tools

I seem to spend an inordinate amount of my time looking for things that will save me time. I quickly see the irony and I would give up on the madness immediately, except for the possibility that these potential tools might also make me more productive and creative. Some of the things I find and consume are really useful, like an iPod that keeps track of my calendars and email and music and free books all in one spot. But some things are really distracting, like like an iPod that keeps track of my calendars and email and music and free books all in one spot.

Trouble clued me in to this tool I’m trying out right now, a piece of software called Scrivener, that’s supposed to be a good way of organizing big writing projects. By the time he'd sent me a link to the download page, I'd already installed trial versions of the software on three computers. I thought that at least it would be a way of compiling essays, thoughts, loose ends, and the like. (It doesn't do anything to help with blogs, much to my dismay.) In the process of looking for other options, I found that there are all kinds of “word processing alternatives,” things that will do anything from creating giant structures to organize writing, to things that will remove all formatting and instead give you nothing to stare at but a black screen with green type. So I ended up downloading programs like Nisus Pro and WriteRoom and was well on my way to finding other aides before I pulled myself away from the futility of it all.

The problem I’ve run into is that there’s no tool that will actually just get my work (or play) done for me. In fact, it seems like there’s as much or more work necessary to put into finding the tool and learning the tool as there is in actually using the tool. For me, software is particularly troublesome, since I know that there must be things out there that could help me with ______ (fill in the blank: writing, organization, data analysis, great love advice, genealogy, etc.), but I generally don’t even know what the possibilities might be. At an accidental trip to the Apple store the other day, I came across a piece of software that looked like a fantastic tool for organizing data, mail, addresses, calendars, and to-do lists. The problem was that once I’d downloaded the trial version and started running it, I didn’t actually know what I was going to use it for. So, apparently there are tools out there which I can’t find that could help me do new things I have yet to imagine, but there are also tools out there that do operations for which I already have better solutions. At the same time, there are tools being developed that reform and re-form my lifestyle. Goggle, for example, has me by the earlobes, since it is responsible for keeping my marriage and family life in tact. Right now it has the multiple calendars of kids, spouse, work, home all synchronized and viewable together. If they ever decided to start charging me money for this, I'd have to bend over and reach deep into my wallet for whatever they asked. (As Google hosts this very blog for the time being, I might be afraid to admit this, but I'm pretty sure that they already know. This makes me think that they have some other plan, for better or for worse.)

The other day I walked into the library with a hammer in my hand. I had a big grin on my face, enjoying myself as I was playing a role in creating this image where the tool and the place were so paradoxical. What is the guy with the hammer going to do when he walks into the library? I could head to Q181 and start hammering away on shelves, finding new room for old books, or perhaps just beating on walls to wake up the sleeping students in their cubicles. If I Had a Hammer started whistling its tune in my head as I imagined the possibilities. And maybe that's exactly the fascination I have with tools of any sort: there are unrealized possibilities. One software tool might be the lynchpin to creating the Great Book; the new backpack that should arrive today could be what finally organizes my life without adding to this chronic pain in my left shoulder; the right pair of shoes may be all that's needed for me to take up trailrunning; a desk organizer to separate the files from the pens from the paper clips could suddenly shift productivity into high gear; the best combination of blades and clippers and philips and flatheads and files in a one-piece could be the survival tool that saves my life. It's all possible. But eventually I realize that the best tools are the simplest ones. Maybe the hammer in the library is what will really rock the world and reform society, but there has to be a hand swinging the hammer. And that hand is my own.