Reset Virtual Memory In Windows 10

Because I’m such a nice guy, I’m going to teach others a simple fix to improve Windows 10’s performance. This is not guaranteed to cure all your Windows 10 problems, but it will help. It consists of resetting virtual memory in Windows 10. And, I’m not even going to explain what virtual memory is, because to do this, you don’t need to know.

Step 1 – Bring up Task Manager (right click on the task bar, and in the popup menu, click on Task Manager). If the Task Manager window looks like this:

Click on the More details item to make it look like this:

See that column labeled Disk? If that reads 100%, you now know why your computer is pathetically slow. Hopefully, the remaining steps will fix your computer, so this column reads a much smaller number. If it doesn’t read 100%, you don’t have to do anything, but you can continue with this reset if you wish to.

Step 2 – In the Windows search box (where it says, Type here to search), search for View Advanced System Settings. See that identified application? Click on that. You should now see a window like this one:

Step 3 – In the window area labeled Performance, click on the Settings… button. Now, you should see a window like this one:
Step 4 – In the Performance Options window, click on the Advanced tab. The window should change to look like this:

This is where the fun starts. The area named Virtual Memory shows you how much of your hard disk drive (or solid state drive) is being used by Windows as if it was memory in your computer. If your computer isn’t running well, and your Disk column in Task Manager said 100%, resetting this Virtual Memory should help.

Step 5 – In the Virtual Memory area, click on the Change… button. This will pop up another window that looks like:

Step 6 – Change the Virtual Memory settings by unchecking the Automatically manage paging file size for all drives checkbox, and by clicking on the No paging file radio button. It should look like this:

Step 7 – Click on the Set button. You will see this alert pop up.

Click on Yes. Now, click on the OK button in the Virtual Memory window, then restart your computer.

At this point, you have removed the virtual memory from windows. Your computer WILL run slower. It will take longer to do anything, and everything. Don’t worry. We’re not leaving Windows this way. We’re going to reset virtual memory.

Step 8 – After you are back in Windows, bring up the View Advanced System Settings window again. If you forgot how, see Step 2 above. As before, bring up the Virtual Memory settings (see Step 3 and Step 4). You should be back at this window.
Step 9 – Check the Automatically manage paging file size for all drives check box. And click on the OK button at the bottom of the window. Now, restart your computer one more time.

Step 10 – Repeat Step 1 of this procedure. The Disk column should gradually drop to a much smaller number, and your computer should run better.

For those interested, here’s a brief technical note on what this process does, and why it works.

Windows (XP, Vista, 7, 8, 8.1, and 10) all use a section of your Hard Disk Drive/Solid State Drive, as extra storage space to keep thing in instead of keeping them in RAM all the time. Unfortunately, over time the content of that section of your drive fragments, and then fragments even more. It may even become so fragmented it’s not really usable. Since the virtual memory function of Windows runs all the time, it’s trying to process the content of that drive section all the time. If that content is too fragmented, and even damaged, Windows begins to spend all of its time processing that drive section.

When the Virtual Memory is reset, as described in this procedure, that drive space is first erased, and then a new, clean space is created. This new space does not have the problems the old space had. The result is Windows runs much better, because it doesn’t have to spend all of its time figuring out what’s in that drive space.

Note that I have started resetting virtual memory on my home computer, and on every Windows 10 computer I work on for other people. Because. This works. And it helps the computer run better.

Note: If you try this, you’re on your own. I’m not responsible for anything that may go wrong. I’m just trying to be nice here. If this works for you. Good. If it doesn’t. Well. I tried.




#MenageMonday 2×09

Given I’m the judge this week, this doesn’t count. But I felt like writing something anyway. So, I did.

We stand near the edge of the cliff, between it, and the ancient tree. One of the oldest left on this world. And we remember.

There was a time the world spoke of us, called us warriors, called us men. Real men. Not the pretend men of the West. Nor the religious zealots of to many religions to name. But that was forty centuries ago. Now, we are but a memory. A story the world tells its children. We hear their words in our sleep, in our dreams. We know the confusion of today all too well.

“Genghis Khan was a violent, brutal leader,” they say, as they mistake him for our leader, and mistake us as the warriors of his empire. They do not know. “Toxic masculinity,” the topic they speak of. They do not know.

We learned from the wolf. Walk with pride, and with strength, unafraid to make mistakes, unafraid to learn from then. The wolf taught us to hunt, and to care for our family, your pack.

We were nomads, in a hard, uncaring land. A land no one wanted, save for us. We slept under the sea of stars each night. Endured the snow, and ice, to reach what little warmth spring brought.

We mourn, as we hide from the world the West has made, where there are only boys, pretending to be men, as they take what they want, rape, and pillage, destroying everything, everywhere.

Like the spoiled, little children they are.

