We went through the entire winter without seeing a single blue jay. This morning we saw a huge male flitting through the bare stems of the maple in the front yard. Today was not the first day of spring, but certainly the first spring-like day we've enjoyed in weeks. S and I took out the gloves for some catch in the street (the side yard is still too muddy). I find myself marking time by how much harder he throws. I remember when D hit the same age and arm strength.
I liked Texas so much I had them picked to win it all on one of my brackets. Not to be. Now I'm watching Davidson carry the hopes of every future 10 seed into the last minutes of a great game against Kansas. And while I absolutely love to see small schools rattle the brackets, I have Kansas picked on the sheet that I have the best shot with. Cold hard CAASSSHHH or the love and beauty of college hoops? What the hell, how great would it be to see Davidson play in the championship? Pretty damn great. That's why we love the college game.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
human factors
The Scobleizer is always quick with the industry low-down, that's why I enjoy reading about his meanderings and elbow rubbings. But a recent post has me wondering about how technological fascination often clouds rational thinking.
Consider the following from his post: "When a new social network comes along (say your company turns one on this morning) I’d love it if it noticed that 15 of my friends who join up there are also on Twitter, etc. Why is that important? Because if there were some way to bind these social networks together they could do a lot more for you. For instance, I know that Scott Beale is on almost all of my social networks listed above. Why don’t the systems know that? If they did, we wouldn’t have a need for FriendFeed, or Profilactic, or SocialThing (those systems are attempting to glue all those social networks together)."
Well, sure. And if the many systems noted did "know" about all that activity, we would never have a need for making personal choices based on human factors such as motivation, determination, jealousy, envy...
This silver bullet back-end for the entire range of applications that fall under the social network umbrella is not likely to happen. I'm confident saying this having spent too many years watching altruistic software development efforts get compromised by revenue digging. I'm no economist (or futurist), but I can't imagine the financial model that motivates a range of popular and not-so-popular social networking apps to expose interfaces to some back-end data sharing process. And please don't anyone say anything about the online advertising model.
I guess I'm just bothered by the ease in which human presence in online environments is re-positioned by system functionality and feature sets. I am, perhaps, sounding a little like the anti-online learning faculty that ignorantly compare assess-in-seats learning to online learning. And yet, there is something to the argument that something gets lost when we forget that the "experience" is ours, not the system's. What that something is, I'm not quite sure, but at times it feels like a little slice of humanity.
Consider the following from his post: "When a new social network comes along (say your company turns one on this morning) I’d love it if it noticed that 15 of my friends who join up there are also on Twitter, etc. Why is that important? Because if there were some way to bind these social networks together they could do a lot more for you. For instance, I know that Scott Beale is on almost all of my social networks listed above. Why don’t the systems know that? If they did, we wouldn’t have a need for FriendFeed, or Profilactic, or SocialThing (those systems are attempting to glue all those social networks together)."
Well, sure. And if the many systems noted did "know" about all that activity, we would never have a need for making personal choices based on human factors such as motivation, determination, jealousy, envy...
This silver bullet back-end for the entire range of applications that fall under the social network umbrella is not likely to happen. I'm confident saying this having spent too many years watching altruistic software development efforts get compromised by revenue digging. I'm no economist (or futurist), but I can't imagine the financial model that motivates a range of popular and not-so-popular social networking apps to expose interfaces to some back-end data sharing process. And please don't anyone say anything about the online advertising model.
I guess I'm just bothered by the ease in which human presence in online environments is re-positioned by system functionality and feature sets. I am, perhaps, sounding a little like the anti-online learning faculty that ignorantly compare assess-in-seats learning to online learning. And yet, there is something to the argument that something gets lost when we forget that the "experience" is ours, not the system's. What that something is, I'm not quite sure, but at times it feels like a little slice of humanity.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
"civic" engineering
On Monday I finished the last session of a Writing Program min-seminar (noted earlier) on civic engagement. The seminar was great. Our assignment was to discuss or develop civic engagement projects that we can or do use in our writing classes. I learned that some of the instructors teaching WRT 105 are extremely creative and committed to developing in their students a knowledge and sense of written communication that extends beyond rote academic prose.
