The past several days have been emotionally trying, to say the least. I’d even go so far as to call them unbearable. “The reason?” you ask. Oh, I’ll tell you:
one of the most important parts of my life was near-death; a part I could never survive without. Ever. Never-ever ever!

You’ve likely guessed by now (because the title is certainly no give-away): my precious two-year-old 17” MacBook Pro was on its deathbed this weekend. Refusing to click anywhere I’d direct it to, the sickly machine would instead randomly select and open things on its own. Watching it die—one malfunction after another—was emotionally trying and, as its caretaker, I must say that I failed miserably …

“Please open iTunes,” I’d morosely beg, knowing full well that my MacBook would instead remain hovered on the HD desktop icon and would later open 20 new folder windows in response to my frantic and unsuccessful clicking. And by “clicking” I mean having to squeeze the trackpad region to [hopefully] align whatever was out of touch internally and then forcefully pound the clicker, knowing full well there was only a ten percent chance anything would happen—desired response or otherwise. My baby was sick, yet all I felt was intense anger.

What? My computer is my life.

And so I was hurt; I was scared. It was frightening to realize that the machine I rely so heavily upon was failing.

My MacBook is my portal to absolutely everything:

it is my means of staying connected with friends and family

how I keep entertained (hello, I also have no TV!)

what I use for all my freelance work and, simply,

it is mine.

This MacBook was the first big purchase that I made wholly by myself; the first thing for which I felt the love and pride of total ownership and here it was dying because I had inevitably done something to kill it.

So after three days of complete depression over the matter, I decided to finally take action. I made an appointment with the GeniusBar at the Apple Store on Michicagn Ave for that evening (Sunday) and waited in antsy anticipation as the day slowly inched towards my appointment time and I grew more and more nervous. It also hit me that I’d likely be shelling out a good amount of money. Several hundred? One thousand? Two? I mean, this is definitely my fault—surely the dent from where I dropped this lovely piece of technology a year and a half ago has finally caught up with me! Shit, should I just buy a new computer?

Five o’clock rolls around and my friend who was visiting for the weekend is nice enough to give me a ride to the store on his way out of the city. I sit in the passenger seat trying to hold my nerves together and not appear like a total maniac as I’m going through a full-blast internal freakout. We arrive at the store, say our goodbyes, and I head upstairs.

I’m twenty minutes early, but this is ultimately for the better because I’m so shaken that I can’t form proper sentences and need the extra time to compose myself. Finally, my slot rolls around and before I know it I’m talking to one of the Geniuses. The guy glances at my computer as I rattle off useless information. I crack an awkward joke that I’m not the “abusive owner” I appear to be, he responds with a courtesy laugh and walks away to grab a small box. It’s a battery. He swaps it with my current one …

Et voila. Magic. That was ALL it took.

Some battery part had a meltdown, which led to the whole issue. The genius grabs all the necessary paperwork and casually mentions that I’m really lucky that nothing ever came of the dent damage I had inflicted to the casing since it’s right where the hard drive sits. Ummm, awesome! I sign, initial and date in all the appropriate areas. I ask where I pay for the new battery. He smiles. Luckily, the fluky battery meltdown is a known issue and so replacement = FREE.

And so. What could have been the most horrid (and expensive!) weekend of my time spent thus far in Chicago actually turned out just fine.

It goes without needing to mention, but too bad:
Apple rocks. Spread the love!