Archive for November, 2005

stimulus vs. context

Tuesday, November 29th, 2005

Why is it that I like the new Madonna album, even though I know if I
heard her music for the first time today I would hate it? Stimulus
vs. context.

Why is it that the only perfume I ever notice is the one my first
girlfriend wore? Stimulus vs. context.

Why is it that drinking scotch immediately puts me in a good mood,
long before the alcohol has a chance to take effect? Stimulus vs.
context.

Why is it that when people of latin descent come to the ER complaining
of belly pain we never find anything, but when people of eastern
european descent come to the ER complaining of belly pain, they
usually end up in the operating room? Stimulus vs. context.

Why is it that when I tell my mom I like her dress she thinks I’m a
mensch, but when I tell my date I like her dress she thinks I’m a lecher?
Stimulus vs. context.

Why is it that the more strongly a movie is recommended, the less
likely I am to be impressed with it? Stimulus vs. context.

Why is it that some cultures dance and sing at the death of an
elderly person, while we deny, mourn and feel victimized?

error reduction

Saturday, November 26th, 2005

My credit card was stolen today, for the second time in a year; this time much less dramatic than the episode last winter. One of the lessons learned from that experience is the value of building error-reduction systems into your life – what your mom might call good habits. That’s right, I’m talking about your mother.

At approximately 5:00 this evening I arrived at the McGill Gymnasium, swiped my ID through the scanner and entered. I put all my stuff in my locker, exercised, showered, returned to my locker at about 7:30. I flipped open my wallet to check to see if I had any subway tickets, and zap I knew my credit card was gone, and I knew for certain that it was stolen from my locker.

I keep exactly four cards in the front pockets in my wallet, so that the inside of my wallet is perfectly consistent and any alteration of its appearance triggers an alarm, like the reminder you posted on the refrigerator to water your plants that after two weeks becomes an unnoticeable part of your refigerator until someone moves it, making you wonder why your refrigerator looks different. Several times I have walked away from a cashier and was about to stuff my wallet in my pocket when I noticed a card was missing – sitting on the counter.

I opened my wallet to get out my McGill ID, so I know that the card was in my wallet when I entered the gym. My lock, issued by the gym, showed no signs of tampering – that’s right: an inside job. The thieves left everything else in my wallet, including the $55 dollars cash. I thought this was because these were socially conscious, robin hooding thieves who steal from big companies and not individuals (knowing I wouldn’t have to pay for the fraudulent charges on my card). Roy thinks they took only the card to prolong the period where I wouldn’t notice it was gone; these motherfuckers didn’t know they were dealing with an implementer of error-reducing good habits. They call me The Implementer.

crash

Monday, November 14th, 2005

Last week my G5 iMac started to act funny, and then it crashed. And it crashed not in the friendly way apple computers are supposed to crash, with a box that says we’re sorry about this, please restart your computer; not even the frozen screen or the spinning rainbow cursor from hell; this crash made me jump as though two hands had come out of my screen reaching for my neck.

Those of us who grew up on a mouse and keyboard interact with our computer the way we interact with a stack of books on our desk, or a refrigerator, or a bicycle. When I double-click on a folder of halloween pictures, my brain treats the act of opening the folder and the contents of the folder no differently than a physical photo album sitting on my bookshelf. This is exactly the point of a point-and-click interface, it feels like real life, but physical photo albums don’t crash, and the conflation of the real and the digital represents an illusion that vanishes when on top of my pretty digital desktop appears a smattering of uninvited, primitive computer-text that starts with SYSTEM FAILURE.

My mother never let computers dupe her in this way. To my mother computers are mysterious, fragile, not to be trusted. When she is presented with digital information, her instinct is to bring it out of the computer and into real life. I do exactly the opposite. I recently acquired a boxful of family photos, and my reaction was that they were too precious to stay in the box or even to frame and mount on my wall, as my apartment is susceptible to earthquake, fire, flood, and theft – I had to secure these photos for all eternity by posting them on Flickr. Posting them on Flickr? Talk about being duped. Flickr could tomorrow disappear off the face of the earth, they could without warning start charging a zillion bucks a month, they could sell my pictures to North Korea. What’s more likely to be around in twenty years, the bar mitzvah photo album that lives under the coffee table in my dad’s Philadelphia living room or Flickr? How silly. When I got my computer to the repair shop, the technician opened her up and showed me logic board stir-fry. Thank god for extended warranty.

The appropriate way to deal with the illusion of data as real, and not the invisible stream of particle-switches that it is, is to create redundancy. The more it matters, the more redundancy you need. I recently toured a medical helicopter that had two completely separate engines, only one of which is used at a time. Think of your computer workspace not in terms of what you would do if it crashed, but in terms of how to minimize the inconvenience when it crashes. My mom prints out emails I send her and saves them in a folder in her solid oak desk.