The Key to my Boards

For the past week, I've been working on my keyboards. But not in the way you think.

As I mentioned before, I got a new computer to replace the Vista one, which wasn't getting any more updates. As a result, my keyboard, which I'd grown accustomed to, would no longer fit the new machine, which wouldn't accept any round plugs - only flat ones. I hoped that there would be some kind of in-between converter that would save me the trouble of having to get a replacement. No luck.

Something like this.

Getting my preferences across was trickier than intended, because I didn't know the correct terminology, and the guy pitching to me had trouble appealing to my tastes. So many of the available keyboards were of a different make than what I was used to - some had the board curved, some had the middle split in half, and some had protrusions either from the top or the bottom. What I wanted was something that was equally flat from above and below. But nothing from the sample displays provided what I was looking for. (I had better results from the keyboards hidden in their packing cases)

I also had trouble with getting my fears across coherently. When I used a wireless mouse, I noticed that there were instances where the mouse would briefly break off contact between my motions and the computer, which would play havoc with my precision-sensitive handling of images. I worried that this same disconnect would happen with a wireless keyboard, but my explanation didn't come off very clearly. Even the person explaining what I just said was confused, until she experienced using a wireless mouse that had wonky timing issues, and had to resort to a plugged-in mouse instead.

After much haranging at the computer store, I eventually found a keyboard that seemed borderline acceptable to my tastes - it had a reasonably flat base, wasn't curved, only jutted out at the top, and most importantly, had reassuring feedback when pressing down on the keys. It was only later that I found out after the fact that the kind of model I was most accustomed to was the Mechanical keyboard, similar to a typewriter. Yet that was the very kind of model that the guy was trying to sell me on, and I wouldn't hear of it.

Sooner or later, all technological talk devolves into this.

The only minuses with the keyboard that the Numbered F keys and Escape button were half the size of the regular keys. (I also liked the old model for propping up my handwritten notes against them and the computer screen for transcribing my pages) Another inconvenience was that the Print Screen button (which I used to image capture the numerous Microfiche Newspaper comics) was in the middle, instead of the left of it's usual position. Also, the indentations for the F and J keys were so slight I couldn't feel them. And I couldn't tell if the Num lock or Caps lock were on, because there was no light to indicate their use. And the top had a slight curve which kept me from feeling balanced.

Nowadays, people are more likely to use computers to play games.
How times have changed.

Eventually, my distaste grew to the point that I figured I should buy my own keyboard instead of using one that annoyed me so much. That, and I was anxious about having a battery that could run out of power in just a year.

I soon found our that while buying a computer with a keyboard is a reasonably torturous task comparable to buying a new car, it's just as hard trying to find a suitable keyboard all on its own. Keyboards are generally sold WITH computers, and not on their lonesome. It's like buying a controller for a gaming platform that doesn't allow multiplayer. To make things more troublesome, the number of available Mechanical keyboards to my liking were priced in the overcharged range. (The cheapest cost around $100) And the ones that were reasonable priced, their shipping costs were more expensive than the model itself, making any savings redundant.

So I looked around, asking various computer stores and pawnshops, looking (and failing) to find the required keyboard that would be just right for my tastes. And in the meantime, I was worrying about the window of returning the current keyboard I was using. I thought I only had two weeks until the warranty was voided. But a quick chat with someone who used to work in retail set my fears right - the two-week window was for computer terminals only. Computer components, such as mice and keyboards could be returned in four weeks.

That gave me some leeway until I could replace the battery-operated keyboard. But even with an extension, it was still crunch time.

The sacrifices one has to accomplish to get desired results!

After dubiously checking some online sources, being wary of any that I wouldn't be able to sample upon sight and feel, I came across a location selling keyboards for $5.00 each at a warehouse, a way out-of-place location that, ironically, I always passed by, but never really noticed. After making the hazardous trip via public transportation, I crossed the highway bridge with brief traffic lights, dodged the ingoing and outgoing cars & trucks on the gravel path, made my way to the inconspicuous side of the low-level building, and browsed the interior of the store, looking for my intended target. After circling the inside twice, I found them tucked away in a corner of the shop,sandwiched in a pile.

