Rigging Education Video

@Jay Ashworth
1; What's a "Proxy service"?
2: What's a "DDoS attack" and what manner of pain would it inflict upon me?
3; My monitor's roughly 22 - 23" diagonally. I purchased this monitor when my original Dell / Sony 19" flat front CRT died prior to my mini-stroke and it's turned out to be a fortuitous choice. Contrary to what you'd instinctively think, smaller is better for me in the sense that I can manage to pull together portions of a screen image in my mind's eye and manage to deal with my PC. I can never encompass my existing monitor's display in any one gaze at any time and some days / times are worse.
Regardless of which eye is open, I have essentially a sharply focused shutter cut coming in from SR on a slight angle as if it were cut in a little further US than DS. This "shutter" from SR is with me all the time thus heaven help anyone who approaches silently from my left as they're likely to find themselves in collision with me if I'm walking and / or if they're standing to my left when I begin gesticulating while conversing. In my remaining field of view, I still have my peripheral vision to my right but my vision consists of a varying number of a variety of sizes of black holes with me trying to pull an image together from the fragments I manage to focus on surrounding the several holes. I've worn tri-focals for decades and still do. Without my tri-focals I'd be in serious trouble and this was prior to my Sunday July 20th 2014 mini-stroke. I went to bed sometime early Sunday morning, probably between two and four a.m. only to awake Sunday morning to find my vision and balance radically compromised. Our master bedroom was 16' x 21'. It was a Sunday morning, after I'd been burning my 'candle' from both ends all week, and I hadn't needed to set my alarm planning to sleep until I woke up of my own accord. I crashed to the carpet before I made it to the bedroom door and twice more prior to relieving myself in front of our toilet in the classic male 'standing position'. My second crash landing found me wondering why I was laying on my left side with my back against the shower and my lips kissing the side of our toilet's base. I clawed my way up to standing and my third crash landing really hurt. Trust me, you don't want to come down hard on the sharp corner of a solid-surfaced vanity. When I awoke on the Sunday morning lying in bed, I had no indication anything had occurred deeply within my skull; no headache, no pain, no discomfort of any kind. I was used to waking up bleary eye'd but always slipped my glasses on immediately upon sitting up in bed. I was my normal, just woke up, bleary eyed self wondering why I was on the carpet looking up immediately prior to exiting into our 2nd floor hall. I'm a life-long total abstainer thus I wasn't suffering the after effects of a wild party. When my family got me to emergency, the triage nurse ran all her normal checks and didn't discover anything too undue. My BP was a little low but my doctor'd always described my normal BP as being on the low side of the normal range. I had no 'left side' vs. 'right side' signs of paralysis and no signs of any discomfort aside from the emerging bruise the vanity corner delivered to my tummy. Triage having accorded me a low priority, I walked down a hall to use one of Emergency's toilets and darn near damaged their terrazzo floor on my way back. I knew how hard their terrazzo was as I was in a wing of the hospital I'd helped renovate during my electrical apprenticeship back in the sixties. Trust me: Terrazzo poured, ground and polished on slab over "undisturbed soil" construction is a hard and extremely durable floor surface you don't want to argue with. Fortunately an Emergency RN happened to see me as I went from walking pretty much normally to crashing down hard on my left side and came running to ensure I didn't try to move on my own. The RN summoned two helpers, checked me for broken bones, took my BP again, got me up and seated and informed triage that she must've missed something. In less than 30 minutes I was on a gurney in Emerge' and 74 days later I walked out of the hospital.
I've digressed. Sorry, I'm good at digression. I was scanned multiple times, including at least two ultra-sounds, two Cat scans and two extremely loud MRI's and they finally thought they caught site of where a minor bleed had occurred deep within my skull but the best they could tell me was it was in an inoperable location and there would be no recovery of my vision on the horizon as there were no alternate paths to be developed / created.
It's resulted in an overnight radical change in my life and that's putting it mildly:
No eye-hand coordination.
No precision soldering.
No component level PC repairs.
No focusing lights
No setting cues.
No wonderfully subtle long running slow cross fades from evening to midnight over the course of an act.
No scissor lifts, zoom booms, or trestle ladders and NO DRIVING.
I can't watch TV as it's mostly rapidly moving images and I can't capture an entire screen in any one gaze let alone any one forty or fifty foot prosc'.
I have a tiny 14" TV but the last time I had it on I was listening to The Donald's election results.
( I will admit to enjoying some of his duets with Hilary on YouTube as I could manage to enjoy them on my PC and repeat segments as many times as I liked.)
Residual vision you asked:
Well, it is what it is and I'll explain it thus:
Near the end of my 74 consecutive days in hospital, an RN perilously close to retirement asked me how I was going to deal with my radically altered vision and my answer caught her totally off guard when I said:
"Well, there's good and there's bad and I find it best not to dwell on the negatives.
On the negative side, I'm missing out on a lot of seriously hot young RN's.
While on the positive side, the majority of your more mature staff are benefitting greatly from how I now view my world."
There was about a beat and a half pause while the aged RN cogitated and then she SPLATTERED frantically apologizing for laughing after having just met me upon coming on shift. I immediately laughed WITH her and assured her laughter was not only O.K. but one of the joys of my life and how it pleased me to have gotten her 12 hour shift off on a high note. Over the following 12 hours, and the next couple of shift changes, there were always little clusters of nurses huddling outside my door with one pointing and the remainder peeking as word spread through the ward of this odd-ball old geezer who'd made one of their senior RN's darned near wet herself while convulsing in laughter.
With apologies for droning on @Jay Ashworth but that's pretty much all I can tell you about my vision and how I deal with it.
You asked me about a "screenreader". If this is a feature in XP in which some little robotic / synthetic voice recites each keystroke as you make it, my closest computer nerd suggested it was something I'd find helpful and enabled it during one of his visits without telling me about it. The next time I used my PC the droning little voice STARTLED the heck out of me! I compose what I write in my head prior to typing and the danged little mono-toned parrot kept distracting the heck out of me. Chuck received a near immediate e-mail BEGGING How the heck do I turn this thing off? My speakers are always on as I depend upon them to notify me of the arrival of e-mails along with warnings at 11:45 p.m. and midnight for items requiring attention prior to end of day / first thing the next day thus I didn't want to turn my speakers off but OH HOW DISTURBING that little mono-toned nuisance was. I was SO relieved when an e-mail arrived telling me how to silence the little phuquer.
Take care Sir and thanks for asking / helping.
Toodleoo!
Ron Hebbard.
Well you have got great keyboard (typing) skills! (Says the hunt n peck guy)
 

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