autotranslate from German to english:

Of wrestling and turning movements

There are a wrestling arena in which plays an old chair with an ugly cigarette burns hole in the upholstery an important role. This chair is not in the corner, but right in the middle of the ring and before that there is a table. He wears those who have made it their life's work to challenge myself together. They are called keyboard and screen, and who now believes that as the two opponents are not to be taken seriously, just because the table they must wear, is wrong.
Under the table, on the ground, yet there is a rectangular black box. As soon as I am in my arena on the chair and sit this box press the silver button, the screen comes to life. He opens his big, square eyes staring at me and growls. He'd like to say that at least he is ready for the wrestling. Every time I take it a good fight my stance. My fingers bent over the keyboard in claws, at least as long as to what produces my brain has transmitted through the nerves in my hands. Sometimes my fingers an uncomfortably long time to stay in this strange bent posture. Then it may happen that my screen just shutting his eyes to show me how bored he is.
Shadow fight, first round ... as always, "he grumbles and still cloaked in darkness lurking.
I struggle with the images then forced in my head and pray so that they form themselves into words, so that I can finally hammer in liquid sets in my keyboard. If that works, rewarded me with a surprised my screen, bright look. The struggle is thus not an end. It goes on, because now in the second round of the fight begins with my keyboard.
My keyboard and I actually have an intimate relationship. She talks to me, especially when she is worried about my health. My keyboard is in fact the opinion that I move too little. She is afraid that I grow faster in my chair. Therefore, they denied me sometimes the bottom row of letters. This is their leverage. If she is dissatisfied, it gives me either a B or an N. I understand their language. B and N is movement of emergency is called. Sometimes I give in, get up from my chair at least once up and down the stairs to run. But I do only if the first round ended in a draw. If I won the first round and the flow of words in my sense, flows will not do. My keyboard will not see this go away. She is stubborn as stubborn, and even threatening to throw them in the trash it cold. She calls me out, has even one on top and denied even the M. The M tells me ahead of the ensuing power struggle. She knows me well, because as far as I'm just as stubborn characters like her. It goes without B, N and M. The haue I subsequently in the keys, if the flow rate at some point comes to a halt. If need be by force. My keyboard knows that you do not come around it to give away the three letters. Sometimes I will then pack the bad conscience and I push the legs into the ground down to me, at least in the stool and move her. This works very well because my chair is actually a swivel chair.
Some time ago, my chair was once unexpectedly stuck in the position to the right of me and I ventured a cautious look to it. I saw my future. With astonishment I found that my retirement is approaching. The other day I threw one more glance in that direction and what I saw was really very strange. Maybe yes but my keyboard is right. Perhaps I move too little. For my retirement has moved away from me, already at a full two years. I do not understand. I always thought that the retirement age comes to me, as it were, automatically. Now I realize that it is running out before me. Now I see even one that my retirement and I will never come together. It is just too fast and I'm not athletic enough to still be sought. But so what. Now and then I move on my chair back and forth, especially when my keyboard bleats again. Here it may happen that I also instinctively look to the left, there is where my past. But the surprises do not keep ready, yes everything is already gone. So I keep my chair as possible in the middle position. I'm sure, for the pleasure of my keyboard. She knows what she has in me. Finally, she is a fighter like my screen too, and me without the two would perish in the wrestling arena of boredom.