Taking no prisoners. Including herself.

Today I was reunited with an old lover: Mr. P. PowerPoint.

We’ve run into each other on the street every now and again; chatted on the phone once or twice; even exchanged a favor or two (I’d have a client; he’d throw me a deck). Nothing much.

But today we really sat down and caught up. Like, 11 hours worth.

What had changed in his life? Very little. A lot. –I couldn’t tell. He seemed like he was pretty much the same functional presentation application — maybe a little grayer* around the GUI… but perhaps wiser, too. He seemed happy.

I, however, was having a hard time with the rendezvous.

Even though I thought I had moved on — I mean, I was onto a new OS, new platform, new job — I couldn’t seem to forget the past. Sure, our interaction today was platonic: Push around some pixels, outline a nice naming deck. 

But memories of our relationship past came flooding back — all those sleepless nights, frozen screens, refusals to budge:

“No! Align columns to center. To center, damn you! ALIGN TO CENTER. Why don’t you ever listen to me?!”

But as we started to work together today, the familiarity of keying him came back to me — the click-thru of his slides, the way my fingers instantly knew his shortcuts, the zooming in and out of his frame… something about the way he looked on a PC… I’d never seen him like that before…

It’s true: Web 2.0 and I are far better suited for each other; it’s best we split, PPT & I. And yet–

When it comes to love, in what small degrees do we watch it end? And as we do, how do we know the difference between getting over and merely getting on?

  [For I.G.]

*[1] spelling intended

§804 · January 25, 2010 · Narrative, Over in Oakland · · [Print]

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