Dec 312008
 

We spent Christ­mas and a few days either side in Sakat­chewan, land of ‑27 C days and even colder nights. But, as it turns out, little snow. Driv­ing along High­way 1 you could see the stubble of plants stick­ing out of the slim white cov­er­ing, giv­ing the hori­zon a green-brown tinge. There was more snow in sheltered places, dry and feath­ery, the sort of snow that does­n’t get you wet when you fall in it as it brushes off so easily.

Com­ing home to Van­couver it was a dif­fer­ent story. We missed out on being there for the almost-record snow­falls (I gath­er we only need anoth­er 2 cm to beat the record set in 1964), but enough remained on the ground to require lots of snow-shov­el­ling. Maybe next year I’ll break down and get a real snow shovel with bet­ter ergo­nom­ics; my back muscles are groan­ing using our emer­gency fold­ing one with its too-short handle. Snow at tem­per­at­ures around zero C is wet and sticky, not at all feath­ery, and it does­n’t brush off eas­ily. In places the snow has the choppy look of whipped egg whites that have star­ted to break down, in oth­ers like smooth piles of icing sug­ar, 60 cm (2 feet) or more thick. On the roads it’s a dirty grey col­our, piled high in spots, inter­spersed with pock­ets of water that can­’t make it to the storm drain and pock­ets of ice where the sun can­’t reach. 

It was the first coast to coast white Christ­mas since 1971, and we’re in the middle of anoth­er snow­fall warn­ing with snow fore­cast for the next three days (which should eas­ily break that record). I’m glad I work from home.

Dec 132008
 

In the on-again, off-again dis­cus­sions about bail­ing out three auto man­u­fac­tur­ers who are in large part respons­ible for their own prob­lems (which they admit), the major reas­on giv­en for not let­ting them go the way of any oth­er com­pany in fin­an­cial trouble is to cre­ate work and jobs for the people they employ. Surely bet­ter things can be found for these employ­ees to do than to cre­ate products that nobody wants to buy? Cre­at­ing man­u­fac­tured products con­sumes pre­cious resources ran­ging from metals and min­er­als dug out of the earth to power gen­er­ated to run the factor­ies. Then the res­ult­ing products will be stock­piled some­where, since nobody wants to buy them, left to rust and dis­in­teg­rate until they’re shred­ded to “recycle” the valu­ables left in them while the rest of the product is dumped in a land­fill. As make-work schemes go, this is, to my mind, not one of the bet­ter ones.

Dec 042008
 

Fig­ur­ing out how best to spend “spare” time (that not alloc­ated to work­ing, sleep­ing, eat­ing, and the oth­er neces­sary daily activ­it­ies) is always a conun­drum. Do I read blogs, or write my own entries? Do I knit, or surf Ravelry? Do I watch TV, or read books? The pen­du­lum has recently been swinging too far in the wrong dir­ec­tion; I’ve been con­sum­ing more than cre­at­ing, tak­ing the easy, pass­ive way out to filling those spare minutes rather than think­ing about what I really want to achieve with them. It’s so easy to just “check what’s out there”, intend­ing it to be for a few minutes only, and find­ing the time stretches, like some ver­sion of Par­kin­son’s law, so that I’ve accom­plished noth­ing at the end of the even­ing. If I can­’t remem­ber what I’ve browsed, then was it worth read­ing? How much time should I spend on catch­ing up on what people I don’t know think? 

So, my plan is to think about my activ­it­ies more. If surf­ing, or read­ing feeds or tweets, then to do so delib­er­ately, rather than drift­ing along for lack of think­ing about what I’d really rather be doing. I’ll try to use my judge­ment more often, in oth­er words, to close the com­puter and spend more time with the world that’s phys­ic­ally present. Unless I decide that I feel like aim­lessly drift­ing through the Web, of course. 

I won­der how long I’ll keep this up?

Nov 112008
 

Although there’s lots in the paper about it, and people wear­ing pop­pies are every­where, Remem­brance Day seems to have less of a hold over Cana­dian life than Anzac Day in either New Zea­l­and or Aus­tralia. Anzac Day com­mem­or­ates the Anzac (Aus­tralia and New Zea­l­and Army Corps) losses at Gal­lipoli in the First World War on April 25th each year. It is extremely import­ant to New Zeal­anders, no mat­ter what their polit­ics — Anzac Day enjoys unusu­al rev­er­ence in a coun­try where emo­tion­al pub­lic rituals are oth­er­wise absent.

As a child, I nev­er went to the Dawn Ser­vice (liv­ing on a dairy farm, the cows are milked at dawn wheth­er it’s Anzac Day or not). Nev­er­the­less, it seems the right time of day to me, the sun slowly rising up the autum­nal sky, her­ald­ing a new day while the liv­ing remem­ber the sac­ri­fices made by so many. I under­stand why the Remem­brance Day ser­vices here start at 11 am, but emo­tion­ally dawn means so much more.