I took them out one at a time, just barely having any clear space to put them down for resting. After checking, stacking duplicates, comparing differences and looking for faults (one keyboard had a broken stand), I eventually settled on two versions. One that was absolutely PERFECT, and one that was the same as what I used at work. But I couldn't decide which one to take back. And I didn't want to risk a return trip in case one turned out to be faulty. So I decided to play it safe, and took both of them. It was still a good deal.

However, with the new keyboard, there was now a new hurdle - one I knew was long coming. To make my viewing experience more comfortable, I propped my computer screen on a box sitting opposite my keyboard. My OLD keyboard model (with the circular plug) jutted it's wire out from the side. But these NEW keyboards had wires coming out from the middle, I didn't want to risk cutting into a perfectly good box when there were perfectly reasonable options available. Besides, what if I cut a hole, and it turned out I needed to relocate the opening to another side? (One keyboard wire was centered exactly in the middle, the other a little to the right hand side)

My complication was this - my computer monitor had three prongs - two situated out in front, and one at the back. This triangular position meant I needed to find something that would support all three bases at once AND leave enough room underneath for a wire to travel through. It was for this reason that I couldn't simply use the computer tower flat down as a base - there'd be no room for the keyboard wire to pass through.

After looking and failing to find a square box or plastic casing that exactly met my preferences, I checked a wooden footstool I made in woodshop during High School. It stood on two flat wide legs and was currently being used as a stand for the recycling bin. I couldn't have used it anyways - it was too high for my tastes. But I took a look at the space underneath, and realized I was complicating matters too much - all I needed wasn't a box with a hole - Bricks would handle the job just as well.

Now, the only problem was that there were no bricks available.

This was preposterous - I knew exactly what I needed to fix my problem, but couldn't find the proper materials needed to solve them. The thing is, I'm not much of a handyman, and haven't bothered to try fixing anything more complicated than hooking up my gaming systems, VCR, DVD and PVR all to the same TV. My highest level of mechanical competence is replacing the halogen lightbulbs in my room. So, being unable to find consistent construction material, I went for the next best thing:

I used Star Trek paperback books.

I'd already bought about fifty of them second hand, and planned to sell them off at cost to someone who was a fan. However, it turned out I'd grossly overestimated the extent of his Trekiness, and only bought three of them and stopped, leaving me with a box full of books I could hardly bother to read. At least this way, they'd be good for something. Granted, not all of them were of equal height, but the majority of them were consistent enough to be equal to each other, and I stacked them into piles, until they were uniform. Then, I lowered the monitor on top, but it still looked uneasy. Then I decided to put a piece of cardboard underneath, so there wouldn't be any threat of markings on top of the books, just in case I wanted to read them later.

But before I could even start using my main keyboard, I felt something I failed to notice. The keys had groves on the symbols that were clearly sticking out. I didn't want to be constantly feeling something on my fingers every time I typed something. I wanted them to be tactile-free.

Why should I change with the times?
The times should change with me!

Fortunately, I still had my backup keyboard, which, while not as good, was still enough to get the job done, and after plugging it in, I tested every key to make sure that they worked. One of my fears was that the reason these keyboards had been abandoned was because there was something wrong with them. Fortunately, that turned out not to be the case.

I started using my backup keyboard, which was the same as what I used at work, figuring I shouldn't have any problem with what I was used to.

Guess what?? I had problems.

What worked for me fine at the workplace didn't work for me in the vicinity of my home. For starters, I had no wrist protector pad at work, but with this new keyboard, it would be easier to type without my wrist protector. Unfortunately, this created more wood burn on my forearms than usual. Furthermore, the space between the wrist protector and the spacebar was nonexistent, making it extremely uncomfortable for me to fall into my comfort zone. I knew I said I wanted a flat base, but not THIS flat! I didn't notice the discrepancy until it was too late.

I also encountered the same problems I had with the battery keyboard - it was too flat. I couldn't feel the keys from above my resting position. I needed to feel the difference from above and below, like on a staircase. One aspect of Autism is that the person can have little to no sensation of where their bodies are. As a result, they very often display aspects of clumsiness, unless they have a solid foundation to work from. Without the sensation of the keys above and below, I couldn't count on the accuracy of my writing.

I tried to compensate for this by making the rear end of the keyboard higher, by using elevation blocks at the back, since the plastic props obviously weren't doing the job. But even this failed to give me the results I wanted. I still couldn't tell the difference between one key or another.

