smut fright.

i'm about to let michael repair my computer.
and i'm scared shitless.

i know i can't work with the old lad anymore in it's current state. he needs re-installments, he probably needs new hardware (that whirring sound does not mean any good, that much i know). problem is, that he's so old, he's barely worth repairing. he almost wasn't worth repairing in 2002, when the motherboard died. i don't even dare to write what system the old lad is running on. it's ancient. absolutely ancient and un-hip and un-cool.
but i have no money, and no bike and no stereo and bills to pay and so the i-book has to wait and the old lad needs repair.

so why am i scared?
it's my files. and the smut.

last time, my files were almost lost forever.
it was scary back then, so scary i broke the diet coke abstinence i had back then.

now i've spent 2 1/2 more years with this computer, and quite obviously, there's so much more data there, so much more original content that i haven't backed up yet because i (gasp!) still don't have a burner.
it'll be fine, i know. this is a check-up and a re-work, the lad ain't dead yet. this is not a repeat of the previous crisis when he simply stopped breathing as i was writing a blog entry.
however, there's still the part with the smut. i'm not worried about giving a computer with 5 years of diary writing to michael. all that is in english, and my english is way too good for him. i don't worry about all the email either. it's just email, and there's so much of it, it would take a good long while to find the juicy bits.

but then there's the smut. i don't care about him seeing the everyday smut. i'm more harmless than most male computer owning people. but there is the personal smut.
it's not much, but it is there, and i can't just delete it.

this morning, before unplugging the old lad, i renamed things. i deleted things that could be re-created. i pass-worded folders. i hid them.
i cleaned up to the best of my abilities.
i have little doubt that that goodstuff™ will still be visible in some way/shape/form for michael as he pokes and prods the old lad, trying to revive him. i just hope they won't seem as appealing as they might be. i wish i could have just taken them off the harddrive, but i couldn't.
bummer.

so this is a major trust thing, giving the old lad away.
i actually think that loosing my data, or some of my data at least once wouldn't be that bad.
it could be re-freshing to not have all that old emailage, all those pictures and photos and articles. but the more i think about not having those gems that are in the middle of my emails, the first ones with evan (and the absence of replies to mine over the years), the last ones with didi, the hot ones with chris, what have you.
much of what's on the lad's harddrive is a record of life over 5 years, and i'd miss having these records just like i'd miss having my old paper diaries, even though i barely ever look at them these days.

so yeah.
i'm trying to trust michael that he won't go searching around too much.
i trust him more than any random computer shop owner, at least. even if he'd look at these things, in the unexpected case that he'd discover them under the harmless names, he wouldn't do anything to them, wouldn't put these online. or so i hope.
he's good with computers, the best good-with-computers-guy i've ever known, i think. we've known each other for a good long while, because he helps dieter with all the comps at the laundromat/internet cafe.

brrr.
it's still scary.

i won't rest until i've got the old lad back, fully operational.