My challenge for the seminar assignment was to develop a way in which I can introduce civic engagement assignments into WRT 407. I poked around and found some engineering programs doing interesting things with robotics and disabilities studies. Then I recalled that the Burton Blatt Institute right here at SU has a center dedicated to research and development in assisstive technology.
The fit seems obvious enough: have the senior engineers work with the Burton Blatt Institute on projects that involve assistive technologies -- from robotics to accessibility software and systems. But the more I thought about it, the more restrictive the connection felt. I realized I was making "the move" -- defining my students against broad generalizations that I bring into the classroom. Why should engineering students be drawn to a disabilities project? Am I assuming that they don't already have a sense of the civic -- that there are no other avenues into civic engagement for electrical and computer engineers?
So maybe the challenge for me is to find opportunities for my students, rather than specific projects. Let them explore those opportunities that they find engaging and productive. I shouldn't privilege the scientific or the technological simply because of the students' programs of study or my particular interests. Which leads me to another thread about unwritten program agendas and organizational ideologies. It's a post for another time, but one that's worth writing. In the meantime, I'm going to start working on next year's WRT 407 course structure to look for appropriate spaces for civic engagement.
My challenge for the seminar assignment was to develop a way in which I can introduce civic engagement assignments into WRT 407. I poked around and found some engineering programs doing interesting things with robotics and disabilities studies. Then I recalled that the Burton Blatt Institute right here at SU has a center dedicated to research and development in assisstive technology.
The fit seems obvious enough: have the senior engineers work with the Burton Blatt Institute on projects that involve assistive technologies -- from robotics to accessibility software and systems. But the more I thought about it, the more restrictive the connection felt. I realized I was making "the move" -- defining my students against broad generalizations that I bring into the classroom. Why should engineering students be drawn to a disabilities project? Am I assuming that they don't already have a sense of the civic -- that there are no other avenues into civic engagement for electrical and computer engineers?
So maybe the challenge for me is to find opportunities for my students, rather than specific projects. Let them explore those opportunities that they find engaging and productive. I shouldn't privilege the scientific or the technological simply because of the students' programs of study or my particular interests. Which leads me to another thread about unwritten program agendas and organizational ideologies. It's a post for another time, but one that's worth writing. In the meantime, I'm going to start working on next year's WRT 407 course structure to look for appropriate spaces for civic engagement.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
joys of spring
Easter weekend and spring has sprung, albeit in Central New York style. I see some buds a' budding across the yards in the neighborhood, but it's still only 27 degrees. H excitedly called me to the front window this morning just in time to see our first robin of the year. It's something we've been doing for our 21 years together (it's actually 21 next month). It's always a big deal, because we've never lived anywhere particularly warm. So when we see our first robin, we try to imagine what she's thinking. Maybe something like, "Why the hell didn't I wait a few more weeks to fly north for spring?"
You know how certain things remind you of people? A few years ago I had the privilege to work with an exceptional instructional designer and artist. She had given me a photocopy of the cartoon to the left. It's taped to one of the organizers on my desk, and it cracks me up every time I look at it. So of course, it's now not possible for me to ever get ready for the Easter holiday without inevitably looking at chocolate bunnies, thinking about my friend, and laughing to myself.
Happy Easter and joyous spring to all. Laugh to yourself, think about old friends and good people. And remember why spring is such a great time to be alive.
You know how certain things remind you of people? A few years ago I had the privilege to work with an exceptional instructional designer and artist. She had given me a photocopy of the cartoon to the left. It's taped to one of the organizers on my desk, and it cracks me up every time I look at it. So of course, it's now not possible for me to ever get ready for the Easter holiday without inevitably looking at chocolate bunnies, thinking about my friend, and laughing to myself.Happy Easter and joyous spring to all. Laugh to yourself, think about old friends and good people. And remember why spring is such a great time to be alive.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
egos and blindspots
Let me start off by saying that not all academics are complete social misfits or major A-holes. Now let me say that of the eight associate deans I quietly mocked this afternoon, maybe 2 were worth a top-shelf bourbon (and one of those two spoke only during the introductions).
