FLYING DEVIL CREATURES

Okay, so, as a person who has a biology degree I feel that I should be able to appreciate all of the little creatures and critters that roam this earth. Their anatomy is beyond interesting, studying their traits and characteristics makes for great insight into what makes this little world of ours so majestic. We have something to learn from even the smallest insects.

That being said, I think butterflies are the spawn of Satan.

I realize, after reading that last sentence again, that it sounds pretty harsh. So let me try and come up with another way to convey my feelings…uh…uhhh…um…  Yeah, no, I stand by that statement. I really, really don’t like them.

Look, don’t get me wrong, I love looking at butterfly pictures. I love microscopic images that show the details of their bad ass wings and pigments. I think their migration patterns are cool. Their life-cycle is fascinating. I even enjoy observing their little preserved bodies in museums.

But if those flying devil creatures come near me…I can’t help it. Some kind of deep, instinctive, survival adrenaline rushes over me when a butterfly crosses into my personal space. I just freak the fuck out. I scream bloody murder, my hands thrash around defensively, I run around in a random zig-zag pattern.

I don’t even fully understand why I’m so afraid of them. I mean, I am a giant human person, I have the means to destroy every inch of those savage butterfly beasts if I wanted to…

My fear of butterflies just can’t be explained. Like, I know why I hate roaches – they’re grimy, they infest your home, they can outlive you (I don’t trust immortal things). I know why I hate mosquitoes – I have an allergy to their bites so my skin puffs up like a fucking balloon if they decide to feast on my blood, also that buzz noise they make is annoying. Moths eat my clothes, so I hate them too.

But, butterflies? I got no idea. I love everything about them except when they’re on me.  Kind of like kids with runny, dripping nose fluids…they’re cute but don’t put them near me.

One time, I went to this place called Butterfly World. I agreed to go to this place because the way it was explained to me was that it was like a caged zoo for butterflies. You would enter a room and there’d be a net shielding you from the demonic flutter monsters, so you could look at their pretty colors and shit but you were totally safe.

I was wrong.

Apparently, these net shields were optional – like my sanity. This place was like a free-range chicken farm. Those motherfuckers were all over the place and I was scared for my life. I had my hands up in front of my face, waving sporadically around my head to make sure they wouldn’t land on me.

I just kept chanting Ace Ventura’s bat cave mantra – “I am not afraid. I am NOT afraid. I really like it here. I will fear no living creature...”

Then we entered a room towards the end, where apparently prehistoric giant butterflies lived. Descendants of Mothra took shelter in this butterfly zoo, and they were thirsty for my flesh. Mothra was a defender of earth…but her children only wanted to terrorize me. In my head I instantly came up with a million escape routes, my mother and brother looked worried about my bizarre demeanor. They didn’t understand, they couldn’t save me. No one could.

I shoved my way to the front of the room where the door was, but I was too late.  Mutant Butterfree did a kamikaze nose dive straight into my face. SHIT!!!!!!!!!!

I screamed and treated it like fire. STOP. DROP. ROLL. My arms flailed around, I wanted to call for help but all I could vocalize from my mouth was something that sounded like a cross between a whale giving birth and the Silent Hill siren.

Suddenly I could hear my moms voice, she brought me back to reality.

Mutant butterfree had spared me. Besides the emotional harm that came from embarrassing my family, no one was physically harmed in the altercation. I consider myself lucky to have survived. I went into Butterfly World and made it out alive. I hope I don’t have nightmares tonight.

Also, can we like, take a second to realize that Butterfree – the pokemon – is 3’07” feet or 1.1 meters tall? I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO BE AFRAID OF THIS.

What about you guys? What fear do you have that no one else seems to be able to relate to? What fears do you have that not even you understand why you have them?

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I AM TECH SUPPORT!

Disclaimer: I have never been, nor do I claim to be, a computer expert of any kind. The following story is based on true events that happened to me yesterday. All information regarding the incident was found off of google, my friend Kauf (a programmer), my friend Luuk (a person who knows what memory sticks are) and my own brain. If this isn’t how these things work, I am not the least bit surprised. At some point I will claim to be a computer wizard, I’d like to mention now that I do not and have never practiced magic. I was, however, my own tech support. Let me bask in this moment, okay? I did something without others present. THIS IS LIKE A HUGE LIFE ACCOMPLISHMENT. (Also, kind of magical)

Friends, I wish to tell you a little story.

It all started when I was typing up some essays yesterday, you know, normal nursing school stuff…when something happened to me. My computer screen suddenly went blank.

