New Fangled Technology
To htang's ire, last night I decided to act on her suggestion about using an old bedsheet to make a pillowcase. I hadn't done anything random for a while. Sleep be damned, I didn't care of it was 9:30pm! I was making a pillowcase! So, with htang and my sister looking on, out came the sewing machine.
Now I'm not a great seamster by any means. I am familiar with the basics of sewing (been doing bits of it since early elementary school), and can adequately operate a sewing machine to perform crude repairs on various articles of everyday cloth-ware. However, I'm slow and can't get the tension between my stitches quite right. But hey, I'm breaking gender roles here so cut me some slack! Besides, sewing is fun.
Over the years, I've applied numerous patches to pants and backpacks, replaced worn-out zippers, secured fraying edges, made emergency repairs to purses/ski-ware/pants on vacations, and in general I feel rather at home with needle and thread. So, naturally, when confronted with the "challenge" of making a pillow case (read: 2 straight seams on soft-cloth where the final-product is open-ended and easily invertible) my reaction is "Hah! Simple! 20-minutes to gather materials, cut, and sew!".
Enter the Kenmore Elite.
This $1000 beauty is fully a product of the digital age. Not only does "threading" this machine not require one to actually mannually put any thread to through any holes, it has 951 Stich functions, auto-tension adjustment, and a digital display. I was not scared.
You see, during my day job, I work with complex computing machinery doing important, hard-to-describe-to-lay-people things on convoluted systems with weird names like "Unix" and "Linux." What kind of threat could a cute little embedded device do to me? I am a Software Engineer. On top of that, I had experience using my mom's old green electric Singer. This gave me the advantage.
With head held high, I plugged in the machine, threaded it (the old fashioned way), punched in the number of the wanted stich pattern (conveniently listened on the front), stuck in a piece of cloth, and stepped on the pedal.
Silence...
The machine refused to sew, its normally unobtrusive LCD blinking my eventual doom at me. "Reverse U-Lock" it blinked cryptically. There only hint given about the meaning of this message was a small graphic of a u-shared arrow.
What the hell is a U-Lock doing on a sewing machine?! Those things are for bicycles! It's ludicrous to think there's one on the motor or something! Clearly this cryptic message referred to something else. But could one be sure? I found my wondering if I should inspect the machine for a bicycle lock that somehow had to be "reversed."
No, no, no! That's silly. "This is a digital machine," I said to myself. It's probably running windows-embedded or something. What do you do when Windows acts weird? Screwup MS's uptime numbers! That's what! So, I shut the thing down, restart, and tried again.
Reverse U-Lock
Panic set in. htang and my sister were beginning to wonder what was up. I had no clue what this U-lock was, or why it needed to be reversed. Looking in and around the machine, I couldn't find anything that was even vaguely U-shaped...except...A BUTTON! There was a button with a U-shaped arrow! Salvation! I had won!
Confidence restored, I pushed the button and jammed on the pedal once more fully expecting the machine's needle to begin whizzing away.
Nothing.
Then: Reverse U-Lock
It was like a curse. I held the button and stepped on the peddle. Same result. I held the button, and restarted the machine. Nope. I pushed it multiple times. Na da. Gha! Now panic really started to take over.
My thoughts started to head for the absurd. "If there was only a CLI!" I mused. If I were using a "normal" computer, I'd a whole host of tools at my finter tips! Maybe if I could find a way to ssh into this machine I could strace this "U-lock"...or if I'm really lucky, I could find a man page somewhere... Oh! Man page! Manual! Instruction Manual!
The path to victory opened up to me like a beacon. Sure, for most consumer electronics, those banal examples of technical writing incompetence weren't worth the paper they were printed on. However, this was no mere consumer electronic. This was a digital beast! A chimera! Evolved out of an unholy melding between age-old technology, and modern computers! Probably masterminded by those who design microwave UIs and comcast remote controls. Facing such evil, there would be no shame at reading instructions. Yes. I'm sure of that. No shame.
Thus, I got up and started ransacking my Parents' room for the manual. htang and my sister had by now lost their interest, but I was to not be deterred! I would best this plastic metal demon!
Eventually my search turned up the bag of sewing machine materials. Victory was mine! I unfolded the plastic and found...a VHS tape. Yes, technology is wonderful. Instead of describing a obscure actions in bland words, the makers had decided to create an "instructional video." This is great I'm sure for one with a few hours on their time. I did not have a few hours.
I slunk back to the sewing machine, a defeated man. This machine and its "User Interface" had beaten me. Though I came in with all the cards, I found myself was without recourse, powerless in a foreign land. In a final desparate attempt, I restarted it again, stepped on the pedal, and, suddenly, the needle burst into life! The darned thing was making stitches!
What did it? What changed? I had no clue. I examined the stitch and only then saw the insidious bargain the machine had offered me. It was performing a standard straight lined stitch, the the stitch pattern that I had asked of it. The machine had decided to work, but it was saying "I'll let you make your pillow, but you don't get to tell me how I should do my stiches."
This was unacceptable! A machine was offering me a compromise! Me! Machines do what I tell them to! That's final!
However, this was a shrewd machine. 10:30 was fast approaching. It knew that I did not have stamina for a protracted battle. Thus, backed into a corner, I accepted the compromise allowing both of us to exit the arena of conflict while preserving face: the machine never succumbing to its human operator, and the human accomplishing his goal of making a pillow case (with substandard seams, but hey, who notices).