It was an awfully awkward and uncomfortable meeting. I've mentioned, perhaps in passing, that the college is going through a reorganization. We've been mandated to shift our mission from an academic unit to a service unit. There are all sorts of issues surrounding and embedded in that loaded mandate. That's not what I want to write about today.
The eight or so associate deans and guests, representing the other colleges, schools, and departments within the university, were invited in to do a bit of brainstorming. Basically, they were asked to tell us (University College) what they could imagine us doing to support them in the future. Upon the question being asked, I immediately realized why one of our own associate deans opted not to attend.
The responses from our learned and talkative guests ranged from "Nothing, thank you. We don't deal with part-time students. And oh, by the way, have you heard that there's a journalism school on campus?" to "Well, if you could do a little web development and media placement for us, that would be great."
For my money (and my sense of business, which I think is relatively attuned), the meeting was a complete waste of everyone's time. These people, many of whom can't stand each other, did not want to be in that meeting any more than our associate dean who found a reason to beg off. It was a meeting equivalent to Apple inviting Microsoft in to ask how the next Mac desktop could be improved. These people (all smart in their own rights), haven't a clue about continuing education or distance education or adult learning. Sure, they've read the papers and talked the talk, but they don't get it - not one bit. And yet, in all fairness, why should they get it? Most of them are sitting on fat endowments and turning away more students than they can accept. They all rely heavily on subsidized services from the University, where even under RCM they are making out OK. So when you pose a ridiculous question like, "What do you see UC doing for you?" to a group of people who love to hear themselves talk about nothing in particular, your going to get some pretty ridiculous answers.
The one answer that made the most sense - almost - came from an associate dean from our grand school of management. As someone who has spent a lot of time in a professional school, he had enough sense to challenge us to make him want to "do business" with his school. "Show me why I should come to you to do something we're already doing fairly well?" He had me thinking he was pretty sharp until he suggested that UC might be best suited to help out with event planning and marketing. He completely blew it when he starting blathering about economies of scale and competitive markets. "Yeah thanks. Did you mention that you were with the school of management? Where is that on campus exactly?" (Inside joke: If you know where UC is located on the SU campus, you'll get it).
Here's the rub: This is a great time to be part of UC because it's a challenging time -- a time to reinvent the "business" to be sustainable and viable in a budgetary system that takes accountability to task. People are worried about their jobs, and maybe they should be. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't.
But I'm also worried about the student populations we serve. The part-time students - working moms, out of work retreds, struggling young parents, people wanting to get a piece of the dream - are going to be the losers here. If the university decides it doesn't want to be in that business, then that's a decision it must live with. But for God's sake, will someone take the initiative or at least have the common sense to not ask the morons I had to listen to this afternoon make that decision?
It was an awfully awkward and uncomfortable meeting. I've mentioned, perhaps in passing, that the college is going through a reorganization. We've been mandated to shift our mission from an academic unit to a service unit. There are all sorts of issues surrounding and embedded in that loaded mandate. That's not what I want to write about today.
The eight or so associate deans and guests, representing the other colleges, schools, and departments within the university, were invited in to do a bit of brainstorming. Basically, they were asked to tell us (University College) what they could imagine us doing to support them in the future. Upon the question being asked, I immediately realized why one of our own associate deans opted not to attend.
The responses from our learned and talkative guests ranged from "Nothing, thank you. We don't deal with part-time students. And oh, by the way, have you heard that there's a journalism school on campus?" to "Well, if you could do a little web development and media placement for us, that would be great."
For my money (and my sense of business, which I think is relatively attuned), the meeting was a complete waste of everyone's time. These people, many of whom can't stand each other, did not want to be in that meeting any more than our associate dean who found a reason to beg off. It was a meeting equivalent to Apple inviting Microsoft in to ask how the next Mac desktop could be improved. These people (all smart in their own rights), haven't a clue about continuing education or distance education or adult learning. Sure, they've read the papers and talked the talk, but they don't get it - not one bit. And yet, in all fairness, why should they get it? Most of them are sitting on fat endowments and turning away more students than they can accept. They all rely heavily on subsidized services from the University, where even under RCM they are making out OK. So when you pose a ridiculous question like, "What do you see UC doing for you?" to a group of people who love to hear themselves talk about nothing in particular, your going to get some pretty ridiculous answers.
