“As is the case with all cultural languages, only a few of these possibilities actually appear viable at any given historical moment” (Manovich, 70)
As I sat in the basement, I turned to watch my mother at the computer. A regal woman, she sits with her legs crossed, back tall, trying to hide that she is frantically looking for something on the computer. She opens a folder, scrolls, and then slowly closes the folder, hesitant, because she had for once been defeated. She attempts to click around on the screen quietly, not to alert me of her worry.
I let her have her peace but I can only watch someone struggle on a piece of technology they don't understand for so long.
"Mommy, what are you doing?"
She takes her time to tell me because she knows I'll solve it in the end.
"I am looking for a file."
I rise and walk over to her. She's so cute.
Apple+F and we are at the finder window. A few quick strokes of the keys and we see the file, nestled amount many, waiting for us.
"Jamie, my historical context, my background in printed text, made it in impossible to fathom searching in any other way, other than flipping through a table of contents by opening and closing files."
"I know, Mommy. It's okay."