I get an hour for lunch every day at work. That’s more than enough time to walk to one of the many inexpensive lunch places on 7th Avenue, eat in comfort, and take a walk around Chelsea. On a good day, I’ll even get over to Madison Square Park, by the Flatiron Building. It’s important to me to get out and walk around in the middle of the day. It clears my mind of all the stuff I have to do when I’m at my desk. It recharges, provides essential Vitamin D on sunny days, and helps undo the damage I’m doing to my body from sitting for hours on end. I usually do it right in the middle of my 9 to 5 work day.
Lunch is the fulcrum I balance my morning and afternoon work on. A low-tech dividing line (save for my iPhone and Kindle) between hours of HTML, Excel, and reams of emails. It’s easy to establish that sort of dividing line in my work life, mostly because I work a corporate stooge job. Trying to find a balance in my personal life between the things I want to get done, the things I need to get done, and the things I’d rather do (like aimlessly click around Reddit) is trickier. It’s why I hate working from home. The mental shift of being in a different space is enough to mostly silence my distraction-craving lizard brain that keeps me hitting ⌘-Tab every few minutes.
I recently read Ben Hammersley’s Approaching the Future: 64 Things You Need to Know Now for Then. I enjoyed it, though it rehashed things I already knew. The last two chapters are the most important: “Just Enough Digital,” and “The Zen of Digital Living.” Both are about the movement among Old School Internet Users to do things in meatspace, establish limits to where and when they’re connected, and find a balance between digital and real life.
Speaking as a member of the second Internet generation, the one that missed out on BBSes and newsgroups, but was there for the late Wild West of the Web, I’ve hit the point where I need to learn how to do the same thing. My (slightly less than) three week social media sabbatical was meant to be part of that process. By spending time away from the stream of “other people’s moments,” I hoped that I could make some of my own. It didn’t work out, unless you count playing SimCity 4 and goofing off on the non-social web as “making moments.” I didn’t even get any good reading done. I didn’t break my dependence, I merely switched from one glowing teat to another. The idea was right, the motivation pure, but I stumbled on the execution.
Finding a balance doesn’t come unplugging from the ’net, or even just getting away from your desk for an hour. It comes from finding your own limits, and your own weaknesses. These are going to be different for everyone. If you’re distractible enough that you can’t get any sustained writing done unless you’re doing it longhand, or on a typewriter, go do that. If you work online, but are constantly tempted by pleasure surfing, install a blocker. And when any of these stop working, notice it, and find a way to fix it—or yourself. We’re only slaves to our technology if we let ourselves be.
It seems like yesterday when I wrote about the passing of Alan Myers, DEVO’s Human Metronome, though it was only eight months ago. Alan’s passing was a shock, but it paled in comparison to the news that broke last week. Bob Casale, better known as “Bob 2,” suddenly died from heart failure. In many ways, Bob 2 is often the forgotten member of the band. He’s not the face of the band like Mark, or the mouthpiece like his brother Jerry. He doesn’t get the spotlight like lead guitarist Bob Mothersbaugh (Bob 1). Yet, he was integral to the DEVO sound, whether creating the iconic, geometric riff to DEVO’s cover of “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction,” providing the synth textures in DEVO’s electronic-focused songs, or his occasional vocal roles.
Ten years ago this summer will be my anniversary of seeing DEVO in concert for the first time. I considered it to be a lucky break, then—my favorite band on a rare reunion show. Even as old men, they put on a better show than most bands I’d seen before or since, and they only got better with each subsequent show. I saw DEVO six times in all, six more times than I ever expected. At the last two shows: a complete performance of their 1980 album Freedom of Choice, and a show to promote their new album Something for Everybody, Bob 2 had a chance to take the spotlight. In the former show, he delivered the blistering vocal bridge to “Mr. B’s Ballroom,” and in the latter, a solo line in the new song “What We Do.” Each moment was a highlight of the show, but there are more wonderful moments: Bob bouncing in time to Jerry’s bass opening to “Mongoloid,” his speedy switch from keys to guitar in a performance of “Shrivel-Up,” the key change at the end of “Going Under…”
I met Bob 2 briefly after a show in New York City, sheepishly handing him my copy of In The Beginning Was The End, the bizarre pseudoscientific book that was an early influence on DEVO. He was surprised. “Oh, wow! You have the book,” he said, taking my Sharpie and signing an understated “Bob 2” on the reflective cover. On the inside, his brother and his bandmates had each signed their names years before. After he signed, I took the book back, shook his hand, and walked away star-struck to wrap the book back up and put it in my backpack. It’s sitting in a box, in storage, with a scrap of yellow suit from Bob 2’s pant leg that I got ahold of at my second ever DEVO show in 2005.