The one answer that made the most sense - almost - came from an associate dean from our grand school of management. As someone who has spent a lot of time in a professional school, he had enough sense to challenge us to make him want to "do business" with his school. "Show me why I should come to you to do something we're already doing fairly well?" He had me thinking he was pretty sharp until he suggested that UC might be best suited to help out with event planning and marketing. He completely blew it when he starting blathering about economies of scale and competitive markets. "Yeah thanks. Did you mention that you were with the school of management? Where is that on campus exactly?" (Inside joke: If you know where UC is located on the SU campus, you'll get it).
Here's the rub: This is a great time to be part of UC because it's a challenging time -- a time to reinvent the "business" to be sustainable and viable in a budgetary system that takes accountability to task. People are worried about their jobs, and maybe they should be. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't.
But I'm also worried about the student populations we serve. The part-time students - working moms, out of work retreds, struggling young parents, people wanting to get a piece of the dream - are going to be the losers here. If the university decides it doesn't want to be in that business, then that's a decision it must live with. But for God's sake, will someone take the initiative or at least have the common sense to not ask the morons I had to listen to this afternoon make that decision?
Sunday, March 16, 2008
do opposites really attract
I had an interesting conversation with another SU employee at my Friday leadership development workshop. He was commenting on the problems that his department has been having trying to reconcile the university's RCM budget process.
I recalled my Friday conversation as I was preparing for a Writing Program professional development mini-seminar: Writing and Civic Engagement. The readings range from a 1999 call to action by Barber to a contextualization of a part-time instructor's activities. In reviewing my marginal notes, I realized that I'm coming to this topic (and perhaps my other scholarly interests) from a position of fiscal accountability. It's a tension that we were trying to articulate in our leadership workshop. And it's a tension that I'm realizing underlies a lot of my work-related frustration these last few months.
While I know I do the methodology a disservice, RCM (Responsibility Center Management) is basically a budget process that decentralizes control of resources and demands fiscal accountability for all activities. RCM is becoming increasingly popular with large universities, but I'm not sure why. The accountability thing would, on the surface, seem to create a lot of issues for universities that privilege teaching over research. But that's not where I'm seeing the tension.
Here at SU, we're being challenged to find new and sustainable ways to engage the community through scholarly activities (the chancellor's Scholarship in Action initiative). At the same time, we're being asked to evaluate all of our activities against revenue and expenses. The tension: Trying to turn a scholarly community engagement into a revenue generator. If revenue cannot be generated: How to justify the cost of the engagement (non-tangibles) against all of the other non-revenue generating engagements within the university. What we're left with is a "My community engagement is more valuable than yours." This line of argument inevitably leads to claims of disciplinary superiority, and would seem to run counter to interdisciplinary collaboration -- another aspect of Scholarship in Action.
It's a complex question, which Louise and others have more eloquently and adequately addressed in a widely distributed white paper. I'm responding to the tension at a more guttural level because I (like my fellow workshop attendee and many many others on campus) am left to implement the grand schemes of our visionary leaders.
I recalled my Friday conversation as I was preparing for a Writing Program professional development mini-seminar: Writing and Civic Engagement. The readings range from a 1999 call to action by Barber to a contextualization of a part-time instructor's activities. In reviewing my marginal notes, I realized that I'm coming to this topic (and perhaps my other scholarly interests) from a position of fiscal accountability. It's a tension that we were trying to articulate in our leadership workshop. And it's a tension that I'm realizing underlies a lot of my work-related frustration these last few months.
While I know I do the methodology a disservice, RCM (Responsibility Center Management) is basically a budget process that decentralizes control of resources and demands fiscal accountability for all activities. RCM is becoming increasingly popular with large universities, but I'm not sure why. The accountability thing would, on the surface, seem to create a lot of issues for universities that privilege teaching over research. But that's not where I'm seeing the tension.
