I am not someone blessed with an innate sense of rhythm.  Most music fails to have me swaying my hips; few songs make my feet tap.  However, is it possible that I have rhythm in my fingertips?

Where this heretofore unknown skill makes itself apparent is when entering passwords on my computer keyboard.

In a futile attempt at online security, I have different passwords for most online accounts, and these passwords are increasingly growing longer and more complex.  Longer and more complex than I can easily memorise.

But, where my memory increasingly fails me, my fingers come to the rescue.  They instinctively know which keys to press on the keyboard, even while my conscious mind is still dithering and doubting.  And, if I find myself mistyping a character––like playing a wrong note––I am forced to go right back to the beginning of my composition, in order to pick up the right rhythm once again.

Like Lang Lang sat in front of his piano, my fingers flash across the keyboard, tippy-tapping out a familiar cadence.  And each password has its own special rhythm: some caressing; some staccato; some ending in a dramatic crescendo.

When I am required to update a password, I find myself assessing its potential rhythm as much as its content; as near as possible, attempt to replicate the old rhythmic pattern, even if the words and characters––at least 8 letters; 1 upper case; and a symbol––are altered.

In the virtual realm of cyber-security, I am a Liberace.  A prancing virtuoso across the keyboard.  It is only when the music starts that I find myself left tuneless.

© Simon Turner-Tree

Simon Turner-Tree is more at home at the keyboard than on the dance floor.