I’ve finally found something I don’t like to read:  the manuals for software that comes with new computer gadgets.

   Over the span of my life, I’ve read nutrition labels off cans and contest rules off cereal boxes.  I’ve read almost every paper known to man, even if they are in foreign languages (never know what you can make out with common sense and squinting).  I’ve read at legal documents, classifieds, the notes on a Kenneth Pollack book, the Bible, the Bhagavad Gita, and diet books.  I’m a reader.  That’s what readers do.  And if we find something that captures our interest, we disappear into the pages.

  However, I can no longer make myself read those software technical manuals.  The little pictures that are supposed to make things easy to understand look like hieroglyphics and my brain can’t absorb all the info on a piece of technology some technical writers believes I must understand. 

  What has started this rant?  I have a new digital camera . . . .and I’m starting to feel left behind.  This piece of equipment does far more than I need it to do, or that I want it to do.  I believe the thing could start my car if I point and click the right button. 

  But the simple stuff–taking pictures and downloading them–well, my friends, that is going to take me another hour or more to decipher.  Nor is it my imagination that all this technology makes some things easier at the cost of more and more of my time.  

  Where’s the balance?  There isn’t any, not if I want my pictures out of that camera!