Here at SU, we're being challenged to find new and sustainable ways to engage the community through scholarly activities (the chancellor's Scholarship in Action initiative). At the same time, we're being asked to evaluate all of our activities against revenue and expenses. The tension: Trying to turn a scholarly community engagement into a revenue generator. If revenue cannot be generated: How to justify the cost of the engagement (non-tangibles) against all of the other non-revenue generating engagements within the university. What we're left with is a "My community engagement is more valuable than yours." This line of argument inevitably leads to claims of disciplinary superiority, and would seem to run counter to interdisciplinary collaboration -- another aspect of Scholarship in Action.
It's a complex question, which Louise and others have more eloquently and adequately addressed in a widely distributed white paper. I'm responding to the tension at a more guttural level because I (like my fellow workshop attendee and many many others on campus) am left to implement the grand schemes of our visionary leaders.
Friday, March 14, 2008
break me off a piece
A little relief from the upper echelon in regard to our re-org. We now have more time to figure out what exactly it is we're supposed to do and how we're supposed to do it. Looking forward to all the challenging, engaging, and thought-provoking process planning. Umm, umm good.
Realized this week that while I'm not a web designer, I instinctively know when an interface is crappy. In WRT 407, we talk a lot about the subjectivity and objectivity of document structures. I've also used the line, "You don't have to know why it's wrong, you just have to know that it's wrong" with my students during document reviews. I guess it's the same thing. I don't teach my students that mixed construction in a sentence is a switch between grammatical patterns. I teach them how to recognize confusion at the sentence level. It goes back to some of my thinking about Collin's review. Is there a universal heuristic that we refer to when responding to crappy site designs and interfaces.
What's troublesome for me is that the most craptastic interface I've seen this past week is the front-end of a back-end project I've been working on. It can be incredibly deflating to build out a scalable and manageable information architecture only to see the interface mangle the logic.
Random note to all faculty that want to build their courses in Flash: Don't. And if you do, please do not ask me to change the comma in your introduction to an em dash. Don't ever.
Realized this week that while I'm not a web designer, I instinctively know when an interface is crappy. In WRT 407, we talk a lot about the subjectivity and objectivity of document structures. I've also used the line, "You don't have to know why it's wrong, you just have to know that it's wrong" with my students during document reviews. I guess it's the same thing. I don't teach my students that mixed construction in a sentence is a switch between grammatical patterns. I teach them how to recognize confusion at the sentence level. It goes back to some of my thinking about Collin's review. Is there a universal heuristic that we refer to when responding to crappy site designs and interfaces.
What's troublesome for me is that the most craptastic interface I've seen this past week is the front-end of a back-end project I've been working on. It can be incredibly deflating to build out a scalable and manageable information architecture only to see the interface mangle the logic.
Random note to all faculty that want to build their courses in Flash: Don't. And if you do, please do not ask me to change the comma in your introduction to an em dash. Don't ever.
Monday, March 10, 2008
obsowhat?
The obsolete skills meme has been making the rounds for a few years now. I wont bother with that. I did, however, find this entry on the Obsolete Skills site absolutely hilarious. I could say why I think it's so funny, but I'd rather not. I move in some circles that still consider NPR liberal.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
self help
I spent three hours last Friday morning in the first session of a sixteen-week leadership development workshop. The seat was graciously offered by my dean (she has a standing offer with the company that developed and delivers the series). I didn't really know how to take it. Does she think I'm a crappy leader? Do I consider myself (or worse, does she consider me) a leader? When you work in a department with four other people, do you have to be a leader or a good manager, peer, and representative? What does my dean know that I don't know? Am I paranoid? Should I be paranoid?
I entered the workshop room on Friday morning with a fair amount of skepticism. I could tell by the body language and lingering around the coffee urn in the back that my skepticism was shared by at least half of the other 20 or so attendees. Ten years on active duty will make you skeptical about almost any situation that requires you to consider your "inner leader."
After the obligatory round of introduction and personal statements about "what I want to get out of the workshop," the moderators moved us through a range of definitions of leadership. During one segment they introduced the Pareto principle as a means to illustrate how eighty percent of people in any organization will use only twenty percent of the opportunities (the safe paths) open to them. I found myself wondering if I'd find twenty percent of what I hear and see over the next fifteen weeks useful.
