Warning: Lots of old technology geek reminiscing in this entry.

Still suffering from my all-day headache, I have stayed home from church tonight and I decided to do some much needed "laptop housekeeping". I have orphan files all over the house on multiple laptops. Each laptop represents a portion of my life - the old IBM Thinkpad I use at work for printer upgrades is home to all of my DOS files from the good 'ol days. My barely running and much abused old work laptop houses all the files from my 8 years working for the old company and my netbook is my main personal toy.

I love this netbook. It is an Acer with a 10 inch screen and it is the perfect size to throw in the bag and go. I use it as a work backup, blog reader, streaming audio player, etc. Acer has to be making a mint off of these.

Any-who, I decided to move files from the other laptops to this guy tonight and I found a copy of the word processor I had on my old old old IBM clone (called an Amstrad), circa 1988. It had no hard drive and dual floppy disk drives - the big old floppies. Through a stroke of luck I kept "Easy Writer" (Wonder why there is no "Easy Writer" today? They were probably sued by Peter Fonda back in the day.)

In these files I found a short story I wrote in 1989 (and yes - Easy Writer still works in XP via DOS). It's peppered with fictional references of people and places I knew back then. It's far too embarrassing to even post an excerpt - we're not talking high class literature here. But, there are brief "flashes" of writing that make me go "I really should have stuck with writing". I'm not saying it is great or even good but there was potential there. There was one passage that was incredibly similar to one I just read in another book this summer and it was the key tagline of the book. Maybe I should sue like those guys suing over Harry Potter and Twilight.

It amazes me how I have forgotten who I was growing up. I guess everyone does in time. I was obviously enthusiastic about what I was writing. Where did that enthusiasm go? Why I didn't pursue writing? What was 1991 me thinking when he took that major in music? Was it scholarship $$ or was I just lost? I would still like to find 1991 me and give him a good slap.

I would also like to ask him what was going to happen on page 14 of the story I wrote. 2009 me is just not the right person to finish it.