We remember.

250 words

I wrote this for week 2×09 of Cara Michaels‘s #MenageMonday flash fiction challenge. You can read about #MenageMonday here. Please, go read all the short tales from this week. The tales are always little works of art, crafted with words, meant to be shared, and enjoyed. And many of them are amazing. (Mine doesn’t count. I’m the judge this week).

Miranda Kate’s Mid-Week Challenge : 2018/11/21

“I know it doesn’t look like much, but it’s ours.” I pointed at mine. “That one’s mine.” I pointed at Jim’s, “That’s Jim’s.” Our small group started to cheer. “We own these, people! We own them!”

What did we own? A bunch of old metal phone booths and out houses. None of them more than a four foot by four foot floor-space. Hell, we even had to sleep in them sitting up, no room to stretch out. No water. No plumbing. No electricity. Nothing. Just a four by four box, with a door that didn’t lock. And lots of missing parts, like how most were missing windows.

But, damn. We owned them.

It was a baby step. We all knew that. Going from living in the warehouse where we worked, to having our own little town of boxes. We didn’t have to sleep at work anymore. We had real work schedules, finally. With time off, time we could use for whatever we wanted.

“Let’s celebrate, people!”

We all ran to our little boxes, looked them over, top to bottom, checked the doors, checked the floors, and roofs. The phone booths were empty inside. Not even a place to sit. The out houses at least had a place you could sit. Yeah, there was a big hole in it, and it took half the floor, but a little cardboard over the hole, and you had an actual chair.

The inside of mine had a couple of sharp metal edges where the phone had once been. No one had needed to take care of them, they ripped the guts out of them, phones, wires, everything. And the two little windows on the top of one side were gone. Only the holes where they’d been were left. A bit of cardboard and some tape, and I could seal them up.

We had paint. Different colors. Red, blue, black, white, green. Left over containers of paint, from where they didn’t use it all at the warehouse. “You guys can have this.” I could see us with a rainbow colored neighborhood.

We’d made a square of them. Kept the middle of the square empty. That’s where we’d put our garden. Try to grow some tomatoes, corn, and beans. Not much, of course, we were starting up. And we had to learn how to garden. But, it would be our food. We could eat it without having to work four hours for another burger and fries. Oh, we’d still work. We’d have to. We couldn’t feed ourselves. At least not yet. But maybe someday.

I stared up at the sky, and the bright dot of light I knew was the station. They told me it was a giant ring, that spun slowly, so it could feel like it had gravity, and you’d feel like you did on the ground. That’s where all the rich people went. The ones that owned the factories, and warehouses. The ones that owned everything.

They left, when the air started killing people. When the fires burned everything to the ground. When all the animals died. They left. Went up there. They tell me the ground up there is green, with something called grass. And they have a blue sky.

I didn’t really care. That was all dreams. I liked what was real. What I could touch. I liked my tiny four by four box. We were all spending the night in our boxes, for the first time. Our boxes. We owned them.

It was a start. It was a dream come true. Maybe one day we’d be able to stop working at the warehouses. Maybe one day, we’d be able to have families. And children. And lives of our own.

It was certainly worth dreaming about.

625 words

Saw the picture for week 81 of Miranda Kate‘s Mid-Week Challenge and my mind went blank for a week. Until last night, when it said, “This!” You can read about Miranda’s small fiction challenge here. Please, go read Miranda’s short tale this week, and any others that showed up. The tales are always little works of art, crafted with words, meant to be shared, and enjoyed. And many of them are amazing.

#ThursThreads Week 339 : You’re Not Even My Type

Three days after they found Jimmy’s body, the police found a vocal recording at their station. I’d made it just for them.

“The law is the law. It applies to all people. You didn’t follow the law when Michelle was murdered. Because you didn’t like Michelle. Thus, I didn’t follow the law, and removed people I didn’t like. Karma. Justice. Murder. Call it what you will. Remember. Violence breeds violence. And if violence continues here, it will draw me back.”

“I will be watching. Pray to your gods I don’t have to return. Stop the violence, and I will stay away.”

I left a picture of Michelle from before she was murdered, and another from after. I wanted them to know I was watching. I wanted them to know, if the violence they condoned continued, I’d be back.

“Ah, Michelle,” I mumbled as I watched the police force come to terms with my warning to them, “You’re not even my type, you know. But. You were human. And what happened was wrong. I hope now, you’re soul may find some peace.”

In three days, I had another warning to make. In the meantime, I could finally rest.

197 Words

Only 2 parts left in this Armor 17 story. It’s Week 339 of #ThursThreads, hosted by Siobhan Muir. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are always fun to read. And there are some great writers who turn out weekly.