I left the session with a personal commitment to be open to the instruction. After all, I did state that I thought a good day was a day in which I learned something new. Cliche? Yeah sure, but it did get written on the poster paper taped to one side of the room. I honestly think that I'll enjoy the discussions intended to help us focus on what's important; of how not to think like a manager; of visualizing the next step; and how to maintain a positive attitude. These aren't ground-breaking or new topics (Peter Senge does a lot of this in his discussions about learning organizations), but they're good to revisit and reconsider in different contexts.
While I'm not big on self-affirmation, I'm seeing a lot of these next fifteen weeks including a fair amount of introspection and observation. Who knows, maybe it's the kick-in-the-ass I need to organize the clutter and refocus my efforts on my exams.
The coffee was good, the company pleasant, and the muffins just soft enough to not crumble onto the pages of the HUGE three-ring binder. That, to almost everyone, is a Friday morning well-spent.
I entered the workshop room on Friday morning with a fair amount of skepticism. I could tell by the body language and lingering around the coffee urn in the back that my skepticism was shared by at least half of the other 20 or so attendees. Ten years on active duty will make you skeptical about almost any situation that requires you to consider your "inner leader."
After the obligatory round of introduction and personal statements about "what I want to get out of the workshop," the moderators moved us through a range of definitions of leadership. During one segment they introduced the Pareto principle as a means to illustrate how eighty percent of people in any organization will use only twenty percent of the opportunities (the safe paths) open to them. I found myself wondering if I'd find twenty percent of what I hear and see over the next fifteen weeks useful.
I left the session with a personal commitment to be open to the instruction. After all, I did state that I thought a good day was a day in which I learned something new. Cliche? Yeah sure, but it did get written on the poster paper taped to one side of the room. I honestly think that I'll enjoy the discussions intended to help us focus on what's important; of how not to think like a manager; of visualizing the next step; and how to maintain a positive attitude. These aren't ground-breaking or new topics (Peter Senge does a lot of this in his discussions about learning organizations), but they're good to revisit and reconsider in different contexts.
While I'm not big on self-affirmation, I'm seeing a lot of these next fifteen weeks including a fair amount of introspection and observation. Who knows, maybe it's the kick-in-the-ass I need to organize the clutter and refocus my efforts on my exams.
The coffee was good, the company pleasant, and the muffins just soft enough to not crumble onto the pages of the HUGE three-ring binder. That, to almost everyone, is a Friday morning well-spent.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
silly end-user
So I'm standing in the doorway of an office shared by two people in our little department. Immediately to my left is a desk on which sits a Dell OptiplexTM 755 Ultra Small Form Factor. We spec'd these about a year ago to increase the amount of desktop space folks had on the mixed-matched office furniture used throughout the building. For the most part, the systems have been well-received. We just finished deploying the last group of 20 or so, which brings about 2/3 of the college up to date in terms of desktop computing hardware.
OK, back to my story. I'm standing in the doorway talking about an extremely important project (read: gabbing about kids, money, sports, spouses, etc.) and I turn slightly to my left to place my HUGE full coffee mug on top of the Optiplex CPU unit, just behind the monitor. The mug, a gift from Microsoft TechEd 07, holds about 2 1/2 cups of nectar.
Before this goes any further, I'll say that I personally am extremely tolerant of the end-users we support on a daily basis. Not everyone is comfortable with technology. Not everyone understands basic and fundamental principles of productivity computing. Not everyone knows that liquid substances should not be placed above, on, or near electronic equipment.
Dare I say more? Of course I do. Part of the fifteen minutes I spent draining coffee out of the upside-down opened CPU was caught on film by my quietly laughing but very concerned co-worker (the one I'd been talking with about that important project with). She has promised me she will not publish the photos, but has reserved the right to remind me of them just before we complete the yearly reviews in May. Even funnier... the person to whom the system belong was out sick today. When she arrives tomorrow morning, she will find her computer lying opened on her desk like a filleted salmon, drying in the 65 degree ambient air of the little, and now quite humid, office.
The story will no doubt spread through our little college. If I have to defend myself in the next Admin Council meeting it may be necessary to pull out this year's IR reports and start naming names.
