There are lots of exciting things happening in the world of computer technology. For example this month, 3Com announced that it will unveil a gigabit Ethernet hub. Netscape released the source code for its Web browser, and the Federal Communications Commission is flirting with the idea of taxing Internet telephony.

I could be writing about all of these things, giving my opinion on them and telling you why it matters.

But who cares? I have RSI. There is nothing else worth writing about. In fact, I'm not even physically writing this. A senior friend of mine who has finished her thesis offered me her elite typing services, without which there would be no new Tech Talk column this week.

It seems that every day, I discover some new activity I cannot do. On Sunday night, I braved the stereotypes of labyrinthian corridors and found myself in Mather House for dinner. To my surprise, there was real ice cream being served. I happily approached the gallon container, swept up the scooper, dug in and screamed. We don't all scream for ice cream.

It seems that the tendons, nerves and soft tissue of my wrists and forearm protested my indulgence in one of the finer things of college dining. Riding my bike, taking notes in class, carrying heavy items and even opening doors are prohibited or limited activities. It's like being imprisoned.

I expected to not be able to type. I did not expect that this would so drastically change my life. I did not realize until the past moth how much my existence revolved around a keyboard. Somehow, thought naturally translates into finger movement and words on a screen. This is not an easy habit to break.

Not being able to type also limits the random expositions I often have, such as my e-mail newsletter, creative essays and journal entries. I plan to tape many of my thoughts now.

But there are good things about having RSI. For example, I get free massages from my female friends, and I get to use a telephone headset, so I look like a Time Life sales representative. I am also forced to analyze my life for all the damaging factors and have taken steps toward regaining my sanity.

So what's the point of all this whining, you ask, aside from the free massages?

Simply put, don't get RSI. If you feel or have ever felt pain or tingling in your hands or arms while typing, take it seriously and assess your work environment and habits with the help of www.eecs.harvard.edu/rsi. One day, it could be tingling, the next, you could be dropping glasses in the dining hall. Prevention truly is the best medicine.

Slow down. In retrospect, I see that I was living like a lunatic. That is, I was a normal Harvard student. I did not sleep much, I held marathon sessions with a computer, (typing papers the night before they were due), and Pine was my best friend.

Now, I have prescribed for myself seven hours of sleep a night, up at least 30 percent from my pre-RSI days. I work on papers over a period of days instead of hours, and I have disowned Pine, checking e-mail only three times a day -- down 99 percent.

I think a comment by my Economics 10 TF exemplifies my new outlook on Harvard life. After explaining the wacky nature of the segmented Ec 10 grading curves, she said, "In the long run, this test is merely a blip on the radar of your life."

It is not a choice between doing your work and living well. We can do both. What it comes down to, however, is pacing ourselves and not getting hung up on trying to do everything all the time.

RSI is the result of a societal demand for more, faster, better. In the society of Harvard College, this can lead to a health crisis. But for what purpose? So what if you can write an okay paper in four hours? Wouldn't it be better to take your time and scoop your own ice cream?

Baratunde R. Thurston '99 is a user assistant for Harvard Arts and Sciences Computer Services (HASCS) and a Crimson Online Director and News Executive. He would like to thank Valeric J. MacMillan '98 for co-authoring this column.