Lt. Tyrion Draegor stands watch in his Harbinger assault class mech outside the firebase walls; his trusty Firoxi giant firehound stays by its side and keeps a watchful nose out for creepers and the Others. It has been three Standard days since the last onslaught. Draegor’s Dragoons are low on autocannon ammo, water and, most importantly, Irish Whiskey. But today is just another day in the life of a merc; and for now, Green Betsy’s autocannon is still bristling with a full chain of 20mm smart-incendiary rounds, and for a few more hours before the relief dropship hits this godforsaken dustbowl of a planet, it is the same old story of a man and his dog, longing for home.

I haven’t build anything with Legos since Junior High. When I watch Beckett play with his trains and Duplos, I am reminded of the hours I’d spend making things, designing, redesigning, imagining new worlds and creating them; driven by nothing else but an internal desire to realize some internal joy. Intrinsic motivation, if there is a such a thing, feels like the very thing I have been trying to get back to in my adulthood.

I remember going downstairs and on to Pleasant Street, Northampton to watch the news from the store TV. CNN was being slow, and I had a bad feeling.

I remember thinking about rushing into NYC, but I chickened out.

I remember cycling through the names and faces of my friends in the city; the vivid sense of anger, fear, the anxiety of the unknown.

On that day, we were all Americans. That has to count for something. We have lost friends, families;  we have spent blood and treasure.

Perhaps, now, the healing can finally begin. I hope, that if the last ten years were fiercely about “them,” that the next ten can be fiercely about “us”.

All of us.

I remember.

Some of my thoughts on it can be generalized to life, work and everything else.

***

On “Constructive Criticism”

This is meant as “constructive criticism.”

The phrase seems to be trending on this as well as other photography groups.

I dislike it, and respectfully suggest that we try to transcend its trappings.

Let me explain.

I fully appreciate everyone’s sensitivity to criticism. Getting criticism that is constructive should go without saying. That members of this group and particularly new members feel like we need to make it explicit is a symptom of bigger problems that cannot be solved by invoking that phrase repeatedly.

Giving Criticism
First, if you can’t critique without attacking people personally here, don’t bother. And if you find that sort of style of dialog interesting, feel free to take it to many likeminded groups such as flickr’s Delete Me Uncensored (DMU). This is not a value judgement, you’ll find me there shredding your “crap” as readily as the next “asshat” in the name of fun.

But that is not the norm here at JPMG.

It is not that we need to be milquetoast and tiptoe around everyone’s personal feelings, it is simply that we should respect each other’s maturity, self-confidence and assume that we are deserving of each other’s honest and best good-faith efforts in the interest of advancing our collective art.

Taking Criticism
Second, as the recipient of criticism, no one should feel vulnerable here. You shouldn’t need to ask people to be constructive as if that is the exception instead of the norm. Expect it. Demand it. You’ve earned that right by showing up.

But, you also have a responsibility to suspend your natural sensitivities and to be open minded about what is being offered.

Here’s the thing, criticism is what you make of it.

True, some are more useful than others, but you can choose how you feel about any of them. You are in control. Don’t put the responsibility of feeling emotionally safe in other people’s hands. Yes, expect professional courtesy, it makes the world a better place. But you don’t have to agree; you don’t even have to like it.

If, however, you only want criticism you like to hear, your ego is in the way of real growth. And, that would be the real tragedy.

The goal isn’t to protect our own feelings. The goal is to elevate our art.

When I see photographers asking for “constructive criticism,” my instinct is to be suspicious about their willingness to really engage the conversation; I wonder about their self-esteem and question if I should really invest any time. If you are a pro, you have no reason to be self-conscious.  It demeans the process; it is like saying, “give me feedback but please know that I may take issue with the way you are giving it.” Just ask for feedback, take the good, leave the bad, don’t sweat the chumps. If you are new to this group, know that you will always get my best, and most constructive feedback. It just goes without saying.

Humbly yours,

Ernest Koe

It started fine, if a bit early, at 6:00 AM. I heard Beckett clamber out of bed, both feet hitting the floor with a convincing thud and up to full speed without missing a beat.

We fell into the usual weekend routine, a little episode of “Elmo,” and a little lazy lounging on the couch.

Then, it started.

Kick.

“Beckett, please don’t kick daddy’s computer,” I said in my best I-really-mean-business voice.

Kick, kick.

“Beckett, I asked you not to kick the computer,” I said askance, “why did you kick it?”

Kick! kick!, kick! as he fixed his gaze on me.

“Beckett, I mean it….”

KICK!

If it was intended to get a rise out of me, it succeeded. Exasperated, I pulled out the “nuclear” option, “Go to the corner, Beckett, you are getting a time out!”

And nuclear it went.

All semblance of order shattered as Beckett disintegrated into one of his unholy tantrums. I picked him up kicking and screaming, determined to force the issue and hold my ground as a little voice in my head chided me, You can’t let him run all over you.

This went on for half an hour. He would escalate, I would withdraw. He would escalate some more, scream louder, cry harder, stomp his feet more pitifully, run to me wailing a jumbled mix of ‘NOooo’s and ‘DadDaddyaHoldDaddyHolMe’s,  and through it all, I would grit my teeth and ignore him even more.

Ignore him, don’t reinforce bad behavior, don’t coddle him! Is this what I am supposed to do?