OK, back to my story. I'm standing in the doorway talking about an extremely important project (read: gabbing about kids, money, sports, spouses, etc.) and I turn slightly to my left to place my HUGE full coffee mug on top of the Optiplex CPU unit, just behind the monitor. The mug, a gift from Microsoft TechEd 07, holds about 2 1/2 cups of nectar.
Before this goes any further, I'll say that I personally am extremely tolerant of the end-users we support on a daily basis. Not everyone is comfortable with technology. Not everyone understands basic and fundamental principles of productivity computing. Not everyone knows that liquid substances should not be placed above, on, or near electronic equipment.
Dare I say more? Of course I do. Part of the fifteen minutes I spent draining coffee out of the upside-down opened CPU was caught on film by my quietly laughing but very concerned co-worker (the one I'd been talking with about that important project with). She has promised me she will not publish the photos, but has reserved the right to remind me of them just before we complete the yearly reviews in May. Even funnier... the person to whom the system belong was out sick today. When she arrives tomorrow morning, she will find her computer lying opened on her desk like a filleted salmon, drying in the 65 degree ambient air of the little, and now quite humid, office.
The story will no doubt spread through our little college. If I have to defend myself in the next Admin Council meeting it may be necessary to pull out this year's IR reports and start naming names.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
just call it writing
I'm just getting back to an article I saw that references "secondary orality" as a phenomenon or bi-product of Web 2.0 technologies. The basic premise is that prior to print publishing technologies (the press), human knowledge was committed orally to the individual and the community. In this post-static web content era (the whole Web 2.0 flap is beginning to wear me down), the premise holds that econdary orality is the means by which knowledge is collected, transmitted, and committed.
What bothers me about this line of reasoning (and other discussions I've seen in regard to the affects of Web 2.0 on information production and knowledge making) is that it diminishes the importance (dare I say necessity) of textual information. More so, descriptions of secondary orality only reach back to the point at which textual information is identified and aggregated with other information to create the content-rich perfect fruit of a Web 2.0 information product. Apparently the sources of this textual information are also aggregated, or pulled out of thin air.
Where are the original authors? Where are the owners of the source content? Who first committed the information to text in a cogent, concise, and meaningful way? Technical writers will tell you that they've been doing for years what Web 2.0 technologies now do with slick interfaces and power content management systems. The difference is that the tech writer always works back to the source, as it is imperative to know from whence the information came (there's that whole validation and verification thing we tech writers get hung up on).
From my reading of this, secondary-orality privileges the reusability of information over the origin of the textual artifact. Someone, somewhere had to write the thing. And all the advanced aggregators, compilers, and renderers in the world cannot replace solid, good 'ol fashioned writing fundamentals...
And we used to walk to school barefoot, uphill, both ways, through six foot snow drifts, carrying a sack of potatoes for lunch.
What bothers me about this line of reasoning (and other discussions I've seen in regard to the affects of Web 2.0 on information production and knowledge making) is that it diminishes the importance (dare I say necessity) of textual information. More so, descriptions of secondary orality only reach back to the point at which textual information is identified and aggregated with other information to create the content-rich perfect fruit of a Web 2.0 information product. Apparently the sources of this textual information are also aggregated, or pulled out of thin air.
Where are the original authors? Where are the owners of the source content? Who first committed the information to text in a cogent, concise, and meaningful way? Technical writers will tell you that they've been doing for years what Web 2.0 technologies now do with slick interfaces and power content management systems. The difference is that the tech writer always works back to the source, as it is imperative to know from whence the information came (there's that whole validation and verification thing we tech writers get hung up on).
From my reading of this, secondary-orality privileges the reusability of information over the origin of the textual artifact. Someone, somewhere had to write the thing. And all the advanced aggregators, compilers, and renderers in the world cannot replace solid, good 'ol fashioned writing fundamentals...
And we used to walk to school barefoot, uphill, both ways, through six foot snow drifts, carrying a sack of potatoes for lunch.
Monday, March 3, 2008
nature of the game
Watching WVU spank Pitt. Left wondering what could have been had Harris been able to hold onto the ball, had the Orange not squandered an 11 point lead, had the freshmen not had to step up so early because of injuries.