Finally, after days of this, I could take no more. I desperately wanted to use my first choice, but the disconcerting feelings from the keys prevented me from doing so. I started by going back to my sources, checking the largest available supply of Government mandated computer merchandise - the local library.

It was there that I found a mouse design to my liking (after breaking mine through brute force), and where I found various potential keyboards. I checked my resources by looking at the nonsensical factory codes on the back. The mouses were trickier, because the red glare kept getting into my eye, but the keyboards were reasonably easier. That is, as long as nobody noticed the local weirdo flipping the computer boards over and taking notes. While double-checking the keys to see if there was any discernible difference, I was surprised to find out that some keys on a particular board brand were smooth and finer than what was on mine, and on other similar models on the library table.

I deducted that they must've worn away after extensive use. But I couldn't afford to wait the lengthy amount of time it'd take for the grooves to go away. So I decided to speed up the process. This was done by using a similar process that was done for umbrella handles. This is another area that needs further explanation - in addition to being fussy with mechanics and clothing, I had considerable difficulty in finding an umbrella that would feel comfortable in my hand. Every single brand I found, no matter what shape or size, the handle would always have an annoying divide straight down the middle that felt uncomfortable to the touch. After my Father bought one against my protest, I was surprised to find that he did something that made it much more manageable for me. Turns out his magic trick was simply using a file against the obtrusive end, and sanding them over. I didn't know that the handles could be simply filed down to make them smoother.

Basically Penguin's origin, but from the other end of the umbrella.
No, not THAT end.

Using the same principle, I decided to sand down the letters for the keys on the keyboard. ALL of them. Even the F-Numbered letters, which I hardly used. But I couldn't simply use a file, like the ones criminals use to break bars out of jail in hock movies and cartoons. I instead used a sponge-like sandpaper. Only problem was, this method turned out to be dustier than usual, and I had to wash it multiple times. Filing down keys that don't stay still can be tricker than it sounds.

It took me several days of getting around to doing this. I was partly reluctant to file away, worried that I might damage the keyboards, but also discomforted about finding a proper sanding position. I started off with sanding down individual keys to see if my theory would hold out. When the bigger buttons (Backspace, Shift, Enter) were sanded down without no visible effect, but definite tactile improvement, I started going on with gust on the others. However, doing one key at a time proved ineffective, so out of sheer frustration, I started rubbing the sand-sponge on its edge across multiple keys at a time. In the end, I wound up holding the keyboard somewhat like a guitar.

When the results were finally done to my satisfaction, the keys were not just smooth, but Smoooooooooooth. Where there were once annoying lumpy bumps that got in the way whenever I typed something, there were now dusty lumps that needed to be blown away. There were still a few keys that I couldn't completely sand away, but they were mostly inconsequential, and the few letters that stuck out (E & O), I figured would eventually be sanded away from constant use. There's still some annoying flakes of plastic dust hanging around, but those should also eventually fade away.

With that hurdle finally out of the way, there was only one unexpected obstacle remaining. The large White Windows icon at the very bottom of the keyboard. Normally, this would be easily ignored up close, but when viewed at a distance, when not obsessively typing away like a frenzied chimpanzee, would be very noticeable. Fortunately, some black marker tape over the offending area took care of the problem. Somewhat similar to what was used to block the glaring bright ON switch of my computer console. (A similar tactic that Luddites who were annoyed at the blinking 12:00 sight on VCRs used)

Long story short - I got a new computer and some keyboards. They work fine now.

Conventional Conventions

Generally, when it comes to gatherings involving large groups of people, I'm reluctant to attend, even when they're mandatory.

The reason being that when I'm forced to associate and mingle with people I'm only familiar with in passing, or even family members I see once a year, it takes me a long time to unwind.  Not just from stress of the upcoming meeting, but also from being around so many people in the first place.  Some people get claustrophobic in crowded places.  I get claustrophobic in crowds.

Since I hardly had any friends growing up, I pretty much had to find ways to keep my interest engaged by indulging in activities that were most accomplished in solitary.  (Such as going to the library, reading books, movies and TV shows on my own)  I wouldn't have been able to survive otherwise.

