Mac Dreaming

I couldn’t figure out what I wanted. Next year I’d need a new computer, and the question was simple enough on paper: Windows Vista or a Mac? But nothing about it was actually simple.

I knew Windows inside and out. All the programs I needed, all the habits built up over years, the muscle memory that made everything work. The problem was I was bored with it. Everyone had Windows. It was safe and expected and something I’d just outgrown by using it so much.

A Mac was different. There was a philosophy to it, a completely different way of thinking about what a computer could be. I’d flip through Mac magazines and every time I saw one of those clean, minimal desktops, something would shift in my chest. The machines were beautiful in a way Windows wasn’t even trying to be. Apple represented something else—a different life, or at least it felt that way when you were looking at the pictures.

The decision made itself in those moments. I wanted a Mac. Wanting one and being able to afford one were separate problems, but I had time. Months ahead. Maybe by Christmas I’d have saved enough. A PowerBook would be perfect. Or a Mac Mini. I wasn’t going anywhere until I had one.