Goodbye, Tech Focus.

020/365: Number 7I’ve spent a year not really publishing anything, though there was a lot of writing as well as reading and looking over things that I have written and done.

It’s no surprise that most of my writing has been about technology; most of my working life has been with technology of one sort or another.

There are a few problems with that:
(1) Everything is outdated almost as soon as it’s published. I call this the O’Reilly Problem.
(2) Technology is a crapshoot. It doesn’t matter if a technology is better or worse, it matters whether it survives – and that survival has a lot to do with how used it becomes and how well defended by lawyers it is.
(3) No amount of testing assures that a technology will work in any given situation. I call this the Microsoft Problem.
(4) Technology has become boring for me because it invariably follows the same patterns because, at the core, how we deal with technology hasn’t changed because it exists in bureaucracies that are as efficient at turning as the Exxon Valdez.

And so, because of this, I am not drifting away from writing with technology as a focus – something I have been doing anyway, I found with analysis – but by actively steering away from tech focus.

This doesn’t mean that technology won’t be involved, or I won’t write about it at all. It’s just not going to be the center of what I write.

Creativity, Education and Employment Simplified

If I Need Something, I'll Invent ItI’ve been thinking about creativity and technical stuff for… well, for most of my life. It was a few decades ago that I made peace with the two in the mind of a son of a poet and engineer.

It’s not complicated, but it continues to be unexplained by so many experts that I won’t bother linking them. And it is a real problem, as even NASA scientists have found.

In one paragraph:

Creativity is basically not thinking like other people do. Education systems create standardized ways of thinking.

Right there is the answer. Albert Einstein alluded to it frequently, speaking of levels of thinking that solve problems being different than the level that created them, or about imagination, etc.

So, in an education system – in any system – you see creativity in outliers. People who don’t think like everyone else are considered creative even when they themselves may not consider themselves creative.

And that is where things get complicated. If everyone approaches problems the same way, they are measured the same way in education and employment systems (the two are almost the same these days)… are we surprised that creativity diminishes within the systems?

Maybe the cause of that surprise is the education system. After all, people studying the systems are byproducts of the systems and are using the standardized tools to study things in the hope to find how to become… less standard.

This is why we should laugh at the world more.

The Settling Dilemma.

Happy WriterI’ve been experiencing new things, and old things differently. Things that maybe the majority of people take for granted, or don’t think about.

Like dishwashing liquid.

To me, the novelty of large bottles of purchasing a large bottle of dishwashing liquid made no sense. Consider: I have not stayed in any one spot longer than 9 years, since childhood.

I have averaged 2 years and 6 months in one spot. The longest I have spent in one spot is 6 years, the majority of places I have lived I have done so for a year or less.

So a big bottle of dishwashing liquid was a strange idea. I buy them now.

Toilet paper? Same thing. How many rolls do you actually need, as a single male? And then, should you have to move, do you really want to lug around a wholesale bargain of toilet paper? No. Try explaining that at the airport.

The idea of settling down has been proposed to me by many, usually in the context of a significant other, in my case a woman. The idea is not a bad one if you can stand people for long periods of time; there are few that I can stand longer than a few hours, less I can stand a day. A lifetime? There were a few I would have chanced in my lifetime so far, but they didn’t work out.

So settling down to me, a minimalist by nature and by nurture, is more about ‘nesting’. Buying a big bottle of dishwashing liquid is me settling. I’m still working my way up to a bulk toilet paper purchase, though this far into my life I don’t want to overshoot.

When I die, “Who gets all this toilet paper?” is not a question I think I want to be remembered by.

“Man, he was a cranky old misanthrope, but he left us all this toilet paper, and we’re grateful. We haven’t bought any in a few decades.”

No.

My point here is that what many people are accustomed to is still a novelty to me. Little details of life that most take for granted border on overwhelming for me to consider – not that I cannot manage this transition, but looking at how and why my life has been so different and the consequences it has had.

Even down to purchasing a bottle of dishwashing liquid.

Mr. Bojangles

A Brazilian friend of mine told me that there is a saying there: “As long as there are people clapping the madman will dance”.

As simple as that is, it merits considering that even as we clap, we dance, and as we dance, we clap, as do the people around us, as do the people we agree with, as do the people we disagree with.

Mr. Bojangles suddenly gained new meaning to me.

The Honest Answers.

k7223-7Once upon a time, when life was a little idyllic, somewhere before age 9, we were going on a picnic – my mother, father and myself – and she asked this little boy what kind of sandwich he wanted.

Without thinking, I blurted out that I wanted Genoa Salami and swiss on rye with a pickle on the side, and a Coke, please.

My parents stared at me. My mother looked at my father, and while I could not see her face I saw his full response. He shrugged, arched an eyebrow, “If he doesn’t eat it, he won’t eat.”

So she proceeded to make the sandwich under my careful supervision, with me handling the mustard – we didn’t have fancy mustard back then – just so. And all was well in the world at lunch time when I devoured that sandwich in front of my puzzled parents and actually wanted the other sandwich that I had begged my mother to create while telling her how pretty she was. “The Snowman”, she would call me.

This all came to mind in the fast food aisle at the grocery store today because, as luck would have it, I was picking up Salami and Swiss (and I’m baking my own rye).

It dawned on me, right there and then, that this was the most honest answer I had ever given anyone… ever. There was no thought. There was no questioning. There was simply the assembly of ingredients in my mind that came straight out of the mind of a 7 year old, without guile, without a hidden agenda, without even influence.

I was asked what I wanted. I was able to answer without worrying about expectation, what the other person would want to hear, and so on.

For a long time, I lost that, and if I’m honest with myself, it is even now difficult after years of my self-rehabilitation.

Children, in happy homes – and up til age 9 or so, mine was – have that gift of honesty. They don’t care. They say it. They mean it, and the only trouble is that they don’t necessarily have the words or data to express it as best they can to adults that aren’t as honest with themselves.

We go through our lives, thinking we’re giving honest answers, when so many aren’t.

Nothing of Consequence

¬©#74A few people who I have run into lately have asked the standard question: “What have you been up to?”, a troublesome question of cultural dimension.

My answer lately has been, “Nothing of consequence.”, and the reactions to that have been interesting to note.

One of the more mature human beings I know, Mark Lyndersay, took it in stride, perhaps because I have been uncharacteristically open with him a few times.

Others, though, seem boggled by my response. The modern human condition, most certainly as fatal as it ever was, comes with a need to demonstrate some level of progress to others. It is expected that the progress will be exaggerated to some degree – some overdo that – but there is this need to report some level of moving forward in the context of society.

Buying a house. Buying a car. Getting a better job, or promotion, a new significant other, the removal of an old significant other… all the way down to minutiae, like buying new clothing or something that somehow is supposed to improve¬†status.

And this, in turn, is used by others who are connected to you to show others the value of their status being connected to you, and so on. This is how those networks are built.

So to tell people you are doing nothing of consequence, whether true or not, is amusing, and I think productive.

It’s a reality check. When I think of what I have worthy to report, I think of what will be remembered not even 100 years from now, but 20, and in this day of age it boils down to…

Nothing of consequence.