Rethinking blogging: Some reflections

As I hinted in a previous post, I’ve been feeling more compelled to write recently. And blogging seems like the most suitable venue for it! I’ve recently been inspired by Lifehacker posts like this and this, and also by a fascinating article in Scientific American that spoke deeply to this brain-tumour patient. But in a larger sense, as I explained earlier, I’ve been inspired by the growing feeling that I need to create something, and find sources of self-development, motivation, and satisfaction outside of my coursework and co-op job duties. There’s also the fact that I’m currently on crutches and unable to explore Toronto as thoroughly as I had wanted to this summer...but that’s a story for another day!

I’ve been hesitant to use my blog for a while, and I think there’s a few things at play here. First is that back in 2007, when I created this blog, I think I saw it as a fairly simple way of publishing interesting links, with the hope that maybe further discussion would ensue. (Nowadays, of course, I tend to do this on Facebook – but back in 2007, I think links were relegated to a different part of your profile rather than showing up with your statuses and everything else.) Starting in 2009 or so, however, I started to post some more “long-form” writing. University makes you think through everything in a bit more depth, I guess, so this is the path I’d like to continue on, even if the long-form writing looks inconsistent with my earlier blog posts. But the ironic thing here is that university also tends to sap any excess intellectual energy out of me, so it’s made this sort of long-form writing and the ensuing discussion more taxing for me (my deepest apologies, Luke).

The other issue is that I’m toying with the idea of creating a personal website again, but using it more for professional purposes, with these lengthier blog posts and a digital portfolio. So in the meantime, I’ve been hesitant to put more effort into this here Blogger blog. (Really personal blog posts, however, would stay here.) I recently used WordPress to build a new website for my church, and fell in love with it, so I’d want to use WordPress instead of Blogger for the new site. I’d blog about environmental and social-justice issues, like I’ve tended to since 2009, but I’d also like to get into topics of Geomatics and geography, human–computer interaction, and my various discoveries during daily life as a computer geek. In another previous post, I quoted from science-fiction author Bruce Sterling’s column about simplifying your life by getting miscellany out of your time-space. I re-read this piece every now and then, and there’s several things in it that I rather disagree with, but something that always jumps out at me is this point: (emphasis his)

Experiments need to be slotted into some larger context of research, and their results need to be communicated to other practitioners. That's what makes them true "experiments" instead of private fetishes.

If you're buying weird tech gizmos, you need to know what you are trying to prove by that. You also need to tell other people useful things about it. If you are truly experimenting, then you are doing something praiseworthy. You may be wasting some space and time, but you'll be saving space and time for others less adventurous. Good.

If you're becoming a techie magpie packrat who never leaves your couch – that's not good. Forget the shiny gadget. You need to look in the shiny mirror.

The thing about buying weird tech gizmos isn’t particularly relevant to me, as I’m notoriously frugal, and I also spend most of my digital time on my laptop. But it occurs to me that even my laptop exploits can sometimes be considered mere hedonism if there isn’t some intention of sharing my discoveries. That is to say, the various apps I test out for my own purposes and the solutions to random problems I have with Windows might be worth talking about, especially if they can make someone else’s life easier. I don’t intend to become Paul Thurrott or anything, but I think it would be interesting to share random tips I might come across.

So that’s the idea at the moment. Since I’m just not sure I can wait any longer, I’ve been working on a few other blog posts which I'll hopefully share within the next week or so: one on golf, one on the relationship between karma and crutches, and one on rethinking my use of Facebook. I can also think of a couple tech-related blog posts I could write fairly efficiently: one on a little-known-but-pesky Windows Vista bug I investigated a few years ago, and one on my varied opinions of Windows 8 and 8.1. Looking forward to seeing where this goes!

A brief history of the past few months, Part I

This is something I’ve been meaning to do for a while now. When I learned about my brain tumour, a friend from church suggested that I write about my experiences. That didn’t happen, but I still think it’s worth chronicling, if only to have a record of it for myself.

Since I wasn’t really keeping track of this stuff as it happened, what follows is, as Margaret Atwood’s heroine Offred would say, a “reconstruction”. I’ll try not to recount every detail of every doctor’s appointment I’ve had, but even so, my condensed version will require a lot of text, so I’ll spare you the eye strain and do this in chunks. Think of it as episodes in a serial medical drama.

