Roll Keyboard [Manual]
For PS/2 connector:
Power off the computer before installing the keyboard.
Find out the keyboard jack on the computer rear board. You will find the remark indicating the keyboard connector as below
Plug the round PS/2 connector into the round PS/2 port of the computer
Turn on your computer.
Notes: Don't insert the plug force, if the plug can not comply with the jack.
F or USB connector:
&USB+PS/2 converter:
Connect the USB connector to the converter
Power off the computer
Plus the PS/2 connector to the computer's PS/2 interface
Turn on the computer then it works
F or USB connector:
Turn on the computer, start the computer system
Find out the USB jack on the front or rear of the computer. The jacks arerectangle, gener ally 2pcs, arranged as hori zontal or vertical:
Plug the pin of the keyboard cable into USB jack. If it is difficult to plug in. turn the pin to 180 degree, then re-plug.
Notes: Don't insert the plug force, if the plug can not comply with the jack.
T he keyboard only using USB connector
Some computers can not support USB device automatically, It may lead to some related errors or the keyboard can not work till
Windows started. Using PS/2 connector will prevent from this kind of problem if you are not sure the computer can comply with the USB keyboard or not.
Only using USB plug also can connect the keyboard, thus you can release sone PS/2 related system resource. In order to achieve it, you need the BIOS system to support USB keyboard which will control the communication between computer and its device.
If you want to check whether your system support USB device, please infer to your computer related file or contact the computer manu- facturer. Some computer manufacturers provide BIOS updating in the internet so that they can make your system support USB key-board.
The usage norm of the Roll-keyboard
The Roll-keyboard can be used in below conditions:
It must be used on an even working face.
It can be used in the temperature of -40ºC-+80ºC.
It can be used in the damp environment even shallow water.
It can be used in the acidity and alkaline environment.
It can be used in the dusty en vironment even sandstorm.
It can be laundered by alcohol or disinfector.
(back)
It cannot be contacted the sharp object.
It cannot be pressed when it was rolled
It cannot be putted into the pven and putted on the fire to roast.
It cannot be contacted the oil or the organic impregnate like acetone and toluol etc.
Cannot places the heavy object on it in long time.
We cannot put out strength to twist or pull it.
Material
Made by high-quality silicone, the keyboard has no poisonous and evil smell, according to the requirement of the environmental protection, it is a kind of creative new product.
Anti-pollution
In view of the fact it is all seal completely, preventing all kinds of germs and pollutants exting into the keyboard, and the keyboard s sur- face can be washed and disinfected any time, so it can prevent the disease infection.
Watertightness
It can be used for a damp environment, even inside shallow water. It can be normally used when beverage or other liquids spilled at the keyboard.
Acid and alkaline-proof
The keyboard can be used safely in acid or alkaline environment.
High dustproof
The keyboard can be used safely in dust fog and even in sandstorm.
Carrying convenience
Because the keyboard can be folled up, so it can save lots spaces while carrying.
Other characteristics
The special printing technology guarantess the letter on the buttons of keyboard not to be worn away for a long time.
Feeling soft comfortable.
Soft without any sound while typing.
Various beautiful colors;The button bears to type 2 million times.
The keyboard is applicable to office; hospital classroom; workshop; network bar; laboratory; kid room; notebook PC; army; etc.
SPECIFICATION
ST-104A Pat NO.: 200630015630.2
Commvnication : USB, PS/2, USB+PS/2
Layout : 104 keys
Dimension(mm) : 409(L)X124.5(W)X4.6(H)
Electronic data : +5V DC ± % @ 250mA
Tatal hieght:4.6 mm ±0.2
Weight:225g
07 March 2009
02 March 2009
01 March 2009
Some Things
It was intentionally vague. I worked at a country club, now I don't. Despite the fact that I claim to be tech-savvy (and my new job is as a laptop repair apprentice), I'm a little behind in the blog scene. I don't perceive this as a bad thing, by any means, but it is something I intend to work on. I maintain a blog, obviously, but I will never be a blogger. The fact that I just used an html tag to italicize that is irrelevant.
Here are some things it may help to know if you want special insider information when reading this blog. I have absolutely no idea what I am talking about, ever, and I feel that my gift is expressing that very notion in words. If that sentence made sense to you, then by all means read on, this blog is for you, friend. For those of you for whom I have just confirmed initial suspicions of lunacy, you are free to return to your lives in the real world. Stop back and visit some time when you need a little break.
