reading review - python for kids

I may have had the right idea back in January when I stated that my primary motivation was to read this book as a tool for making me a better teacher, but it might play out a little differently - the best idea would be to assign this book as required reading. It's too bad that I didn't have this kind of work available to me all those years ago when I racked up several dollars in late fees for SQL for Dummies, though I regret nothing; I am sure SQL for Dummies will someday get the recognition it deserves as an early classic in programming literature.

Python for Kids by Jason R. Briggs (March 2021)

Python for Kids, however, is an object in its own class. I recognized a few specific concepts from my college course in the language and I understood the basic programming ideas thanks to my general knowledge, but it would be foolish to claim adulthood as a sufficient qualification for skipping this book. My book notes collect the details that I felt would be most helpful for me in the future, but these are missing some of the main ideas that are essential knowledge for any beginner. What I stress whenever I help a programmer includes a few of the tips that Briggs illustrates - break complex code into chunks to improve readability, think logically and intuitively about the problem before coding, and load the data early in the program to streamline downstream performance. These are not PhD-level ideas, in fact they are barely programming ideas - simplification, logical intuition, and adequate preparation are critical skills in every field, and any book which helps students of all ages develop these abilities deserves my recognition.

TOA Rating: Three tuples out of four

reading review - the wave in the mind

This was one of my annual rereads at the end of 2019, and the fact presents an interesting opportunity to share some TOA history. The notes I took on the book back in July 2015 are available here (I think, as I'm not confident in how the DOCX format is shared). The 2015 notes demonstrate something of a precursor to TOA - they included elements such as structure, context, and themes. And what a surprise to see an opening summary! Whatever we start, started earlier. The modern iteration is better suited to me, leaving room for the circumstances of the moment to influence how I interpret and make use of the notes.

The Wave in the Mind by Ursula K. Le Guin (February 2020)

But, enough, do I have anything to say about this work? I reread "On the Frontier" and "Dogs, Cats, and Dancers: Thoughts About Beauty" so I suppose those are my recommendations. I also remembered from 2015 the thought that the difference between a dog and a cat is an awareness of one's own size, and that we are much more often like the former. The new insight that has remained with me in the past year is the observation that it's not aging itself which is so unsettling, but rather those moments in the mirror when we need an extra second to recognize the reflection. Perhaps this is why I enjoy looking back at those notes from 2015 - it's not quite what I would put together today, but I remember the person on the other side.

TOA Rating: Three mirrors out of four

toxic culture, revisited

I wrote on Tuesday about toxic workplace cultures, which unintentionally coincided with the news that The Ellen DeGeneres Show had lost over one million viewers during the past six months, a decline exceeding forty percent. The news is often being reported alongside the detail that her show had come under significant criticism last summer after allegations emerged of a toxic workplace, which of course hints that this was the sole reason for the declining ratings. I'm not deeply familiar with the details of the daytime TV industry so I did a bit of additional research, where I learned that rival programs such as Dr. Phil lost between twenty and thirty percent of their viewers in the same time period. From my perspective, it may not be entirely accurate to suggest the full million tuned out as a response to last summer's story, but it seems likely that it did play a significant role in the decline, with possibly up to half of the loss attributable to the effect of the allegations.

Part of the reason I'm using this story as an excuse to revisit Tuesday's post is due to a detail I noticed on the show's Wikipedia entry - in 2018, she apparently deflected accusations about "not always being nice to her workers". The fact that nothing seemed to change in the next eighteen months reminded me of my point that the market creates a financial incentive for leaders to ignore problems in the workplace culture. But implied in my point is an uncomfortable reality regarding the way an audience participates in the system - if there is an incentive for organizations to ignore workplace problems, then isn't that incentive created by those of us who pour our time, money, and attention into certain industries? It didn't occur to me earlier this week that as I twiddled my thumbs while searching for my voice, hundreds of thousands of my fellow Americans were making themselves heard in the loudest possible way - silently pushing a button on their remote controls on their way to watch or do something else.

It's not clear what will happen next for the show, if anything, but even someone like me who knows nothing about this industry can tell you that if the show continues to lose viewers at this rate, it will soon be cancelled. A ratings-based cancellation would be a little different from what some commentators had in mind last summer, when references to the show's possible cancellation were used in the sense of "cancel culture". I suppose if you ignore the fact that, almost certainly, years will have passed between last summer and this hypothetical ratings-based cancellation, then you could say that we ended up with the same basic result, demonstrating that a collective response can be an aggregation over time just as much as it can be a one-time mass effort. It is like with our elected officials - when we take back their power, it almost always means voting them out of office, but the collective attention given to election day can obscure how decisions at the ballot box always reflect the months and years that led up to the vote.

I sense now that the script calls for me to tie this thought up into a neat little bow, perhaps invoking an authority such as President Obama as I draw a neat line between healthy activism and cancel culture. I do agree that dragging up someone's past and holding a show trial in the internet court of public opinion is itself a manifestation of a toxic culture, particularly when the accused is an otherwise average person whose transgressions can be forgiven, or whose damage can be repaired. It bothers me when effectively powerless individuals are singled out for past violations of modern standards and punished disproportionately to their place in society, though such treatment is hardly a recent invention. But we must have a higher standard for power, particularly the most influential individuals or major corporate entities. We must have a higher standard for whatever has the capability to define and reinforce the norms that are responsible for so much bigotry, marginalization, and suffering in modern society. We have an older generation who confirmed the poisonous reality of the cigarette industry but allowed those companies to remain in business. They were followed by a generation who preferred to watch their President play a saxophone rather than heed the climate warnings of his Vice-President. My generation invented social media, a fresh hell that almost helped topple our democracy, but we remain its most loyal customers. What made them, what made us, follow when we could have led?

