I frequently give my wife a hard time about distraction. She will declare her next move and then do five other things before making that move. The fact is that she has ten times – or a hundred times – the practical focus that I have. Her distractions can be handled and dismissed in minutes; mine can take months or years. If you have stuck your head into this dusty blog, you’d be aware that we take dog rescue seriously around here. About 9 months ago, I was invited onto the Board of Old Dog Haven. From the fiction author perspective, or the fan of a fiction author perspective, this can be considered a distraction within a distraction, and so on, going on seven years now. A man named Bob has told me in no uncertain terms that once my writing became real, it became scary, and there is some truth in that. It’s equally true that once money becomes involved, many hurdles drop onto the field. Presumably, real publishers handle these sorts of things, but I haven’t gotten a real publisher, and I’m not even sure that I want one.

Renewal v. 2.0, Decay, Promise, Definition 2.0, Deadwing, Tales from the Edge, The Bus, Deep in the Dust, Web, all sitting here on my hard drive – collecting dust, months, and years while I chase the distractions.

The good news of distractions is that I take the lessons and the characters away from those experiences, but the bad news is that it’s all too easy to use those as a reason not to push the button and get my work out there.

I’m going to tell you the story of Old Dog Haven in vastly simplified form, and I’ll let you decide whether it’s a worthwhile distraction, but before I do, I’m going to say that it was a flat failure in terms of what I hoped to accomplish.

Old Dog Haven is a Western Washington dog rescue that Sharon and I have worked for 5 or 6 years. They take ownership of old dogs with chronic health problems, typically unadoptable dogs, and foster them out to a network of homes who care for them until they pass away. This allows dogs to live out their lives in security and love, rather than dying quickly in a cage in a shelter. I can tell you that the experience of fostering one of these dogs is incredibly rewarding. Watching a dog transform from a shelter wreck into a happy, healthy dog is amazing. It’s different from raising a puppy. Most of these dogs were once loved and a have a lifetime of habits that tell the story. Perhaps their person died or went to a nursing home. Perhaps they succumbed to dementia and forgot the dog was even there. Perhaps the family knew and didn’t care, or perhaps a family loved a dog for its entire life and then ran up against the hard costs of caring for an old dog. In any case, Old Dog Haven pays for the medical care and allows someone to retire these dogs in a loving home. Thanks to the expertise of the founder, they do that very well.

Coming from my Southern upbringing, dogs were a side note. We didn’t hunt with them, we didn’t train them; they simply were always around as pets, but not really part of the family. They only came into the house when the weather was brutally cold. Otherwise, they lived in the garage and roamed free, happy to join the foodgivers when we came outside. My perspective has shifted hard over the years. Some of that comes from my wife, who definitely wouldn’t have a dog that is not treated as part of the family. Some of it comes from the dogs themselves. I spend a lot of time among them, and I can’t help but conclude that they are sophisticated thinkers with as many modes of thought and as much depth of emotion as we have. Even the little ones, who I once thought were essentially squirrels. I stand corrected. They are fully dogs, and there’s a one-eyed Shih Tzu in our house that may be the smartest dog here. Given the first hand experience, I can rifle back through time and rethink my perspective on a great many animal advocates I once thought were completely nuts.

The fact is that we have been in direct relationship with dogs for a very long time. Depending on the reference, we could be talking anywhere from 5000 years to a time when we weren’t even homo sapiens and gray wolves had not emerged from the gene pool. Dogs have worked for us in various roles in exchange for our support. We bred them into those roles from the prototype gray wolf and sacrificed a great deal of their natural survivability in the process. They don’t know that, but we should. They spend their total focus and devotion on us, in ways that we define, and in forms we have defined for a very long time. In return, we owe them. Old Dog Haven is a good example of how to pay that debt at the hard end of the exchange, when the dogs need the most support, and perhaps more importantly, when those dogs need someone who is willing to make the hard call and deliver the coup de grace, because no dog wants to survive its own definition of usefulness. If we don’t give them a job, they pick their own cause and they serve it with utter dedication until they can no longer. When that moment arrives, they know, and they want to move on from this life. They don’t let anything stop them, and they don’t waste time resenting lost limbs, eyes, or senses. They simply work with what they have. It’s a lesson we should all learn.

