OS and Pretty Other In-betweens
Lately, I have wanted to write about a lot of things, like writing about my newfound love. And about holding on to glad tidings. Most times, my affinity to write has been inclined towards positivity and optimism which is unusual. But I think I like this new feeling. I think I like how this feeling poise as a compass. One minute it is telling me to organize my chaos in an orderly manner. Another minute, it is flicking here and there, putting my emotions all over the place and telling me subtly, that I no longer belong to myself.
Of course, I fall apart. I do not own myself again. Not that I even owned myself in the beginning. But reading “Peace Amidst Chaos by Lade” made me realize that I have also been running all of my life. My transient attachment to people, my attention span that dwindles every second, and my unemotional affiliation to things, mostly immaterial, all sum up why I am a nomadic feeler. Added to it is how I space-shift from old things to old things in order to satisfy my thirst for new experience, the one that stems from feelings or things that are exhaustive or have overstayed their welcome.
And recently, which formed the basis of writing this, I have looked into the relativity of my life with how I switch between OS. It was supposed to be hilarious. Maybe it is, but the longest time I had used an OS was for three months. No, maybe two months. At the beginning of this year, I had started with Windows OS, then changed to Ubuntu, one of the varieties of Linux OS, in February. I always tell myself that my love for the concept of Ubuntu would give me the affinity to use this Ubuntu OS longer than other OS that I had used.
It only took me about two weeks to realize that I was wrong. That despite the concept of Ubuntu gives me that deep sense of belonging to a root that’s almost torn apart, my affinity to use the OS for a longer period of time is dependent on me. It is dependent on what has formed my becoming over time. And this similitude of running from one OS to another in the search of a new experience leaves its breadcrumbs in my life. Eight months into this year, I have switched OS at least four times and have used at least three OS. If I could buy a Macbook without feeling it at the moment, I would have also tried MacOS. Yuck! But how on earth did my feelings really get that insatiable?
Easy for me to switch between Operating Systems because I mostly do not have anything of value on or emotionally attached to my PC. Oh! Except for pictures, which I have saved to a backup hard drive, all other things — designs and Manuscripts — are stored in the cloud. This is perhaps contextual, but this concept helped me really get less attached to what life can be. Over time, this concept has shaped how I wake up on a random sunny day, get or be pissed off by 90% of things, and start finding ways to severe emotions, and that’s absolutely condescending to the people I am attached to.
But people change. I first read from a friend, Koyum Kolade, that there are two things that change people — the books they read and the people they meet. While my growing up has messed up with how I am emotionally insatiable and how I always feel I can’t love people enough, the people I have met over the course of spaceshifting between my feelings have proven how this insatiability can wane over time. It has shown me how I can wake up every day to love people that matter to me in a new and completely different way.
At the moment, I have switched back to Windows OS. And it looks so refreshing every time that I feel an unconditional attachment to it. I feel a new sense of purpose. I feel a connection that’s unrivaled to it. Beyond that I spend most part of the day working on it, it still leaves me that sense to long for it. And I like that feeling. I like how it gives the butterflies in my stomach wings. They are free and can now fly. I love the one who sows the seeds of this feeling. And I love the flower that sprung out of its nursery.
Here, today, my Windows have opened to the sea and I have allowed myself to feel the flowers and stare into the evening light.
