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The Session #95: Beer Books? Beer Books.

January 2, 2015 · by Oliver Gray

I have a book idea. An idea that, quite unincredulously, is for a book that is about beer.

In fact, I have much more than an idea: a full proposal, a complete outline, several (somewhat) fleshed-out sample chapters, pages upon pages of notes and research and scenes.

I have a proto-beer book. All the elements of primordial literary soup that just need a bolt of publishing lightning to create new bookish life.

Unfortunately, I am not going to talk about that particular idea (but if you are an agent or publisher type who would like to know more, I am always available here). While I realize it’s very difficult for someone to steal and then properly execute a complicated project, I also think it’s intellectual folly to tell too many people about something that is not yet, and a waste of creative energy to let the buzzing singularity of the idea dissipate across the infinite reaches of the internet.

So no, I won’t be talking about my book idea. But that doesn’t stop me from talking about other book ideas, and trends I’d like to see emerge on the more formal side of beer writing.

Of all the books I read in 2014, only six of them were specifically about beer: Capital Beer (Greg Kitsock), Maine Beer (Josh Christie), Baltimore Beer (Rob Kasper), Yeast (Chris White with Jamil Zainasheff), Malt (John Mallet), and The Craft Beer Revolution (Steve Hindy). I know some other, fantastic beer books came out this year (I still haven’t read Boak and Bailey’s Brew Britannia yet, and feel great shame), but many haven’t made it into bed-time reading rotation yet due to me only having two eyeballs and a finite number of conscious hours.

Two technical books and four history books. I enjoyed them all, if I’m being honest. But mainly because each one taught me a lot, not necessarily because they were fun to read. We seem to be in the middle of a trend about trying to teach everyone about beer: guide the rookie through styles and brewing techniques; introduce the journeyman to newer, more complicated topics; inundate the veteran with rehashings of not-so-long-lost histories. It’s a trend I applaud, given that the understanding of beer – even among some of those who calls themselves “beer people” – is still generally poor. If contemporary beer books finally break that guy of claiming he hates hops while he exclusively drinks IPAs, or make a new drinker feel more confident in ordering a beer she knows she’ll like, I’d call that a victory.

The peddling of beerish lore to the receptive student will always be a great thing for the industry, and I’m clearly guilty of trying to spread lupulin-laced education. But writing (blogs and magazines and books), need not always be lectures given by the learned to the not about fundamental facts, doesn’t always have to be grounded in the dry and practical, and most certainly doesn’t always have to be so tangibly tethered to the drink itself.

So, in 2015, I’d like to see some books that are about beer, but also distance themselves from the particulars of beer at the same time:

Beer and Psychology: While the psychology of alcohol dependence seems obvious, I’m especially curious about the psychology of taste: how does the psychology of our processing of flavor support the trends toward more complex and bigger beers? Is there any connection between economically depressed Americans being disillusioned with the world and the trends to seek out the biggest, boldest flavors they can find? Is there an inverse relationship with this connection and the decline of subtle lagers? Is an evolving palate a psychological phenomenon or a physical one (or both)?
Medicine and Beer: A spin off of the first idea, but with a focus on the positive and negative aspects of beer consumption. Are we doing to see more illnesses from a generation who drinks more and more? How are high calorie, high ABV beers contributing to America’s struggle with obesity? Will we ever consider beer a “whole food” and find some health benefits in moderate consumption, ala red wine?
Green Brewing: Are our barley and hop farming processes sustainable? Is brewing helping or harming the planet, as it stands? There is no GMO barley now, but as demand grows, might that change? What does the future agricultural landscape of brewing look like? Are modern breweries concerned about (and making plans to address) waste water and spent grain practices and other sustainability related issues?
Homebrewing Revival: Has the surge in beer’s popularity given homebrew shops a new lease on life? What about the National Homebrewer’s Association and its sundry branches? There have to be some stories behind how those groups benefited from the economic boom of beer, most of which are untold at this point, I think. Will the increase in homebrewing ever compete with or put a dent in the economics of beer? Has homebrewing created a group of consumers who know more about the nuances of a product than ever before?
Big Beer Fear: This may be difficult to pull off, but I’d love a probing look into Big Beer in 2015, potentially a real look into what they think about “craft” and how they plan to react. I think the time for casually dismissing smaller, local breweries is over, and there’s probably some fascinating corporate group-think going on in boardrooms that would potentially make for an excellent book.
Beer Fiction: I know I may be in the minority of wanting this, but I get giddy every time I see a fictional character drinking beer, like Switters from Tom Robbin’s Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates. I think there is a lot of room for fiction grounded in beer, or for protagonists who happen to adopt the modern beer drinker’s attitudes and behaviors (for better or worst). Or even a historical novel about brewing during colonialism, or during pre-industrialization, or hell something wacky, like during the black plague.

