In any field of endeavour it is the tiny little bits of information that rule our lives, if we lack the ability to decode, decypher, decrypt the seemingly endless variants of language we are held hostage to our ignorance. And this is all brought to my attention, once again, by my ignorance of the technology that drives this blog, and every invisible bit of mechanical, electronic, optical, and code work that is ‘out of sight, out of mind.’
I want a real web address, one that is not a sub-directory on some company’s server, one that is mine to do with as a I see fit, within the limitations of legal requirements, good taste, social responsibility, and my own interests. So I got one.
www.urbanwriter.net
This blog will, with any luck, migrate there over the next few days. I say ‘with any luck’ because I am counting on the good graces of people at, or affiliated with, WordPress, who offer a free migration service for WordPress users. Meaning these people will install WordPress on ‘my’ website at no cost to me. Which, when I get the least bit involved, seem the best thing to do.
They require that I give them a bunch of information, seems reasonable to me, given that much of what they are going to do requires names and addresses and passwords. But for the Internet ignorant, the FTP foundlings, the ’support forum’ ignorant, is all Greek. Or even older, Assyrian perhaps.
I’m sure that when I know what I’m doing with this stuff it will all make sense. But much of it reminds me of my start on the Internet over a decade ago. Different programs, suppliers, manuals, support functionaries all used different terms for the same information. One program would call it ‘primary account,’ while another would call it ‘user identity,’ and this went on throughout every program on the machine. And every level of tech support.
And I’m sensitive to tech support; I’ve been fixing stuff for a long time and I appreciate that your amplifier absolutely has to be plugged into the wall outlet when you turn it on, or there will be no output. You have to have fuel, oil, air, spark, unless you’re driving a diesel. And then you can live without the spark. But automotive stuff has been around a long time, long enough for the terminology to become standardized, normalized, encoded virtually in our genes. And there are always hand signals when words fail us in some far away place where language doesn’t quite ‘translate’ when ’support’ is needed.
Just a couple weeks ago I had the opportunity to help an old acquaintance with his first-ever computer. And I had the opportunity to remember just how foreign, how totally ‘unintuitive,’ how weird most of the tools we use are, when we are novices. It was, in fact, humbling to have to remember how much I didn’t know, once upon a time.
And now, again, I am reminded how little I know.
Wish me luck getting www.urbanwriter.net up and running, learning those little bits as I go.
