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For as long as I can remember, I’ve been using computer more than anything. I’ve gone through software changes, all the way from primordial to medieval to modern and to whatever comes next. Even when I played digger, or wrote using wordstar I’ve marveled them for every performance they displayed. When graphic interface started to show themselves (apple and windows operating system), I can already imagine the things I can do and make with them. Ideas started streaming so fast that I started to loose balance and needed to sit down. That, I remembered, was at an computer exhibition[1].
Not a single day when I used my pc, or any pc for that matter, that I don’t wonder how these gadgets work. Never at each time those letters appear acurately on the screen while typing, that my head —simultaneously writing— says ‘coool’. In 1994, when I made acquaintance to Adobe Photoshop and a scanner, all hell broke loose. I spent days of obsessive test-drives. I scanned almost every cool picture I've collected and gave them a touch of magic —well, many many many touches of magic. It was an awe: turning a full-color picture to greyscale, changing red to blue, blending texture onto a picture. All in a single click. I haven’t the smallest, slightest, tiniest idea how that white box did the things I wanted it to. I wanted to know how, but I know no one with adequate knowledge.
When last month Ric offered me application form of java programming short course, it was impossible (sin even) to say no. To think that at the end of the course I will be able to build a software is probably equal to thinking that in the year 2000 we’ll have flying cars. But even if I would only be fed with the smallest, slightest, tiniest idea missed all these years, 'yes' is all I would say. And a blast is what I had with the class.
We type, we speak
I’ve always been told that computer is your slave. It makes total sense considering the screen says bad command when you mistype something. Only after the first one-and-a-half hour I realized that I hate the idea of calling them slave. It is appropriate to say I was making order when what I do is move my mouse and have it do exactly as I please and need. It felt like me being a kid pointing my mom a food and she’d get some for me. But when I say pass me that cookie, it’s a completely different case. I speak to mom, not order mom. I felt the same thing when writing down those scripts[2] the instructors handed me . I was speaking to a machine (they did call java, visual basic, etc languages!). I felt like a nice person (which doesn’t happen often) and I liked it.
The second day it hit me that all this time I use this pc there is an interpreter helping me passing on my messages. The mouse I move and keys I hit were interpreted by the software (which speaks in its own language) to a machine (which speaks —without any surprise—, a machine language). These softwares turned out to be some smart interpreters with only one mission, to avoid me wasting time writing sentences to get what I want. Though every time I hear myself saying this I sound more and more making point of them being slaves, I thought of them more and more as not. If men consider dogs —one of the most obedient animals— friends, what makes a pc can’t be one? I know I can’t (yet?) make even the simplest software, but by considering these machines as friends, I think I’ve put myself in the right gratitude attitude toward the makers.
We speak, we babble
The first day in class I thought I was the stupidest. I can’t make out anything the instructor was saying. Finding out I wasn’t alone, I put my blame on them[3]. The only words I understood were this and that, which millions miles from sufficient to the lowest understanding. The only explanation I somehow managed to understand the materials was because every time instructors said this-this-this-and-this I dedicated full power of attention at the scribbling they pointed on the class whiteboard and started to look for any connection among them. A series of attempts which ended with satisfaction, I might add. The harder the connection to look for, the greater happiness came when I broke them down.
That thought brought another one. It is hard to believe that these people I admire explain the materials poorly. They spoke without any knowledge of how below basic I were at computer languages. When they realized my borderline status, they tried to tutor me one-to-one. At that, too, they failed. Right there, right then, I realized how poor we are at explaining things. It was horror to think that all this time the reason we, people in general, understand one another were because enough background knowledge we know about them and faces-gestures-intonation we make, not because we speak in crystal clear.
In that class, it was magical —in a great way— when my computer pointed my errors. In its fashion it said: here is where you make mistake (I swear at this pause I heard it said dear). I will patiently wait untill you make the correct sentence, then I will pass it on. It was magical also —in a way I can’t decide good or bad— when we to a human fellow: I can’t understand any word you’re saying, but I understand you anyway, so let’s forget the whole messy-sentence thingy. In just two days I found out how a machine we created utilizes language, the very thing that makes human a human, better than we do.