In 2015, I would not like to see:

Any new “guides to beer” that don’t add anything to the already massive pile of beer information available, well, pretty much everywhere.

It’s OK to be a Brewbie

September 20, 2013 · by Oliver Gray

In a post a few months back, I made mention of a “brewbie” (brew + newbie); that person new to the craft beer scene, overflowing with enthusiasm like a roughly poured pint. They are usually young, energetic, and raw, leaping on new beers and beer news like a kitten on a stinkbug. They mean well, but have a ways to go from “that person who knows about beer” to “a full-keg of beer expertise.”

I have a confession to make: I am a brewbie.

Sure, I know some things about beer. I’ve put my big white ale pails and heavy-ass glass carboys to near-constant use, dog eared and highlighted many books from Brewers Publications, delved as deep into the mines of malts and hops and yeasts as I’ve been able to in the time between writing, video games, and that place I’m forced to go to 8 plus hours a day. But I can’t deny my relative lack of experience, can’t deny that there are people out in this community who have been tasting, brewing, and studying beer for longer than I’ve been alive.

This has become more and more apparent as I’ve waded knee-deep into the ocean of beer-related media, started to really interact with the swimmers near me. I’ve noticed others who are much farther out in the water. Some are surfing. Others are playing waterpolo way past the breakers like it’s no big deal. Some even have boats! It suddenly makes my progress, which I was so proud of, seem significantly less impressive. Looking down at the water swirling around my calves, holding up my shorts as to not get the fringes wet, I feel like a failure.

But then I turn back and see that there are still hundreds of thousands of people sitting on the beach. They haven’t even got the energy or desire to stick a toe in the water, never mind wade out to where the other brewbies and I are figuring out how to swim.

So I say to anyone else in my position: it’s OK to be a brewbie. At least you’re out there trying.

We live in a world where social posturing and image crafting are not only accepted, but often encouraged. Because there are few ways to validate the claims people make on social media, we suddenly find ourselves surrounded by self-proclaimed experts who have done purportedly amazing things, who in turn, by comparison, make us feel bad that we haven’t done amazing things. One only needs to look at the “job titles” of a whole slathering of 20-something administrative-types on LinkedIn to understand what I’m talking about. Assistant Contract Proposal Coordinators with one year of experience, I’m looking at you.

As a result of this creeping feeling of inadequacy, a direct side-effect of having infinite information freely available a few clicks away, we try to puff ourselves up in terms of knowledge and perceived worth. We don’t want to suffer the embarrassment of not knowing, even if it would be perfectly acceptable, given our age and experience and education, to legitimately not know. I’ve been guilty of this too many times; hastily, awkwardly Googling answers to not appear dense or way behind the ever upwardly bending curve of knowledge. It’s a crappy feeling to be on the outside of a group you really want to be apart of. But it’s also a reality of trying to learn something new.

Despite the traditional model, learning isn’t a linear journey from A to B where you digest a predetermined set of data points like some kind of academic PacMan. We can try to quantify beer expertise with BJCP and Cicerone certs, but even well developed standards can’t capture everything. When your brain is spilling with beer facts, historical anecdotes, quotes from master brewers, you’ll still have so much more to learn. The end point is constantly moving, hurtling away from you at a speed that you can’t possibly match like a comet through space too distant to ever colonize with your brain settlers.

Good news though! Chasing that comet is the what keeps you growing.

