Ever since I first had to use it for real work, I have known that I tend to get a lot more writing and programming done when I use the command line interface than when I’m in X11. Somehow, though, my increase in productivity didn’t fully register with me until I put OpenBSD on my laptop computer. The lack of proprietary video drivers and Web browser plugins helped me overcome the distractions presented by my big, powerful, tricked-out GNU/Linux desktop machine. I’m hooked now — there’s no going back. I’m through being over-stimulated, over-styled, and over-teched.

It started with the operating system

While writing a review for OpenBSD, I realized that even though it didn’t have proprietary video drivers, and the desktop programs were a little out of date, in terms of the kind of work I do, it had everything I needed in an operating system. It got me thinking about the days when I used to do all of my writing in MultiMate in DOS and WordStar on CPM. Email wasn’t quite popular yet, but it was generally accessible through a text interface in whatever terminal program I was using to connect to the Internet. In other words, I could do all the same things then that I do now, except today’s software is more capable and stable, free as in rights, and far more secure. Anyway, the big realization for me was that I was getting more writing done in OpenBSD than I was with my state-of-the-art GNU/Linux machine with all of its tweaked-out programs and pretty graphical interfaces. It seriously made me question the purpose of having a graphical environment at all.

Back in the DOS days, I was only aware of the software that other people gave me, and I always made it work for my purposes. If a new version of DOS were released, there were no RSS feeds or tech news sites (or a World Wide Web to host them) to tell me about it, and chances are I wouldn’t care anyway. In fact, I can clearly trace my problems to the much-hyped release of MS-DOS 6.0 with its DOSshell file manager, Defrag disk defragmenter, and the infamous DoubleSpace data compression utility. That was the first time that software promised to help me to get more out of my computer. What a terrible lie that was; the only thing worse is the fact that I kept believing it for more than ten years. I didn’t want more out of my computer, and I didn’t need more — I was already happily productive. Before that, software was marketed mainly as a tool that enabled you to do a specific task; then there was MS-DOS 6.0 with its enhancements. Curse you, Microsoft.

But can it make my coffee?

The disease that started with DOS 6 worsened with time. From then on, if I got wind of a program that sounded interesting or had some feature or functionality that I thought was cool, I had to have it. Once installed, I became obsessed with making every one of the programs I used into a heavily-stocked arsenal.

When I moved to GNU/Linux, each application was almost an operating system in itself — it had to do everything that it was conceivably capable of doing, even if I never used most of the extra features. If Gaim didn’t have encryption or XMMS didn’t have playback capabilities for formats that I’d never even heard of, I felt that I was missing something. More than that, I worried that at some point in the future I would need that functionality and not be able to use it. Every program elicited a doomsday scenario where missing plugins or extra features would somehow undo me, all the while ignoring the fact that fussing over all of that crap was undoing me.

1001 ways to skin an application

When I sit at my fancy, highly customized GNOME desktop, if I come to any sort of impasse in my work, I have all manner of icons and graphics to pull me into other programs. And if those icons and graphics aren’t to my liking, I can waste all kinds of time on art.gnome.org or gnome-look.org or Freshmeat’s theme section looking for new desktop themes. Eventually I found RSS feeds to tell me about new themes as they were released.

Then there’s my Web browser. I usually use Firefox, but I also have Opera, Mozilla, and Epiphany. The latter uses the GNOME theme, but the other three have their own theme sites
that I regularly pore over, looking for something new and interesting. I hardly ever use Mozilla or Opera (only when I need the Flash plugin, which is rare), but if they’re installed, they have to be dressed to impress. XMMS, too. And when those are all themed, my GNOME Terminal has to have the right schema, and OpenOffice.org and Bluefish have to have highly customized button bars and anti-aliased default fonts. When that’s done, there are hundreds of Firefox extensions to consider. I wish I could have back all of the time I have spent making my software look fancier.