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Not a single day when I used my pc, or any pc for that matter, that I don’t wonder how these gadgets work. Never at each time those letters appear acurately on the screen while typing, that my head —simultaneously writing— says ‘coool’. In 1994, when I made acquaintance to Adobe Photoshop and a scanner, all hell broke loose. I spent days of obsessive test-drives. I scanned almost every cool picture I've collected and gave them a touch of magic —well, many many many touches of magic. It was an awe: turning a full-color picture to greyscale, changing red to blue, blending texture onto a picture. All in a single click. I haven’t the smallest, slightest, tiniest idea how that white box did the things I wanted it to. I wanted to know how, but I know no one with adequate knowledge.
When last month Ric offered me application form of java programming short course, it was impossible (sin even) to say no. To think that at the end of the course I will be able to build a software is probably equal to thinking that in the year 2000 we’ll have flying cars. But even if I would only be fed with the smallest, slightest, tiniest idea missed all these years, 'yes' is all I would say. And a blast is what I had with the class.
We type, we speak
I’ve always been told that computer is your slave. It makes total sense considering the screen says bad command when you mistype something. Only after the first one-and-a-half hour I realized that I hate the idea of calling them slave. It is appropriate to say I was making order when what I do is move my mouse and have it do exactly as I please and need. It felt like me being a kid pointing my mom a food and she’d get some for me. But when I say pass me that cookie, it’s a completely different case. I speak to mom, not order mom. I felt the same thing when writing down those scripts[2] the instructors handed me . I was speaking to a machine (they did call java, visual basic, etc languages!). I felt like a nice person (which doesn’t happen often) and I liked it.
The second day it hit me that all this time I use this pc there is an interpreter helping me passing on my messages. The mouse I move and keys I hit were interpreted by the software (which speaks in its own language) to a machine (which speaks —without any surprise—, a machine language). These softwares turned out to be some smart interpreters with only one mission, to avoid me wasting time writing sentences to get what I want. Though every time I hear myself saying this I sound more and more making point of them being slaves, I thought of them more and more as not. If men consider dogs —one of the most obedient animals— friends, what makes a pc can’t be one? I know I can’t (yet?) make even the simplest software, but by considering these machines as friends, I think I’ve put myself in the right gratitude attitude toward the makers.
We speak, we babble
The first day in class I thought I was the stupidest. I can’t make out anything the instructor was saying. Finding out I wasn’t alone, I put my blame on them[3]. The only words I understood were this and that, which millions miles from sufficient to the lowest understanding. The only explanation I somehow managed to understand the materials was because every time instructors said this-this-this-and-this I dedicated full power of attention at the scribbling they pointed on the class whiteboard and started to look for any connection among them. A series of attempts which ended with satisfaction, I might add. The harder the connection to look for, the greater happiness came when I broke them down.
That thought brought another one. It is hard to believe that these people I admire explain the materials poorly. They spoke without any knowledge of how below basic I were at computer languages. When they realized my borderline status, they tried to tutor me one-to-one. At that, too, they failed. Right there, right then, I realized how poor we are at explaining things. It was horror to think that all this time the reason we, people in general, understand one another were because enough background knowledge we know about them and faces-gestures-intonation we make, not because we speak in crystal clear.
In that class, it was magical —in a great way— when my computer pointed my errors. In its fashion it said: here is where you make mistake (I swear at this pause I heard it said dear). I will patiently wait untill you make the correct sentence, then I will pass it on. It was magical also —in a way I can’t decide good or bad— when we to a human fellow: I can’t understand any word you’re saying, but I understand you anyway, so let’s forget the whole messy-sentence thingy. In just two days I found out how a machine we created utilizes language, the very thing that makes human a human, better than we do.
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[1] I can’t believe I remember (and moreover writing) this. I must have been the only living species passing out in public after five minutes of computer demo.
[2] script is a downgrading choice of word to replace sentences
[3] This happens in full guilt for all the instructors are my friends. It is just so happened that they’re program literate.
1 comment:
Jajaran pengurus PSYCHE lagi kekurangan SDM buat ngurusin layout majalah niy, mas...hix hix...coba ada dua mas Adih ya :p
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