We can say quite a bit about this question but we can't say that we didn't know. We knew more than enough, and we still ended up here. We all knew about the Civil War, it happened one hundred and fifty-six years ago, but we still ended up here, explaining racism to people. There is something about the way things work that doesn't work, which is the surest sign of a toxic culture. The problem with cancel culture is the focus on individuals, and this madness in the method made it hard for me to see the point - cancel culture is about cancelling the culture. It's the culture that builds the incremental structure during the day, then feigns ignorance when the new dawn reveals overnight vandalism. It's the culture that remains loyal to the scribblings of a group of slaveholders rather than confront the reasons why Americans are slaughtered in grocery stores, movie theaters, and elementary schools. It's the culture that must change because it cares more about the ideal than it does about the ideal's effect on people. The aspect of cancel culture that confuses vengeance and justice is in some ways a new version of the same old problem, but at its core it does at least start with the premise that the most important thing about an ideal is the way it affects people.

What the cancel culture phenomenon needs is a refocusing, and not for any better reason than the ineffectiveness of the current method. It must reset itself and focus its sights on the appropriate targets - powerful people and entities who set and reinforce toxic norms, or profit from them. It must ask itself if the collective energy directed against Halloween outfits from the 20th century could be better used, perhaps by challenging the structures that make gun sales a profitable, legal enterprise. It must ask itself how to harness the collective voice when we cannot afford to wait for the next Nielsen ratings, for the next election, or for the next mass shooting. The next iteration of cancel culture, focused correctly, can be a transformational first step toward a better future rather than the latest example of the showmanship that has long passed for change in this country, but it must lead by example and demonstrate that it, too, is capable of the change it demands of us all.

lawyer speak

A friend once emailed me that in my previous message I had sounded like a lawyer. I pleaded no contest, I knew what he meant; it happens to the best of us.

But it never hurts to be precise with my words, right? So let's try "I knew what he was referring to" instead of "I knew what he meant", which is too loose. I knew which part of my email prompted the response, but I didn't know what a lawyer sounds like because I've realized I never knew. Despite my best efforts on TOA, I have never had a conversation with a lawyer, at least in a strictly legal context, so I have no reference point as it regards a lawyer's speech. The closest I've come to hearing a lawyer is from popular culture, TV and movies, which is like saying I know what it's like to be in space because of Apollo 13. There have been odd instances where I've heard a lawyer in a snippet of courtroom footage, but these soundbites are never long enough for me to get more than a vague sense of what it sounds like to be a lawyer.

And yet, for a long time - at least two decades, probably longer - I knew what it meant to sound like a lawyer. My hunch is that I was similar to most people, who understand the reference - you sound like a lawyer. How many of these people really know what a lawyer sounds like? Based on what I know, they probably don't know. But what do I know? I understand doctors and nurses often feel misrepresented by TV portrayals, so at the very least I should have known better to believe TV. What else do I know because it was on TV? Too much, I fear, just like everyone else. I can't prove it, but it's what I know.

toxic culture

There's something I can't quite figure out regarding toxic cultures. If you go by how much people talk about the importance of culture, you'd think workplaces would be almost allergic to anything culturally detrimental, yet for the most part the negative culture seems to be the norm. Think about it - do you know anyone who advocates for a lousy culture? I don't, but I've seen many of these same people deliberately take action to destroy the culture they claim to value so much. Why is it that talking about a strong culture doesn't seem to be enough to get people to build it? It would be like a college crew coach discovering that the freshman rowers, recruited for their commitment to rowing, were in fact unable to even lower an oar into the water. But amusing though this analogy may be, it doesn't help me find the source of this issue.

These stories sometimes make their way into the media, where I often take a closer look just in case there are clues to help me better understand the phenomenon. The most recent public example that came to my attention was the story about the toxic culture at the Reply All podcast, which Spotify acquired as part of its $230 million deal for Gimlet Media. Based on the timeline I can pull together from this article, the issue of the workplace dynamic at Gimlet was a concern prior to the sale. Again, I have to wonder - if a company was building up its value with an eye on an eventual acquisition, surely it would make the most sense to build a strong culture? In addition to the productivity benefits, the strength of the culture might make for another selling point to attract a potential buyer.

Luckily for Gimlet, even though Spotify seemed to know about the problems it chose to proceed with the purchase. Now, I admit that there is no way I could know this for certain, just as there is no way I could know for certain that the employees at Gimlet would have all agreed in principle about their desire for a positive culture, but I'm comfortable making the assumption that Spotify would do its due diligence before agreeing to a $230 million outlay. This makes sense to me - I've seen friends scour Yelp for forty-five minutes researching lunch, so what I'm saying is that you would do a lot of work to ensure the success of any matter concerning $230 million. Reply All, one of Spotify's biggest podcasts according to the above linked article, is currently on indefinite hiatus while addressing its culture, so if there was a problem of this magnitude at the time of the acquisition then surely those vetting Gimlet would have known all about it.

But it's occurring to me now that perhaps my earlier confusion was misplaced - if a company like Gimlet can have its internal problems yet still command top dollar on the open market, then surely the message for every other startup is to focus on the things that build the valuation while leaving the other stuff - like culture - for later, for after the acquisition, for another company. There has never been, to my knowledge, a company acquired for a huge sum on the basis of its great culture alone. I have no doubt that everyone who claims to value culture is sincere, but the answer is often presented in an unrealistic vacuum, where the question poses a ridiculous choice - do you prefer a strong culture or a weak one? Who would say the latter? In the real world, culture is one among many variables, so maybe the question should be - how much money would you take to relegate culture to the bottom of your priority list? What I'm saying is that it's a toxic culture when an organization's leaders know there is a $230 million incentive to ignore their employees' concerns. 

reading review - the end is always near

Here's a note I pulled from my book notes:

"The fear of an epidemic is the way it would challenge the very structures of civilization. A family might not bury a dead relative out of fear for catching the pestilence. It would also discourage people from connecting with each other."

It leaves me wishing that I'd written my review in the fifty or so days before Massachusetts went into lockdown, just to see what I'd made of the insights into the existential threat of a contagious pathogen. It's an intriguing "what if?" but I'm fairly certain my thoughts would have mirrored the reality that made this an interesting book - like most of us, I would have acknowledged the possibility just long enough to dismiss it.

The End is Always Near by Dan Carlin (January 2020)

Longtime TOA readers will recognize Carlin, who I've mentioned multiple times for his work on podcasts Common Sense and Hardcore History. The book in some ways is a tribute act to the latter's early days, which often examined history from the broad perspective of an overarching question rather than the confines of a specific period, person, or event. In this work, Carlin muses on the long history of existential threats to civilization and connects the chapters to a wide range of concerns from the past, present, and future. The topics that captured my interest were the above mentioned epidemic, his assessment of the nuclear age, and his analysis of civilizational declines.

