I was not popular in high school. I didn't run with the athletes or hit the books with the academic overachievers. I wasn't firmly ensconced in the tight-knit groups of loners or stoners, and I wasn't in band, cheerleading, or glee club. I wasn't popular with any one group, had fairly superficial contact with most groups.

Nope, I wasn't popular. I wasn't well-known. So when it came time to hand out the senior superlatives at the end of our high-school years -- those labels marking what a student was or would become -- my superlative was chosen by the journalism kids from the "List of BS Superlatives For Classmates Not As Cool As Us Or That We Don't Know." While others were named "Most Likely To Succeed" or "Best Smile" or "Most Likely To Dunk It In The NBA," I was labeled as, get this, "Most Likely To Metamorphose Into A Computer." Honest to God. That is what my fellow seniors named me. In print. For all to see.

Which was weird. On so many levels. But mostly because computers weren't popular at the time. Bill Gates was likely still perfecting code, business computers were behemoths, and home computers were unheard of. So it was rather odd and unexpected for such a superlative to be chosen -- for me or for anybody. But, for whatever reason, that's the superlative with which I was saddled. Because they didn't know me.

Or did they?

Maybe even all those decades ago it was clear what a prominent place computers would eventually have in my life. Maybe back then, some forward-thinking classmates knew that one day I would see the value of actually becoming a computer.

Strangely enough, I do now see the value. Quite clearly. In fact, there are several reasons I think being a computer would be awesome. As long as I could still enjoy the physical pursuits of humans -- such as hugging those I love, laughing at Conan, and delighting in margaritas and Funyuns (not at the same time, of course) -- I'd be all over that. I'd be thrilled to metamorphose into a computer because there are oh-so many cool applications that would come in mighty handy.

First off, I'd have the ability to reset to a former time (because I'd use Windows, of course) to eliminate cussed up days bogging me down or, better yet, to turn back the effects of time on my system. I'd be fully loaded with McAfee Total Protection so I'd never be affected by viruses. Scan Disc and Defrag would be ideal for getting rid of the accumulated junk and reorganizing the misplaced folders and files of my soul and psyche.

Plus, just think of the peripherals and programs I could add to increase my speed, my power, and to make the very most of my life. I'd add more memory when my memory became full (or I lost it). I'd definitely have iTunes so I could have any song any time I pleased. And Picasa would provide me instant access to photos of friends and family; no more Grandma Brag books weighing down my purse.

It doesn't end there. As a computer, I'd have, of course, a keyboard. Which means I could hit ESC any time I needed just that -- to escape. I could DELETE things I regretted saying, hit the ALT button to do things a little different. I'd have a CTRL button for those times I felt a little out of control. The PAUSE/BREAK button would be used regularly throughout the day when I needed one or the other. And when a pause or break wasn't enough to make a difference, the SLEEP button would come to the rescue.

Most of all, though, I think I'd get the most use and enjoyment out of the one handy dandy little button situated directly between INSERT and PAGE UP. I'm talking about the HOME button.

When things got confusing or I just needed to start over -- as is the case more and more often of late -- or even when I just grew tired of traveling across the world, zooming around on the web, I could hit the HOME button. I know my loner self, my introverted-gain-my-energy-from-time-alone-self, and I know I would hit it hard and I would hit it often.

Because whether I morph into a MAC or a PC, an iPad or a computer not yet even invented, I'd still be me. I'd still maintain that one file, that one belief that no programmer, no person, no experience, no application will ever be able to delete from my system: the from-the-bottom-of-my-processor belief that, for me, there truly and absolutely is no place like home.

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Today's question:

What computer application or ability would you most want to implement in your life?