Technological Age or the Age of the Unaware?

It has been noted through generations how offspring are generally more accustomed to the advancements in the current era in comparison to their parents who preceded the inventions' ingenuity. I had concluded that my generation was one to be particularly fond of personal computers, their programs, management of user defined delegations and perhaps even manipulating system properties to suit their preferences. The other day, I was sad to find this was not as true as I once believed.

During a specific class(which shall remain nameless for the sake of those who do chance to read my deluded rantings), I was surprised at the difficulty a mac presented to a number of pupils in regards to creating a folder system. The assignment was the first and presumably the most simple in contrast to those in the not-so-distant future. It asked of us to create files in folders, in folders with fellow folders, in a larger folder that grouped with other relevant large folders, in a parent folder, in a directory on a server. If one was to write out the address of the blank file located amongst those 20 or so folders, it would have looked like so:

server\directory\parent folder\general folder\category folder\sub category folder\uranoob.docx

I don't know if it was organizing the files inside a cascade of folders or the command C versus file>edit>copy within the controls of a mac, but something perplexed the quite minds of my peers. I do admit that my Jimney Cricket (the guy in my head you met a year and a half ago, for those who have read my older posts) was snickering at their tribulations.

I digress! I shall depart before my own convoluted whims produce a certain disdain towards my skewed opinions; and before torches and pitchforks (wielded by none other than the people in my section) yield me the hunted.

Lest we forget, I shall be famous one day!

Lastingly Yours,
~Chiko!

No Gods or Kings, Only Men

Kings in green, kings in gold,
Kings who live to be so old.
Mothers cry, while soldiers die;
Since kings just sit on their thrones.

I see a king who wears a crown; wears a mask; wears a frown.

Kings be bold, kings be brittle.
Kings are made to do so little.
Because all the kings horses
and all the kings men,
Are obliged to do his laundry again.

King of the castle is such a hassel,
~Chiko \^^^/

Message in a Bottle

I wish I could pronounce my words but hesitations are too shy.
Oh my dear love, to stutter and stammer all the reasons why.
So instead I cast my latent letter out across a murky sea,
For when you walked away, you stole a piece of me.

Remodel, everything has been done.
La la la la la la la la la la.

No one has a face left to blame,
~Chiko =/

Perpetual Ebbing

Right or left? What sort of question is that! Any good old fellow would know proper etiquette is right, Mr. Jameson, you shake hands with your right hand.

A simple little English custom such as this is one that quite intrigues me. You can tell a good deal about a person from the quality of their handshake; first impressions do make lasting impressions, after all. From how fully they grip your hand to the firmness of the shake itself, there is a lot to be read about a person's sociability. A confident, well rounded bloke would firmly hold your hand and give it a few solid shakes before concluding the greeting; A more timid person might only briefly clasp the tips of your fingers in a weak mannered sort of way. I myself prefer a good hearty hand shake when introducing myself to a new person, to show I have confidence in the potential of a future acquaintance or friendship with them.

Oh old English customs, how you dwindle in today's contemporary society!

Woefully yours,
~Chiko.