Miranda Kate’s Mid-Week Challenge : 2018/11/11

The old couple stood among the bricks, and stones. When we first came across the place, they told me this had been a cobblestone road, whatever that means. Just looked like someone went to a lot of troubled to put bricks out in a pattern to me. “A road leading nowhere, you mean?”

The old man shook his head, “You never knew. Never saw.”

The old woman smiled, “They get to start over. If they want. Change the world, if they want.”

“I know.” He knelt down, put his hands on the old rocks, “But it is good to remember how things were, isn’t it?”

We all started walking again. That search for food thing did that. Made people walk. You couldn’t stay put. If you did, you became someone else’s food. If you kept moving, you kept safe. So, we kept moving. Followed the bricks for a time. At least it was a flat surface, we could make good time.

There were remains of structures, buildings, homes, all over the place. Long since picked over, people looking for things they could use. Clothing, mostly. Anything cloth. Anything fabric. Didn’t matter if it came off a dead body. Didn’t matter if it was full of holes. It beat the hell out of nothing.

I think that’s what drew me to the old man and woman. They weren’t dressed in left overs. In scraps. No. They wore different things. Hand made, most of them, from animal skins. Hides, stitched together with rough thread. They looked a lot warmer than what I had on.

I didn’t know what it was about them, really. Why I would want to tag along with two old people. Everyone pretty much ignored them. Old people weren’t worth much. Didn’t have anything worth stealing. Mostly, they were ignored, and left to wander around until they starved to death.

These two were different. They knew how to find things to eat. Sure, it wasn’t meat. It wasn’t animals. But, it was good. Stuff off bushes, and trees. Not anything they could find in a can. Cans were running out, you know. I hadn’t seen one in days. But, they always found something to eat. And always where no one ever looked.

I figured I’d tag along with them, so I could learn something. Maybe not starve. Maybe not have to kill someone else, and eat them.

“I wonder which building was the library? And which was a store?” The old man pointed at different buildings.

“It doesn’t really matter now, does it.” The old woman pulled down his hand, and held on to it. “Let’s just walk. And remember what was. And hope for what might one day be. And forget.”

“You know we’ll never forget, don’t you.” The old man shook his head. “Everywhere we look. Everywhere we go. There are memories of what was. And how it all ended.”

We walked in silence for a time, until she stopped, and pointed at a large puddle of water covering some of the bricks. “Look. You can stare into the puddle, and almost see the history, can’t you?”

“The state capital. And it’s big dome. I got to see it once. Field trip in high school.”

“Oh, Frank. It must have been a beautiful building.”

“Yes, Valerie. It was.” He smiled. It was the happiest smile I ever saw on him. “And then, the world went insane.”

Valerie nodded. “Yes. It did.”

Frank, the old man, started walking again, “Do you think it’s the end of humanity?”

“Only time will tell, Frank. Only time will tell.”

Frank nodded. And I wondered what they were talking about. The end of humanity. If it was, it wouldn’t be so bad, would it? No more wondering if you were going to wake up, of if you were going to be cut into flank steaks during the night while you slept. That wouldn’t be a bad thing at all.

657 words

Saw the picture for week 80 of Miranda Kate‘s Mid-Week Challenge, and this little bit of fiction popped into my head. You can read about Miranda’s small fiction challenge here. Please, go read Miranda’s short tale this week, and any others that showed up. The tales are always little works of art, crafted with words, meant to be shared, and enjoyed. And many of them are amazing.


#ThursThreads Week 337 : There’s Just One

“The sheriff will live,” the doctor told his wife. “There’s just one thing. He won’t ever walk.” They’d found him where he’d been guarding Jimmy. Every bone in his right leg was broken. Compound fractures. His knee joint was missing, completely pulverized.

The officers at the safe house who were guarding Jimmy hadn’t been as lucky. Things like exiting buildings from the 3rd floor, backwards, through a window, never ended well. Neither did falling off roofs, putting your face through a car windshield. I really wished I hadn’t had to use such force.

They’d been protecting Jimmy. Keeping him safe. They’d fired their guns and shot holes into walls, cars, street lights, and anything else around. They didn’t find Jimmy. He was gone.

When they did find his remains, they noted how he was where they’d found Michelle’s body. His face had run into something. Hit it so hard, it kind of pushed into his head. He’d been shot, right where no man ever wants to get shot. More than once, too.

They found a note held to his chest with a railroad spike. “One less problem in the world.”

Pastor Greg sat on the first pew in his church, stared at the symbolic cross placed above the pulpit, and cried. He’d tried to keep his brother safe. Prayed his brother would learn. Asked God to take Jimmy in, and keep him safe.

I still had a couple of details to take care of.

244 Words

Only 3 parts left in this Armor 17 story. It’s Week 337 of #ThursThreads, hosted by Siobhan Muir. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are always fun to read. And there are some great writers who turn out weekly.