The masters of the craft – the Jim Kochs, the Sam Calagiones, the Ken Grossmans – even with their encyclopedic knowledge and decades of hands-on experience, still have a little brewbie dwelling inside them, an echo of their 20-something self still urging them to try new things, to sip new beers, to write down those OGs and FGs in a never-ending quest for brewing consistency. They are experts by all definable measure, but that je ne sais quoi inside them still drives them forward. They got to where they are as the paragons of brewing because they were at one point total brewbies: guys with an unquenchable thirst to make an impact on American beer.

So accept that you’ll always be learning, about beer and about life and about how beer goes with life. Accept that even if you do eventually stumble backwards into the comfortable armchair of expertise, you still won’t know absolutely everything, because some tricky maltster will come up with a brand new magical malt roasting technique the second you think you do. Accept that you’ll learn your own things, at your own pace, which may not match the pace of others.

And before you know it, you’ll be debating if that piney aroma is simcoe or chinook, or if you are getting hints of vanilla behind the delicious burn of bourbon barrels. You’ll be explaining the difference between lengths of sugar chains and mash temperatures, the curse of Dimethyl Sulfide in homebrew, which yeast strains are your favorite and why. You’ll find yourself giving advice, helping newcomers out, passing your knowledge to that person who is a mirror of who you were just a short time ago.

The more you know, the more you realize what you don’t know. In some way or another, you and I will always be brewbies. But that’s OK, because so will everyone else.

Do you remember the giddy pleasure the first time you saw a row of these?

QLC

June 14, 2011 · by Oliver Gray

I experienced a” Quarter life Crisis”. No shit, I really did. For a long while I was embarrassed about it, seeing as it’s a fundamentally dumb thing to experience. But now I’ve moved past it, I feel comfortable sharing my thoughts on what I think afflicts a large part of our young population.

It’s something like the already established and dreaded “Midlife Crisis”, but instead of buying a sports car, you wallow in a mire of self-doubt. The principles are the same; you are physically and emotionally acting out because you don’t understand your place or point in life, they just happen at different times. Prior to us Snowflakers, the “Quarter Life crisis” didn’t exist. We created a whole goddamn psychological event, that’s how entitled and spoiled we collectively are. For brevity’s sake, I’m going to go all government contractor on this and dumb this down into an acronym from here out: QLC.

For a somewhat long period after graduating college and landing my first “real” job, I felt the full weight of adult responsibility settle of my shoulders while I meanwhile struggled with a general dissatisfaction with how things had turned out. My life, unbeknownst to me, was amazing; I was financially sound, had great friends and family, perfect health, and an otherwise oft envied life.

But I would find it hard to rise from bed, dwelling on questions like, “is this it?” and repeating misguided mantra like, “there’s gotta be something more”, before I had even let the ink on my diploma dry. I found myself questioning whether I was “cut out” to do certain tasks and activities, and beat myself up over the fact that “other people seemed happy with the same lot in life”. Seriously, I’m not making this up.

It wasn’t until I had a conversation with my friend Justin, did I start to reverse my entire attitude and realign my thinking. He is an advocate of personal transformation to overcome problems, but it was something tiny he said (that he probably doesn’t remember that he said), separate from any major soul exploration, that changed everything for me. Three words, randomly dropped into the middle of a conversation: “There is more”.

Stupidly powerful. Of course there is, says that astute, educated, well-balanced reader, mocking my ineptitude and scoffing and my imaginary plight. And now I’m free of that negative bubble of thought, I mock me too. The old me of course; don’t dare mock the new me, the new me is awesome and will punch you in an uncomfortable location.

There really is more, more to everything, and more to thinking if there is more. The more already exists around you in some capacity, and it takes a simple realignment of how you view your world to start appreciating things as you should. My QLC ended as abruptly as it began, as I began to embrace and even seek opportunity for responsibility, acknowledging that life as an adult was, albeit shockingly, nothing like anything I had imagined.

Unfortunately, my growth created tension with those I still associated with, who were either in the middle of their own QLC or had yet to acknowledge their QLC. They saw my turn towards adulthood with pride as a challenge to their mental situation, and in turn alienated me. Instead of seeing (or asking if) I had experienced the same, they decided to be vitreous with envy, poisoning what had otherwise been a mutually symbiotic and fun relationship. 4 different “friends” did this to me, because they were so overcome by the “struggles” of their QLC. I hope they eventually got passed it, and if not, I hope they enjoy being perpetually stuck wishing they were still little kids.

