October 22nd: Plastic connection

Spell me a word. Any word. In what order do you press the keys? Not in the same order as me, in many cases. How do you spell "predominant"? Not quite the same as you do. But does that make it wrong or does that mean it's changing? This is a paradox to be considered and pondered over by all lovers of language and grammar - we are fascinated by language change but we're horrified by non-standard spellings which could indicate the beginning of the aforementioned mutation.

What's a girl to do?

Having said that, the inevitable adaptation in language that technology has brought never fails to amaze me. Not necessarily the 'variations' (meaning ghastly) in spelling that the lack of online editing allows into the world, but, more literally, the way we can just press a button and create a letter; press two and create a word; press a selection and create a poem, a story, a song... something which has meaning to somebody, somewhere. How can a button make a letter appear on a screen? How can I make words without speaking or writing?

I express words through my fingers. I create sound through something that isn't my mouth. You assimilate words through something that isn't your ears; you can hear me through your eyes. It unifies us, this - we are one through the language which has words but no sound. This world of technology has created us - a plastic connection.

And with that to consider, I'll leave you with a random pointless 'story' my fingers wrote without consulting my brain. If you get it, leave a comment - I'll be interested to know whether or not you see where I was going with it.

Molly x

Mindless.

Click. Click. Click.

Heads down. Eyes blank. Fingers move. Keep busy, don't look up, don't make eye contact. Exist in solitude, because after all, it's easier like that, isn't it?

Regress. Begin. Open your eyes - no, open them. Really look at the world. Don't see it. Look at it. Notice it. Delight in it. How old were you when it happened? When did you become disillusioned with the world?

Heads down. Eyes blank. Fingers move. She doesn't understand. Touch the keys, type the words. Ignore everything except the feel of the plastic beneath your fingers. She complains. Look at the clock. What time is it? Still two more hours. Oh God, two more hours. Then I can go home. She'll ask me about my day. I don't want to talk about it.

Boss is on his way over. Don't talk to me, don't talk to m-- oh hi, yes, I'm doing it n- yes, it'll be done- you want it for whe-? Another file? More work? She won't be happy. Of course I can do it- yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Three bags full, sir. I am a slave to you.

Close the program. Get your coat. Switch off the light. In the lift. In the car. Key in the door. How was your day? Leave me alone. Are you in a bad mood? Another file? Why can't they-- zone out. Ignore her. Mindless.

Am I happy?