The most interesting note from The End is Always Near concerned the effect of parenting norms on the wider society. Carlin points out that common parenting practices would be consider abuse by today's standards, then connects the observation to the relatively cruel foreign policies that were ubiquitous throughout all of history. But what could be expected from a world where half the adults were abuse victims? I was also intrigued by the mathematics of a declining population - it would require that couples, on average, have less than two kids, which seems like will be the case for those in my closest social circle.

The main lesson I will take from this reading grew out of Carlin's comment regarding famine - it's not the direct effect of starvation that threatens civilization, but rather the unpredictable set of new possibilities that emerge in response to the crisis; the world war over bread would be of grave concern. I cannot help but wonder how close the COVID-19 response brought us to this kind of domino, and I worry about how we might respond to the hypothetical challenge of a deadlier pathogen. What I learned in the past year is that although the direct threat is always a critical matter, the task of preventing its escalation to existential concern requires coordinating a global response. This is not just true of pandemics, but of the other challenges that face human survival - communication is almost always the solution. We've come a long way in just a few decades - as Carlin points out, the USA and USSR first established a direct hotline link in 1963 - but such incremental progress can come undone in the panic of just a few decisive moments.

TOA Rating: Three historians out of four.

proper corona admin, vol 100 - writer's block

One year ago last Tuesday (if you use the day of the week) or Wednesday (if you use the date, March 17), I posted this pointless announcement, which in hindsight served no purpose beyond helping me mark time. I do not wish to diminish this function, however, for my sense of time is among a long list of things distorted by the pandemic - I remember how the first two or three months felt like they lasted about a year, but looking back the past year seems to have zoomed by in about two or three months. The broader issue here is that the pandemic has disrupted what I expect from the familiar, but rather than exult in new revelations I have found myself demoralized by the endless surprises.

I am tempted to continue with this trope, using the anniversary to reflect on a year of COVID-19. But what can I accomplish with a thoughtful rumination on these extraordinary times? There is little to say beyond what I've already posted over nearly one hundred occasions on TOA. It also occurs to me that the fact of a one-year milestone is arbitrary - it would otherwise be COVID-20; the milestone says more about my zip code than it does anything else. This moment may commemorate the year that has happened to me, but it speaks little of the year that has happened because of me. This final point leads me to an uncomfortable admission - this year, and particularly in these past few months, very little has happened in my life because of me. I am sure this is relatable for anyone who has spent the past year on the passive side of the pandemic, embracing the strategy of living by not living during this challenging period.

Those readers who have carefully observed this space may have an additional sense of familiarity with my revelation. The past year began with a return to 2019's experiment with daily posting, and I found plenty to write about throughout most of the calendar year. The challenges started around the holiday period, which I could blame on any number of commonly cited factors - COVID burnout, work challenges, even Zoom fatigue - but it's simpler to state that I ran out of topics; I would sit in front of the computer until I admitted that I had nothing to put on the page. The numbers back this up - my daily average time spent writing has fluctuated regularly over the past four months, with each dip setting a new floor while each rebound fell shy of the 2020 standard. On those occasions when I managed to escape my lethargy, I found that the figurative pen moved across the blank pages without the familiar energy, purpose, or conviction from earlier in the year. At long last, I had encountered the mythical enemy known as writer's block, and like any unexpected skirmish with a great opponent I did not even begin to fight until the battle was all but lost.

My mind had always dismissed the possibility of encountering this foe while working on TOA. Wasn't writer's block reserved for the creatives, those who burden themselves with the task of inventing with each syllable? The invention of TOA is true only along technical lines - nothing exists here until I put it down - but for the most part the writing is more about decisions than creations, more about selection than generation; I recall what's already happened, then I determine its place in the work. Another part of me always thought writer's block was a negative consequence of the business in writing, an occupational hazard for the professionals who are forever constrained by word counts, style guides, and deadlines. I refuted this hypothesis by taking away the pressure - this past week featured just three posts, which I think hasn't happened since 2017, but I remain mobilized against immobilization. My situation was much like the global situation was at this time last year - the rumors were true, the unthinkable was here, and I needed to deal with the opponent like a nation going to war.

There has been enough said (and written) about writer's block that I knew what to expect once I accepted the challenge. However, I was entirely unprepared for one specific aspect - writer's block is a direct assault on the mentality of the writer, specifically in the way it generates an overwhelming sense of anxiety; my experience leaves me sympathetic to anyone who might carelessly relate it to a more serious mental health concern, though I would discourage the specific comparison. The daily battle soon developed a familiar script - a few minutes of struggle as I searched for an opening, then the growingly familiar refrains of "when will it end" or "what's the point" or "isn't there a better use of time", each thought reminding me that the defense which had once kept these questions at bay was no longer available to me. The last question was particularly brutal, for like any writer I know the truth: there is always a better use of time - reading, running, lying facedown on the floor like a pancake seeking a spatula. The list of things to do instead of writing are compelling enough even in the best of times, so understandably the problem of being unable to write made it all the more difficult to maintain the motivation for writing.

The over-the-counter remedy for writer's block has a simplicity that appeals to both novices and seasoned veterans - work on multiple things at once, moving from one project to the next anytime the inspiration, motivation, or external pressure dries up. Again, there is a logic here, but it's like buying new socks instead of putting the soiled pairs into the washer. I have accumulated a pile of half-drafts and opening paragraphs over these past few weeks that would be the envy of any writing workshop, but perhaps a different perspective would compare the stack to a hoarder's filing cabinet and offer to bring the contents to the shredder bin. The problem with having a bulk of my work "in progress" is that I am taking a craft that requires deep concentration and turning into an interruption-driven exercise; the essay that gets my attention is the easiest essay to move forward, not the essay stuck for lack of attention. There is something about this tactic that may work on a short-term basis, but like most permanent temporary solutions it eventually does more to deny the problem rather than address the core issue.