And being thrown back into unfamiliar social territory that everybody else mingles in their element is anathema to me.  One thing that obviously upset me was that the mere act of having to socialize was the costs involved.  It'd take money to go out and see movies without subtitles.  It'd cost money to go out for eats at fast-food restaurants.  Money that could be better put to use buying Videogames and Comic Paperbacks.  I didn't have a reliable source of income, so finance was a heavy burden, and I struggled for new ways to save pennies here and there.  So what if collecting empty coke bottles gave me strange looks in my direction?  I was profiting from these actions, and they weren't.

Now that I have a stable income and can afford to splurge on stuff I would've been terrified to waste potentially hard-earned cash on, I don't really have anybody to share them with.  I've been trying to expand my social experience (what little there is) on outside activities beyond my expectations.

For the last New Year's Day party, it was brought up that everybody should wear nametags, so I would have some idea of who I was speaking to.  I generally forget the name of anybody who I haven't seen over a two-week period.  So, expecting me to instantly recall the name of a relative I saw only last year is like the worst surprise exam on a lazy student with no prep time.  And even when given a list, I could hardly remember whose names went with which picture.  This year, I was able to more cognitively recall whose names was whose.  Let's see how long that lasts.


There might be some stigma attached to wearing nametags displaying our names for the world to see (a complaint I never really understood), but it saves me the embarrassment of having to try to recall someone's name and fail constantly.  Asking for someone's name seems like an exercise in futility, since it always seems like everybody knows my name, so by extension, I should know everybody else's.  The only real downside to nametags is that they can stick holes in your shirt (if they have safety pins), rub around your neck (if they're on strings) or they fall off too easily (weak glue).

The only time I seem to flourish in social settings is when I'm given a chance to speak.  While public speaking is seen as one of the most anxiety-provoking moments favored only by death, I relish in these rare occasions, since it's a chance for me to be heard.  I don't need to worry about listening to audience feedback - I just have to make my succinct comments, say what I want to say, and leave.

Pretty much the ONLY reason I bother attending any parties or group functions I'm invited to in the first place is for the food there.  I don't exactly go for the scintillating social conversation which I wouldn't be able to understand on account of all the noise.  (People shouting to be heard over the background of people trying to be heard)

I've been attending a weekly cooking class that takes place at random locations for about six months now.  The volunteers are warm and friendly, and the classes are reasonably small, consisting of mostly elderly people, never having higher than ten people a lesson.  The only negative is that they increased their attendance costs for materials from $2.00 to... (ugh) $3.00.  Even though the increment is almost negligible, I still get separation anxiety from forking over my loose change.  (Some things never change)

And yet, despite their friendliness, I still struggled to get the courage to strike up a conversation with these complete strangers.  Unless it involves a specific request, such as the location of where the knives or grater is, I'm a total loss with open-ended dialogues, because I have no idea where the conversation is supposed to go from there.  (I like to know the results from my answers beforehand)  I haven't had much practice in advocating my right to be understood, that people need to face me, speak slowly and clearly, and emphasize certain key words; because they constantly forget they're in the presence of a Deaf man.  But constantly compounding on these reminders all the time for new people, and reminding those who already forgot, as well as trying to understand their speech patterns is physically and emotionally draining.  (Even more so for someone not used to doing this so much)

It was only recently that it was suggested that I have the volunteers and students wear nametags for the same reason for the relatives at the New Year's party - so I wouldn't have to constantly worry about memorizing their names when the time came.  And there'll also be an assistant attending me for future classes, so I won't feel totally alone.  I flourish better when I have somebody who can act as an intermediary between myself and new people.

Even so - don't expect me to instantly become a social animal.  The euphoria I get from meeting with people still can't compare to the rush I get when surrounded by familiar elements, such as readable papers filled with intriguing stories.  (At least stories have the benefit of plausibility, and knowledge of where they end)

In Tennis, Love is Nothing

Every year, I struggle to try to find something suitable for my parents.  And every year, I wind up short, because they're pretty self-sufficient, and don't have very many wants or needs.  Anything that needs to be replaced or repaired can be quickly found online for a fraction of the price, and there are various items that can be fixed with some slight adjustment.  Plus, my Father's quite the handyman, though computers are outside his area of expertise.  Likewise, my Mother is trying to cut down on heavy books, preferring instead to read them on her e-reader device.  (Even though multiple novels on her reading list may spontaneously disappear without warning)  So, rather than try to appease their interest through Gift Cards (which they can afford & don't need), I need to delve deeper to indulge their baser interests, especially when Christmas and Hanukah have lined up so close to their lunar dates.