Predictably, it ended in one of the usual patterns. This time C intervened and managed to coax him off the cliff. As his sobs quieted down to a whimper, we hugged, and I tried to explain why daddy got mad.

I don’t suppose I expected him to back down. If it were me, I wouldn’t have. I asked him if he understood what I was trying to tell him, “Yesh,” he replied reflexively, but it felt like that was what he thought I wanted to hear, and the whole thing felt sadly pointless.

I have been turning over this episode in the last 24 hours or so, trying to unpack this complicated mix of emotions about the whole experience. Perhaps, it feels wrong because it was a conscious disciplinary effort, and I am stepping far outside my natural comfort zone. Quite possibly, I am just not that “tough” of a parent, and this feels like an act because it is one.

The thing is, I am not sure I what I’ve accomplished by channeling my inner Tiger Dad. Specifically, I am having deep misgivings about what I thought I was supposed to be doing. If pressed, I might say I was acting to correct a “bad behavior,” and I think I am supposed to correct bad behaviors.

What exactly is bad behavior?

It seems to me that all this assumes that our underlying model about children’s behavior and how to nurture them is right in the first place; that there is a conscious moral component behind children’s behavior (bad vs. good), and our efforts to control them is a good thing in the long run.

I am not so sure. I don’t have all of this worked out, but I think the some of my anxieties about the Tiger Dad approach comes down to the following things:

• It feels coercive and manipulative — that somehow “love” has a price and our relationship is conditional or transactional. “If I don’t do X, Daddy won’t give me Y.” Mostly, I worry that the only “Y” in this equation he cares about is “love.”
• I worry that I am teaching him to modulate his behavior on the basis of external considerations first when what really matters, I think, is not that he behaves properly in a performative sense, but that he does so because he is intrinsically motivated.
• That I am missing some greater, more constructive, more transformative way to teach him about himself and the world.

One slightly tangential thought: are Tiger Bosses considered good leaders or motivators? I haven’t come across any leadership management literature or research that suggests so. Maybe, Steve Jobs is the exception, or maybe he is just badly understood. But it seems to me that we don’t motivate highly effective teams this way; why would we do so with two year olds?

“Schools are embracing digital learning, but evidence is scarce that the expensive technology is improving educational outcomes.”

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/04/technology/technology-in-schools-faces-questions-on-value.html

In the Cave People Times 5000 years ago (biblical years) yesterday,

“Cave folk are embracing new stone tablet writing technology, but evidence is scarce that the expensive technology is improving woolly beasts  hunting outcomes.”

Cook with patterns, not recipes. Recipes are just lines of code. Recognize the underlying structure, chunk them into patterns and you can cook anything.

Attention Deficit Disorder? Don’t beat yourself up. If you don’t have it, you don’t belong to the tribe. And, it is not a “disorder”, just badly understood.

Take your shoes off at home. It is a form of error-trapping. You can’t always see the poop you’ve stepped on, and you spend less time cleaning your house.

Wash your hands before touching other people’s babies. Babies are not GPL.

If you don’t speak a second human language, don’t put it on your resumé. Programming languages do not count.

Don’t fax.

If you don’t have anything nice to say about someone on facebook/Twitter/{INTERWEB_PLACE}; cat > /dev/null

The cash you see in your bank account is not the cash you have to spend. Factor in system latency.

Case in point, just the other day, I saw FOUR fire-engines  screaming down the street. It turns out that they were on their way to a little house down the road.

I was like, “WTF! One, why can’t people put out their own goddamn fire. And, number two, why are my taxes dollars going to put out a fire at a house much smaller than mine?!”

You see, this is why American is complete F*ed up! Why should I work so hard only to see Big Brother spread my hard earned wealth around? I mean, this is basic God given common sense. First we get a Public fire department and the next thing you know, them liberals will be taking away our guns.

Glenn Beck was TOTALLY right. God bless him for speaking the truth. Unless people finally learn to take some personal RESPONSIBILITY, we are headed straight for socialism!!

-
Inspired by Daniel Miessler’s post

For the first time in over twenty years, I have a hobby, photography. “Hobby” is a terrifying and alien word; terrifying because it is as much a statement about my relationship with “work” as it is one about “life.”

Words can be oppressive but I suppose language is inherently political.

My hobby is already teaching me a few things about myself. For one, I miss the joy of being immersed in one’s craft. Work used to be that way. Though, these days, I don’t wake up looking eagerly to write code or create user-interfaces. I lament the loss of that feeling particularly since the whole point of not having a regular job in the first place is to avoid the trappings of modern job-life. Work was play, and the existence of a hobby appears to have changed that equation. It bothers me deeply.

But I awoke this morning to a small insight. Beckett is three months and a week. He caught his first cold a few days ago, and has been a pitiful, heart-wrenching mess. This morning, at five thirty a.m., he was crying to be changed. I tried to focus.

C is starting her second day back at work after a three month long maternity leave. And as I laid in bed to coax resolve into consciousness, it occurred to me that I was tired. I felt this deep weariness borne from the wash cycle of life that was the last three months, a tiredness borne from the strange alchemy of happiness mixed with worry. In the confluence of all these changes, my rational center is struggling to hold, and my creative self is working overtime to compensate…

Talk about missing the point. Perhaps we can teach faith-based arithmatic in Calculus. That way, we would finally be able to apply our critical math skills to solve real world problems. We wonder why we have a crisis in our public education system? It’s because our public discourse is still stuck in the last century.