Back to the basics

Despite this epiphany, I still have my high-powered 64-bit workstation with all of its tweaked-out software. In some way, shape, or form, I’ll always have something like that for playing games, watching/making/copying movies, and other activities like that. But from now on, I’m going to do as much of my writing and programming — my creative work — from as simple and plain an interface as possible, on another computer that is dedicated to work. Likely that will mean Vim on OpenBSD (that’s what’s on it now), but if I find something more capable for either task, I’m all for it. Currently I do the majority of my writing in Vim, then start up X11 to use Bluefish for the final edit, cut and paste any Web links that I might need, and post the story to my sites. I haven’t figured out how to do all of that efficiently from the command line yet, and it’s possible that I never will. But when I’m in the home stretch on an article, distraction is no longer an issue for me. I also stick to Fluxbox with a plain theme — no buttons, widgets, or graphics to draw my eyes away from my work.

So what did I learn from this revelation of overtechedness?

• A computer is a tool. First, let’s admit that a computer is a tool — not an appliance, not a magic box with no limitations, not a piece of art to make your desk look pretty. The thing about a tool is, the more functions it is equipped to perform, the less ideal it is for any one task. Jack of all trades, master of none. Tools are used in business and in play; baseball bats, trowels, computer mice, and Nintendo controllers are all tools. They have implied and preferred uses, but you can adapt them to do much more. When I was a full-time electronics technician, I used all kinds of unusual tools, like dental picks, exacto knives, felt tape, and even an old RAM module (for safely prying apart plastic chassis components). You should think of your computer as a tool that you customize for a given duty, not as an amazing invention of limitless utility.
• Your tools should inspire, not distract. The best tools are the ones that enable you to most efficiently accomplish your goal; rarely are they the best-looking tools. The fancier an application gets with graphics, the more you’ll be distracted by the glitz and glimmer. There is a reason why traditional tools like footballs and screwdrivers aren’t usually designed with aesthetics in mind. You, the craftsman, are creating the art, not using it. Tools are implements of work or play, and as such are designed for optimal function, not style. Someone once approached me about switching to an Apple computer with the OS X operating system (actually, this has happened many times under different circumstances). The primary theme of his pitch was that I would get more work done on a Mac because they are “made for artists,” despite the fact that I didn’t find Apple’s software tools to be any more useful than those for Windows, Linux, or BSD. When I asked him what he liked about his Mac, the majority of his points revolved around looks. His computer was “beautiful” and OS X was “sleek” and “sexy” (a little Freudian anthromorphism, anyone?). That has distraction written all over it, as far as I’m concerned, and it is precisely the kind of environment that I’m now trying to avoid. So while that guy is fondling his beautiful computer, I’ll work on finishing my book from 16-color text mode on a plain-looking grey Acer TravelMate. I’m sure there are people who get a lot of legitimate use out of Apple computers, but honestly, even they have to question the functional purpose of all those glowy lights and acrylic. If you need a better example, take a look at B.B. King’s “Lucille” guitar — not pretty, but nothing else will get the job done in the same way.
• Capability is not synonymous with productivity. Just because a machine or program can do something does not mean that it must — or should. Figure out what kind of work (or play) your computer will do, and organize your software in a fashion that best facilitates that. Don’t think in terms of what your computer can do; think of what you want to do with your computer. Take Skype, for instance. While it’s really cool that you can talk to people over the Internet, is that really going to replace your telephone or cell phone? No? Then get rid of it — you don’t need it, no matter how cool it might be. If possible, it might be better to have two computers: one for work, and one for play (whatever “play” means to you — to me it means trying out interesting new operating systems and software). You could also have two user accounts, window managers, or operating systems on a single computer, each streamlined for and dedicated to work or play.
• Delegate tasks accordingly. Modularity is one of the most important procedural programming concepts, but it is just as applicable to desktop computing. Break your work up into modules that single programs can handle individually. For instance, you might use Getmail to retrieve your email, Spamassassin and Amavis to filter it, and Mutt to read it. That way you can more easily tailor the process to your needs, rather than trying to adjust your needs to the limitations of singular all-in-one applications. Wherever possible, let the tools do the work.

Don’t over-tech yourself. Faster computers, bigger monitors, fancier desktop environments, and more expensive software applications can never replace the power and creativity of your own focused attention. No matter what you intend to use it for, a computer is still nothing more than an enhanced paper notebook and pen; you still have to do the hard part on your own.

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Copyright 2006 Jem Matzan.

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