I suppose I can only conclude, like scores of others before me, that writer's block therefore belongs in that despised class of incurable ills, for which we hope of a cure without setting expectations or timelines. The best we can do is to manage the condition, and to have compassion for our peers who are caught by the dark force of the affliction. I ask for your courtesy in this moment, when I have nothing to say on the one-year anniversary of a historic period in human history. Must I produce a bulleted essay because others have published listicles? Do I need to share what I've learned because others have graduated from Pandemic University? The problem is the same as I noted above - I have nothing to say about the pandemic because the pandemic reflects little about me. There was only so much I could write about hospices before I began volunteering, and I've written nothing about them in this past year when my service was surplus to requirements.

Perhaps this is the realization we should take from our bouts with writer's block - when the conscious mind cannot handle the steering wheel, writer's block steps in and slams the brakes, reminding us that there is indeed nothing to write about in this moment. There would be something unarticulated in anything I could write about the past year, like the way a science textbook might describe a severe sunburn without ever mentioning its effect on the next night's sleep. The writer's block, in the sense of being an obstacle, protects us from our worst work at the cost of preventing us from completing any work - it's the barrier between the observer and the scene, and it remains in place until we find our way around the obstruction. They talk in physics about the observer effect, the way an act of observation inevitably changes the object being observed, and perhaps there is an application in this context, the writer's effect, or possibly affect - the work grows out of seeing the topic from a unique perspective, and capturing the way this new point of view changed the observation. It may be that writer's block is simply an admission that we do not yet have the necessary perspective to see the work, like a viewer squinting into the infinite flatness of an autostereogram; the picture will emerge when we are ready to see it.

And yet, audaciously, we go for it again, trying to round the same bend that has been the site of so many crashes. The best writers are probably to blame for their gift is to make themselves invisible in the work, hiding their presence and influence over the final result, and so we amateurs make a go of it ourselves, treating our topic like a still life while ignoring the decisive role of perspective. It's not enough to capture the facts or the details, for there is no art in it; the observer makes the art, seeing things from any and all angles, until the right perspective transforms the everyday into the significant. The crux of the past year is that we have been stripped of certain experiences, restricted from exploring the uncharted, without which we became less capable of observing the art in life. We were promised the freedom of the open road, then forced to obey the lines cemented into place. As I've noted here and elsewhere, this past year has been defined mostly by what has happened to us, and it is therefore lacking in what has happened because of us. Surely, there is a better use of time? I think not, I think we must stick to this path, and follow it as it unfolds, observing what and when we can, until we see it once again - the freedom in the open road, the art in the still life, and the words on the blank page.

leftovers - superhighway traffic jam (email)

I think a different version of Sunday's essay, which focused on the unknown cognitive effects of internet use, would have included some thoughts regarding the known behavioral changes induced by the technology. Take email, for example - thanks to this feature of the internet, I can now get in touch with a wider range of people in my life than at any point in human history, and my messages can have a density of information that is staggering when compared to other options such as the written letter. If I am in a hurry, I can send the barest communication in the same amount of time it would have taken me to dial the numbers into a rotary phone. The email is, without question, one of the most significant inventions of my lifetime.

Or perhaps I should say, without dispute, for I do have questions. Emails are an immeasurably valuable tool for communicating with the necessary fringe figures in my life who, necessarily, I keep on the fringes - recruiters, development officers, various administrators and bureaucrats. It's also highly useful for trivial communications with more important people, such as sending copies of the same party invitation to a guest list, which you might have done in those heady days before hosting parties became a public health felony. But what about all the other ways that I use email (and its annoying sidekick, the text message)? What about the other ways email has changed my behavior?

I see in hindsight that all along there has been a certain communication creep regarding how I use these tools, specifically in how their utility for interacting with unimportant people has convinced me of its appropriateness for dealing with far greater concerns. There is something like an ancient riddle here - how important are the most important people in my life if I communicate with them in the same way I communicate with my landlord? I suppose like any renter, I am simply less invested in the arrangement, and make the end an inevitability. Congrats on the new job, how's the new city, sorry for your loss - these messages are not the point, and never were, until technology invented a lowest common denominator for human interaction.

proper corona admin, vol 99 - running on empty

The past year was useless from almost every perspective, except one - running. For me, the pandemic's silver lining was the opportunity to put aside everything that once hampered my running ambitions - social commitments, commuting, playing basketball, it goes on - so that I could devote my full attention to becoming a better runner.

I could wax poetic (or is it pathetic?) about the details, but instead I will present the data (1):

• Total mileage
• 3/17/20 - 3/17/21: 1275 miles
• 3/17/19 - 3/17/20: 883 miles
• Days running
• 3/17/20 - 3/17/21: 285 days
• 3/17/19 - 3/17/20: 184 days

There are other interesting statistics from my logs but I think those two details represent the most compelling combination of simplicity and explanation - I increased my mileage by almost 50% while decreasing my rest days by over half. The pair is bolstered by the fact that I didn't suffer from any serious injuries during the year, so in addition to demonstrating improvement the metrics also hint at sustainability. At my age, this shift into a long-term thought pattern is likely the most important accomplishment of all, as I understand athleticism tends to peak between the ages of 27 and 33 before entering a gradual, irreversible decline. I've always been a little reckless with my mileage, perhaps living up to that old adage of finding the wall by crashing into it, and I suspect I was in danger of soon looking back, with regret, and saying - you know, I wish I'd made a change a year ago; I'm glad I did.

I bring up this topic today not just because it's been a year, but also as March is always when I plan ahead for my running. The start of daylight savings time and the weather turning the final corner of winter have historically been the two main reasons for this timing; now I also have the milestone of the pandemic response, which enabled last year's success. In my mind, the general goal for the coming year is to consolidate my process so that I can rely on running as my fitness foundation for the next three or four decades. But I am off to a slow start - after a short winter break, I've struggled to find consistency in my routine, with a variety of minor strains making it impossible to string together two good days of running. This is OK for now, but I won't keep this up for another four years, never mind four decades; let's say my new year of running is stumbling out of the starting blocks.