So, Old Dog Haven is a miracle and a disaster. I joined the Board last November, to the tune of a founding couple announcing their intention to retire, and the Board President of 12 years stepping down. What?!  My own career has been a series of jumping into the the unknown and ramping up as quickly as possible, so that’s what I did. I studied Old Dog Haven, nonprofits in general, other dog rescues, and the legal requirements for such organizations. When I agreed to join the Board, I thought I would be able to apply my own particular expertise to help out in communications and technology. If you ramble over to olddoghaven.org right now, you’ll probably see what I mean. It didn’t take me long to see that those that those aspects were unsolvable without dealing with more fundamental aspects of the organization. I uncleverly assumed that everyone wanted those problems to be corrected, and started talking about it. Big mistake.

By March, I was both Board President and quickly developing as the Face of Evil ™. I was becoming a threat to everyone who wanted to keep doing things they way they had always been done. The kind word for those ways is sloppy. The hard word for the old ways is illegal, or at least legally non-compliant. They simply added up to a huge risk for the organization and the founders. Given that legal reality, who wouldn’t want to straighten it out? Turns out, virtually everyone. There was simply too much to hold onto personally for the prominent members of the organization to go down without a fight. Over the years, a benign neglect of management had allowed certain people to carve out little strongholds of power within the organization, and they held on tight by keeping normal information secret or deliberately shaping the information they did provide, or worse, by outright lying to create a false narrative. In the sympathy column, many of these people have their entire lives tied up in Old Dog Haven, and taking it away amounts to stealing someone’s spouse. On the other hand, a nonprofit is a public trust that should be capable of withstanding scrutiny from anyone, and Old Dog Haven is the polar opposite of that definition. I’m sure there are several regulatory agencies that would have a field day.

As a Board President with a supporting Board, I had the first and probably last opportunity to clean house on a deeply flawed organization that happens to do wonderful things. I could have simply exerted normal Board authority and fixed most of the problems. Unfortunately, the organization doesn’t believe in Board authority, and half of my Board flipped at the last moment and left me with no options. I gave them a graceful resignation, and they are busily maneuvering for position while they agree mainly on the need to drive a bus over my well-intentioned corpse. Whoever emerges as the new Board President will learn the same lessons I did. They will cycle through optimism and frustration that arrives at paralysis, and if they attempt to make a change, they will have the same target on their back that I did. The Old Dog Haven Board will continue as a symbolic checklist item, a nonfunctional rubber stamp for a sole dictator in charge of the future of an organization. Dictators can last a very long time, but their domains tend to be a lot less successful than they should be.

But that’s not the fun part. The fun part is that the faction that controls the organization is in the business of personal power at the expense of a clean organization. They are all willing and capable of stabbing each other in the back to curry favor with whomever they think will give them an advantage at any given moment. I’ve seen the tides shift numerous times in my short tenure, and I wonder how long it will take without the easy, unifying target of the Face of Evil ™ before they start turning on each other again. History says it won’t be long. In the meantime, I resist the temptation to hurry it along by throwing forwarded email grenades onto the battlefield.

I sound bitter, but mostly I’m sad. I don’t really care who runs the show as long as it continues, because the mission is important to me. In its current state, almost anything could cause the whole organization to implode. I had hoped to stabilize it, but I failed.

Another wasted distraction, filed under, “No good deed go unpunished.”

So, a great deal of time – measured very accurately by how little blogging has occurred – and effort wasted, but that time is freed up. What to do? I hope there are still a few of you willing to scream, “Publish!” at me.


On Being Smart

There’s being smart, and there’s good at being smart. The crux of being good at being smart is to be dumb. Ask dumb questions. Check every basic assumption you have, and then recheck it. Qualify your own thinking. Are you 100% sure? 60% sure or not sure at all? What are the likely outcomes of your decisions? No idea? Good. That’s smart.

Then there’s the other side of that coin. Do you know? How do you know? There’s no rule that says you need to make a court case to be accurate. Sometimes you just know. On a gut level. That’s knowing and that’s smart too. In fact, if you went back and thought about every time you went against your gut level response and talked yourself out of it, you’d probably say you were wrong more often than not.

How do we know on that level? It’s been floating around for decades that our subconscious has many times the computing power of our conscious mind. Maybe so. Maybe it’s our soul talking. Maybe it’s God trying to save us from our own limitations. Maybe it’s the fact that our mind is so much larger than our brain that we can’t get the full report, or maybe there is simply something buried within our instincts that helps us along when our brains get carried away with our own thoughts.

