Pavlov's girl − 26 June, 2008
Yesterday’s misery, matched by an evening thunderstorm, gives way to today’s creative burst. After my day of despair, I resolve to spend today doing nothing but things I enjoy. Three days of doing nothing but chasing down help for my carpal tunnel syndrome and attention deficit issues, and outfitting Eclipse with voice recognition commands have left me ready for some actual “vacation.”
Apparently, in addition to carpal tunnel syndrome, I also have Pavlov’s Dog syndrome. After three days of no feelings of creativity whatsoever, I sit down with my cappuccino at the café this morning only to feel the familiar creative burst which lately has accompanied my café visits. Rain is predicted in the afternoon, as is some serious heat. To hike it would be wise to get an early start. But instead, I write (i.e., I dictate).
I complete a new section of my latest story, thinking, “Now I’ll stop and go hiking, before the rain.” But instead, I murmur to my voice recognition software, “File New” to create a blank file for the next section. This process repeats four more times. By mid-afternoon, I have a complete rough draft. I decide that it is enough, and I can revise later, now that I’ve got the basic story down.
By now, it is 85 degrees Fahrenheit, with humidity that makes it feel like 95. Forgetting that this is a bit hot for the dog, I pack our water, insect repellent, and some food into my pack, and we jump into the car. Between my legs, since this damn car has no cup holders, is a steaming hot mug of fresh brewed coffee. As I turn the key in the ignition, I think that it would have been wise to make an iced coffee instead. No matter, next time.
The forest is lush and beautiful, as always. We take it slow; I know the heat is hard on the dog. It’s unusual for her, but she excepts offer after offer of water. I began to realize that it is probably too hot for her. We turn back. I think about the gin and tonic I will pour when we get home. I notice that the sky is getting dark, and the wind has picked up a bit. Whether the dog’s pace has quickened because she is glad to return home or because she knows a storm is on its way, I do not know.
As we near the trailhead, it has grown quite dark and the wind has picked up considerably. The roar in the trees takes on a fevered pitch. I realize that turning back when we did was quite fortuitous. As I let the dog into the car, the first tentative drops hit my arm. I look up and see the trees flailing in the wind. A streak of lightning shoots across the sky, and just as I close the driver side door behind me, the first fat drops of rain splatter the windshield.
As I pull in the drive and extinguish the motor, the rain begins to hit hard. I gather up my gear, let the dog out of the car, hang on to my hat, and we both race to the door where I struggle to open the lock before we get hammered with rain.
The evening’s task will be to revise my story. The challenge will be in revising without using my hands. Editing is not this speech recognition software’s strong suit. Yet I cannot justify typing and mousing if I expect to heal. We shall see how it goes. I will need to be patient. Perhaps the gin and tonic will help.
Apparently, in addition to carpal tunnel syndrome, I also have Pavlov’s Dog syndrome. After three days of no feelings of creativity whatsoever, I sit down with my cappuccino at the café this morning only to feel the familiar creative burst which lately has accompanied my café visits. Rain is predicted in the afternoon, as is some serious heat. To hike it would be wise to get an early start. But instead, I write (i.e., I dictate).
I complete a new section of my latest story, thinking, “Now I’ll stop and go hiking, before the rain.” But instead, I murmur to my voice recognition software, “File New” to create a blank file for the next section. This process repeats four more times. By mid-afternoon, I have a complete rough draft. I decide that it is enough, and I can revise later, now that I’ve got the basic story down.
By now, it is 85 degrees Fahrenheit, with humidity that makes it feel like 95. Forgetting that this is a bit hot for the dog, I pack our water, insect repellent, and some food into my pack, and we jump into the car. Between my legs, since this damn car has no cup holders, is a steaming hot mug of fresh brewed coffee. As I turn the key in the ignition, I think that it would have been wise to make an iced coffee instead. No matter, next time.
The forest is lush and beautiful, as always. We take it slow; I know the heat is hard on the dog. It’s unusual for her, but she excepts offer after offer of water. I began to realize that it is probably too hot for her. We turn back. I think about the gin and tonic I will pour when we get home. I notice that the sky is getting dark, and the wind has picked up a bit. Whether the dog’s pace has quickened because she is glad to return home or because she knows a storm is on its way, I do not know.
As we near the trailhead, it has grown quite dark and the wind has picked up considerably. The roar in the trees takes on a fevered pitch. I realize that turning back when we did was quite fortuitous. As I let the dog into the car, the first tentative drops hit my arm. I look up and see the trees flailing in the wind. A streak of lightning shoots across the sky, and just as I close the driver side door behind me, the first fat drops of rain splatter the windshield.
As I pull in the drive and extinguish the motor, the rain begins to hit hard. I gather up my gear, let the dog out of the car, hang on to my hat, and we both race to the door where I struggle to open the lock before we get hammered with rain.
The evening’s task will be to revise my story. The challenge will be in revising without using my hands. Editing is not this speech recognition software’s strong suit. Yet I cannot justify typing and mousing if I expect to heal. We shall see how it goes. I will need to be patient. Perhaps the gin and tonic will help.
Comments:
intrepideddie (June 28, 2008. 02:06pm)
I love a good storm. And what is it about a gin and tonic that's so crisp and refreshing? Damn-near on par with beer on a hot day.
peahayes (June 28, 2008. 03:57pm)
gin and tonic is my summer drink of choice. There's nothing like it, except are really good frozen margarita (secret family recipe of some friends).
kga245 (June 29, 2008. 03:41pm)
Mohitos. Love fresh mint. Soda water, sugar, rum and lime ain't bad either.
kga245 (June 29, 2008. 03:42pm)
@peahayes - are you using voice to pen your d-life stories too? I've wondered about accessibility her for some time (since we make such liberal use of AJAX) and perhaps over-complicate things for non-clickers.
peahayes (June 29, 2008. 04:25pm)
Kelly -- I use voice wherever possible. Writing is the best candidate, and as long as a link or a button is considered to be a hyperlink, I can use voice to activate them. Highly Ajax-y websites would probably be a challenge. It would depend on the complexity of the website. It's worth giving it a try, though, if the need is great. Over time, for frequently used sites especially, every click and keystroke avoided provides rest for the wrists. MacSpeech dictate is based on the Dragon NaturallySpeaking algorithm. I would assume that the Windows version is quite a bit more mature than the Macintosh version, which is in its 1.0 release.
kga245 (July 3, 2008. 04:00pm)
I'm inspired. What if you could record audio or video directly to the site? Would that kind of feature interest you?
peahayes (July 3, 2008. 10:46pm)
I'm not sure... no one likes the sound of their own voice (or least, I don't). I like to go back and reread my pieces sometimes. It's easier to skim text. But I wouldn't be surprised if some other people would be interested.