I am having a time with a new computer I’m using.
Or perhaps I’m just too heavy-handed.
I actually have rather tiny hands.
My husband teases me that they’re “freakishly small,” but tell that to my phone when I make any attempt to start texting.
The keys are just too little to accommodate my fingers.
How do those with big hot dog fingers do it?
Part of the problem is that I’m a bit too meticulous.
I haven’t quite mastered the concept of speed texting and letting go of any errors, misspellings or grammar faux pas.
I can’t. I simply cannot.
Every English professor I’ve ever had will raise their collective voices and chide me for such behavior.
Texting is lost on me.
It’s not quicker or more efficient, at least not when I’m having to go back and proof and edit and correct any mistakes I’ve made.
By then the person on the receiving end of my message has probably shut down her phone and plugged it in for the night, figuring I am a lost cause.
On the computer I’ve recently switched over to do some of my work on the problem I’ve experienced is with the keyboard.
It has such a light touch, the slightest brush over the keys, and it’s creating all sorts of words I had no intention of typing.
To make matters worse, it’ll merge words together into entirely different concepts than I ever intended.
One day I was responding to a very lovely older gentleman who had made me aware of a good story.
I decided to write and express appreciation for his suggesting I do the interview.
I hastily spilled my thoughts out onto the keyboard, at one point thanking him “so much” for the suggestion.
Thank goodness I proofed it before hitting “send” because, instead of “so much,” it had morphed my effort into “smooch.”
Definitely not my intention.
Nice guy, but I certainly didn’t want to have to explain to his spouse, or mine, how I had inadvertently insinuated the word “smooch” into an otherwise innocent message.
Don’t even get me started on auto-correct.
One day I was responding to this young woman whose name had a non-traditional spelling.
I thought I’d written “Hi, Audrie,” only to discover after it had already sent, that my computer interpreted it to be, “Hi, Audited.”
So much for trying to make a good impression.
To make matters worse, I figured I could easily explain or justify the error.
I intended to type, “stupid auto-correct,” but it corrected the auto-correct to be “auto-colorectal.”
Yes, that’s way better.
I have been around long enough to go from a manual typewriter to an electric one to the version with a correction key — you backspace and type over the error and it magically disappears.
All that progress and none of them are automatic.
In other words, nothing, not even a computer or technology, can improve upon the human brain.
The only caveat, perhaps, would be a higher power.
And no, I’m not suggesting someone like the man behind the curtain in “Wizard of Oz.” No puppet-master for me.
But wouldn’t it be great if God was doing the auto-correcting?
Not so much limited to spelling.
Kind of like a wonderful conscience — “Not so fast there, buddy! Don’t say (or do) that....” and then gently steer us in the right direction.
Truth be told, that’s already a thing.
What gets in the way, what gums up the works, is that we have free will.
If we’d get out of our own way, giving God a fighting chance, maybe we wouldn’t require so much correcting, auto or otherwise.