Chicago Sun-Times: E-world goes tilt when computer is on the blink

I miss my computer. This is the second day I've been out here on my own. My computer is currently having its innards probed by a capable type named Matthew, who has all sorts of big ideas about how to liberate space on my hard drive.

I've borrowed a stranger's terminal to write this, which has its good points (no melted cheese in the keyboard) and its bad points (no screensaver that scrolls the message "Sugar Monkey Butt" when the computer goes to sleep).

I figure the time apart will be good for us. If you love something, set it free, right? I've gotten way too involved with the machine. I tell myself it's a platonic relationship--strictly professional. That it's just a tool to research and write award- winning investigative journalism.

But that's not true. Things have gotten very personal.

More and more, I am drawn to my computer during my off hours. Its familiar mouse paw beckons, and I can't keep my hands off it. "Let's go shopping for prime cuts of meat at the Dean & Deluca Web site!" it coos. "Let's visit our pals in the 'Big Brother' chat rooms! Let's learn to play blackjack!"

All of this violates an important rule of mine: If you spend too much time doing something, stop it. Just stop it.

I've applied this rule many times, to eating nachos, to drinking appletinis, to reading true-crime books, to talking on the phone long distance to insincere ex-boyfriends, to cross-stitching compulsively, to trying to apply liquid eyeliner. (Stop it!) I can be tough when I need to be.

But without my computer, I'm lost. Without e-mail, for instance, how am I supposed to contact sources for stories? Do I call them on the phone? Meeting them in person seems so ... drastic. Surely it hasn't come to that.

And how am I supposed to relax? Every night for more than a year, I've unwound by playing a computer game called "The Sims." There are a lot of simulation-based games out there: war simulations, flight simulations, race-car simulations, roller-coaster simulations.

The idea is this: Why actually do something when you can instead pretend to do it, in the comfort of your own home, with lumbar support?

The Sims are the ultimate simulations. They're little cartoon people, busy living life. You pick out their clothes and personalities and decorate their houses. Your job is to keep them happy by fulfilling their needs.

If their hygiene quotient is low, you just pop them in the hot tub. If their social quotient is low, you just have them make out with a neighbor. An efficient player--like me--can accomplish both these tasks at the same time.

You can train your Sims to become lounge singers, or you can drown them in the pool. And you can install expansion packs when you get bored with the game. Buy "The Sims: House Party," and watch the Sims cage-dance! Install "The Sims: Hot Date," and watch the Sims canoodle in a country-themed bar!

(My hard-core "Sims" habit, of course, is exactly why my computer is in the shop. Virtual people take up an awful lot of disc space.)

Yes, I understand the great irony of playing the game of life without actually participating in it. I tell myself that I'm preparing for the real world, should I ever choose to rejoin it. "Comfort quotient low," I'll mumble at dinner parties.

But for now, I miss my friends.

Simulated friends. Right.

I'm trying to stop it. But not this way--with my computer succumbing while it's still in its prime. I need time to wean myself. To say goodbye properly.

Besides, with their latest expansion pack, the Sims get to go on vacation. And I could really use a break.