Remem­brance Day and Anzac Day are both days for remem­ber­ing and mourn­ing and won­der­ing what it will take (or, indeed, if it’s even pos­sible) for humans to learn to nego­ti­ate with words rather than muni­tions. The cur­rent news from much of Africa reminds us all how hard that is.

Nov 042008
 

As I write this the res­ults of this year’s U.S. elec­tion are not yet known. There are reports of long lines to vote, of people vot­ing who haven’t voted before, this all adds up to a sense that this year is his­tor­ic. Part of it is prob­ably that blogs and the appar­at­us around them (searches, aggreg­at­ors, microb­logs) are so much more pre­val­ent now that the voices of many dif­fer­ent people are com­ing through in a way far more access­ible to those of us who don’t live in the U.S. than they were four years ago.

And so many of those people sound as if they’re con­vinced that if their side does­n’t win, the U.S. will fall off a cliff and nev­er be able to recov­er, a view some­what at odds with the view that the U.S. is a great and robust coun­try. Maybe it’s just elec­tion­eer­ing, as some Amer­ic­ans have said to me when I raised the issue, maybe not. In Canada the res­ults of elec­tions make the coun­try veer one way or anoth­er, but not change dir­ec­tion rad­ic­ally; there isn’t the fight over who gets to appoint the supreme court judges, for example, that there is in the U.S.

The bit I have found most dis­con­cert­ing in the whole pro­cess, which has been going on for months now, is the demon­isa­tion of each side’s sup­port­ers, the assump­tion they’re not intelligent/patriotic/… enough. The level of vit­ri­ol hurled around is astound­ing, not only at the can­did­ates them­selves, but at their sup­port­ers, and I’ve found myself won­der­ing how the U.S. will cope after this elec­tion, when (or wheth­er) the tribes will talk to each oth­er again, how soon they’ll start up again with the pre­par­a­tions for the next con­test. One of the few writ­ings I’ve seen that have explained it to me is from Chris Lott; read the com­ments as well. I guess I tend to live in coun­tries where the polit­ics mostly fall with­in the realm of what I find reas­on­able; were I to live in anoth­er coun­try, my reac­tions to the machinery of polit­ics might be dif­fer­ent. This elec­tion is show­cas­ing the jost­ling of the fed­er­al and the state, the clash­ing of the world views, and the con­front­a­tion of the tribes with the oth­er tribes. 

Oct 292008
 

Tim has a post where he advises developers to con­trib­ute to open source pro­jects so that hir­ing man­agers will look favour­ably on them. I have some prob­lems with this, as do many of the com­menters on his post. 

First off, I agree that con­trib­ut­ing to open source pro­jects is admir­able and to be encour­aged. There are, how­ever, a num­ber of developers who work for com­pan­ies with employ­ment con­tracts that say, more or less, any­thing vaguely code-related that you come up with while employed by us is ours, not yours. Which means con­trib­ut­ing any code to any out­side pro­ject is liable to cause prob­lems, or at least a cer­tain num­ber of hurdles. There are oth­er ways of con­trib­ut­ing to any com­munity that are argu­ably just as valu­able, such as tak­ing part in organ­ising events such as loc­al con­fer­ences, volun­teer­ing at loc­al centres that teach people how to use com­puters, assist­ing users on web for­ums, or teach­ing at loc­al com­munity col­leges. Con­cen­trat­ing on writ­ing code for open source pro­jects seems restricting.

The second issue is that it’s dis­crim­in­at­ory against those who simply don’t have the time. Work­ing single par­ents suf­fer par­tic­u­larly from this issue, but any work­ing par­ents of school-age or young­er chil­dren have the prob­lem to some extent. By the time you’ve picked the chil­dren up from school or day care, fed them and the rest of the fam­ily, cleaned up, taken them off to sports/music/whatever, helped with home­work, and done the laun­dry or whatever oth­er chores are neces­sary for that day, all you really have energy for is to unwind and relax. Espe­cially if you sus­pect that the tod­dler will sleep as badly as pre­vi­ous nights this week, wak­ing you up at mid­night, 4 am, and 6 am. When you have to be awake for the day job, as that’s the one that’s cur­rently pay­ing the bills, stay­ing awake into the wee hours isn’t an option for those who need more than just a few hours sleep a night to func­tion prop­erly. No mat­ter how pas­sion­ate they are about coding.

In my case, the pro­ject I’m work­ing on for my day job is the one I think about in spare hours at night and at week­ends. If I were writ­ing code, I’d be writ­ing code for that pro­ject in pref­er­ence to an unre­lated open source pro­ject. I don’t think that atti­tude should be pen­al­ised by hir­ing man­agers either. 

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