Though I was at work on that terrible Tuesday, my mind was not. I spent most of the day listening to the DEVO discography, and commiserating with other DEVO fans in various places online. In August, there are plans for a DEVO fan convention in Cleveland, the first one since 2010. I attended in 2008, but in 2009, the organizers brought out Bob 2, who not only did a Q/A session, but was gracious enough to cook lunch for a small army of DEVO fans. How many members of how many bands would cook for their fans?
Jerry mentioned in Bob’s LA Times obituary that DEVO was planning a 40th anniversary Summer tour, performing songs from what fans call the “Hardcore” era, songs written from 1974 to 1977, before DEVO had a record contract. There were other things happening under the DEVO banner too, but all of that might be over now. I’ve lost a hero, a key part of my favorite band, the band that changed my life. More importantly, Mark and Bob 1 have lost a friend and a band-mate. Jerry lost a brother. And all this loss has come too soon. I’m still trying to process it.
Not long after I bought my first iPad, I decided to hand down my much-loved Kindle Keyboard to my girlfriend. The iPad became my book reader of choice. And why not? It has a sharper and easier to read screen. I could read PDFs and ePubs in iBooks, as well as my Kindle books with Amazon’s app. I could also read with Instapaper, and Flipboard, and even read comics! The screen is backlit, so I can even read in the dark. What did I need this Kindle for, anyway?
It didn’t last. The iPad I have is just too bulky to whip out on the subway and read with, so I often used my iPhone. (This had its own set of problems.) I often read in the evenings at home, and the bright blue light of the iPad, even with all my reading apps in white-on-black, was probably messing with my sleep from reading before bed. The amount of reading I did on my iPad, and elsewhere, reduced to a trickle. Instapaper articles piled up, eBooks I bought sat unread, and my brain atrophied just a little. I knew I had to get back into reading, and pronto.
And I love it. It solves all the problems I had with the Kindle Keyboard, and is a far better reading experience than my chunky (yet, beloved) iPad 3. E-Ink displays have generally been extremely readable, but usually on par with newsprint, not real books. The Paperwhite has a 200+ dpi display, which—while no Retina Display—is at least as sharp as a well-printed paper book. Swiping to change pages is much more comfortable than tapping narrow edge buttons, too. The Kindle Paperwhite’s front lighting is great in dark rooms, though I’m not sure if the blue tint will still be great for my sleep. Either way, I keep it turned way down from its default setting, even in the brightest rooms. Finally, the smaller size means it fits neatly in my pants pocket, so I have no excuse not to carry it around with me. [1]
The iPad still has a role in my life. It’s my portable writing machine, my comic reader, my preferred way to use OmniFocus, and much more. However, for a pure reading experience, it just doesn’t hold up. Sure, an iPad Air or iPad mini would fix the portability issues, but they’re much pricier and still glow in my face at night. I’ve often maintained that I’d prefer something several things that do one thing well to one multi-function device that does a bunch of things poorly. The Kindle can do a bunch of things: browse the web, play rudimentary games, edit some text, but it does these all so poorly that it may as well be a single-purpose device. And I’m glad for it.
I also sprung for an $20 Omoton case, the same one recommended by The Wirecutter. This way, I don’t have to worry about damaging the screen, or accidentally turning it on in my pocket. ↩
I have an app idea for any dedicated iOS developer. Write it, get it in the store, and I will easily pay at least $9.99 for it. I’m sure other people would pay just as much. The idea is simple, and I’m surprised nobody’s put out an app like it yet.
It’s a geofenced app launcher.
Everything a developer needs to make this is already baked into iOS. Plenty of apps use geofencing for things like notifications and reminders, or background updates. With the M7 chip in the iPhone 5S, it wouldn’t even be a huge battery drain. Launching apps is trivial with URL Schemes. It’s the backbone of apps like Launch Center Pro and Drafts. Combining the two would be brilliant. In fact, if the nice folks at Contrast were to add geofenced app launching in as a feature in Launch Center Pro, even as an in-app purchase, I would jump at it.
