The day my computer died

Well, for the last few days I've been incommunicado - a result of a broken computer. Not only had my power pack packed up, but the motherboard was fried as well. Because of this, I've been unable to write. The loss of the computer left me twiddling my thumbs, and I felt like a part of myself was missing. Am I becoming as one with my insentient machine? Is my interaction through the keyboard more than just a play of words? It's quite scary to see how dependant one becomes on technology. How would I or others like me cope with the loss of our gadgets. In this modern world we have become soft. It's a life of convenience, of frozen meals and machinery, of cars and aeroplanes. It would be an interesting scenario to see (at least for a short while) our modern age grind to a halt.

There was a program on not long ago where a man travelled to the Amazon to live with the indigenous people. One of the most surprising things about the program was when he revealed that they had forgotten how to light a fire without the use of matches or a lighter. To give something back, he showed them how to start a fire from scratch, reinstalling a forgotten art. How many other arts have we as a race already lost? And how many more may we yet lose?

I watched the second part of Doctor Who, and found myself disappointed. After the promise I felt at the first episode, I felt the second episode was too light-hearted and Eccleston's Doctor character became a little too smug. Time will tell if the program can redeem itself as I wait for the return of the Daleks.