It took awhile for me to realize the full suite of services Google had available even after I had signed up for Gmail, which was my initial entry-point. Next it was Google Calendar, then Google Docs, Google Alerts and, finally, Google Reader.
(Clearly I'm late to the party on RSS feeds, but please, humor me for a moment. If you're feeling generous, perhaps humor me for the entire post.)
RSS is really an astounding way to keep abreast (heh, abreast) of information of all sorts. I've got my major news outlets, my Deal Alerts (in case, for some reason, I develop disposable income), enthusiast websites, my favorite blogs... one would think it would be an information overload. And in a way it is; there's no way you could ever read all of this material and still find time to bathe in the morning. The beauty, then, is how this information is summarized and displayed in snippets of text, a sea of fortune cookie messages for you to browse and cherry-pick.
I'm giving this more thought than I might normally because I went to an MIT museum event that was centered around social networking and the increasing rapidity with which information technology is created and assimilated into the culture; unfortunately, what I walked away with was a sense of unease more than anything else. There's something kind of scary about consuming media at that rate; whenever I load up Reader I get a sense of being Ozymandias, watching the world on his wall. Admit this: Eminently skimmable and completely customizable, feed readers are clearly the direction that technology and society are headed, in terms of how we digest information. It's not beyond the realm of possibility to think that in 20 years the DSM won't even recognize ADD as a disorder; instead, constant, thought-obliterating multi-tasking and info-skimming will be cultural survival skills. Our kids will grow up hearing voices, not because they're schizophrenic, but because they're constantly plugged into the rolling, shouting, voice-aggregate of the web (which I'm now contributing to with this blog! Oh noes, the caucophany!)
Alarmist, I know. But you have to wonder how things will turn out as information technology propels us towards post-history. I will say this, though: Whatever else may terrify and bewilder my 85-year-old future self, I'm going to rock the videogames. Silver lining, people!
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Snowboarding... you mean, like the Playstation game?
The past few weeks have been a busy time for me. Admittedly, my lifestyle is based on a core 35/65% split of work to leisure, so it doesn't take much to be a busy week for Evan - doing two loads of laundry and unloading the dishwasher would almost certainly qualify as a "frantic day." Still, it's all relative, and this is my word-space, so let's just say I've been "Evan-busy." Also, this provides an excellent excuse for why I haven't been writing!
It's rare that I leave the house for the express purpose of physical activity. Really, I'm a utilitarian sort of guy, so as a corollary to other goals I might deem exertion appropriate (e.g. walking to get a burrito, running from the scene of a crime, etc). Snowboarding, however, is an end in itself - a mode of transport with no explicit destination - and so isn't easy to justify by the aforementioned logic. And when you consider the expense, the early wake-up, the cold, the discomfort - these are all factors which work against my participation in the sport.
Yet, in spite of all that, Saturday was a gorgeous day to be snowboarding. I know because I went, and it was amazing; it was a perfect reminder that I do actually enjoy the outdoors. I forget this sometimes, but being on the mountain, feeling the wind's whip and the snow rushing beneath you, even the occasional crash, these are all thrilling, important sensations without which you can feel disconnected. It was so good, in fact, that even after I had bled a full day pass dry the urge for "one more run" remained.
The mountain wasn't enormous, but the lines were short and the conditions perfect. Really, my only complaint is that they falsely advertised themselves as having a trail named "Gobbler's Knob." That unseemly bit of British dick humor must have been discovered and eliminated, much to our disappointment. Eating free Chinese buffet is a salve upon the soul, however. So in the final appraisal, I have to say this past Saturday gets an A-plus.
What does this mean for my philosophy of pasty-faced indolence? The future is uncertain. Perhaps this summer I will experience this "ocean" that I've heard so much of...
It's rare that I leave the house for the express purpose of physical activity. Really, I'm a utilitarian sort of guy, so as a corollary to other goals I might deem exertion appropriate (e.g. walking to get a burrito, running from the scene of a crime, etc). Snowboarding, however, is an end in itself - a mode of transport with no explicit destination - and so isn't easy to justify by the aforementioned logic. And when you consider the expense, the early wake-up, the cold, the discomfort - these are all factors which work against my participation in the sport.
