The older I get, the more I realise that you sometimes have to be in the right frame of mind to do certain things.
Not everything needs to be done immediately. Sometimes you need time. Sometimes you need space. And sometimes you need to wait until your head and your heart are both ready.
Strangely enough, a set of keycaps recently reminded me of that.
Growing up
I didn't have the easiest childhood.
Growing up in the 1980s, it sometimes felt to me like children fell into one of two camps: those whose parents were there for them, and those who largely had to figure things out for themselves.
Unfortunately, I often felt like I belonged to the latter.
So, like a lot of children who needed somewhere else to go, I found refuge in things. Television. Films. Music. Computers. Stories. Fictional worlds became places you could disappear into for a while when the real one wasn't particularly welcoming.
Winnie-the-Pooh and his collection of friends in the Hundred Acre Wood were part of that.
The funny thing is, I wouldn't even describe myself as having been a huge Winnie-the-Pooh fan. I didn't collect Pooh merchandise. I wasn't obsessed with the stories. There were plenty of other things from my childhood that probably occupied much more of my attention.
And yet, something about Pooh and his friends stayed with me. There was a warmth to that world. These were very different characters, all carrying their own personalities, worries, insecurities and peculiarities, yet somehow they still belonged together.
Pooh was Pooh.
Piglet was Piglet.
Tigger was very definitely Tigger.
Eeyore could be Eeyore.
Nobody needed to become someone else before they were allowed into the group.
Looking back now, I wonder whether that was part of what resonated with me. Maybe I needed that more than I realised at the time.
Different problems
Fast-forward several decades and I'm now in my mid-40s.
Life hasn't necessarily become easier. The problems have simply changed shape.
I now live in a neurodiverse household, and autism has become an important part of my everyday life.
There are wonderful moments, but there are difficult ones too. It is hard watching someone you love struggle with a world that isn't always particularly good at understanding them or accommodating what they need.
I can't solve everything. I can't experience the world exactly as they experience it.
Sometimes all I can do is listen, try to understand, advocate when I need to, and most importantly, be there.
And perhaps that last part means more to me because I know what it feels like when somebody isn't.
Then a box of keycaps landed in my lap
At the Bristol Mechanical Keyboard Meetup, I entered one of the raffles. And somehow, I won.
My prize was the DCD Hundred Acres keycap set.
At first, that's exactly what it was. A really nice set of keycaps. But seeing the set in person, it struck a chord in me.
I've written before about how the mechanical keyboard hobby has helped me become more comfortable expressing my preferences.
That probably sounds ridiculous if you're outside the hobby. They're keyboards.
Bits of aluminium, plastic and sometimes far too much money arranged into increasingly elaborate rectangles.
But look at some of the keyboards I've built. Look at my TKD Cycle 7. Look at my NEO Ergo.
They're colourful. They're personal. Some of them are a little ridiculous. And that's exactly why I love them.
I've reached a point where I'm much less concerned about whether something fits some imaginary definition of what an elegant keyboard is supposed to look like.
I build things that make me happy. And I'm still riding that high.
Something unlocked
Looking through the keycaps brought back something that I hadn't thought about for a very long time.
Not necessarily specific memories. It was more of a feeling.
A tiny connection to a much younger version of myself. A child who found comfort wherever he could find it.
Somewhere along the way, I had packed a lot of that stuff away.
Maybe that's simply what adulthood does to us. We grow older. We become more serious. Responsibilities pile up. Work happens. Bills happen. Families happen. Health happens. Life becomes very good at filling every empty corner.
And you quietly lock parts of yourself away because they don't seem useful anymore.
Then something completely unexpected finds the key. In my case, apparently, it was a Winnie-the-Pooh-themed keycap set.
Mechanical keyboards are strange. But I was happy. Really happy. A feeling of happiness I used to have when I was a kid, something that I haven't felt in a long time.
Waiting for the right keyboard
Normally, when I get a new keycap set, the temptation is immediate.
Which keyboard am I putting these on? What switches should I use? How will it sound?
Within minutes I'm mentally pulling keyboards apart.
But Hundred Acres sat in its box. Not because I didn't like it. Quite the opposite.
It felt special enough that I didn't want to throw it onto whichever keyboard happened to be nearby just so I could say I'd built something with it.
I wanted the build to feel right.
And that brings me back to the beginning of this post.
Sometimes you have to be in the right frame of mind.
I needed the right keyboard. I needed time. I needed some space in my head.
And I needed to actually want to sit down and build it rather than treating it as another job on a list.
So I waited. A week passed. Then another. Eventually, more than a month had gone by.
The keycaps weren't going anywhere. There was no deadline.
There was nobody standing over me demanding to know why Winnie-the-Pooh remained trapped inside a cardboard box.
So I let myself get there when I got there.
Hundred Acres
Eventually, everything came together.
The build is:
- Weikav MAX102
- DCD Hundred Acres keycaps
- HMX Moonlight silent tactile switches
- Hundred Acres deskmat
And when I finally put everything together, the wait was worth it.
It isn't my most expensive keyboard. It isn't my most technically impressive keyboard. It probably isn't going to win any awards for enthusiast credibility.
None of that matters. I look at it and it makes me happy.
More importantly, I understand why it makes me happy.
It's a small piece of my childhood sitting on my desk.
But it's also connected to my life now.
There is something strangely appropriate about having the Hundred Acre Wood in a house where being different is simply part of everyday life.
A group of very different characters somehow finding their way through things together.
Perhaps that's what resonated with me all those years ago.
Perhaps that's why it resonates even more today.
More than keycaps
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I've realised something else since getting deeper into this hobby. Mechanical keyboards have become a form of self-expression for me.
Sometimes that expression is loud. Sometimes it's an absurd colour combination. Sometimes it's about finding exactly the right sound. And occasionally it is quieter.
Sometimes it's just about putting something on your desk that reminds you of who you were, who you are now, and perhaps how far you've travelled between the two.
DCD Hundred Acres will probably never be just another keycap set to me.
I won it at a keyboard meetup. I brought it home. I left it sitting in a box for more than a month.
And eventually, when I was ready, I built something with it.
Maybe that's why this keyboard means so much to me.
For once, I didn't rush towards the destination. I gave myself the time and space to get there.
And somewhere in the process, I found a small piece of myself that I'd apparently left behind in the Hundred Acre Wood a very long time ago.
I'm glad it's back.
