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December 7, 2016

I have a blood blister on my thumb and although it bit like a damn bee sting I have been overall pretty blasé about it since its inception 12 or so hours ago. That was before I began work this morning and discovered that it hurts to goddamn type. Woe.

oww

Looking on the bright side of things as usual, our unflappable heroine decided to take a neural wiring day, and is now practicing a form of typing that entirely excludes the left thumb. The index finger of the left hand is working overtime and all the fingers of each hand are forgetting their jobs and getting in each other’s way, but after an hour of practice there is clearly a rhythm to be had.

I love learning how to do an old thing a new way. I think it’s even harder for my brain to handle learning a new path to an old destination than it was to find that destination in the first place. It’s a powerful reminder that habit turns the wheels to make the machine go every moment of every day. My right hand is doing literally nothing different re: the typing today, but because something different is happening with my left hand, both hands are behaving like a dog wearing socks on waxed linoleum.

I love feeling like this, that absence of mastery. I love the springiness of the ground when you’re just getting your feet on it, before you’ve found the pleasantest or most efficient method and worn deep your ruts. I love that windmill feeling of flailing downhill with no brakes.

It sounds like I need to go snowboarding and roller skating again. I never really did learn how not to bail out halfway down a slope, or how to stop all eight wheels in a satisfactory manner. Current manner for stopping all eight wheels demonstrated here.

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