Yet, in spite of all that, Saturday was a gorgeous day to be snowboarding. I know because I went, and it was amazing; it was a perfect reminder that I do actually enjoy the outdoors. I forget this sometimes, but being on the mountain, feeling the wind's whip and the snow rushing beneath you, even the occasional crash, these are all thrilling, important sensations without which you can feel disconnected. It was so good, in fact, that even after I had bled a full day pass dry the urge for "one more run" remained.
The mountain wasn't enormous, but the lines were short and the conditions perfect. Really, my only complaint is that they falsely advertised themselves as having a trail named "Gobbler's Knob." That unseemly bit of British dick humor must have been discovered and eliminated, much to our disappointment. Eating free Chinese buffet is a salve upon the soul, however. So in the final appraisal, I have to say this past Saturday gets an A-plus.
What does this mean for my philosophy of pasty-faced indolence? The future is uncertain. Perhaps this summer I will experience this "ocean" that I've heard so much of...
Monday, February 16, 2009
Humble Beginnings
Lauren and I stopped off at my parents' place on Friday and picked up a few childhood things of mine. Comics, cards - all the collectible necessities. Ebay has yet to provide an appraisal. I have fingers crossed that the demand for irreplaceable childhood memories is still strong despite the economic downturn.
Among the items salvaged was a selection of my writing through the years. I'll spare you the high school vignettes of teenage angst (which were a bit shocking, really... apparently not even I could guess the rage/insecurity that boiled within my misshapen frame). I have, however, decided to share one of my earlier pieces with you, dated 4/16/88:
"This is a story about hunting for fish. First hunting, now fish.
This is what you need:
-fishing line
-rope
-hooks
-worms
-fishing poles
-guns with bullets inside the guns - I will push the trigger then the bullet will come out of the hole then I will catch the fish - that will be a great idea! When I hit a fish with a bat, then I will catch one too."
It basically falls into the How-To category of writing, but the style, you can see, draws deeply from Hemingway. Don't be surprised if you find a revised version of this piece in my upcoming travelogue, I'm Going to Catch All the Animals, But Only the Ones that Are Mean and Dangerous - That Will Be a Great Idea! (tentative title)
Among the items salvaged was a selection of my writing through the years. I'll spare you the high school vignettes of teenage angst (which were a bit shocking, really... apparently not even I could guess the rage/insecurity that boiled within my misshapen frame). I have, however, decided to share one of my earlier pieces with you, dated 4/16/88:
"This is a story about hunting for fish. First hunting, now fish.
This is what you need:
-fishing line
-rope
-hooks
-worms
-fishing poles
-guns with bullets inside the guns - I will push the trigger then the bullet will come out of the hole then I will catch the fish - that will be a great idea! When I hit a fish with a bat, then I will catch one too."
It basically falls into the How-To category of writing, but the style, you can see, draws deeply from Hemingway. Don't be surprised if you find a revised version of this piece in my upcoming travelogue, I'm Going to Catch All the Animals, But Only the Ones that Are Mean and Dangerous - That Will Be a Great Idea! (tentative title)
Monday, February 2, 2009
Weekend Wrap-Up
I'm aware that you probably aren't interested in the vicissitudes of my weekend; that's fine, and I don't feel it reflects poorly on you because I'm totally the same way. However, there are a couple of points I feel we should cover. They may pertain to you!
- The jerk beef sandwich I had at Red Bones on Friday was a wholly unpleasant affair, a scorching that started in my mouth and burned its way down, like a candle, into my liar's heart, where false pride pooled into a waxen puddle. The waiter warned me about it, and I'd probably eat it again if somebody warned me not to do it.
- Sunday was the Chinese New Year. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but the celebrations in China Town felt more like what I would expect in a pulp-fantasy civil conflict: a cold, gray sky, and air thick with smoke; the distant rat-tat-tat of what could be firecrackers or automatic weapons; confused elderly wandering the streets, cloaked in gray ash...... and roving bands of dragons, randomly pelting people with oranges. It was all a bit surreal.
- The Superbowl was also Sunday (a perfect storm of celebration!). Great game, despite the conspiracy of Sobe and Heroes ads that were clearly designed to cause massive, irreparable harm to anyone who viewed them.
- I found out Animal Planet runs a program during the Superbowl wherein they do nothing but film a group of puppies for two hours. Clearly this is what picture-in-picture was invented for.
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