Work

Throughout my immediate family, there seems to be a common thread. Most, if not all of us are creative people who spend our days in front of computers. I tried to fight it. I shunned the computer with green text against a black background, staring, monochromatic and stoic at me, offering no apologies and no aid when things went awry. Granted, this was my mother's computer, bogarting the phone line years before anyone had heard of the ubiquitous internet. This machine was not made for a 12 year old, it was made for people wearing pocket protectors and pit helmets, a combination few can pull off. Maybe if I had respected, or at least understood the implications of what I was looking at, I might have seen beyond the aestheticless facade and harnessed the box's abilities.

How funny that years later I would find myself working in computers. What seemed cold and distant in my youth, has become so comfortable and familiar.