There were a few possible reasons for my problems coming out of the winter break. One idea was that I didn't take a long enough rest, which I could have overlooked in these troubled times - the pandemic has left many of us running on empty for a few months, and we may require a longer recharge than we did in easier times. I also wondered if there was a lingering effect from the vaccine, which hit me harder than anyone else I've communicated with regarding the second dose. Then there are the endless tiny details, any of which could be adding up to create a problem with my routine - sneakers just about to wear out, an undetected but relevant dehydration, the simple fact of age, bad karma, the emerging "long COVID" effect from an asymptomatic infection, God's will, air quality, those damn Canadian geese, the excuses go on and on.

Those reasons all remain among the plausible explanations, but for now I'm working on one main hypothesis - I came back too strong. This, too, is something I dug out of my running data. I looked back to my first month of the pandemic and discovered that I strung together multiple short runs (easy jogs of less than three miles) on back-to-back days: five occasions of two consecutive days and one outrageous streak of four straight days. I was surprised by this discovery because in my mind I had alternated short runs with longer runs for the duration of the past year, in fact I'd thought I'd done so for my entire life, but the data tells a different story, a true story, debunking a certain myth I'd long held about my training routine; the data reminded me that I had made a change last year. This detail puts my past month into perspective - I have had three occasions of back-to-back short runs, with each instance feeling like a defeat rather than a critical part of my training regimen. I hope that by increasing the number of these consecutive short days over the next four weeks (two pairs per week) I can return to the new course I discovered a year ago.

I think this process of using data to help optimize day-to-day routines is a priceless tool, particularly in this time when many of us are drained of the energy we need to pull ourselves out of our ruts. When there is little impetus for experimentation or no time to waste figuring it out, it helps to have the conclusions of a dataset to recommend a clear direction. The challenging aspect of using data is that we often don't have it, or cannot organize it into a useful structure. I acknowledge that I am fortunate to have these details about my workouts at my disposal so that I can recalibrate my training plan as needed without having to guess at the underlying cause of each problem.

But I should also give myself credit because my habit of tracking this detail has me in this position today, where I can ask myself "what did I do last year?" and get an honestly reply. The data, like so many other things about our lives, will not arrange itself into anything useful, will not comply with our barked commands, will not reveal relevant information simply because we wish it so; we must move our own feet, one in front of the other, to get where we want to go, and only we can pick up our own feet. This year, life has happened to us rather than because of us, which makes it all the harder to fight the defeatism that creeps in when the days blend together and everything reinforces the feeling of being stuck. I think you know what I mean, these days, when we all run on empty. But if something must become different, there is no better time to start than now, a small step or two just to see what happens, and maybe make this the last time we return to the familiar lament - I wish I'd made a change a year ago; you'll be glad you did.

Footnotes / coming attractions

1) The more accurate version of this line is "I will wax poetic..."; please accept my advance apology.

superhighway traffic jam

I get asked quite often why I use a flip phone instead of a smartphone, but I rarely sense this is a genuine question - the type of person who asks tends to have certain unstated assumptions, and these aren't about to change because of my response. The first of these assumptions goes something like this - people see no reason to use an older technology. The above question therefore isn't about my choice, it's about my implicit rejection of the assumption, so responding with "I'm protecting my ability to focus" isn't adequate, particularly because there is no clear link between my answer and the assumption. This disconnect is often demonstrated with the logical follow up - why not just get the smartphone, then put it away when it's time to focus?

It leads me to the second and perhaps more important assumption - focus and distraction go together, like the two ends of a see-saw. The theory goes something like this - if I'm distracted, I can focus by eliminating the distraction; if I'm focused, I can lose it by becoming distracted. I understand the logic underlying the worldview, but I don't agree with the zero-sum nature of the idea. The way I see it, focus is like a muscle in that it strengthens steadily with regular use while distraction is the invader that decays the focus muscle. Each distraction, in other words, is not just a temporary impediment to focus, it also permanently reduces my ability to focus in the future. I think there is a consensus as it regards distraction and its immediate effect on focus, but I feel I am in a minority when it comes to my suspicion of the long-term consequences; the problem is not that I'm getting smoke in my lungs, the problem is that I don't want to have lung cancer in three decades.

But if there is smoke, then where is the fire? This is what ties back to the original question, and my answer - the technology of the smartphone is relatively new, and its value is proportional to its connection to the internet, which improves with every iteration. In some way, the question regarding flip phones and smartphones is a question about the internet, and why anyone would voluntarily reduce access to the internet. The problem I see is that although many regard the internet as unambiguously beneficial, it does come with a cost, and that cost is focus. The stupefying effect of watching too much television, particularly due to that mindless way which leads to excessive consumption, is only appropriated and magnified by the internet, which in some ways resembles the actualized dream of those who felt limited when surfing merely hundreds of channels; social media in particular is like a television package with an infinite number of channels at your fingertips. The quaint, disorienting effect of going from station to station - with each of those transmitting an endless series of non-sequiturs in the forms of breaking news, mindless programming, and senseless commercials - has been replaced by the self-inflicted shell shock that is the common result of smartphone bombardment. When I talk about the smoke of distraction, I am talking about the internet as the fire that is burning away focus, and like any fire it leaves behind a pile of ashes and the demoralizing prospect of rebuilding. I am tempted to invoke the legend of the phoenix, to take solace in the idea that focus can reemerge in full form only from the smoldering ruins of its own destruction, but I suspect this is merely another distraction, a flight of fancy in a world increasingly grounded in a storm of disconnected information, where left and right wing flap without context, and without unity.

I could go on, perhaps exploring this path that others have stomped into the underbrush, their steps still cooling in the ashes, yet I linger at the opening, radiating indecision, suspecting that the internet is this generation's cigarette, but finding only surface associations in the shallows - I fear the argument would lose my audience, who inconveniently for me is on the internet, and whose attention spans are surely at the breaking point as this essay passes its 700th word, and this sentence, its 90th. The internet is bite-size, brevity is traffic, I must focus. This is my answer, and my question - why should I use a smartphone when its users so frequently express a desire to spend less time with the device? Everyone hit the road and now they are stuck, but they insist on moving faster, they dream of a super superhighway, and only turn back to beckon me forward. It seems logical to wait until the road is clear before I follow their lead, or at least until the vehicle has a brake, but perhaps my thinking is backward - something still lurks here that once scared everyone off my path, it sent them scurrying into the future, this something so terrifying that no one speaks of it, and maybe I should rejoin the pack before I find myself alone with this unspeakable horror.

reading review - life hacks (riff off, awards show, part 2)

Last month's Life Hacks reading review went over like ketchup at a French fry convention, so let's give it another go with a part two - I'll hand out an award to a few more tips and share my additional thoughts. As usual, the line from my book notes is in italics.

