jersey girl, I just can't stay silent.

Jersey New Year

It's nearly 2 pm on New Year's Day, and there's a hunk of pork simmering in my crock pot. My Central Pennsylvania friends are nodding and smiling, inhaling the aroma of pork and sauerkraut simmering in their houses as they read this.

My New Jersey friends are wondering what the heck this post is about.

I just poked at it (the pork, not NJ) with a fork to see if there's any chance it will be ready for dinner when my family is. If I were a betting woman, I'd say my odds are 50-50. Better if I nudge the crock pot up to "high."

I think I'd have had a better chance if I'd gone with the Italian tradition, which probably has something to do with "gravy" (spaghetti sauce, for my Pennsylvania Dutch friends), but I'd have had to call my mother to find out what that Italian tradition is.

After more than thirty years in Pennsylvania, I still have not fully embraced the Pennsylvania Dutch traditions that began infusing my life when I came to Pennsylvania to attend college. After college, I went to grad school in PA. I got my first (and second, and third, and current) job in PA. I married a PA boy. I'm sort of dug in.

But I remain a Jersey girl.

This is not news to anyone who knows me. Because, as the saying goes, you can take the girl out of Jersey, but you can't take Jersey out of the girl.

Good luck to anyone who plans to try.

Let's get a few things straight. My Jersey is not Mafia, Jersey Shore or Newark. My Jersey is the Garden State, historic towns and Atlantic City before casinos.

Jersey is small, loud and proud. Brave. Indomitable. Stubborn.

But mostly, Jersey is feisty.

You don't mess with Jersey, you see, not because she'll put a hit out on you, but because, under the proper circumstances, she can roll out the sort of pit bull personality that makes you sorry you started in the first place.

But, contrary to popular belief, Jersey has class. Jersey has style. Okay, it's a style all its own, but it's style nevertheless. Jersey will stand up for what she believes, fight a fair fight and walk away with her manicure intact.

And, given time, she'll stop holding a grudge.

Jersey girls forgive, but they don't forget. They embrace the philosophy that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. They learn from the lessons life hands them and they move on to tackle the next obstacle. They love fiercely, believe passionately, and toss a hunk of pork into the crock pot because it makes their family happy, but they make their husbands cook that disgusting sauerkraut.

If you're lucky enough to know a Jersey girl, you know when to step in, and when to back away. But best of all, you know you have a friend who's loyal through thick and thin...and who expects the same from you.

Happy New Year to all my Jersey friends...and those I've adopted from so many other places.