In a thin-sliced world of ultra-parsed thoughts and words, maybe it’s worth pondering the simple knowing, of right and wrong, complex and simple, smart and foolish in some practical measure, or the simple distinction of comfort versus discomfort within our own minds.

Christmas Without the Hype

It has been over 18 years, and it’s not possible to experience Christmas without feeling the sharp loss of my mother.

You see, Mom was a profound Christmas elf and a button pusher of the highest order. For the last decade of her life, she pronounced each Christmas to be the biggest ever because it could be her last. Eventually she was right. It was her last. 1998 to be exact. She passed in August of 1999.

I remember decorating ever larger trees each year under her direction while my father literally yelled “Bah Humbug” from the other room. He was at least 50% joking of course. It is not possible to completely disavow someone who injected so much joy into Christmas, especially someone who could cook holiday food so well. I’m sure the price tag made his Januaries painful, but the late Decembers were worth it, probably even to him. I remember pulling feats of lopsided balance on a step ladder that was never intended to be used inside the house in order to decorate the top quarter of a 14 foot tree. My mom was not so much about safety as she was about some belief that involved a certain kind of faith and a certain kind of righteousness of purpose. At Christmas, the purpose was celebration and sharing. It’s probably safe to say that her faith kept me from falling off that ladder as I leaned way out to place the star upon the tree.

She had a great friend, Linda, whose value I completely missed until I was old enough to understand. As a kid, Linda was an interloper on our family Christmas, and I resented it. As an adult, I understood the value of her friendship with my mother, and I felt truly sorry for my childish reaction. As I write, Linda is somewhere in Kentucky, wrestling with her own struggles, and feeling the loss as sharply as I do. I have nothing for Linda these days except a deep gratitude for her support of my mother all those years. Linda has never embraced the internet, and will never read these words, but I have let her know that I finally understood, that some things are hard to understand, and yet infinitely valuable in this world.

It is not wrong to approach Christmas as a symbol of our relationship with our creator, no matter how you view that relationship, but the truth is that we are poorly equipped to deal with it on that level. For most of us, it is very hard to bring an infinite God down to our level of existence, but we always have the next best thing. We have the people who matter in our lives, who actually affect us, who move us with both kindness and cruelty, comfort and loss, lessons and support when the lesson is too hard to grasp. We have Christmas, as it exists, both in the strict framework of Christ and the broader framework of values in life. We don’t have to agree on the meaning; we only have to agree that there is meaning, that we all affect each other, and that today of all days, we choose to reflect on the positive meaning of our collective motion into a world that works for all of us and brings us closer to each other.

Some of you know I am speaking directly to you, and some of you don’t. On this day, I am speaking to all of you, with all of the meaning fully intact. If you think I have forgotten, I have not. I love you all.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Are We Having Fun Yet?

I sit here in the wee hours of Saturday morning, worrying about my wife. She is back in her home stomping grounds of New Jersey, visiting family, in particular her mother, who is recovering from a bad fall. Apparently Sharon had a toxic encounter with some crab cakes, and got sick enough to call an ambulance last night. I’m sure she’ll be okay, but I’m waiting for her to wake up, just to tell me that she is indeed okay. We’ve all been there.

Thus begins the cascade that leads to this entry in my rambling, unorganized blog. To occupy myself, one of many current projects is to resurrect her aging laptop from the pits of Windows slowdown. I doubled the memory and am working on replacing the hard drive with an SSD, which by the way is the best way to make an old computer feel new again. Judging by the ominous squeaking from the old hard drive, this is an even better idea. This process involves a lot a backing up, cleaning, and other tasks that – on this creaky old drive – take a lot of time. All of which leaves me here trying to engage my mind on something, anything, to avoid the helpless circular worry cycle of knowing that I can’t help my very favorite person.

And that’s where I made my mistake… I looked at the news. Looking at the news these days is a lot like swirling down the toilet bowl of outrage. For some people, the outrage is one sided. For me, it is more the outrage of the loss of critical thought in our culture. If you have a strong enough opinion, it turns into belief, which is not subject to easy revision. Collect a few people with the same belief and suddenly you have a religion. I suspect that there was once a time when looking at the news was clarifying for most people. Walter Cronkite had a gift for boiling it down into a single evening broadcast that managed to at least appear as if it didn’t have an agenda attached. Nowadays, and I don’t care which side of the great ideological divide you call home, every single voice leads with the agenda and distorts the story to make it fit. That’s like a boxer leading with his face.