The vast majority of what I create in this dark space will be fictional. In some cases, it will be loosely or closely based on things that have happened, could have happened, or may at some point happen to me or anyone, but it is likely I will still present these things as fiction. In the extremely unlikely event that something appears in this space that you feel misrepresents you or in some way offends you, please to contact me as soon as possible and I will tell you why it is that way, and I will probably not change anything about it.
Often, I feel that the existing nomeclature of written text may not easily apply to what I present here. In these more flexible times, the categorization may offer itself somewhat more readily, but you can be certain that (my anticipated) lack of any consistency or creative direction will render that moot. At the very least, I will try to convince some of my players to make recurring appearances in various places and times, but it will suit you not to get attached. I don't kill characters, I forget them, which is far worse.
I will, this one time, address the title. I have no idea where it came from, no idea what it means, and no idea what to do with it. A google search of "The Feel-Good Kid" will yield strange and varying results, but the majority of them have something to do with children, and nutritional information. You can expect to read very little about either of those on this page henceforward.
I have a comma problem, it is being addressed. I have a meeting with a semicolon in the morning, but I'm worried I might say something to offend it.
Here are some things it may help to know if you want special insider information when reading this blog. I have absolutely no idea what I am talking about, ever, and I feel that my gift is expressing that very notion in words. If that sentence made sense to you, then by all means read on, this blog is for you, friend. For those of you for whom I have just confirmed initial suspicions of lunacy, you are free to return to your lives in the real world. Stop back and visit some time when you need a little break.
The vast majority of what I create in this dark space will be fictional. In some cases, it will be loosely or closely based on things that have happened, could have happened, or may at some point happen to me or anyone, but it is likely I will still present these things as fiction. In the extremely unlikely event that something appears in this space that you feel misrepresents you or in some way offends you, please to contact me as soon as possible and I will tell you why it is that way, and I will probably not change anything about it.
Often, I feel that the existing nomeclature of written text may not easily apply to what I present here. In these more flexible times, the categorization may offer itself somewhat more readily, but you can be certain that (my anticipated) lack of any consistency or creative direction will render that moot. At the very least, I will try to convince some of my players to make recurring appearances in various places and times, but it will suit you not to get attached. I don't kill characters, I forget them, which is far worse.
I will, this one time, address the title. I have no idea where it came from, no idea what it means, and no idea what to do with it. A google search of "The Feel-Good Kid" will yield strange and varying results, but the majority of them have something to do with children, and nutritional information. You can expect to read very little about either of those on this page henceforward.
I have a comma problem, it is being addressed. I have a meeting with a semicolon in the morning, but I'm worried I might say something to offend it.
28 February 2009
The Kid Is In
Yesterday, I went to visit some friends at my old job. I regret--more than I ever would have thought--leaving the place, but what's done is done, and I don't believe there are any hard feelings on either end. In specific, I wanted to see one particular friend of mine whom, for a variety of reasons, I have done a poor job of keeping in touch with. Granted, I've only been gone from the place for two months, but the terms of my exit were and are unknown to many, myself included, and so there were some things that I would have liked to give more satisfactory closure to, but either couldn't or wouldn't.
This friend, Mark, we'll call him, played a major part in giving me the confidence I needed to acclimate myself to and eventually thrive in a work atmosphere in which I might otherwise have struggled. In particular, we struck up a kinship, early on, and I'm ashamed to say I forget how it originally came up, but it led to what are undoubtedly some of my fondest at-work memories. Our shared joy and misery in the victories (few) and defeats (many) of the always-entertaining Cincinnati Reds was often one of the things I most looked forward to in the early part of my day.
One of the many great things about baseball is its near-interminable playing schedule. The regular season lasts from the beginning of April until usually the first week in October, then the playoffs go for another couple weeks. Then there's winter ball, and off-shore leagues, and training camps, and next thing you know, it's February and pitchers and catchers are reporting to spring training facilities in Arizona and Florida. And now there's the World Baseball Classic, and some international exhibition games and who knows what else. Somewhere in all this, talk of baseball commenced, and we never looked back.
(To this day, on a brief side note, I can not for the life of me figure out how this all started. I was hired at the beginning October, officially, but didn't start working until almost November, so discussion of the World Series seems unlikely. Also, we were extremely busy for the holiday season, and I was still trying to learn everything about the job, so I was probably a little preoccupied. Yet, somewhere between my first day, and the end of January--the first two weeks of which we were closed, I might add--Mark and I were very much excited to count down the days until pitchers and catchers were to report. This is the power of baseball.)