The idea came to me after a few weeks at my new job. I’m now living a cross-platform existence, using Windows at the office, and a Mac at home. I need to track my work projects, and I’d much rather incorporate it into my existing OmniFocus system than try to use Outlook or a web-based solution. Having a notification pop up on my phone when I’m at the office to launch OmniFocus, directly into my Work perspective, would be awesome. Currently, I use a repeating reminder in Due set for a few minutes after I get into the office, but what if I’m running late, working from home, or just off for a holiday? I only want my phone to buzz when I really need it to.
Context-aware computing is going to be the next thing in mobile technology. While the rumor mill says that iOS 8 will be all about fitness apps and health, I’m hoping that the changes to the ecosystem will also enable iOS to become more aware of a user’s environment. Imagine, if you will, your phone knowing you’re at the office, turning off the ringer, and reconfiguring the home screen to apps you use the most at work. When you leave the office, the ringer turns back on, and the home screen switches to apps you use on the go. At home, your phone home screen changes again to apps you use there, maybe turning the ringer down to a quieter level. With Keyboard Maestro, you can already do a lot of this on a laptop based on Wifi networks, but I rarely take my laptop anywhere.
My phone, however, is always with me. The hardware is all there to make context-aware computing happen. We just need the software to tie it all together, and I trust Apple to do it in a way that’s easy, effective, and integrated. If the M7 co-processor can know when you’re driving and when you’re walking, why not tie that in with the application launcher, the settings to connect to Bluetooth and Wifi, or any of a host of other hardware and software features in our phones? That is the future of mobile computing, and I’m ready for it.
Though Flappy Bird has passed from App Stores and into legend, debate still rages over what it means gaming as a while. In one corner is MG Siegler, speaking for legions of older gamers who see Flappy Bird as a siren call to return games to the simplicity they had in their heyday.
You didn’t need to read an instruction manual to play [games], you just needed to pick up the controller. Once you did this, a few taps and you were off.
Does a game need to be insanely complicated, or insanely simple? That’s more a question of the type of experience you want to have. If you’re looking for something to occupy your time while waiting in line for your latte, Flappy Bird would fit the bill. If you’re looking to occupy an evening, you want something with a little more meat and complexity. This could mean anything from Super Mario Bros. to Grand Theft Auto, to Civilization V. I’m the sort of gamer who prefers whiling his hours away on SimCity and Sid Meier’s Alpha Centauri over run-and-gun shooters and their ilk, but my tastes shouldn’t be everyone else’s.
MG has romantic notions of the dawn of the home video game era. Back then, home systems in order to be cheap and mass-produced imposed limits on the simplicity of games. Computer games, with access to more computing power, even if over a time sharing system, could be far more complex. Consider the 1971 Star Trek computer game. There’s nothing simple there. Even some early console games were complex enough that you couldn’t just dive in without reading a manual: Adventure, Metroid, The Legend of Zelda, and others were home console games that practically demanded you familiarize yourself with the controls if you wanted to get anywhere, but they rewarded you with deep gameplay (for the time). Now the divide is much more distinct, but it’s been there since the days of Space War and Pong.
There are more gamers, more games, and more things to play them on than we’ve had at any time in the history of interactive home entertainment. Gaming is experiencing a shift that TV experienced around the time cable got into people’s homes. It used to be that you were lucky to have three channels of programming to watch. In order to attract the most eyeballs, and therefore the most advertiser dollars, it was to these networks advantage to produce shows that appealed to as many people as possible. UHF stations added some competition for eyes, but the growth of cable TV had broadcast networks found themselves increasingly competing for eyeballs. On the one end, this gave us miserable reality shows. On the other, it’s given us Mad Men, Breaking Bad, and Boardwalk Empire. Even with more people watching, no one network—broadcast or cable—pulls as many pairs of eyes as the broadcast networks ever did in their prime, but we now have more interesting programming to show for it.
Video games aren’t at that inflection point yet, but they will be soon. There’s enough people who are getting their first fixes of games outside the “traditional” gaming demographic of 18 to 29 year old males to make it happen. There are audiences discovering gaming that are underserved, and they’re going to want more options. Addictive as Candy Crush Saga may be, eventually some people are going to want to do more than slide around brightly colored icons, but they might not want to shoot cops and steal cars. It’s the indie developers on new platforms like iOS who are going to serve them, much like it ended up being the cable networks who produced much of the great television shows of the last decade-plus. They won’t sell in Super Mario numbers, but they won’t have to. The kinds of games they’ll make are uncertain, but what is certain is that among the best of these new games are going to be ones where you’ll need to learn how to play. For the right person, their experience will be that much richer.