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PROLOGUE:

• 2007:
  • I’m talking with friends in the TDCH Commons at lunch, and I realize that it’s hard for me to hear them. I cup my right ear in their direction, and it seems to help.
  • I realize that I’m having a hard time hearing the people who sit to my left on the schoolbus.
  • It’s the TDCH talent show, and I’m working as a stagehand, helping the acts with their microphones as they go on and off the stage. The people working at the sound booth gave me a headset so I could hear their instructions. Except that it was one of those headsets that only has one ear, and it was made for the left ear. By this time, I had a slight suspicion that my left ear was a bit weaker than my right ear ("Just like being left-eye- or right-eye-dominant," I told myself at the time). And sure enough, I could barely understand their instructions, leading to some embarrassing misunderstandings (really embarrassing given that one of the guys on sound – a friend of one of the teachers – was a Juno-nominated producer).
• 2008:
  • I noticed that I was having problems swallowing dry foods like bagels. The stuff seemed to get stuck in the upper part of my throat until I washed it down with water. I had a barium swallow at a nearby hospital, but the images didn’t show anything suspicious.
  • One day, I talked with my grandmother on the phone, and, trying to multitask, I held the phone against my left ear. I could barely make out the words she was saying. I spent the rest of the afternoon lying on the couch – I suppose I was stressed out by it at the time.
• 2009:
  • On the way to a band practice with Dad one morning, I mentioned how I definitely thought my hearing was getting worse; my estimate was that I had lost 15-20% of the hearing in my left ear, and gained a strange hiss in its place. I had a hearing test at the doctor’s office – the most basic hearing test you can imagine. It showed no hearing loss.
  • I was still having problems swallowing, so I was referred to an ENT (ear/nose/throat) specialist in Sarnia. While I was there, I mentioned about my hearing loss, and I had a more sophisticated hearing test there. My estimate of 15-20% turned out to be pretty accurate – but the hearing loss was mainly in the lowest and highest frequencies. Based on this characteristic and the hissing, the ENT specialist suspected that my auditory nerve was damaged, and he sent me for a CT scan at the local hospital.
  • The CT scan didn’t show anything suspicious. So, since it was nerve damage and not eardrum damage, it was the sort of thing no hearing aid could fix – make the sound as loud as you want, and it still won't make it to the brain. I was just going to have to live with the nerve damage and hope it didn’t get worse. I imagined myself walking from class to class at Waterloo that fall, messenger bag slung over my shoulders, trying to be a hip university student, and still having this annoying hiss in my ear.
  • During the early part of the summer, I went for acupuncture to try and fix my hearing. Didn’t work.
  • Oddly enough, once I stopped the acupuncture, my hearing got worse. To the point where I told my classmates at Waterloo that I was basically deaf in my left ear, so if you’re going to walk beside me, walk on my right side if you want me to hear you.
  • My hearing loss didn’t go unmentioned when I would phone my parents from Waterloo. Shortly before Christmas, Mom called the ENT specialist to get me in for another hearing test while I would be home for Christmas. Being the only ENT clinic in Sarnia, they were booked solid, but they said they could squeeze me in when I would be at home for Reading Week.

NEXT TIME…“SWEET! I had forgotten about that!”

"The Right Man For the Job": A Short Story

In Grade 11 English class, we were shown this photo, without being told who the subject of the photo was. We had to imagine who he might have been, and write about him, relating his story to our interests in some way. This is who I made him.

It's certainly the best piece of fiction I've ever written, though of course that's not saying much since I tend to stick to non-fiction. Here it is, with a couple minor word changes:

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THE RIGHT MAN FOR THE JOB
By Jonathan Van Dusen

EDINBURGH, 1894.

Click, tap, clack, thwump. Click, tap, clack, thwump. Click, tap, clack, thwump.

It was a sound that grew monotonous, but Reynolds knew that the process took patience. He watched the gears turn, the steel output rods dancing up and down to the mechanical beat, and the stack of punch cards that the analytical engine swallowed one by one. He crinkled his nose as he watched the translucent puffs of steam fly out the window into the Victorian winter.