Our parents and teachers tried to create a world for us; one free of mindless violence, debilitating failure, and other emotionally scary things. They sought to create an emotional sandbox for us, a place where we could dig, play, and ultimately build ourselves perfect little castles. They failed to mention that sand is a shitty construction tool, something as weak and common as rain eventually destroys anything you build, and everyone once in a while, a cat takes a dump in your sandbox.

The cat turd is metaphorical. It’s not all philosophical cat turds, but there are plenty out there, waiting for you to shovel up and build them into your castle walls.

I’ll save the real fecal humor for another time. My point is, the world our elders created does not exist. It exists in parts, here and there, and at times you can find perfect solace or happiness in a person or activity. But to assume your whole life will be that way is self-destructive folly. It is this disillusionment that fuels most QLCs; the lofty dreams you’ve been pining after over for 4, long, gruelling years are finally about to be realized…at $32,000 a year.

I think that most QLCs stem from one of two reasons: people lying to themselves about who they are and what they want, and people expecting more of themselves than reasonable. Out of college you aren’t worth very much. You’re thrown into a pool of other possible applicants hundreds of thousands deep. There is barely any water for you to swim in and you’re too concerned with not drowning to consider getting out of the pool. So you flail about stupidly, hoping someone moves from their position creating a slightly better situation for you, or something eventually reaches down to grab your arm and free you from the fleshy, watery tomb.

I’m here to tell you, as countless self-help books, and people who don’t suck also will: No one is coming. It’s on you. Not a single person is coming that will help you get where you want to go. Sure, people, your parents, your friends, might come help you towel off or give you some floaties, but eventually it’s back in that pool for you. Even if someone you know gives you a job, you’re still nowhere, as you’ve achieved nothing of note, and still need to perform to keep or advance in said job. Until you start actually trying to swin and moving along through that pool, you won’t be satisfied, and won’t achieve anything worth bragging about at the 5 year high school reunion which is totally coming up so you should like, lose some weight.

If and when you do manage to doggy paddle to the deep end, you’ll find it’s much less crowded, as all the other people either decided that swimming sucks and gave up, or just straight up drowned. If you’re anything like me, you’ll be better for the hard work, and you might even get a few minutes to casually backstroke around in your new found freedom.

PSA (Public Spelling Announcement)

February 4, 2011 · by Oliver Gray

Attention all users of the internet; forum trolls, thread stalkers, meme promoters, and other tube denizens:

Although they melt my soul, I can forgive mistakes associated with “there/they’re/their”, “where/wear”, “it’s/its”, “affect/effect”, and even the egregious “loose/lose”. All of these can be explained by a slip of the mind, a marked lack of education, or even inebriation. They are unfortunate and regrettable, but at times, forgivable.

In comparison, spelling words incorrectly makes you look dumb. Incredibly dumb.

I read thread replies, video comments, and (most tragically) blog posts that look like someone injected Novocaine into their hands and just let their limp, lifeless appendages fall all over the keyboard for a few minutes. I cannot focus on the content of the writing, and more importantly the message trying to be conveyed, when every other word is spelled so badly that my brain dies a little.

I focus on spelling because unlike grammar, syntax, or diction, there is no excuse for spelling things incorrectly. Even if your little pygmy brain can’t remember the proper order of letters in basic words, there are so many tools available that automatically correct your spelling that it borders on absurdity.

Using correct grammar requires some cognitive processing, a concept that I acknowledge a lot of people in the English speaking world are not comfortable with. Correct word choice requires actually knowing what specific words mean, and I can let a below average lexicon slide. At the very least, incorrect grammar and diction can be pretty comical (especially in the case of extreme malapropism), giving it some redeeming character.

Spelling things wrong is just plain unacceptable. It’s not funny, cute, or even remotely endearing. All it does is make you look like a lazy imbecile, whose writing I shouldn’t bother wasting the eye-energy reading. Abbreviations that are just as many characters as the actual word, or mutate the word to add a letter that isn’t even in the original word (cuz, cos) are why people are driven to drink.

