Why Would I Write

  • One Column Short

    One Column Short

    Yesterday I received my newest keyboard – another 40% board – the Daisy. I immediately flashed my preferred layout on it, put some temporary keycaps on and started typing away. Lo and behold, I kept making mistakes. I was thinking to myself, what is wrong with me? Was it the clicky switches that affected me?

    I spent a few minutes on an empty notepad document and analyzed my typing mistakes. They were very consistent: I was typing U instead of I, K instead of L, M instead of N, comma instead of full stop. It was then I understood what was wrong: it was the missing column on my keyboard.

    Prior to this, my only experience with 40% boards was the Vortex Core which had an additional column of keys compared to the Daisy. Since it was the only 40% board that I’ve spent the past few months mastering, my muscle memory was already tuned to it. Who would’ve thought one column (which consists of 3 keys) would make such a big difference?

    For reference, here is my Vortex Core layout:

    Here is my Daisy layout:

    I was so used to typing on the Core which was one column short compared to a 60% board, but the position of the home row fingers (ASDF HJKL;) was still the same so it wasn’t much of a challenge. With the Daisy, it was a different ballgame. Because I was missing the ; key, my pinky had to rest on Enter – something I had never done before in my life. Enter was always a key or two away from where my pinky rested, not under it. When using the Core, I located where to rest my pinky by finding the enter, and moving one key to the left.

    I guess my mind still thought I was typing on the same board and caused me to make the same consistent mistakes. Since recognizing the problem, I have corrected my hand placement and am almost back to full speed with minor mistakes. I guess even the slightest changes can have a significant impact when you’re so used to doing something one way. And I thought I was done with learning pains. Can’t wait to see what it’s like to type on a Planck!

    Not gonna have proper keycaps to fill this board for a while, so I threw on my old DSA keycaps in the meantime. For those of you interested in my Daisy layout, you can find it here.

  • 1500 kilograms of Rolling Metal

    Today, as I was watering my plant (is it singular even though there are many stems in a single pot?) after not being home for the past day, I thought to myself, “man, this plant has no choice over whether it lives or dies.” I felt the power in my hand as I clutched the trigger of my spray bottle. The plant is only alive because I decided that it should remain that way. How often are you in that sort of situation? Maybe we need licenses to be plant owners. Pet owners too. That way, not everybody can own and mistreat pets. Only those with licenses. Make the fee to obtain a license high, requiring many hours of practice before they can do the difficult exam.

    Because if there’s one thing in the world that we have too many of – it’s shitty drivers on the road. I think it’s currently too easy to obtain a driver’s license. When probably half (*sources needed) the drivers in KL have bribed their way through the exam (I’m proud to say that I’m not one of those people), you know that being on the road is not the safest place to be. If you think about it, being behind the wheel is a huge responsibility.

    You are in control of a fast-moving hunk of metal that is strong enough to kill almost any living being if you hit them in the right place. That’s a lot of power for someone to have – especially when you’re not even 18. There are many lives to worry about – your own, your passengers (if you have any), and everyone else who isn’t in your car (whether they’re pedestrians or riding in other vehicles). Just one car is capable of killing so many people.

    When I was younger, I remember being in the car with my uncle and siblings. We were traveling on a highway (I think it was to church). I was lost in a book or listening to the radio, when my uncle’s voice made me look up. It was something along the lines of ‘oh my god’. I was worried, I thought we were going to get into an accident. There was nothing in front of us, but I saw him looking at the car’s rear-view mirror. He stopped the car by the side of the road and told us what happened.

    Apparently, we had driven past a pregnant woman who was trying to cross a busy highway. My uncle had kept an eye on her through the rear-view mirror but when we had driven quite a distance away, he saw the lady being flung in the air after getting hit by a car. She didn’t manage to make it to the other side. Which was why he pulled over at the side of the highway. We all bowed our heads in prayer as he said one for the lady. I don’t know if she or her child made it, or if the driver was harmed. It was shocking at that time, but I never thought much about it after that.

    A few days ago, I had a friend fall asleep at the wheel – fortunately he’s still alive and well. Nobody was killed. Funny thing was, I told him about the importance of sleep (especially if you’re a doctor working long shifts – highly specific, I know – but I learned a lot listening to an episode of the Joe Rogan podcast).

    Doesn’t really have anything to do with my blog post – but it was about driving, so I figured I’d throw it in before I forgot it. Listen to the Joe Rogan experience – it’s one of my favorite podcasts now. I don’t listen to every single episode – just the ones with guests that I think would interest me and I haven’t been let down so far.

  • I Don’t Wanna Go to Jail

    The other day I read something interesting: When you remember a past event, you’re actually remembering the last time you remembered it, not the event itself. I don’t know if it’s common knowledge but it has been explored in one of my favorite movies of all time – Memento. Anyway, reading about it depressed me a bit. It means unless you have photographic memory, each time you try to remember something in the past, you start to lose pieces of it. Details will change, events will change, feelings will change, and eventually the memory will be drastically different from what it once was. It sucks, but that’s how our brain works. It’s one of the reasons why I like writing down my thoughts whenever they pop into my mind. I know they won’t be the same if I think about them again in the future – how I felt, what I was thinking about etc will all be different after a few days or weeks. If I’m in front of the computer, I try to blog them, if I’m out and about, I make little notes on my phone to write about them later. In addition to thoughts, one of the things I like recording are my dreams. Which brings me to writing about a dream I had last night. I recorded it as soon as I woke up, but details had already started to fade as soon as I started typing them into my phone:

    I dreamed about beating up a politician. I had no idea why or what made me do it but I did it. He was unarmed and I had a stick with me. He was defenseless. Also, this took place while I was holidaying with my friends.

    Anyway I was caught on camera, because I made no attempt to cover up, and I still fled from the scene of the crime. The authorities dropped by the hotel to question me and they told me that I would be going to jail. So for the next few nights, I declined going out with my friends. I just stayed in the hotel. I said I was gonna go to prison any time, so they should have fun without me.

    I didn’t end up in jail, and our holiday concluded with no drama. Maybe I couldn’t dream what the interior of a jail was like, so my brain skipped that part. Or maybe the worrying was done on purpose to make me feel worse. Things could have been interesting or fun in jail? I don’t know. Fucking brain.

    But during my time alone, I kept thinking to myself, oh shit my life is ruined. Nobody is going to hire me anymore. I’ll be a stain in society. I was going to have a criminal record. I wasn’t going to get a decent salary anymore. I was so worried. And I kept thinking, why the fuck did I do that? I wasn’t instructed to. Nobody convinced me or paid me to beat up that old man. I did it on my own! I was filled with regret.

    And so, this morning I woke up feeling like I never want to go to jail, ever. Need someone to beat up a politician? Don’t call me.