Imagine. A bank of screens, we’re leaning over one, fascinated by what’s going on, a group of us. We watch each other’s progress and today, this minute, it’s mine that’s interesting. How’s she doing? Has the new algorithm taken? The avatar that is me at this kitchen table, typing, this system that is running, is being watched over. The normal thing happens, I’m triggered by an email sent in good faith that comes back as a public correction, the spider web lines are twanged and up comes the critic ready with answers: it’s because you’re stupid, you’re really an embarrassment, they’re definitely laughing at you, they think you’re a fool! You’ve revealed your soft underbelly. They’re going to attack you. And we’re off on the merry-go-round of feeling shit but no, hang on, something’s changed. We lean in to the bank of computers and watch. I’m sorry I say to the critic. But we don’t run those scripts anymore. The OS has been upgraded. And I say it again and again. When shame rears in many guises. When panic sets in. When catastrophisation takes a hold and I’ll always be a failure gets its feet under the table. When the fixer turns up. When the slave girl gets ready. When ugly is a sure thing and old is a disaster. I’m sorry, we don’t run those scripts anymore. It’s an odd sensation because it’s true and it works. Sometimes I say I get that you want to run it, but even if I could it wouldn’t function like it used to and I sympathise with the critic’s dejection. And when it proffers the old floppy disc with rubbish written in magic marker on the label but finds there’s nowhere to put it, or the programmes that used to spring into action at the tap of a button come up with the spinning wheel of rainbow patience followed by a pop up saying no, I stand by and feel the critic’s pain. Sorry for itself and getting smaller each time, I watch it wander off with its arms full of hard drives and dongles and old wires cut off at the neck. It has nowhere to put them. Nothing fits anymore. We each have our own way of making this system work, the language, the tricks, the imagination, the vision. I love this for its simplicity. I see a bank of computers, a lighted room, laughter and interest and a group of us leaning in. I see upgrades and bug fixes and system improvements and an avatar that is me, typing at this kitchen table.
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I wish it was possible to adjust the size of the Like heart.
what a nice new idea I may just give it a go !