I took this slightly out-of-focus photograph from the verandah of my living room, four days ago and in doing so, formally began to re-establish my collection – hopefully, all is not lost.
By way of perspective, I have long suspected that one of the many benefits of living in tropical wilderness is the luxury of going barefoot. I maintain that removing the immediate protection of footwear and restoring direct contact with terra firma, with all its irregularities and unexpected anomalies, optimises one’s long-term proprioceptive interests. But more than mere exercise, an almost infinite combination of sensory variations underfoot, reverberates throughout one’s greater physiology to enunciate, in the most eloquent tones, relations with the natural environment.
The same can be said for the smörgåsbord of pheromones that infiltrate the sensory openings of Jacobson’s organ and target the limbic centres of the brain. By way of contrast and beneath an urban pair of veritable olfactory-ugg-boots, nature’s stimuli are swamped by a tidal wave of highly concentrated pollutants and chemical deodorants.
In this sense, unfettered exposure to the natural environment provides a myriad of sensations, spanning a gamut of pleasures and repugnancies. Indeed, how is one supposed to appreciate the inherent truth of a pleasurable sensation without regarding the agony and inconvenience of its equally unambiguous counterpart?
On this basis, I take some philosophical counsel from the suffering and inconvenience of my recent computer crash. Beyond the catastrophic loss of my entire data-base, save that which might be recoverable from expensive data restoration technology, my appreciation for computer technology is now balanced against my contempt for its sensational unreliability.
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Jennifer Marohasy BSc PhD is a critical thinker with expertise in the scientific method.
I have also recently rediscovered the soleful pleasures of caressing the earth with tarsus and metatarsus but still don the faithful steel caps when log wrestling. It has always been the case that the only way to be trully one with nature is to cover oneself in equal portions of dust, perspiration and microbial life until one is indistinguishable from your surroundings.
Nice chook too.
Chook(s), Motty.
Neil,
Not knowing what you did after the crash, I cannot say how much could be recovered. But it neither need be expensive nor difficult. Have recovered more hard drive data, by using, even “free” data recovery software than care to remember. The only time it will be expensive, when one has to use a “clean room” to get to a not spinning hard drive.
Good luck
Johnathon,
Thanks for your encouragement.
However, my problem reflected the value of unrecovered data against its possible corruption, from my technical ineptitude.
Even so, you’re probably right. As it turned out, I erroneously and unsuccessfully over-wrote an operating system installation upon my secondary (back-up) hard-drive. All original files (should) remain recoverable and embedded beneath this unsuccessful installation attempt.
Maybe changing to Apple and installing the “time machine” is the way to go.
http://www.apple.com/macosx/features/timemachine.html
I have and it has already saved me from my own carelessness.
This is an unpaid commercial announcement.
Neil
That second chook is easily missed but I like the pic even out of focus it’s better than I could probably do.
Thanks Jan, however I’m already on a mac. Time machine was backing up to the secondary drive, which I seem to have overwritten.
I have had three major online personna altering computer glitchs.
The first ended my stint at online gaming. It was actually good for me. I needed to expand my horizon.
The second one ended my crusade against the jihad. But even the President had declared mission accomplished, so no big deal.
From that wipe, I transitioned into my anti imigration period. You might remember my flamboyant nom de plume on the message boards, I went by TacoBellPeppers.
Now the cause is climate realism, until the global warmers surrender or a computer meltdown.
So there are three defunct hard drives sitting on the top shelf of the computer desk, waiting for a data recovery process which may never come.
Neil,
Ouch!!
Mine backs up to an external hard drive if I’m doing anything risky I unplug it.