And the surefire way to appeal to their target audience is to talk about Tennis.  To my regular comic readers (all five of them), forgive me for going outside the realm of normalcy, giving attention to a sport not normally seen on the funny pages, particularly for a season-specific sport, but procrastination and stinginess have brought me to this point.

From a young age, my parents were enamored with the sport, having the convenience of living next to a Tennis arena.  They even had me go to lessons there so I could join them and learn the sport.  There was even a ping-pong table in the basement for handling a miniature version of the game with ease.  With practice, I was able to handle the racquet with ease, and even bounce a tennis ball on it multiple times.

And yet, I never really warmed up to the sport.  I couldn't feel comfortable playing out in the bright sun, wearing reflective clothing.  Not to mention the unnecessary dress code of having to wear white shoes instead of my more comfortable running shoes.  Part of this was my innate boredom in waiting for the ball to come back.  I wanted something more stimulating, so in my spare time as a teen, I would play against the wall by bouncing two balls at once.  One ball to bounce back, and another ball coming back as soon as I made my swing.  Naturally, the wall won all the time.

Another notion that constantly infuriated me was the ball going over the high-wire fence, and having to go all the way around into the field to get the ball, toss them over, only to have the ball go over the fence again.

It's all probably a matter of taste.  I seem to be missing a particular flipped switch that enjoys doing extravascular activities, since my parents keep engaging into the game, despite returning home with frequent injuries.  I dreaded when these happened, because it'd mean that my Mother would get invariably upset, because she couldn't work out her frustrations on the court, meaning she'd be more crabbier than usual.  And she's crabby even on her best days.  So when she injured her back a long time ago, she couldn't return to the court for a good two years, leaving me to suffer the brunt of her wrath.  (Not that she'd beat me with a tennis racquet - I don't bounce very well)  She couldn't even enjoy doing any of the trickier dances on Dance Dance Revolution, because many of the advanced stages require doing multiple jumps in a row, which only aggravated her spine further.

In recent years, they haven't been able to enjoy the sport as much as they'd like to, but like addicts who need their fix, they get their required allotment of exercise by a similar substitute - PickleBall.  It's similar enough to Tennis, but played with ping-pong-like paddles and a whiffle ball instead, which requires a delicate touch.  And like Tennis, it has a similarly weird scoring system.

The surest way for me to lose all interest in any game that requires coordination, dexterity and skill is to have a bunch of intrusive rules that limit the amount of movement and fun in playing a game.  Sure, they're there to level out the playing field and make things fair, as well as add a degree of difficulty, but I feel freer when I don't have to hold back on my restrictions.  Or maybe my indifference may be something more innate - the surest way for a child to lose interest in a hobby is for parents to have a vested interest in it in the first place.

Hungry for more Comics

Two years ago, I started posting comics that paid attention to the Hunger Relief campaign in Africa.  Since then, I keep finding new Thanksgiving Famine Tribute comics.  Every time I think I've found the last of them, some more wind up hiding where I hadn't looked before.  Some of them weren't on the main comics page, but as solitary comics located randomly in the newspaper, hiding in plain sight.  These comics will probably become painfully relevant, judging by the Presidential inauguration.  Hunger is going to become a familiar sensation for the upcoming years.

It probably doesn't help that several of them make light out of what's essentially a difficult subject.

Then there's forgettable generic comics like Sydney (featuring an unbelievably stupid bear) that in the second less-effective hunger tribute, had strips involving ignorance over the usage of food.  Whether this was intended or not is borderline, and up for interpretation.

Serial comics like Mary Worth only made token remarks that would've sounded ham-fisted in any other context.

The Phantom didn't even bother wedging a hunger tribute in its narrative, simply settling for a caption box tucked away near the bottom instead.

Then there are comics that appeared a year before whole swatches of cartoonists decided to band together for a greater cause.  Before Wiley did his more famous Non-Sequitur comics, he started out with his first attempt about a crotchety Mayor's assistant named Fenton.

