I decided I needed a new computer. I looked at my Dell PC, circa 2005 and thought about how I am a working professional with business needs and I must have a modern computing solution. Leading a double-life can be challenging, and when both K.G. MadMan and K.G. Businessman each have their respective computer issues, it’s time to drop a few bills and upgrade.
This week was like being kicked in the dick by a robot. My plan was to make the computer switch Monday, load all my files and deactivate all my licenses and have everything ready to go on this new machine by Tuesday morning. And if you noticed that the site hasn’t been updated in a while, you can probably guess how my switch went. It was a total clusterfuck. Windows 7, although gorgeous and loaded with the kind of functionality I enjoy on my MyTouch, still has some issues with regards to drivers and other computer brikabrak. It took three days to find a wireless adapter that was compatible. Linksys/Cisco sold me an adapter which, according to India, has installation software which isn’t compatible with Windows 7. And Netgear requires downloading a patch from their website once you load the software. Unfortunately, since I’m not able to bridge the oceans of time to download that patch that would fix my adapter allowing me to go online and download it, that robot kicked me in the dick again.
Thursday I got back online by downloading the patch from a different computer, throwing it on a card and transferring it. But because the software was so bloody useless and confusing I had to deinstall it to use the Windows 7 wireless launch. Which brings us to Final Draft. I’ve been running Final Draft 7 on Windows XP the last year. Once I was able to re-download the software onto this machine I was pleasantly surprised to learn that there weren’t any issues… until I tried printing to PDF. Can you guess what happened?
“Meep. Moop. Beep.”
WHAM! RIGHT IN THE DICK!
Final Draft isn’t fully compatible with Windows 7 unless you download version 8. And while I love Final Draft, you’d have an easier time measuring how fast your nails grow each day than trying to discern differences between versions. But what can you do? The industry requires a pdf to reject you.
Which brings us to today. I have 150 gigs of music sitting on my old hard drive, as well as dozens of files embarrassingly awful scripts I started writing before realizing they were terrible but not wanting to delete them in case one day I decide that maybe I do want to finish that horror adaptation of “The Boy Who Cried Wolf”.