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Thursday, 6 October 2011

How Babies Are Better Than Computers

I don't have a TV.

I know, right? Sounds weird, but I don't. In Norway, it costs quite a lot of money each year to own a TV, and as there's usually nothing on anyway, my husband and I figured we'd just throw it out and spend our time more wisely. You know, pursue healthy hobbies, take long walks in the forest with our dog, keep the house nice and tidy, those sort of things. We didn't quite consider our own ability to find other stupid things to fill all that time with. Meaning that instead of mindlessly staring at a TV, we're now mindlessly surfing round the internet on our laptops instead.

 "This is SO going on my Facebook profile"
 Photo from here

The first time I went online was at primary school when I was about thirteen years old. I can remember staring around the web browser trying to figure out how to get from one web page to another, but by the time it took to enter a web address and waiting for it to load, the bell rang and class was over.

In high school I became quite proficient at computers, when our teacher Andrew ("you won't make any money on the planet Mars!") patiently talked us through using Adobe Photoshop and Illustrator on fresh new 1998 Apple iMacs. The internet speed had picked up, and I spent innumerable breaks and free periods glued to the screen of one of those juicy, colorful little things. I got my very own Hotmail address. I spent hours at the Smashing Pumpkins message boards (one, I was a huge fan, and two, Facebook hadn't been invented yet. I am THAT old). Then, in Uni, I taught myself how to use Dreamweaver, signed up for free internet domains and set up my own websites. When my mum bought a computer, I set it up for her, thereby forever cementing my role as eternal computer techie for my less-than-technologically-gifted mother.

 Look, complimentary colors! And warm-cold contrast as well! Told you I'm an artist.
Pictures from here and here, Photoshopped together by me LIKE A BOSS

I bought my very own computer, a laptop, in the summer of 2006. Later that year, my boyfriend (who is now my husband) got himself a desktop computer. In 2009, I won a scholarship and bought another desktop computer with Adobe Photoshop and one of these beauties. And finally, as a reward for squeezing out a baby earlier this year, my husband bought me ANOTHER laptop. Which I then equipped with a Wacom Bamboo and Photoshop Elements.

Lost count yet? I also have my brother's Commodore 64 lying about in the attic somewhere. And a few spare keyboards and things. I spend A LOT of time on computers every day. Mostly for work, but in the evenings as well. I am beginning to see a small hitch here, though.

Remember me mentioning that baby that I squeezed out? Well, he's going to grow bigger. And move about. And grab things. And destroy them. My computers. Oh. My. God.

Not that I love computers more than I love my baby! Oh no. I mean, sure, there are many similarities between my baby and my computer, such as the fact that they cost a lot of money to maintain and upgrade. Also, they can both catch viruses. And they both need recharging and sometimes crash for no apparent reason. However, where you consciously have to feed your computer new programs and updates and put more memory cards into it to make it smarter, the baby will do that all by itself. And come on, my computer cost, what, 5-6000 Norwegian monies to buy, but my baby was FOR FREE! Sure, computers don't drool on your sholder or poop all over the changing table, but no number of videos of laughing babies on YouTube can compete with the full 3D experience of seeing (and hearing) one live.

A real baby has way higher resolution than this

Also, you can personalize your computer as much as you like, with programs, add-ons, applications, skins, alert sound settings, fonts and even different colors on the hardware or a sweet bag to keep it in, but your computer will never, ever look like you. Nothing is more special edition, one-off, hand numbered, custom made and unique than your own baby. If it wasn't frowned upon by the general public, I'd sign mine. "Made by Jorunn Hanto-Haugse, 2011". Right there on his georgeous pink little belly.


HÃ¥vard Hanto-Haugse said...

Damnit! It's always the manufacturer that takes credit. Suppliers are never mentioned, even if they provided half the technology needed to make the end product fully functional.

Jorunn said...

*slow clap*