The Unnecessary Conditional Award - When hanging with someone new, emphasizing calling the other people by their names to help the new person.

This is undoubtedly a clever strategy, but at some point you'll stop and wonder - why is my default setting to address people without using their names?

The Questionable Authority Award - Three-star reviews tend to have the most honesty.

I agree with the spirit of this hack, and those who recall my comments at the end of last summer may wish to remind me that I only read the three-star reviews when I am considering a new book. The difference for me is that honesty plays no role in my reasoning - I consider the five-star "I LOVED IT OMG!!!" equally honest to any other review. What else are you going to say if you loved it?

The challenge for me is that those types of reviews are entirely unhelpful because I know that on a planet of seven billion people there will be at least one person who thinks of the book as I do of Eureka Street. What I need to know is what the book does uncommonly well, its unique strengths as a work of literature, and I think the three-star review is the best bet for gleaning this information.

The Ancient Japanese Art of Life Hacking Award - Put things back where you looked for them, not where you found them.

This is a brilliant insight, though based on my reviews of Marie Kondo's work from 2016 it does not seem to have been among her recommendations. I suppose this makes some sense as Kondo's methods include a step for determining the right place to store a particular item. This hack works more like the shortcut method of tidying up - instead of making the effort to return an item to its proper place, accept that where you first look for it is where it should be, then leave the item there for next time.

The "Google Regret" Award - Deodorant stops insect bites from itching.

My first reaction was indignant - how did I go three-plus decades without hearing about this one? The thought of all that wasted scratching...

But the other aspect of this hack is rooted in the truth about deodorant, which is easy to think about if you describe this product in the plainest terms - when you smell like the outdoor end of a farm animal, deodorant will domesticate you. How many chemicals do you think Old Spice needs to make that work? I briefly attempted to look this up, but I gave up - let's just say the initial results didn't have the right aroma.

The One I Wish I Figured Out Myself Award - Old toilet paper rolls help organize cords.

Folks, this one hack alone is worth the price of admission, and as we become ever more dependent on our digital overlords there will be an increasing return to being highly organized in the world of cords, cables, and wires. The aspect of this hack that's left me kicking myself is how similar it is to the way I use leftover cardboard boxes for a variety of purposes - shoeboxes store seasonal clothing, a twelve pack of Winter Warmer is an amplifier for my speaker, and an unusually large box sometimes deputizes as part of my standing desk.

The Uphill Runner Award - Having a computer program read a written work back to you is a good way to catch errors.

Paul Graham once used the following analogy to illustrate why he thought the best strategy for a small competitor was to always take the harder of two options:

"Suppose you are a little, nimble guy being chased by a big, fat, bully. You open a door and find yourself in a staircase. Do you go up or down? I say up. The bully can probably run downstairs as fast as you can. Going upstairs his bulk will be more of a disadvantage. Running upstairs is hard for you but even harder for him."

There is also a quote that comes to mind which I (recently) heard on a (not so recent) podcast, paraphrased - You want to know the solution to a recession? Start an hour earlier, end an hour later.

You want to know what I've never done in the history of TOA? The exact advice described in this hack. Why not? It's simply easier to read and reread each essay, to "proofread" in the traditional sense, even though taking ten minutes to read the work aloud to myself would surely result in a more productive revision process. I think a lot of people reach this kind of crossroads in their various pursuits - there is a problem to solve, and the solution is almost obvious, but hard, so the problem remains unsolved.

The One You Can Try On Zoom Award - You can try to catch people watching you by visibly yawning.

If they yawn back, it means they are still paying attention to the call... or that they are tired of the call, I suppose. Who knows? I never do.

TOA Rating: Three hacks out of four.

Back on Sunday, enjoy the rest of the week!

appetizers - superhighway traffic jam

It occurred to me as I wrote this post that the question of getting a smartphone is being resolved by an entirely unforeseen factor - the ascendant technology of the flip phone (1). My current flip phone is far more advanced than any of its predecessors, especially in terms of internet access - I check my email from the phone at least once a day, and in an absolute pinch I've sent emails from the device.

The problem is that praising the flip phone for its internet connection is like praising the dog when it stops humping your leg. The title "most advanced flip phone in the world" is essentially the same thing as "worst smartphone in the world". I fear that as the technology progresses, the flip phone will continue incorporating smartphone features until the two devices are distinguishable only by their quality.  What will happen on that dreaded, Darwinian day? I will be like a sand castle at high tide, left without choice, the kingdom crumbling around me as I rejoin the masses.

Footnotes / admin

1) "Appetizer" instead of "leftover" because the post that inspired this rant is going up on this coming Sunday (it was originally scheduled for last week). 

when the asian is good at math

The numbers are in, and they add up - I'm good at math. I'm also Asian, which might create a problem for you readers out there who've done your homework regarding stereotypes, and the ever-revising standards of political correctness - isn't it problematic to praise me for my math skills? The thinking is that even a positive stereotype reinforces the notion about categorizations being tied to certain abilities. There is a temptation to skirt around the edges of such matters, with perhaps the bravest among us dipping a toe into the water and reporting back to the rest - it's complicated (1). Let me try to simplify the equation. The thing you need to know about me is that I am good at math because I grew up doing a lot of math. I'm not sure if my work rate placed me in the 90th or 95th or 99th percentile in global terms, but as it relates to anyone I met before college I was one of the top two or three hardest workers. I didn't do this alone - there was a lot of support from my parents and a few committed teachers, but the net effect of this support was mostly to get me to do more work, including over the summer and as a part of my hobbies. If you understand this story, you are now free to tell me how good I am at math.