This Adam comic was published years before the Famine tribute, and not on a Thanksgiving, but given it's contradictory and similar message, it certainly applies.

The Hazards of Driving

I've never been one to fully embrace the trial of enduring a driving lesson, even though having a driver's license would make things easier to sign up for, as an added proof of who I say I really am.  (Because there are all kinds of frauds out there who'd like to impersonate me, without any of the emotional baggage I entail)

To me, a car is less the feeling of rebelliousness freedom, and more a golden albatross you're anchored to.  There's the cost of having to fill up the gas tank on a regular basis, keeping the tires inflated, the windshield wipers fluid working.  And on top of all that, there's the ever-persistent threat of your car suddenly experiencing system existence failure right in the middle of traffic.

Ah yes, traffic.  Home of the highway, constant stop signs and the source of road rage, where the slightest distraction is the only thing from reducing your high-tech vehicle into a twisted steel death trap.  If your body hasn't been fully damaged beyond repair in your metal coffin, you'll be lucky(?) enough to only scrape by with some amputated limbs, brain damage, and ruptured internal organs.  Not to mention the act of having to pay attention to every single functioning aspect of the car, memorizing what each gear does, and keeping a watchful eye on daredevil jaywalkers.  There's simply too many things for me to keep track of.

That's why I prefer to go the route of public transportation.  Let THEM deal with the worries, while I doze away to the comfortable vibrations in the back.  Not that riding the bus is that great a deal.  The latest designs are nowhere as comfortable as the old models (50 seats reduced to 30), seats with no place to rest your head, too many windows that allow sunlight to glare through, and a limited number of comfortable spots that are quickly filled up.  Not to mention the threat of missing your stop through inattention or not ringing the bell properly enough.  And the pressure to keep a vigilant eye on making sure your bus doesn't pass you by when you're not paying attention.  And the fares keep rising all the time, with no end in sight.

I'd also opt for being picked up by someone who knows how to drive, but waiting around for them to come is just as nervewracking as waiting for the bus, since people don't operate by a timesheet system.  But that's them breaks I guess.

Duffy Vs. his Computer

It's been a long time since I've posted any Duffy around here, so I'm going to circumvent to demand where none existed.  Some of these were from my first entry on the comic, but they're still at the reduced size (which I haven't bothered to go back and edit), so you don't have to feel ripped off.

While browsing several online newspapers, I came across one that had a scant scattering of various Duffy comics - only two weeks worth.  There was one standalone strip that seemed relevant here:

Already, we're treated to the internal thoughts of an overly obese piece of hardware that has nothing but contempt for the large figure pressing his blobby fingers all over its keyboard.  In addition, the monitor has all the disposition reminiscent of a 1.0 version of Bender from Futurama.  Obviously, this is not going to be a mutual working relationship.

It's difficult working properly with a machine that seems almost malicious in its programming.  Any electronic device that has ready access to your personal information is pretty much just asking for trouble.

 In the rare cases where the machine actually goes out of its way to be helpful, it feels more like mocking than beneficial.  It's as if it's saying it knows more than the slow-thinking bags of flesh sitting across the screen... which isn't too far off the mark.

This style of displaying information in a disconnected monotone manner is only slightly less annoying than the excitable "helpful" Word paperclip icon.  (If I've brought up any long repressed memories that're better left forgotten, I apologize)

And when it actually goes through with the proper requests, it goes out of its way to take its time with compiling the order.  This was back in the days when computers would make funny noises while compiling code in order to ease the minds of writers pining for the days of typewriter clacking sounds.

Usually in these cases, the wise move would be to go to a computer repairman to get past these annoying features that seem less the result of a trojan virus, and more of an ingrained prejudice against the man trying to make the office machine work.  It doesn't help.

Interestingly enough, almost all these comics are displayed in reverse chronological order.  When read backwards, they provide a continuous narrative of escalating conflict resulting in an inevitable conclusion:

Just remember, computers "falling against the wall" is the technological equivalent of "falling down the stairs into a boxful of doorknobs".  If you suspect someone engaging in mechanical abuse, go see a respectable technician.  There are better ways to vent your frustrations than punching your fist through them, but I'll be damned if I know what they are.