When I first got a computer of my own, I indulged myself by customizing it in every way I could. I changed the wallpaper and screen saver daily, I switched the default mouse settings to that irritating magician motif, and I replaced all sound effects with wav files of popular movies. Of course I had Jim Carrey yelling, “Hold on to your lugnuts!” when I started Windows—that was a given—but I even outfitted the recycle bin emptying with Adam Sandler quotations {s PRICEISWRONGBOB.wav}.

Over time, I grew out of this. The increased availability of every sound ever made in the history of mankind certainly made me less enterprising. In the days of 14.4 modems, finding a Pulp Fiction sound on the AOL Entertainment Channel had a bit more cachet than it would now. Also, obviously, this whole idea is juvenile. I moved on, happy with the innocuous soundscape Bill Gates suggested for me.

For a person who usually gives way too much credit to the sights and sounds around us, I undervalued the importance of the sounds coming out of this box in front of me. Over the past few years, the Windows error message and critical stop sounds have tormented me. More than I would care to admit, I now have an explosive Pavlovian response to what should be a benign beep.

On a whim one day, I dumped all of the defaults and switched them with sound effects from the original Super Mario Bros. Now when I detach my iPod, it takes me back to raising the flag at the end of a level and running into a castle for an afternoon of fireworks. My ears have the exact opposite reaction. I’m reflexively comforted by the sounds of my youth, and they put a smile on my face even as my computer stonewalls me. It reminds me of how consoled and freed tiny pieces of media can make us, and it proves how happy we can make ourselves with even a modicum of effort. It’s still superficial and juvenile, but so is the beep Windows gives you. If the computer is going to give you lemons, you might as well make Jolt Cola.