(...ofcourse the battle didn't really end there. There were many skirmishes over things backing over stitches, or spooling thread, or finding proper thread tensions, but I think I've beaten this thing to death as is. However, I will win! I have the VHS tape, and I WILL WATCH IT...maybe...)
Now I'm not a great seamster by any means. I am familiar with the basics of sewing (been doing bits of it since early elementary school), and can adequately operate a sewing machine to perform crude repairs on various articles of everyday cloth-ware. However, I'm slow and can't get the tension between my stitches quite right. But hey, I'm breaking gender roles here so cut me some slack! Besides, sewing is fun.
Over the years, I've applied numerous patches to pants and backpacks, replaced worn-out zippers, secured fraying edges, made emergency repairs to purses/ski-ware/pants on vacations, and in general I feel rather at home with needle and thread. So, naturally, when confronted with the "challenge" of making a pillow case (read: 2 straight seams on soft-cloth where the final-product is open-ended and easily invertible) my reaction is "Hah! Simple! 20-minutes to gather materials, cut, and sew!".
Enter the Kenmore Elite.
This $1000 beauty is fully a product of the digital age. Not only does "threading" this machine not require one to actually mannually put any thread to through any holes, it has 951 Stich functions, auto-tension adjustment, and a digital display. I was not scared.
You see, during my day job, I work with complex computing machinery doing important, hard-to-describe-to-lay-people things on convoluted systems with weird names like "Unix" and "Linux." What kind of threat could a cute little embedded device do to me? I am a Software Engineer. On top of that, I had experience using my mom's old green electric Singer. This gave me the advantage.
With head held high, I plugged in the machine, threaded it (the old fashioned way), punched in the number of the wanted stich pattern (conveniently listened on the front), stuck in a piece of cloth, and stepped on the pedal.
Silence...
The machine refused to sew, its normally unobtrusive LCD blinking my eventual doom at me. "Reverse U-Lock" it blinked cryptically. There only hint given about the meaning of this message was a small graphic of a u-shared arrow.
What the hell is a U-Lock doing on a sewing machine?! Those things are for bicycles! It's ludicrous to think there's one on the motor or something! Clearly this cryptic message referred to something else. But could one be sure? I found my wondering if I should inspect the machine for a bicycle lock that somehow had to be "reversed."
No, no, no! That's silly. "This is a digital machine," I said to myself. It's probably running windows-embedded or something. What do you do when Windows acts weird? Screwup MS's uptime numbers! That's what! So, I shut the thing down, restart, and tried again.
Reverse U-Lock
Panic set in. htang and my sister were beginning to wonder what was up. I had no clue what this U-lock was, or why it needed to be reversed. Looking in and around the machine, I couldn't find anything that was even vaguely U-shaped...except...A BUTTON! There was a button with a U-shaped arrow! Salvation! I had won!
Confidence restored, I pushed the button and jammed on the pedal once more fully expecting the machine's needle to begin whizzing away.
Nothing.
Then: Reverse U-Lock
It was like a curse. I held the button and stepped on the peddle. Same result. I held the button, and restarted the machine. Nope. I pushed it multiple times. Na da. Gha! Now panic really started to take over.
My thoughts started to head for the absurd. "If there was only a CLI!" I mused. If I were using a "normal" computer, I'd a whole host of tools at my finter tips! Maybe if I could find a way to ssh into this machine I could strace this "U-lock"...or if I'm really lucky, I could find a man page somewhere... Oh! Man page! Manual! Instruction Manual!
The path to victory opened up to me like a beacon. Sure, for most consumer electronics, those banal examples of technical writing incompetence weren't worth the paper they were printed on. However, this was no mere consumer electronic. This was a digital beast! A chimera! Evolved out of an unholy melding between age-old technology, and modern computers! Probably masterminded by those who design microwave UIs and comcast remote controls. Facing such evil, there would be no shame at reading instructions. Yes. I'm sure of that. No shame.
Thus, I got up and started ransacking my Parents' room for the manual. htang and my sister had by now lost their interest, but I was to not be deterred! I would best this plastic metal demon!
Eventually my search turned up the bag of sewing machine materials. Victory was mine! I unfolded the plastic and found...a VHS tape. Yes, technology is wonderful. Instead of describing a obscure actions in bland words, the makers had decided to create an "instructional video." This is great I'm sure for one with a few hours on their time. I did not have a few hours.
I slunk back to the sewing machine, a defeated man. This machine and its "User Interface" had beaten me. Though I came in with all the cards, I found myself was without recourse, powerless in a foreign land. In a final desparate attempt, I restarted it again, stepped on the pedal, and, suddenly, the needle burst into life! The darned thing was making stitches!
What did it? What changed? I had no clue. I examined the stitch and only then saw the insidious bargain the machine had offered me. It was performing a standard straight lined stitch, the the stitch pattern that I had asked of it. The machine had decided to work, but it was saying "I'll let you make your pillow, but you don't get to tell me how I should do my stiches."
This was unacceptable! A machine was offering me a compromise! Me! Machines do what I tell them to! That's final!
However, this was a shrewd machine. 10:30 was fast approaching. It knew that I did not have stamina for a protracted battle. Thus, backed into a corner, I accepted the compromise allowing both of us to exit the arena of conflict while preserving face: the machine never succumbing to its human operator, and the human accomplishing his goal of making a pillow case (with substandard seams, but hey, who notices).
(...ofcourse the battle didn't really end there. There were many skirmishes over things backing over stitches, or spooling thread, or finding proper thread tensions, but I think I've beaten this thing to death as is. However, I will win! I have the VHS tape, and I WILL WATCH IT...maybe...)