So, I've made this a simple situation - if you know why I am good at math, you can tell me I'm good at math. When I generalize the conclusion, it suggests that if you know why someone is good at something, you can tell them they are good at it even if it reinforces an underlying stereotype. The catch is that this requires effort - just as I had to work on my math skills, you have to work to understand the roots of someone's ability. When I got to college, I met another Asian, and he was far better at math than me. He was also more Asian, to the extent that he grew up in Asia, so I must have wondered. But if there ever was a mystery regarding his superiority in math, I must have solved it from working together on a problem set, or from a late-night observation walking past his table at the library, or perhaps I got the clues from his roommate - he was better at math than me because he worked harder on math than me. Life, like math, can be simple, but you have to work on it until you can work it out.

The problem with the "positive stereotype" - like the Asian who is good at math - seems on the surface a little different from the problem of the more sinister variant - like the Asian is the coronavirus. Frankly, the positive version doesn't seem like a problem to some people, just as it once didn't seem like much of a problem to me. But I came around to the realization that a stereotype is a stereotype, whether it reinforces a positive quality or otherwise, because at the core of any stereotype is a refusal to learn about someone else. A positive stereotype is like winning your bet at the roulette table - the reward obscures the fact that if you keep doing the same thing, you are going to lose. If you think Asians are good at math, then each Asian you meet who happens to be good at math is going to make you feel a bit more confident about beating the house. I can't use this fact to predict exactly what you'll think about the next Asian person you meet, but my bet is that you'll repeat your process, the low-effort approach of associations and assumptions, which means your next thought won't have much to do with this person at all, though of course it will be projected onto him or her. It's only a matter of time before you get it wrong, and though we can hope that no one else is harmed by your slothful thinking, my experience suggests otherwise.

When people have made mistakes about me, it seems that they assumed I would speak, behave, or respond in some way consistent with the stereotypes ascribed to a broader descriptor - male, athlete, Asian, cyclist, bachelor, millennial, reader, Bostonian, it goes on; the perplexing thing is how often this happens with people who already know me beyond these categories. I think the reason has something to do with how much effort it takes to replace an initial impression with a personalized explanation, an effort that seems increasingly unreasonable each time our gut instinct proves its prescience. It's a desire for efficiency, and as a math guy I can speak to the value of efficiency, but when it comes to relating to other people I don't consider efficiency a very important factor. Do you think back fondly on your favorite people and say - you know, those people were great, they were so efficient with me? The argument for efficiency is that it saves time and effort, but those happen to be key ingredients for building strong relationships, and absolutely essential for their maintenance and reinforcement. The positive stereotype trades these commodities for efficiency, which is like refusing to throw the ball during a game of catch so that everyone can save their energy. Why make the effort to start if you can't make the effort to keep going? Maybe it's easier this way, to live out our assigned roles rather than risk discovering what we never knew about each other, but I don't think it adds up.

Footnotes

1) It's so complicated that I actually found something helpful on NPR. I think it's a good overview of all the factors in the situation as perceived from various perspectives, but I would offer one revision for the flimsy final sentence - instead of turning the conclusion outward, point it at the readers and remind them that the people who use stereotypes are the ones who are failing. 

trip to bermuda

I lost my knife today. It's a Bermudan situation, mostly because the search area covers the space between my sink and my table, which is a rectangle of fifteen square feet - it's impossible to lose anything here, or was. I've been looking for a while, but I've just about given up. 

It's not a crisis, I have other knives, and of course I can always turn to the so-called free market, but I doubt there is a replacement. This knife was almost magical for the way it cut through anything, with one exception - me. No matter how my hand slipped, no matter how unfocused I was on the task, no matter how badly I sliced my shot, this knife never left a cut, never drew blood. It was like it could tell me, bluntly, how badly I messed up, but without making it hurt. Some people spend their whole lives looking for this quality, and the rest don't know any better; I can spare a few more minutes for my search.

reading clearout - march 2021

Hi,

A few more thoughts on some recent reading that won't make it into a full review.

Behind the Beautiful Forevers by Katherine Boo (December 2020)

I first read this book in 2014, and the experience prompted me to write some profound nonsense a few years later (1). I return today in the aftermath of my recent rereading with nothing to add to those thoughts despite a lengthier set of book notes. Instead, I offer a reemphasis of a point Boo observes throughout her book - the powerless are defined by their collective inability to come together, and in the worst-case scenario will compete among themselves for meager and temporary gains.

Heating & Cooling by Beth Ann Fennelly (January 2021)

I feel no compulsion to provide a recommendation, one way or the other, for these fifty-two "micro-memoirs" because the time commitment for any reader is comparable to a couple weeks of TOA - by the time you decide whether my endorsement was right or wrong, the book will be over. I should note that I reread "Bad Break" and "Another Missing Chapter in the Parenting Handbook", which happened to be among the two longest essays in the book, so read into that what you will (2). One comment I scribbled into my book notes may resonate with recent TOA readers - the length of these essays necessitated what I described as the cold open, and I felt many of Fennelly's pieces demonstrated the value of this tactic when there is no time to waste.

Not Quite Not White by Sharmila Sen (July 2019)

I regret not posting my thoughts on this book earlier, a feeling generated by the range of comments in my book notes, the universal truth that it's hard to retain the thread of any work a year and a half after the fact, and perhaps most importantly the reality that the world has changed in some tangible ways since I read this book; it's feasible I could discuss Sen's ideas in the workplace. Her memoir tells the story of trying to find her place in American culture after emigrating from India at the age of twelve, with much of this book illuminating the shadows between the lines of America's neat racial designations; the unseen space is where you find the stories of convenient minorities - they fit into the dominant culture but retain enough difference to reprise a role as the necessary scapegoat. As Sen notes, the lines that separate society require constant maintenance, and the work makes groups of people invisible to each other - her book is an example of how storytelling is a powerful tool to break apart the categories that divide us.

Footnotes

1) OK, I'll actually say for once - I was surprised to find a mostly coherent, occasionally intelligent post from May 2017; I had potential, as they say.

2) What I would conclude is - I prefer longer essays. While I'm here, I should admit that I technically also reread Richard Russo's blurb on the back cover, which claimed something along the lines of "reading this book is better than 95 of the 100 things you enjoy doing most". Is that the single worst endorsement in the history of literature, or do I need to find better things to do? As always, I suspect the latter.

the toa newsletter, march 2021 - part two

Yesterday was fun, wasn't it? But I admit that I got a little carried away by the interruptive allure of breaking news. Let's use part two today to close the loop with a look at some non-pandemic thoughts from February.

