Skype Fur Ball Safari

Now that I have become a domiciled person again, I got my Skype software issues resolved, so I am back in voice communication with Australia, France and several other distant spots on the globe. Being domestically permanent also means I have gotten the large monitor and full size keyboard out of storage; and the external hard drive; and the hand me down printer, scanner, fax. I wouldn't call it an orderly desktop exactly, I just no longer need 1200 mile USB cords.

A few days ago I "participated" in a nearly 80 minute Skype call. Participated means I listened a lot; those who know me will still find an over an hour call to be nearly impossible. I am not a phone person and running it through a computer does not disguise the fact that we are just talking without a handset. The video feed helps but unless you are juggling or stripping that too gets static in about a minute. I wonder what the Skype ratio is between free international calling and video phone sex?

But the point of my meanderings today, should you chose to believe there is one, focuses on the theme of idle hands. I have my Skype setup such that I don't have to sit in front of the computer arrays. I can stand even walk within a limited range or get down on the floor and do my back exercises. But over an hour plus, you can run out of non-distracting things to do while paying attention to the person on the other end of the cyber conversation.

Surfing is much too distracting. I would not tolerate such an extended conversation if I were not truly interesting in the other person and in the content of the exchange; so I am not going to multi-task in any way that distracts my mind. My hands, however, did find a task that grew to the point of . . . well to the point of this post.

First, I noticed the tub of wet wipes that were not fully expended cleaning the apartment for human occupancy. I tugged out one of those and wiped down the big keyboard that had been in storage for over a year. Being careful not to press down on any of the keys that would cause audio blips and pings. That took about a minute but I noticed some black schmutz on the front side of the space bar. Resistant to a gentle wiping, the removal required some pressure to effect a clean space bar, which only revealed a larger build-up of potentially contaminating crud on both the B and N keys. These would be more difficult to reach. Since neither duct tape nor WD-40 would solve this common household crisis, I went for the bent paper clip and spent perhaps another five minutes of the Skype call (you did remember I am on a call right?). About five minutes cleaning keys, only to discover that once the front side of the keys were de-filthed, I only had to lean slightly left or right to see the accumulation of grime on those surface.

I am going to cut the key cleaning soliloquy because I haven't yet gotten to my point for the day. At some point, while I was actually talking I let the paper clip stylus slip between the keys and when I recovered it, I discovered -- furr! Another more digitally directed sweep brought up a loose ball of fuzz the size of a dime.

Yes, my keyboard had cohabitated with not one or two but three cats as far back as Michigan (2006) and without Skype to free me to ponder the pelted possibilities, I had never thought to delve into the depths of the keyboard recesses. It took about fifteen minutes to fish out 97% of the cat fur without being too distracted from the conversation, which naturally took a serious turn at this exact time. Multi-tasking can be such a burden.

So that's my deep introspection for this Saturday morning. Should you need to take a break to ponder the existential aspects of these revelations, I would recommend the following supporting text:

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Compelled by Technology

Rats in a technological maze. Jumping to the ring, buzz and tone of the newest toy. What has become of free will, of personal responsibility, of turning off the damn machines?

Three examples of technology over humanity from this past week:

Exemplar #1: I am visiting with relatives. A teenage cousin or second cousin or grand cousin (us non-breeders can't keep track of how diluted the blood lines get), anyway the teenage relative is leaving the house and her mother says: "Remember texting while driving is unsafe." To which the young adult replies: "I'll try to remember."

Now I was good with that line of conversation ending right there, like I said, this is not a close relative, so I would not be expected to attend the funeral. But an aunt or some other meddling relative piped up and said: "She doesn't actually text while driving, does she?" Followed by: "we are trying to break her of the habit" then "what are you an idiot, take the phone away" and "what if she has a flat tire on a country road". You know this entire argument or perhaps have seen it on Dr. Phil. In fact, this incident would not even have made my techno-crappy list if the under-verbal-assault mother had not eventually turned to me and asked: "Don't you think there is a lot of ridiculous over reaction in this conversation?"

I would point out again that I had refrained to this moment from offering an opinion and that the mother did ask me a direct question. To which I replied: "I think it all depends on what is more important, a cell phone text message or your child's life."

We didn't stay for lunch.

Exemplar #2

Another friend I visited was doing paperwork for her job as a clinical social worker. She was trying to get 'just one more' case entered before we went out to dinner and was sputtering about 'new pages of redundant information'. It seems that the old two page form is now a new four page form and in her opinion, the added pages really don't ask for any new information.

I suggested that perhaps the redundancy was because not everyone was as conscientious about patient documenting as she was. Perhaps the new pages were to provide more opportunities for information to be expressed and that she was not expected to complete every line and every box for every case or every client.

She said she would have a talk with the IT person at the office. To which I suggested that the IT person only implemented the added pages as part of a software program and that the decision to collect additional information was not made at the IT level. That got some murmured response about techies always wanting more data and I decided to let it drop in favor of a pleasant dining experience.

A few days later, it was reported that the tech did indeed respond to the inquiry by saying: "I don't write the pages, I just type the code." Please don't blame the techie, they are just following orders.

Exemplar #3: Yesterday I sent a copy of that travel map over there in the right side of this here blog to a bunch of friends. Some had asked where I was or where I was going next. So I made a google map and sent it along. Within a few minutes I got two messages that said basically the same:

Good 2 hear from U. Reply later. via Blackberry

First, it is unnecessary to reply to any communication sent by non-work related email. No one should ever be offended when private email goes unacknowledged. In particular, there is no need to tell me that you don't have time to reply now, but you will later. I would have figured that out when you did, in fact, reply later. And I am not impressed that you took time out of your busy day to tap a message into your blackberry and I even think slightly less of you that you even have a blackberry. But I still love you.

Many years ago a good friend and long time email buddy sent me an email with the subject line: FYINRIN, which he explained meant 'For Your Information, No Reply is Necessary.' We have remained great email friends for many, many years precisely because we have this understanding.

So to all my readers, thank you for stopping by to read through the random firings of my synapses. Be assured that dropping by my humble blog involves no commitment on your part, I write without expectations and FYP&ENRIE-UIIC.

For Your Pleasure & Enjoyment, No Response is Expected - Unless It Includes Chocolate

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Photo Credit: Apple MacIntosh Ad (1984)

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Coming Home to Mac

[Content Disclosure: Hardware 99%; Software 76%; Coming Home 100%: Matusow Biography 6%]

On "first release day" January 24th, 1984; I was at the Apple store in Torrance, California to pick up my Mac. I was a Mac person until 2000, when I moved back to Ann Arbor and discovered the local high speed internet connection only serviced Apple products if you lived on the UofM campus. Reluctantly I got myself a PC and have mourned ever since.

Until today....

The constant problems with my laptop and the spectre of dealing with Vista on any new PC clone, made the decision easy. The pome was ripe. Today I am the proud papa of a brand new Mac and I couldn't be happier. Except for the double whammy this weekend of getting caught up on all the changes in the Mac in the last nine years and the reality that the gallies of the Matusow book have just been dropped on Amy and me. Tis time to tweak and polish; the book goes to the printer at the end of the month.

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