Sometimes I fancy that I’ve become a cyborg, as if having my
hands on and my face into such close proximity with electronics over decades
has caused my entire nervous system to rewire itself to emulate the devices
that have sucked away more than half my life.
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| https://www.google.com/search?q=image+cyborg&espv=2&biw=1324&bih=623&site=webhp |
Thinking back to the old days when I sat in a cold server
closet with my back just two feet from two large HP minicomputers, I did my
work on the system consoles which were little (by today’s standards) dim and
dumb terminals. The disks in these old machines
clattered and chattered, and their fans roared.
Each box was about the size of a very large refrigerator. I could monitor CPU activity and various
statuses on each computer’s console using a utility that I can’t remember
now. The computers talked to each other
constantly, using what was called Class I/O – at least, they were supposed to talk
constantly even when there was nothing to talk about. In those cases, it was more like “Are you
alive? Yes, are you alive? Heck yeah, how about you?” Back and forth, they checked to make sure
their companion was still breathing. When
people reported system trouble, typically it was because one computer was
waiting for a reply and the other was thrashing (like my brain has been
lately). In the first minutes, trouble
wasn’t obvious to me. But then I could
hear the familiar sound the disk made under these circumstances: clackity-clackity-clackity. It was fruitless – the disk head searching
feverishly for an invalid page address while the other sat idle, waiting for a
reply – “I know you’re alive, what’s going on over there? I’ll just hang out here until you figure
things out.” One is searching for
something that will never be found while the other waits for a reply that will
never be issued. Reboot both. Rebirth the process. It was always the quickest solution.
No resolution. No
resolution but we must go on. Well, at
least we should go on for a variety of reasons.
Reboot. Why? It’s unproductive and tiresome. How?
Take my kayak out and leave the world for a while.
I took my kayak out Sunday afternoon. I paddled up the Little Sandy on a windy day,
but oh my, the sky was bluest blue. The
clackity in my head dimmed and gave way to sounds of wind in the trees,
woodpeckers, ducks, crows, and squirrels scolding me from the tree tops. I came upon three very large flocks of
turkeys near the river bank. Two great
blue heron traveled with me, flying upriver until I caught up with them. No doubt they were annoyed with me for
invading their space. They expected me to
turn around. Finally, I did and never
saw them again.
Hopefully, maybe…tomorrow I will have my answer. The Federal Reserve Board will announce the
new discount rate; they are supposed to by middle of the month. My future hinges on two things: the rate
change (or no change) and whether or not I can stay on working casual or
part-time. I’m not altogether sure I
want to stay on in any capacity. If I
do, it will be short term…no more than a year, no more than 20 hours a
week. It sounds pretty good...like
rebirth, maybe.
