I Didn’t Leave Windows. Windows Left Me.

By The Open Source Outlaw

I’ve been using Microsoft Windows for a long time. And I mean a LONG time. I’ve watched it grow from something you installed on top of DOS into the operating system that practically ran the world. I’ve installed it, upgraded it, repaired it, cursed at it, and occasionally threatened to throw the entire computer out the nearest window. I’ve made a living supporting Microsoft products. I’m not some guy who discovered Linux last Tuesday and suddenly decided everything Microsoft ever created was terrible. For decades, Windows worked for me. And then something changed.

I didn’t leave Windows. Windows left me.

There was a time when you bought a computer, installed your software, and went to work. Simple concept, wasn’t it? You turned it on. It did what you told it to do. If you wanted to install something, you installed it. If you didn’t want something, you didn’t install it. And if you bought software, you actually owned a copy of that software. Imagine that!

Somewhere along the way, the relationship changed. Now my operating system wants me to sign into an online account. It wants to synchronize everything. It wants to recommend applications I didn’t ask for. It wants to remind me about services I don’t subscribe to. And apparently, it has developed a deeply personal interest in where I store my files.

OneDrive? No thanks. Are you sure? Yes. But have you considered OneDrive? YES!

And while we’re at it, why does an operating system need to advertise anything to me? I already bought the computer. I already have the operating system. I’m not interested in turning my desktop into a shopping mall. I want a computer, not a salesman.

Here’s the funny part. I didn’t start this adventure because I wanted to become a Linux evangelist. I started because I was tired. Tired of being nudged toward subscriptions. Tired of applications deciding what was best for me. Tired of being treated like a customer who needed constant management instead of a person who knew how to use his own computer. I’ve spent much of my professional life in information technology. I know what I’m doing. So why was my personal computer increasingly acting like it knew better than I did?

I started experimenting with Ubuntu Linux. Not because it was fashionable. Not because I wanted to make a political statement about open source software. I just wanted to see whether I could do my everyday work without Windows. And something unexpected happened. It worked. Not sort of worked. Not worked if I was willing to sacrifice half the things I needed. It actually worked.

Recently, I installed Ubuntu on my Lenovo ThinkPad T14. Now, this wasn’t some carefully staged demonstration where I opened a terminal, typed a few impressive commands, and declared victory. I actually used the thing. I installed my applications. I configured my network connections. I connected to my home servers. I synchronized my files through my self-hosted Nextcloud. My documents opened in WordCraft. My presentations opened in DeckCraft. My spreadsheets had GridCraft. My PDFs had PDFCraft. I had access to my music, movies, television shows, and files. The touchscreen worked. My printers worked. The applications looked good. And the computer was FAST.

How fast? From selecting Ubuntu at startup to the login screen, roughly seven seconds. Another four seconds to the desktop. WordCraft opened almost instantly. And I’m not exaggerating. I actually timed it.

Then came the real test. I needed to prepare an hour-long Bible study based on an episode of The Andy Griffith Show. I finished the study, prepared the leader’s guide and student materials, packaged everything, and emailed it to the teacher. All on Linux. While I was at it, I installed some additional applications and downloaded files at speeds that genuinely impressed me.

Then I closed the laptop lid. It suspended. I opened it again. It woke right back up. No drama. No troubleshooting session. No mysterious problem waiting to ruin my afternoon. After an hour of work, I’d used only 13 percent of the battery. And that’s when it really hit me. I wasn’t experimenting with an alternative operating system anymore. I was just using my computer.

That’s what everybody wants to know. “What are you giving up?” Fair question. There are absolutely situations where Windows is still necessary. Some specialized applications, enterprise systems, and hardware depend on it. I still work with Windows professionally, and I’m not pretending Linux solves every computing problem on the planet. But here’s what surprised me. For my personal workflow, the compromises were far smaller than I expected. In some cases, the alternatives were actually better.

I can write sermons, prepare Bible studies, build presentations, manage my media, browse the web, work with PDFs, connect to my servers, and do the things I need to do. And I don’t have to spend my afternoon arguing with an operating system about how I want to use it. I thought leaving Windows would mean learning to live without things. Instead, I found myself wondering why I’d tolerated so many things for so long.

I want to be clear about something. Microsoft has created some extraordinary technology. Windows helped make personal computing accessible to millions of people. Microsoft Office changed how businesses and individuals worked. I’ve benefited from those products for decades. And I’ll continue supporting Microsoft technologies where they’re the right tools for the job. But appreciating what a company built doesn’t mean I have to agree with every direction it takes.

Somewhere along the way, the personal computer became a platform for selling services, gathering attention, and steering users toward an ecosystem. Maybe that makes excellent business sense. But it doesn’t make much sense to me. Because I remember when the personal computer was about freedom. Freedom to experiment. Freedom to create. Freedom to break something, figure out what happened, and put it back together. Freedom to decide what belonged on your machine. And yes, freedom to make a few mistakes along the way. That’s how many of us learned. That’s what made computers exciting.

Here’s what I want people to understand. I’m not telling everyone to erase Windows tomorrow. I’m not saying Ubuntu is perfect. And I’m certainly not suggesting that every person should become a Linux system administrator just to check email and write a letter. What I am saying is that you have choices. Real choices. You don’t have to accept every subscription, every forced integration, every unwanted recommendation, or every change to the way your computer works.

You can try something different. You might discover that the software you need already has an excellent alternative. You might discover that the laptop you thought was getting old still has plenty of life left. You might even discover that computing can be fun again. I certainly did.

And perhaps that’s the biggest surprise of this entire adventure. After decades of working with computers, I feel a little like that kid who first sat down in front of a Commodore and realized there was an entire world waiting to be explored. I’m experimenting again. I’m learning again. I’m enjoying it again. And I’m doing actual work along the way.

So no, I didn’t wake up one morning and decide to abandon Windows. I stayed with it for years. I adapted to its changes. I learned its new ways of doing things. I put up with the interruptions, the nudges, and the endless attempts to sell me something else. Eventually, I realized that the computer I wanted and the computer Microsoft wanted me to have were no longer quite the same thing.

I didn’t leave Windows. Windows left me.

And somewhere along the way, I found something I hadn’t realized I’d lost.

My computer.

The Open Source Outlaw believes technology should work for you, not the other way around. No subscriptions required to enjoy the ride.

Hey Steve, watch this!