"Ugh. How boring," I said outloud, rather undiplomatically.

Inside, I kept thinking.. "what do I know about computing?" To me, the very word conjurs up terrible nights of trying to do math homework, or worse, trying to read one of those technical computer books; even the ones for "Dummies."

I've always attributed my lack of technical skill to being left-handed and therefore, right-brained. Plus I grew up in the '50's and 60's when it didn't really matter if girls understood math or science. In 6th grade, when the nuns started teaching "New Math" and I knew I was defeated. Chemistry, computers, programming vcr's, and balancing checkbooks were all lumped into my "I can't do that" definition of myself.

The men in our family took up the manly art of computing, I became comfortable with being an "arts" person.

Conditioned responses we learn in our youth are really limiting. They define for us who we are, when there might be more to us than we ever thought.

For a long time, I would shut down when I heard the word computer. That was for boys, for men, for other people. Not me.

Then one day it came to me, in one of those "AH-HA's!" while driving down the road, that I had become a "computer person!"

I even had to look quickly in the rear-view mirror to see if I had any tell-tale signs of becoming a geek.

But the truth is, computing has become a big part of my life. Without my computer, I wouldn't be writing, which I love to do.

It has nothing to do with technology, really, it's more like what Virginia Woolf describes as "A Room of One's Own."

It's connected to a sense of freedom, and a feeling of independence. It's about having a place and means to be creative. It has, I suppose, become as much about my computer "room" as my computer.

My history with computers began under duress and at work. (Is that redundant ?) I was working in a newsroom when the company converted from manual typewriters to a Basys News system, so there wasn't much choice in the matter.

That my co-workers were as intimidated as I was was reassuring. Although I dragged my feet to the first computer session and experienced high anxiety when my typewriter was retired to gather dust, I was amazed at how quickly I adapted.

In a short time, I could really make the keyboard sing. I had to admit it was much easier to produce a newscast and write copy with a computer as a tool. Touch-typing helped. (Thank you Mom, for making me take typing in high school so I would "always have a job.")

I became more confident, and then, intrigued. We had a computer at home, an old IBM clone bought several years ago when my husband went back to school. My father jumped right on my new interest in computers and opened a whole new world to me.

He got me a modem and he got me on-line. I started to E-Mail. Such quick and lively correspondences with friends and family really spanned the distance both literally and emotionally between us. Most precious of all, it opened a new venue for communication with my dad, for which I will always be grateful. I never felt so close to him. We shared thoughts that may be too difficult to share face to face, and because of that, be left unsaid.

I would go to my computer room and click away, pouring out my heart and soul in journaling and in letters to friends. It felt great. I had a place of peace away from the confusion and high energy of living in a small house with two rambunctious boys and two hyper dogs.

This "space" became even more important to me when I stopped working full-time. My opportunity for being out in the world became limited, but I had a connection to the world through my computer. My writing gave my life a sense of order and importance.

Soon after that, I began to write here, for The Shore Journal, and the "room of my own" became more than a personal space; it soon became a way to work without being over-worked. It felt good. I was in control, not being controlled.

So, that's what it is, for me, anyway. Without my computer, I would not have been able to stretch myself and be involved in this new adventure. And I would never have been able to see myself as anyone who had something valid or intelligent to say about that strange thing called "computing."