Enough with the cheese and the Ken Burns for now, though, back to the story. I showed up unannounced this past Wednesday afternoon, assuming it would be no problem, and also assuming that the usual people would be going about their business. Joe would be at his desk (that's any day, at any time, really, which was always fine with me), Jim would be telling people how to cook (to his credit, that was pretty much his job when I first started), and Mark would be going through his usual pre-op routine. I has underestimated the repercussions of the recession, though, for hours had been scaled back drastically, and I learned that it would be hours before Mark arrived. At first, I decided to just leave and come back (all of five minutes, round-trip), but on further meditation opted to wait around. I spoke with the receptionist, briefly, about whom I have drastically divergent feelings from day to day--something for another time--but this was a good day for both of us.
In fact, I have her to thank for what ultimately transpired that afternoon. Something that came up frequently between she and I was the idea of small, unsolicited gifts of little or no significance. Things like pens, or scrap paper from the cutter, or dirty dishes (which were almost always for me). Wednesday, she was kind enough, being a special occasion and all, to give me a bag, a post-it note, and a permanent marker. She did ask for the permanent marker back, however, so naturally, I offered her a variety of other, self-important sounding things, one of which happened to be the shirt off my back. She responded, as is her way, with a snarky comment about how utterly useless a Cincinnati Reds jersey is to her, especially coming from someone like me. Our bust sizes are not similar, you see. She was giggling, and I was thinking. I proceeded to unbutton my jersey, folded it neatly, and placed it in the bag. I scribbled a note on the post-it, stuck it to the side of the bag, left it at Mark's station, and went home.
I didn't see Mark that day, but I know I will soon. Sorry about all the commas.
This friend, Mark, we'll call him, played a major part in giving me the confidence I needed to acclimate myself to and eventually thrive in a work atmosphere in which I might otherwise have struggled. In particular, we struck up a kinship, early on, and I'm ashamed to say I forget how it originally came up, but it led to what are undoubtedly some of my fondest at-work memories. Our shared joy and misery in the victories (few) and defeats (many) of the always-entertaining Cincinnati Reds was often one of the things I most looked forward to in the early part of my day.
One of the many great things about baseball is its near-interminable playing schedule. The regular season lasts from the beginning of April until usually the first week in October, then the playoffs go for another couple weeks. Then there's winter ball, and off-shore leagues, and training camps, and next thing you know, it's February and pitchers and catchers are reporting to spring training facilities in Arizona and Florida. And now there's the World Baseball Classic, and some international exhibition games and who knows what else. Somewhere in all this, talk of baseball commenced, and we never looked back.
(To this day, on a brief side note, I can not for the life of me figure out how this all started. I was hired at the beginning October, officially, but didn't start working until almost November, so discussion of the World Series seems unlikely. Also, we were extremely busy for the holiday season, and I was still trying to learn everything about the job, so I was probably a little preoccupied. Yet, somewhere between my first day, and the end of January--the first two weeks of which we were closed, I might add--Mark and I were very much excited to count down the days until pitchers and catchers were to report. This is the power of baseball.)
Enough with the cheese and the Ken Burns for now, though, back to the story. I showed up unannounced this past Wednesday afternoon, assuming it would be no problem, and also assuming that the usual people would be going about their business. Joe would be at his desk (that's any day, at any time, really, which was always fine with me), Jim would be telling people how to cook (to his credit, that was pretty much his job when I first started), and Mark would be going through his usual pre-op routine. I has underestimated the repercussions of the recession, though, for hours had been scaled back drastically, and I learned that it would be hours before Mark arrived. At first, I decided to just leave and come back (all of five minutes, round-trip), but on further meditation opted to wait around. I spoke with the receptionist, briefly, about whom I have drastically divergent feelings from day to day--something for another time--but this was a good day for both of us.
In fact, I have her to thank for what ultimately transpired that afternoon. Something that came up frequently between she and I was the idea of small, unsolicited gifts of little or no significance. Things like pens, or scrap paper from the cutter, or dirty dishes (which were almost always for me). Wednesday, she was kind enough, being a special occasion and all, to give me a bag, a post-it note, and a permanent marker. She did ask for the permanent marker back, however, so naturally, I offered her a variety of other, self-important sounding things, one of which happened to be the shirt off my back. She responded, as is her way, with a snarky comment about how utterly useless a Cincinnati Reds jersey is to her, especially coming from someone like me. Our bust sizes are not similar, you see. She was giggling, and I was thinking. I proceeded to unbutton my jersey, folded it neatly, and placed it in the bag. I scribbled a note on the post-it, stuck it to the side of the bag, left it at Mark's station, and went home.
I didn't see Mark that day, but I know I will soon. Sorry about all the commas.
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