Back in the early days of the Big East, I didn't like SU much. Hell, when you can throw a rock and hit The Hall or the Johnnies' house, there isn't much need to pull for SU. Now, for obvious reasons, I tend to raise a big orange fan finger every now and then (but never against The Hall, Rutgers, or the Red MEN).
Wed. they play, who else, the Seton Hall Pirates. A terrible team, yes (they've been "rebuilding" since Tommy Amaker bailed on them). Do I hope SU wins just for a shot at the show. Maybe if Uncle Jim smiled once in a while? They'll still have to make a nice run through the Big East tournament, RPI be damned.
Oh the simple pleasures of sport.
Back in the early days of the Big East, I didn't like SU much. Hell, when you can throw a rock and hit The Hall or the Johnnies' house, there isn't much need to pull for SU. Now, for obvious reasons, I tend to raise a big orange fan finger every now and then (but never against The Hall, Rutgers, or the Red MEN).
Wed. they play, who else, the Seton Hall Pirates. A terrible team, yes (they've been "rebuilding" since Tommy Amaker bailed on them). Do I hope SU wins just for a shot at the show. Maybe if Uncle Jim smiled once in a while? They'll still have to make a nice run through the Big East tournament, RPI be damned.
Oh the simple pleasures of sport.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
the only sure things
I just finished D's taxes. He works part-time at a little convenience store around the corner. He made a little over 4K this year. Pretty good spending money for a teenager. He tends to buy his own cloths, hates taking money for gas (even though he commutes to campus 5 days a week), and doesn't share his old man's sense of frugality (read: cheapskatedness). Upon completing his tax forms, I was pleasantly surprised to find that he'd get a couple extra bucks back from the fed. And I honestly wasn't surprised to discover, upon finishing his NYS taxes, that the titanic sloth that is the New York State government will be receiving $72.83 from D (actually from H and me, because there's no way I'm going to let him pay for Bruno's, Silver's, and Spitzer's next junket to Barbados).
When people in New York bitch about taxes, I tend to listen on with a sort of, "yeah but..." attitude. I grew up in New Jersey. Taxes in Jersey make NYS taxes seem almost reasonable. What gets me pissed about NYS taxes is the near ridiculous model they apply to personal income taxation. I'm not even going to pretend to sound like I know what I'm talking about here. But I just have to wonder why an 18 year old college student making a little over 4K has to pay taxes at all. It just seems to me there should be a minimum amount of income that cannot be taxed. Make it something like 25K. If you make less than that a year, regardless of marital status or number of kids, you should not have to pay federal or state income taxes. I'm sure this position makes me slightly libertarian (but not quite a John Bircher). It just seems senseless to tax such a crappy little income, particularly for a student.
On to lighter thoughts: I've never considered myself much of a photographer, but I always seem to find something different about our little street (as seen from the living room window). This was the scene last night just before the street lamp turned off, amid a brief snow squall. A few years ago, I would have put on some boots and a heavy jacket just to walk the block in the muffled silence of a late night snow fall. Last night it just looked too damn cold.
When people in New York bitch about taxes, I tend to listen on with a sort of, "yeah but..." attitude. I grew up in New Jersey. Taxes in Jersey make NYS taxes seem almost reasonable. What gets me pissed about NYS taxes is the near ridiculous model they apply to personal income taxation. I'm not even going to pretend to sound like I know what I'm talking about here. But I just have to wonder why an 18 year old college student making a little over 4K has to pay taxes at all. It just seems to me there should be a minimum amount of income that cannot be taxed. Make it something like 25K. If you make less than that a year, regardless of marital status or number of kids, you should not have to pay federal or state income taxes. I'm sure this position makes me slightly libertarian (but not quite a John Bircher). It just seems senseless to tax such a crappy little income, particularly for a student.
On to lighter thoughts: I've never considered myself much of a photographer, but I always seem to find something different about our little street (as seen from the living room window). This was the scene last night just before the street lamp turned off, amid a brief snow squall. A few years ago, I would have put on some boots and a heavy jacket just to walk the block in the muffled silence of a late night snow fall. Last night it just looked too damn cold.
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