I’ve
long ago given up trying to figure out either my mind or my computer.
People seem to be comparing the mind to computers and vice-versa all
the time, and I guess I have to agree. Both seem to do whatever they
want to do whenever they want to do it, both can capriciously deny
you access to information you know is there, somewhere, but you want
and need immediately. And when I'm in one of my paranoid moods, I am
quite convinced that they are deliberately conspiring against me.
My
last computer, which I really did work to extremes, would frequently,
suddenly, and for absolutely no reason I can see, decide to slow
down. I would try to go from one place to another on the net (or even
within the computer itself) and the screen I wanted to leave would
just sit there, staring back at me, expressionless but obviously
uncomprehending or uncaring—or, as I strongly suspect,
comprehending but still not caring. And if I were in a particular
hurry, it would simply lock up tighter than a drum, making it
impossible for me to do anything at all, other than manually turn the
computer off and switch it back on again. And wait. I hate waiting
and have to fight to keep from thinking the computer knew it. I've
not had that problem with my current computer...yet, but I am
constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop
But
my current computer is not without it's little ways of keeping me
from getting too confident. The other day, I clicked on a photo to
move it from the top of the screen to the bottom, dragged it halfway
to where I wanted it, let my finger off the mouse for an instant, and
it disappeared. Vanished, never to be seen again. It did not go back
to where it was in the first place, it did not go into my overflowing
“trash bin”, though that particular feature of my computer is so
full of assorted junk I probably wouldn’t be able to find the photo
even if it was there. And my mind works exactly the same way the
computer does: I have an idea that I wish to make use of in another
context, and somewhere between where I started and where I want to
go, the idea vanishes, as does, usually, the thought I was trying to
relate it to.
Though
I must say, in defense of the computer, that were it as completely as
unpredictable as my mind, it would be totally unusable. You’re
familiar with those annoying Pop-Up ads that just appear when you’re
doing something and you have to take the time and effort to click on
the little “x” in the offending window to get rid of them? Well,
my mind is one continual pop-up ad. I’m trying to think of how to
describe, let’s say, a piece of furniture (don’t ask me why I
might want to be describing a piece of furniture…just go with me
here, okay?). The instant I start I think of a chair my mom had that
her cat totally destroyed by peeing in it. Or I am writing a note to
a friend telling him/her about something that happened today while I
was walking to the grocery store and here comes a pop-up alerting me
to the fact that the parking garage behind the store used to be a
tennis court when I first lived in Chicago. A fascinating bit of
trivia, but having nothing whatever to do with the grocery store or
my walking to it today.
That
I am able to fan and swat my way through these swarms of mental
pop-ups is, I’m sure, admirable, but it is also infinitely
frustrating. But they do provide me with ample subjects for blogs.
Obviously,
the makers of computers had to have designed them using the brain as
some sort of model, and increasingly obvious—and ominous,too—is
the fact that more and more people rely more heavily on the computer
for things the brain should do for itself. I refer you once again to
E.M. Forster’s classic 1909 short (12,000 word) story, “The
Machine Stops”, which you can find on Google.
And
in that last paragraph we have a classic example of one of my mental
pop-ups, and only goes to prove not only am I not the first person in
the world to relate computers and the mind, but I’m 103 years
behind E.M. Forster.
Dorien's
blogs are posted by 10 a.m. Central time every Monday, Wednesday, and
Friday. Please take a moment to visit his website
(http://www.doriengrey.com)
and, if you enjoy these blogs, you might want to check out Short
Circuits: a Life in Blogs (http://bit.ly/m8CSO1 ).
2 comments:
But isn't that just following the same pattern by which we write?
...Dorien walked from the kitchen to the bedroom, ever on the lookout for that elusive hidden camera he was sure was hidden in the walls. Only it couldn't be hidden in the walls because the plaster the walls were made with were of a mixture unkind to being drilled in. Not only did it leave a very evident mess, but it also cracked and spread within a short couple of days. Anybody with any knowledge of this plaster would automatically know it didn't make for a solid hiding place. Maybe the wood floors...only this wood came from the jungles of...
You see?
Are you SURE we aren't identical twins separated at birth (albeit 30 or so years apart)?
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