The Tyranny of the cursor

Oh the cursor is a terrible creature.  To many, it is a hero, tirelessly marching forward, leaving great ideas, images, and thoughts in his wake.  A symbol of mankind’s progress! Always forward, rarely backward.  To its fellow bits, it is a monster to be feared and avoided.  It will never deign to look in their direction. It ceaselessly marches away from his progeny with never even a casual glance in their direction.  On occasion it has the opportunity to revisit the numbers and letters which it has birthed into the world.  Rather than a pleasant visit, he erases their very existence from this world.  Text farther away from the cursor can find no solace in this distance.  With a few swift and fatal key strokes, any item, anywhere could be deleted.  The cursor feels no emotion. In many ways, it is the perfect assassin. Swift, precise and deadly, eradicating without hesitation or question.  Woe unto mankind if it ever finds its way out of the digital realm.

However mankind has a special fear of this blinking monstrosity.  Countless sleepless nights have been spent agonizing over this digital phantom.  For while it’s fellow bits and bytes fear the cursor’s power of destruction, humans fear it’s power of creation.  Most of are unwilling to wield its god like powers to create universes of our own.  Thoughts about deadlines, quality, originality, other more important issues continually push the cursor out of our mind. But it lurks there.  Like Chekov’s gun, the cursor sits in the back of our consciousness. It waits, patiently for that day when everything else lines up perfectly and then goes off. It pierces through the distractions, the fear, the angst, and sends a single shot.  When this happens, our equipoise is shattered. The cursor roars to the front and demands we pay attention. It is ultimately selfish, demanding attention and using it to ask for more.  Yet it is no match for other psychological and social phenomenon.  All of this is to say, I haven’t had much to write about lately.  The cursor, it appears, was lacking in ammunition.

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