Mozilla Firefox, Google Chrome, and Apple’s Safari all have built-in and enabled-by-default spell checkers. Internet Explorer has about 40 plugins available for download that will let you know when you’ve failed at communication. Voluntarily using IE makes me question a person’s capacity for development anyway, but I digress.

It is simple. Makes friends with these:

Introduce yourself to the red squiggles. This universal plague-mark of misspelling is here to help you not look like a third-world degenerate; you should thank it and buy it nice presents (coincidentally, the red squiggles live at my house, so feel free to send the presents there).

If you have been up until now ignoring these little red lines, claiming ignorance as to their purpose, I implore you to recognize their existence and importance. They don’t just show up for fun to make your writing more colorful; consider them screaming alarms that your words are in physical pain. A misspelling is like a wound on the word, this red line like its veritable lifeblood pouring out and pooling underneath. Ignoring these lines is like sealing the fate of these poor, malformed words, and any hope of people taking you seriously.

If your documents, posts, or other assorted keyboard regurgitations start to look like this…

…you should probably try right clicking each word that is underlined with red squiggles and choosing another word from the list that appears. Even if you don’t know what the word that appears means, the computer is clearly smarter than you and you should probably do what it says.

Notice there is a blue line (and sometimes even green lines!) underneath the word “no”. This means that the computer has noticed that you spelled something correctly, but used it incorrectly. Good try!

P.S. For the record, in disclaimer to the second line of this post, I can never forgive “then/than” mistakes. It’s not even kind of hard to know which is which.

Off-topic

February 2, 2011 · by Oliver Gray

I recently made a comment on my lovely girlfriend’s blog, regarding graduate school, personal statements, and our mutual struggle writing the latter to get into the prior. The entire process has turned out to be surprisingly vexing, and I have had trouble writing something that I feel comfortable submitting.

The problem isn’t writer’s block. I am fully cognizant of that feeling and have had my fair share of the inexplicable phenomenon since I began actively writing. I have a nearly constant stream of thoughts, and often find myself having written an entire paper, document, or post in my head, before I even start typing. The main reason for most of my writing inaction is a lack of time, not a lack of motivation.

Unfortunately, I have a lot of trouble focusing my mind. My uninterrupted thought-stream is equal parts irrelevant, frivolous, trivial, and fantastic. I often visualize a serene countrysides where bands of warriors travel on some quest, but just as quickly shift mental gears and start formulating insults for my incompetent coworkers. In the same day I’ll silently analyze why I speak the way I do, try to describe the taste of cashews without mentioning cashews, and maybe even think about a talking tree. I never feel “empty” but I often feel without real substance.

I can’t claim it is ADD or some other diagnosable problem, I just think I’ve let my imagination be in charge for too long and can’t turn it off now. Truth be told I enjoy that my brain wanders to and from so many unconnected, arguably silly topics; it makes me feel like I’m actually exercising my mind. But as enjoyable as it is to daydream, it hardly helps my cause.

I think that a major issue with something like a personal statement is the manufactured weight of it in relation to your overall admissions application. Every website you read claims it is either the most important, or just as important as your resume, letters of recommendation, or writing samples. This seems absurd. A short ego-stroking block of text is supposed to be a major factor as to whether or not you get into a school?

Therein lies my second issue. I can deal with the lack of specificity in a prompt and pretty much any length requirement, but I find it difficult to write something that highlights who I am and what I do without sounding ridiculously narcissistic. While I do consider myself to be of above average badassery, I worry that every sentence I write is overblown and makes me sound like a demigod of academia. Literacles, if you will. I do feel like I’ve done a lot of cool shit (some of it actually worthy of note) but why would anyone who doesn’t know me feel the same way? Writing this thing feels like one huge, “you had to be there” moment.

Lastly, and most importantly, I feel my biggest problem is settling on one concept to focus the entire statement around. I feel that a list of my experience and accomplishments is too trite, no matter how well it is written. Conversely, every time I try to write something with flair, I worry that I have strayed off-topic or even off-purpose, which negates the whole point of a statement of purpose.