Naturally I immediately assumed it had something to do with the cable that runs from my magical computer box (tower) to my monitor. But I was interrupted mid-thought by a high pitched, upset, demonic noise suddenly erupting from my desktop tower.

My response, as it is when anything goes wrong with digital devices, was to turn off the computer. So I did. I waited a few seconds…and a few more, then I turned it back on. To my dismay, my tower was still singing its raging digital acapella. WTF IS HAPPENING??? OGOD.

Initially I of course, because I am a catastrophic thinker, went to the worst possible scenario; I killed it. I must have somehow offended my tower to the point of hardware suicide. It was failing to thrive. My computer was dying and this was its final Cheyne-Stokes breathes. I turned it off and went into full TECH PANIC MODE.

I texted a few people, but when no one responded,  I called my friend Kauf. I don’t recall most of the phone call in much detail, it was a blur of anxiety, but I do remember Kauf telling me that my computer’s beeps were a code. A code? Well, shit. What kind of code are we talking here? It wants to communicate with me, I’m okay with that, I’ll go into the grid! WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO TO TALK WITH IT???

Unfortunately, my call was badly timed, as Kauf was in the middle of a Final Fantasy XIV Online raid.  I apologized for the frantic phone call, said goodbye, and just sat on the floor staring at my computer tower.

A code? My sweet, innocent tower, what is it that you want to tell me? Is this in binary? Is binary even a language? Are there other languages? Oh sweet Jesus, I hope this isn’t the audio version of C++…for a moment the scene from Zoolander came to mind… I don’t understand.  LET ME HELP YOU.

With no options left, and millions of unanswered questions, I knew there was only one thing left to try. Google it.

I ran for my laptop and ferociously finger stabbed my keyboard until the google screen appeared. When you type into google “dying computer noises” you actually get free sound clips of what, I presume, a computer sounds like when its dying. Which is random and cool at the same time, but of no use to me. So I tried “computer noises + code” (Kauf mentioned it, so I should have probably used that in the search…) and BAM, answers!

The beepies are  “beep codes” that are used by something called BIOS (basic input output system). The BIOS is the lord of the boots! Boots being the booting up process of a computer. BIOS is the tower guardian.

Mr. BIOS was letting me know that shit was going down in my tower. OH GOD HOW DO I COMMUNICATE WITH YOU MR. BIOS??? Easy, back to google. I searched “HP BIOS codes” – and lo and behold, I had found it. THE ROSETTA STONE FOR HP DESKTOP TOWER BIOS BEEPS. OH WHAT A GLOOOOOORIOUS DAY!

I listened again to my tower’s beep message, it wasn’t random complaints,  oh no, no sir. My computer was speaking to me. He was saying “ONE SHORT BEEP AND A LONG BEEP. ONE SHORT BEEP AND A LONG BEEP. HEY, ARE YOU GETTING THIS? I MEAN I CAN KEEP GOING, BUT I FEEL LIKE I’M JUST REPEATING MYSELF AT THIS POINT. ONE SHORT BEEP AND A LONG BEEP.”

I’ll spare you the suspense, it was a memory problem. I tore open my tower and searched for the culprits. Two, very suspicious, RAM sticks were just sitting there…acting like nothing had fucking happened. YOU DON’T FOOL ME, DEVIANTS!

I took one of the sticks of RAM out, tried to turn my computer on again, but he was still cranky and repeating the memory BIOS code. So I put that one back and took out the other one. The most magical thing happened when I pressed the power…MY COMPUTER BOOTED. It brought a tear to my eye. But I couldn’t celebrate just yet…my computer is hella old, I can’t just survive off of one memory stick for long. Looking at the motherboard, where the stick holders (not the technical term) were located I took note that two of them were black and two of them were blue. The memory sticks had been in the blue slots, so, I moved both sticks into the black slots and tried turning on the computer.

SUCCESS. I had never been so happy to see my monitor screen’s ten minute long Windows Starting logo.

Then it dawned on me. This is the first time, ever, in the history of my life, that I fixed a hardware computer problem BY MYSELF. AND IT FELT GLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORIOUS! 

To reward myself, I went on a magical internet browsing journey where I accomplished nothing, and it felt great. The moral of this story is, wait no, there’s no moral to this story. This is just what happened to me yesterday.

But, there was a take away message from all this, and that is – I AM A COMPUTER WIZARD, I DON’T NEED TECH SUPPORT, I AM TECH SUPPORT *drops a mic* DEUCES.