It had been two weeks since his consultation with the local Science Council. His analytical engine was the sort of phenomenon they had only heard about in their yearly conferences in London, when Charles Babbage had introduced his machine, and Ada Lovelace her visions for this invention. But Babbage had been dead for decades now, and his visions for these mechanical mathematical machines had never been truly realized.

This is where Ronald Reynolds came in. He had spent thirty years of his life teaching logic and mathematics, which led to an interest in these analytical engines. His machine was but his hobby, something that he worked on simultaneously with the garden behind his city house. He saw logic as another aspect of the beauty he experienced in this garden, and it was this rustic nature that him from shaving a beard that was turning increasingly grey, and kept him in the sort of unpretentious clothes one would not expect from someone in the Edinburgh city centre.

The Council had said they would send a carriage to transport him to their weekly lunchtime meeting. Noticing on his pocket watch that the time was growing nearer for his departure, Reynolds placed a piece of plywood in the machine’s gears to lock them, and left the house. The carriage arrived at exactly the specified time, and took him to the building the Council had been renting. He was escorted upstairs to their spacious boardroom, where twelve men, seated at a long oak table, were regarding him with a mix of curiosity and excitement.

“Good day, Mr. Reynolds,” came the greeting from a smiling, portly man at the head of the table. It was Higgins, their leader, who had taken an interest in Reynolds' work due to an acquaintance with Babbage himself. He motioned for Reynolds to sit across from him, at the other end.

“We have reviewed your application for a grant. We recognise the usefulness of your discoveries, the potential uses by the military. To this end” – Reynolds shifted nervously in his chair as Higgins began to smile – “we are prepared to invest £5000 in this project.”

Reynolds grinned. “My deepest thanks, gentlemen! I am convinced that this will be of benefit to us all.”

“As are we,” nodded Higgins, who then took a sip of his tea. “However, our grant comes with a condition. Mr. Burton?” He pointed to another seated man.

The young man named Burton stood and nodded towards Reynolds, smiling.

Higgins continued. “Mr. Burton’s current field of study is that of electricity. We assume you are familiar with, for instance, the current studies of Edison and Bell?”

Reynolds gave a small sigh and nodded. He was familiar with the field and found it intriguing, but he had always wondered if such applications would ever truly enter the mainstream. After all, no households owned telegraphs, did they?

“Our friend Mr. Burton is experimenting with such things, and is spending a particular amount of time on the concept for an electric version of your math machine.”

Reynolds raised his eyebrows as Burton, still standing, cleared his throat.

“My training lies in electricity, Mr. Reynolds, and yours in mathematics. We have seen many advances in electricity lately, and we have come to the decision that much of the coming century will involve further advances, possibly to the demise of the mechanical trades within the next few decades. But with electricity, the possibilities are endless. Imagine your logic, contained inside a box the size of a loaf of bread!”

Higgins regained control. “As such, we will give you the grant on the condition that you use your logic skills and experience to aid Mr. Burton with his research; a fusion of sorts between the two areas of study.”

Reynolds leaned back in the padded chair and took a slow drink of tea. It was an avenue he had never considered and didn’t know how to respond to. He would have been perfectly content, oh yes, to use a grant on his beloved apparatus, and then present it to interested clients. He frowned slightly, all eyes on him, as he wondered if it was possible to teach an old scholar new tricks.

He sat up slowly. “It if is possible, gentlemen, would you grant me some more time to consider this proposal?”

Higgins took a look around the table, his face showing both disappointment and irritation. “Very well. You have until our meeting next week to reach a decision.”

Reynolds stood up, put on his coat, and said thank-you. He used the carriage ride home as a chance to gather his thoughts. As they approached the house, however, he could identify the bitter smells of a steam engine, but a smell far stronger than he was accustomed to. Minutes passed, and he noticed the wafts of not just steam, but smoke rising from a corner of his house.

He realised his mistake at once: prior to leaving, he had locked the machine’s gears in place, but had never turned off the steam engine. The machine had overheated, and he entered the workshop to find a warped rack of steel, with gears fused together, and ashes for punch cards.

The fabled analytical machine, the object of Reynolds’ devotion, was no longer.