Implied on February 14 - if you give people time, they will innovate

Statement on March 1 - if you don't give people time, they cannot innovate

I think someone who approached this post with an organization's perspective would be best served by rereading it with the following in mind - an individual's strengths do not emerge as a simple function of passing time. In the case of a creative type, the way to bring the quality forward is by offering protected time, but other strengths will require a different tactical plan; you can lead a horse to water, but it won't drink unless its thirsty.

Implied on February 9 - soccer is popular because it's inclusive

Statement on March 1 - soccer is popular because other sports are exclusive

Exclusion is the existential threat to soccer's place atop the global sports popularity leaderboard, but the reality is that other sports are so far behind in this regard that it's unlikely they will be able to take advantage of a slip or two from the world's game. Those immersed in the insular culture of their own sports have a hard time grasping this reality, perhaps because they ignore simple questions such as "why was futsal invented in order to make use of a basketball court?" The fact is that even after all the infrastructure spending on hardwood, paint, and baskets, a five-a-side game that keeps the ball at the feet is more inclusive than the hands-on pioneer - the ball moves faster when it's impossible for one person to hold it for a few seconds at a time, unless of course you are headed for bigger things. 

Implied on February 7 - if someone isn't good at accepting feedback, it's fruitless to offer them additional feedback

Statement on March 1 - feedback is a bit of a buzzword

I suspect most people have a narrow conception of feedback - it's a specific form or portion of a conversation - which is the sense I use the term in the above comments. I feel that this represents feedback as a kind of buzzword, and I think it would be helpful if people broadened their understanding of feedback to encompass the full range of how we communicate information.

It may be the case that a world where we respond to advice, instruction, or criticism with a salute and an "aye aye!" could be more productive, but anyone who has spent time with another human being will understand why this is an unrealistic expectation. From my experience, people respond differently depending on the manner of communication, and those who are interested in working out these specifics as it relates to every individual are the ones cut out for leadership - everyone else should spare themselves the hassle. If someone doesn't respond to a direct comment, try a different approach, like asking questions or inviting reactions to something outside the present discussion. For those who always know best, create ways to fail safely so that valuable "learning" mistakes are acquired at the lowest possible cost.

Implied on February 1 - the TOA newsletter is generally useless

Statement on March 1 - the TOA newsletter is always useless

Thanks for reading! See you in March. 

proper corona admin, vol 98: the toa newsletter - march 2021

It's another month, which means another newsletter - time to state rather than imply things.

Implied on February 28 - vaccinated

Statement on March 1 - vaccinated

There were a couple of bumps on the way, but the conclusion to yesterday's story is that I'm now fully vaccinated, at least by the standards of our time. The first dose was on February 4, which left me in an almost immediate daze - it felt like I had a thirty-six hour concussion from almost the minute the needle left my arm. My second dose was in the early afternoon of February 25, but I didn't notice any side effects during the first few hours. It wasn't until the overnight that I felt the chills, fever, and light nausea predicted in the Pfizer FAQs, but those were tolerable.

The next morning proved the biggest challenge - I woke up with the kind of headache that I'd previously associated with a pint glass of whiskey, where you can't tell if it's the pain or the dizziness that's knocking you down. It started bad and became worse, my condition regressing throughout the morning despite a cup of yogurt, a little coffee, and plenty of water. By 11AM, I couldn't stand up for more than a minute or two at a time, so I gave up and passed the rest of the day lying down. A slight improvement came at around 6PM, but I still couldn't fathom eating. I awoke the next morning five pounds lighter and sloom fatigued, with a sore lower back testament to the prior day spent on bed rest. Luckily, my back was the worst of my remaining problems, and although I remained groggy throughout an otherwise normal weekend I felt much better than I did on that first full day after the second dose.

The official TOA recommendation - take a day or two off after you get your second dose. 

Implied on February 28 - confusion about priority groups

Statement on March 1 - resignation that I will never know

I noted that confusion was my initial reaction to the vaccine offer, and I described the challenge of finding publicly available information that would help me understand the decision. A month later and I still haven't found what I was looking for, though I do have something of a digital paper trail for my bewilderment - this article from January 22 notes the contradicting information while a January 23 report states "everyone on [a hospital's] staff" is eligible, as if it was entirely expected, or reasonable, or that such news carried no potential for controversy. This transcript from a January 28 NPR show seems like an appropriate summary - a list of statements related to the situation that fails to explain or understand the decision, though to its credit it does confirm that the state made a choice; I can't help but feel that such reporting is more distracting than helpful, however, particularly when it takes the form of a fact parade that fools the audience into feeling informed without taking that critical step to find the information hiding in the details.

It's telling that the news of my vaccination has surprised every single person I've told about it, including a friend who is a nurse practitioner at a local hospital. Here's what it comes down to - in mid-January, I was at the back of the line, then something changed in the next week that propelled me to the front. So what changed? I feel a lot of people deserve an answer, but the fact that I can hardly find even a bulletin about the decision itself suggests a large segment of the population remains in the dark. These people, having been denied the information required to formulate the question in the first place, are left in a dangerous situation - they will be asked to maintain trust in leadership that, at best, is inconsistent with its collection and distribution of information. The rest of us, or at least those with a sense of discretion, are faced with a different peril - we have to decide, on a conversation by conversation basis, who gets the truth, for in the best-case scenario we'll be asked to defend a decision about which we were never consulted; at worst, well, at least for me, I suppose no one needs an excuse to attack an Asian these days, but even verbal abuse can be an unsettling experience.

I am not of the opinion that this anecdote represents a larger communication concern - my bet is that leadership is focused on larger priorities. Still, I wish it had played out differently. It strikes me as a reckless approach to withhold information, particularly in this moment when many are citing a lack of trust in leadership as an explanation for their concern, hesitation, or outright refusal to take the vaccine; the only consistent outcome of withholding information is that people will wonder about what else is being withheld from them. I worry that each person I surprise with the news regarding my vaccination will lose a little bit of trust in the government, even if this loss is barely perceptible; the long-term side effect I fear the most starts with the erosion of trust.