Years ago, I gave up on building my own computers. Though nothing major ever went wrong, putting them together was harrowing. Screw something up, and you're out of pocket. Stability issues? You're on your own, Sparky.
But I never got rid of one little thing: a tiny tube of "premium" thermal paste called Arctic Silver
This goo has one purpose. It improves the thermal conductivity between a microprocessor and its heatsink. This allows more aggressive settings without overheating the machine. But the practical improvements are generally slight; even with a decent temperate drop, the performance gains that overclocking represents rarely go far. You may notice that special benchmarking software is used to evaluate such gains; this is because they are barely perceptible.
So, it's all a bit silly.
Nevertheless, for years I kept this syringe of gray slime. It survived paroxysms of lifestyle minimalism that saw drawers full of computer junk, personal affects and other kipple discarded. It remained in the desk tidy beneath generation after generation of perfect, maintenance-free iMac.
A couple of weeks ago, I finally broke and ordered a load of PC components. Diablo 3's on it's way, and who am I kidding? The CPU came with free thermal paste, but why would I use it? I have Arctic Silver.
For the first time in years, I could not find my fucking thermal paste. This ever-present symbol of my failure to thoroughly unclutter, nagging locus of anxiety, was no longer present. At the very moment it justified all the "I might need it one day" rationalizations, it had gone.
I spent hours looking for it, to no avail. So I built the damned computer with the free paste that came with it over the weekend. Works fine.
The next morning, I spotted the Arctic Silver in the little wicker remote control caddy by the couch.
Whatever.
Arctic Silver