But its successor was needed, and as Ronald Reynolds sorted through his surviving notes on the fundamentals of logic, he realized that he was still the man for the job.

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The Right Man For the Job by Jonathan Van Dusen is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 Canada License.

Consumerism Conscience

This is a speech I wrote and presented as a Grade 12 English assignment, and the topic is something about which I am quite passionate. (If you’ve really been paying attention, you might recognize Sterling’s quote from my “Favorite Quotes” on Facebook.) Bear in mind that it was written as a speech – by which I mean that I would have written it differently were it an essay, commentary, or blog post.

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The man worked at a Wal-Mart on Long Island. His death occurred on Friday, November 28^th, 2008, a day when most of the nation was looking the other way. You see, the day was 2008’s “Black Friday”, the first day of the December shopping season. So how did the worker die? He didn’t die in a car accident in the New York traffic. He was not mugged on the street on his way to work. On the contrary, he died at work around 6:00 A.M., after being trampled by a crowd of avid shoppers.

With this in mind, I must say that I am not here today to tell you to live like cavemen. I am not here today to claim that Wal-Mart is evil. However, I am here today to give you a chance to reflect on a societal habit that our age group often overlooks. Because the more I look at our society, the more I grow convinced that our biggest threat is one for which we are all responsible: our consumer culture.

In truth, consumerism has dominated humanity for most of its civilized existence. A civilization’s economy helped it expand, trade led to cultures and empires discovering each other, and trade routes eventually led to the global village we have today. But the irony is that this global village is now being damaged by the consumerism that helped create it, and the effects are worse than ever.

We see this when basic commodities are made in foreign countries, made by the hands of women and children paid little for their efforts. This is not just. And we see this when, in the middle of a cold Canadian winter, supermarket produce departments are filled with foods that have been shipped from warm tropical climates half a world away, just to get to our dinner table. This is not sustainable.

We also see this when our global village is linked by a media that serves only to advertise. We complain about advertisements when they interrupt television programs or websites, but do we ever try to reject the mentality that gives us these ads? Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, we are being told to buy items we don’t really need. We are being told that buying these items will increase our self-worth and outward image. We are being told all this through whatever forms of media we choose, but unlike in previous generations, our modern media is so deep and so far-reaching that it we often turn it into our own personal universe, a cocoon made from the messages we like best.

I would like to close by going back to the Black Friday movement. A group called Adbusters has created a counter-movement, called “Buy Nothing Day”. This day intentionally falls on Black Friday, every year. A peer of mine commented, upon hearing of the idea, that buying nothing that day would be a “stupid” idea, because of the day’s lower prices. But ultimately, neither Black Friday nor Buy Nothing Day is about prices. If we are to try and weaken the pull and temptation of consumerism, what better time is there to do it than on consumerism’s strongest and most tempting day? So I encourage you to not only participate in Buy Nothing Day this coming year, but also to be conscious for the rest of the year of the things you buy, want and need. Science fiction author Bruce Sterling recently said it best:

It’s not bad to own fine things that you like. What you need are things that you GENUINELY [sic] like. Things that you cherish, that enhance your existence in the world. The rest is dross.

Dross. Anything that is trivial, that has no worth.

Dross. Waste, impurities, scum.

What in your life enhances your existence? And what in your life is merely dross? My challenge to you is to reflect on this. But don’t just stop there: do what you can to remove this dross from your life.

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Bibliography (Works Cited)

“dross.” Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary. 2009. Merriam-Webster Online. 12 February 2009 <http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/dross>.

“dross.” Wiktionary. 26 Oct. 2008. Wikimedia Foundation. 12 Feb. 2009 <http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/dross>.

Long, Colleen. “Wal-Mart worker dies in Black Friday trampling.” Sympatico/MSN Finance. 28 Nov. 2008. Associated Press. 12 Feb. 2009 <http://finance.sympatico.msn.ca/investing/insight/article.aspx?cp-documentid=14539064>.

Sterling, Bruce. “The Last Viridian Note.” Viridian. 19 Nov. 2008. 12 Feb. 2009 <http://www.viridiandesign.org/notes/451-500/the_last_viridian_note.html>.

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Developing a Conscience for Canada's Consumerism Culture by Jonathan Van Dusen is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 Canada License.