![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Most of my recent posts have been dull geek stuff with no appeal to most of you. I wrote them out of the "hey, lookee" need to say to myself "here's a thing I did with stuff on hand". This post is going to be longer, deeper and more descriptive of the mindset I've cultivated from my research. It starts with one device that is easy to describe.
I can see the insidious problems wash away. Then double-click a button and stare at a nearly-empty space and figure out how to fill it efficiently. Double back and I see more sections of a world its owner cannot help but pollute; two more taps and I'm back to deciding what pollutions this new world I've built could use.
I bought a KVM switch. This is a dongle about half the size of the palm of my hand. I've plugged in my keyboard, video monitor wire and trackball mouse (the K, V & M of the name) and it splits them to two towers. This doesn't use any software on either computer: instead, it exploits a key almost no modern operating system employs and lets me switch from working on one tower to the other.
You know the ghetto of keys you never touch above the PageUp and Home keys? This switch uses the Scroll Lock button, the middle child of three orphans. I hit Scroll Lock twice quickly and I cross from one computer's problems to another's. It turns out this unused key, couple with a device I'd stalled on buying, has been the key that cranks up my productivity.
This started on Tuesday, when one of my coworkers crept up on my cubicle. "You think you could fix another of my children's computers?"
"I suppose I could," I replied. She smiled so brightly. A few weeks ago she'd handed me what was once some office's random desktop unit and was now her daughter's home machine. It was full of issues. I tried to pull apart its demons, but I decided it would be easier to clear out the mess with a clean hard drive and the list of her license keys for reinstallation. Within six evenings, I'd turned the old box and the smiling coworker into happy campers. ( You can't help it. You want to read more. I'd appreciate it. )
I can see the insidious problems wash away. Then double-click a button and stare at a nearly-empty space and figure out how to fill it efficiently. Double back and I see more sections of a world its owner cannot help but pollute; two more taps and I'm back to deciding what pollutions this new world I've built could use.
I bought a KVM switch. This is a dongle about half the size of the palm of my hand. I've plugged in my keyboard, video monitor wire and trackball mouse (the K, V & M of the name) and it splits them to two towers. This doesn't use any software on either computer: instead, it exploits a key almost no modern operating system employs and lets me switch from working on one tower to the other.
You know the ghetto of keys you never touch above the PageUp and Home keys? This switch uses the Scroll Lock button, the middle child of three orphans. I hit Scroll Lock twice quickly and I cross from one computer's problems to another's. It turns out this unused key, couple with a device I'd stalled on buying, has been the key that cranks up my productivity.
This started on Tuesday, when one of my coworkers crept up on my cubicle. "You think you could fix another of my children's computers?"
"I suppose I could," I replied. She smiled so brightly. A few weeks ago she'd handed me what was once some office's random desktop unit and was now her daughter's home machine. It was full of issues. I tried to pull apart its demons, but I decided it would be easier to clear out the mess with a clean hard drive and the list of her license keys for reinstallation. Within six evenings, I'd turned the old box and the smiling coworker into happy campers. ( You can't help it. You want to read more. I'd appreciate it. )