All the examples I read have stellar references to literature or insightful quips about their experience that seem fresh. Fortunately for them, but unfortunately for me, most of the examples I can find are from students who are applying to very specific fields; period literature, branch sciences, medical programs. I think it would be easier if I knew that I wanted to go study Early American Weird Fiction of the 1910s, as I could pull from that field and even mock-emulate that style to show my passion and knowledge.

A writing degree seems very broad in comparison. What else can I say beyond my inspirations, motivations, and aspirations? How can I express all of the needed information without sounding like generic application essay #3462? I have this feeling that I’m going to do a lot of other writing in an attempt to drum up that “Eureka!” moment in relation to this damned statement of purpose.

Maybe that is a good thing.

The demigod, Literacles, fights off the manifestation of bad grammar with his shiny sword of punctuation!

The Luddite Dilemma

January 12, 2011 · by Oliver Gray

For those of you unfamiliar with the etymology of the term, the Luddites were a group 19th century British textile workers who physically and politically opposed the Industrial Revolution. It was their belief that the mechanization of production would eliminate jobs, encourage shoddy workmanship, and ultimately cause the downfall of the entire industry. The term has evolved since and now is used to reference anyone who is opposed to, or incapable with, modern technology.

Many people use the term in self-deprecation; suggesting that they, in their misunderstanding and incompetence, somehow represent the Luddites in their quest against progress. While I appreciate and admire the use of an archaic term, this comical application doesn’t quite encompass my definition of the word. To be a Luddite, one must be vehemently opposed to (even if only subconsciously) technology, automation, and most importantly, progress.

Those who know me might say that I am in some ways a Luddite, as I have voiced concerns over the necessity of things like smart phones and 3-D televisions; but I never argued that these things should not exist. I recognize the impact that smart phones have had on our culture, and do not oppose the idea, I simply oppose the reliance on a singular gadget by so many for so many things. I worry that a generation raised with all the world’s knowledge in their pocket will never know the joys of reading a book and having to go find a dictionary to look up a word; hell, they may never even need to read a book, which I find quite depressing. It is a different matter to understand and be able to functionally use a piece of technology and oppose it for educated reasons, than it is to disdain and denounce something because its strange magicks are like voodoo to your voluntarily primitive mind. The latter describes my kind of Luddite, and unfortunately, their breed is just as prevalent today as it was at the turn of the century.

At a point in the late 90s, it was sort of cute to be a technological dunce. People made jokes that they didn’t know which button turned their computer on, that their CD-ROM drive was really a cup holder, and the internet consisted solely of animated GIFs of fire and men digging figurative HTML holes. We, as a culture, accepted this attitude, especially from an older generation of people who had never needed a computer and had little to no experience operating one. It was like a 16 year old learning to drive a car; we laughed lightly at their attempts to parallel park but knew someday they would master at least some of the subtleties of driving.

The analogy between computers and driving stops there. While it is a given that most people will eventually figure out enough about driving to not crash into something every time they turn the wheel, the same cannot be said about people who fire-up their computers. The mindless majority often don’t realize that they are driving around a controlled explosion, nor do they really understand how their vehicle works, but at least they understand how to use it (ie. push the pedals and turn the wheel) and what not to do to it (crash into things). No such assumption can be made about someone with a computer; owning and using a computer does not guarantee the development of an appropriate skill set. Somehow in the cosmic chaos, education on computing was left as an optional check box, which most people left blank.

My experience as a desktop support monkey has provided me with years of anecdotal proof of this strange phenomenon, and my current position as a young professional in a sea of old-schoolers has seen daily frustration at the hands of those with an aversion to technology. It seems strange that a tool which promotes efficiency and convenience would be so widely misused and under appreciated, but too many people, a lot of them who can’t even claim age as an excuse, seem to be willfully ignorant when it comes to anything that has to do with a computer. The sad fact is that this aversion is no longer OK; computers are no longer a cutting-edge, fringe concept that can be ignored, they are integral to functioning normally in this new age. Being old-school only works if you are actually old.

