A Frenzied Mind

A Frenzied Mind
Click, click click. The sound of the keys being pressed calms her mind as her thoughts are buttered over the screen. The clicking pauses as she pans her room, scorning at the mess. With a small frown she turns back to the screen and furrows her brow before the quick clacking begins again. There is something about the clean, organized look of the programs and windows on the screen that relaxes the frantic buzz of images and words in her head. The quick staccato her fingertips create on the board expresses her frenzied thoughts. She is strangely reminded of Edvard Griegs piece, "The Hall of the Mountain King."
A soft bubbly sound interrupts her typing. Her body jolts a little, surprised to see someone instant-message her at one in the morning. Her friend requests to watch her work quietly over webcam. She accepts the request and looks into the small green light on the top of the MacBook. The camera lens is a small rounded square. She looks at it without emotion and goes back to typing. The intelligence of the machine not only organizes her thoughts, but enables her to enter a network of friends that possess the same piece of technology.
Taking a break from writing she skims through several albums that hold thousands of her small visual memories. The slim three-dimensional device allows her vast memory to be organized in several albums and documents throughout the various programs encrypted into its body. Brushing her finger across the surface of the finger-pad, she smiles at the crisp, unused look and feel of this device. One would even describe its architecture as "fake." She can't disagree with this statement because it does in fact look fake. The perfect rounded corners, the smooth straight edges, and the small cloudy apple shape all add to its perfection. This reminds her that though the outside of the gadget is pristine and sleek, without a sense of personality or color, the inside is filled with her silly, passionate, heart-wrenching thoughts and adventures.
Clicking on the all-too-familiar music note icon, she scrolls down to the band 3 Doors Down and plays the song "When I'm Gone." Music, just like the hundreds of pictures and documents on the contraption encompasses thousands of her memories. She lets the lyrics flow through her soul as she writes. Each song evokes mental images of different events in her life.
Being able to touch all of the significant things that have happened in her life, and enter a world of important people through one piece of machinery is an extraordinary thing. Even more striking is how many ways she can come into contact with all of these things. Listening to the music it holds lets her hear the happiness or sadness of her stories. The clicking of the keys brings serenity to her tangled thoughts, slowly quieting her mind. Seeing snapshots of her life brings even more vivid photographs. They bring back tears to her eyes, and melodies to her ears. They bring back tastes to her tongue, and touches on her skin. The piece itself gives an impression of "organized chaos."
While this MacBook tells us all that this girl is organized, clean-cut, and simple, inside it holds the chaotic mind of a young woman. Her mind is not at all straightforward or simple. It is mazes of thoughts, piles of images, and albums of songs. Each small piece is a different part of her. Each fragment represents a smile, a laugh, a cry, a hug, a kiss, a proud moment, or a moment of shame. Each particle inside of this technology is her soul stored away in different applications, and saved for her own records. Maybe, just maybe, this MacBook can offer this woman an explanation of herself.
Thousands of creative individuals around the world use this MacBook in the same way, organizing their lives in a mere 2.4 GHz of memory. To harness one's own creativity, one must be able to organize the intricate details and stories that flood their mind, just as she does. However, she realizes that everything that enters her mind will not be inserted into the contraption. Unlike her mind, the MacBook has limits. It can develop a masterpiece, but it cannot create it. It can "auto correct" spelling, but it cannot use the smooth black keys to capture her elaborate musings.