A computer is, despite its complexities, a tool. If your life required you to constantly adjust screws, after a while, you would figure out how to skillfully use a screw driver. It would take a very special mind to struggle with the concept of a piece of metal that you rotate in your hand. While a computer is a much more sophisticated tool, the basic principle remains the same. After months (sometimes years) of daily use, a user should learn what their computer does, and why it does it. They should also learn what it cannot do, and what happens when you do the wrong things. Ultimately, they should develop an understanding, without any formal training, of how their tool functions and in what capacities. To not garner any insight after years and years of using a tool either suggests that the person is incapable of learning at all, or for some reason actively refuses to learn anything about computing.

The latter has to be the truth, otherwise we have to surmise that we live in a society where there are millions of people somehow surviving with debilitating learning disabilities. Since that is obviously not the case (ignoring Jersey Shore fans and the entire {and future} cast of 16 and Pregnant for the moment) there has to be a deeper reason as to why the normal, heuristic method of learning does not apply to computers. My only guess is that somehow, the complicated roots of very early computing still vex everyday users, who simply refuse to acknowledge that using a computer is now easy. I truly think the majority of people manifest their own destiny with the presumption that using a computer is beyond them, as only highly skilled nerds who dedicate their lives to the mystical intricacies of coding and software development can possibly use such a dense piece of machinery.

This overarching concept is what companies like Apple built their entire marketing platform on. When I see an Apple product, all I can think is, “Who cares how it works? It’s pretty and it just does.” Apple removes the fear of using a computer by taking away any challenge or risk and they have fallen all over themselves to prove this to their target audience. Don’t want to deal with the terrifying (but easily avoidable) world of VIRUSES?!?! Get an Apple, we don’t get scary viruses, so you’ll be fine. People love this concept; the imaginary complications are taken away, and suddenly, they are masters of their technology.

Unfortunately, with safety comes limitation. Apple tends to “lock people in”, telling them what software they can and can’t use, forcing them to purchase everything related to their computer through them, and ultimately taking away any freedom of computing. Their clever guise of accessibility and safety obviously works, but it does nothing to solve the original problem of people fearing their computers. The irony is that the same feeling of safety can be achieved using any operating system on any computer from any manufacturer.

Awareness is key. The majority of problems people experience comes from them not knowing what they’re doing, but more specifically not caring that they don’t know what they’re doing. I use a Windows based PC, spend a lot of time on the internet, don’t run any virus protection software, and yet – gasp – I never get any viruses. How then, do people with Norton, McAffee, Avast, Kepersky or any of the other hundred Anti-virus protection suites manage to get dozens of malicious objects every month? I do have a passion for computing, but I am hardly more intelligent or dedicated than your average user. The difference is that over time, I have learned not to download attachments from people I don’t know, I’ve learned what websites are sketchy simply from a glance, and I’ve learned that the person using the computer makes all of the decisions, not the other way around.

I am sick to death of people claiming they “did nothing” to their computers. I hate to tell you, but if you just plugged your computer in and turned it on, it would do absolutely nothing until a piece of hardware died. That could take years. When your computer “acts up” or “has a mind of its own”, it’s because of something you (or someone who used the computer) did, not because there is a goblin living inside of it who is hell bent on ruining your day. There a relatively few problems that are caused solely by a piece of software going ballistic, and these only usually manifest themselves after the user has thoroughly abused their machine. It is not only time to embrace computer education, but also time to stop diffusing the responsibility of computer problems by claiming some invisible, malevolent force screwed it up without your knowledge. There is nothing magical about a computer; it works just like your toaster – bread in, toast out. If you pour Gatorade into your toaster because you don’t know better…don’t expect toast.

If a person is lagging behind the norm in 2011, chances are they will be behind until they die. It is almost too late to try and play catch up now; if you were too slow to fully grasp file formats, basics of websites, word processing, and the difference between CC and BCC, by the time you do, there will be a hundred other things you have to learn. I am not saying that a person shouldn’t try to educate themselves, nor do I expect everyone to be able to solve any problem that ever arises related to technology. I do wish people would embrace, instead of eschew, what is undoubtedly the future of American society. Sooner than later it won’t be “regrettably endearing” that you can’t function around a computer, it will be unacceptable and ultimately make you look stupid.

So to all those Luddites out there actively or subconsciously trying to avoid learning something new, I say wake up. The digital age is no longer dawning. It has long since dawned, it is about 1:42 PM, and the midday sun is shining on your still-sleeping face.