Here’s the problem. I care about something called The Truth. In seeking that evasive rascal, I have a process of looking at multiple sides of the news. The left, the right, the subversive, anything that starts with alt, and so on. I shouldn’t need to do that. I should be able to rely on someone to stand up in front of a camera and throw the facts my way without a narrative attached. In this day and age, that is simply not possible. In the synthesis of all these sources, I should be able to approach something more akin to the truth, but that’s not really possible either. In the final analysis, there is never enough time to do more than scan through a bunch of crap, attach as much weight of objectivity as possible, and hope that I come up with something worth thinking. Unfortunately, I’m not any more capable of true objectivity than anyone else. My beliefs, my ethics, and my experiences attach automatically, just like they do for everyone else.

To illustrate my display my complete, mindless subjectivity, and thus disarming any authority I may have to write this entire post*, let me use a sports analogy. I hate the Atlanta Falcons because I hate the city of Atlanta. I hate the city of Atlanta for a variety of reasons that probably boil down to my father’s incessant complaining about traffic when I was a kid in the back-facing seat in our family station wagon. He managed to transmit all that stress to us kids in a way that survives to this day. Does it make sense? Nope. I further hate football teams from Miami, Tampa, New Orleans, and possibly Arizona, LA, and San Diego, because I associate football with the crisp Fall weather that I enjoyed as a player, and obviously these cities can’t possibly experience the right weather for football, right? Well, no. It’s completely stupid. I know it’s completely stupid, but that doesn’t stop me from hating football teams from hot, steamy, or downright tropical places. I hate the Patriots because Tom Brady. Either you get this or you don’t. Yet, I love the Gronk. Go figure. Being a Tennessean at heart , I would like to love the NC Panthers, but Cam Newton prevents me.  Despite the evidence that he is actually a decent human being, I can’t get past his style, his arrogant demeanor, and my completely unfounded belief that he will end up on the wrong end of inappropriate allegations at some point in the future. At the same time, I love teams for equally stupid reasons. The Seahawks because I live here. I miss Marshawn Lynch and actually grieve the injuries in the Legion of Boom. I rail at the offensive play calling and wish for a good enough offensive line to keep Russell Wilson from doing his best work in the realm of miracles. I love the Eagles because that’s where Sharon grew up, and this year I feel unaccountable joy that they are a great team. I loved the Broncos for Peyton and hate them for Talib. I love the Packers because they are the greater-than-the-sum result of the working class and the fact that they can inspire people to wear giant wedges of fake cheese on their heads. Yes. None of this makes any sense at all. Yet, it’s a pretty good expression of the human condition.

So throwing aside the so called professional reporters, there is another obnoxious arbiter of reality known as social media. Aka, us. I’ve seen the value of Twitter this year, not as a source of truth, but as a way of taking the pulse of reaction to whatever news story is clogging up the pipes at any given moment. In some cases, it’s also a better and faster source of breaking news than any official source. But, even a glimpse at the trending tags on Twitter is like sticking my head out the car window while going twice the national speed limit. Sure, at 30 mph, the occasional “make like a dog” act is fun and refreshing. Apparently, there are thrillseekers that are happy face-surfing the slipstream at 60 mph and can happily spend vast swathes of time on Twitter, making sure that their every idiotic, devoid-of-logic thought is recorded for posterity and the NSA. But at 120mph, in case you’ve never tried it, you’d better be wearing a helmet and googles. Otherwise it’s nothing but pain and tears.

Clearly, we need some method of vast simplification just to cope with the information and value feed. Our vast system of defining everything, including right and wrong, on other derived definitions is a huge problem. It means that I can’t espouse any kind of opinion without defining the framework that led me to that thought without being accused of some subhuman characteristic. In other words, we live in a world of swirling circular non-logic. Based on this week, we can’t even convict a man who admitted to killing someone for killing that someone. Based on the past month, there are an incredible (although not surprising) number of men who managed to redefine reality into a version that allowed them to project women into consequence-free toys for their own entertainment. Imagine their surprise when the consequences began to rain from the sky. Imagine my own regret that I can’t live in this world without being painted with the same broad brush as these complete dirtbags. Imagine the extent of our moral relativism when their ongoing apologies contain more words about their own feelings than actual expressions of apology to their victims, apologies which are entirely inadequate in the first place. Although I cannot dismiss the ongoing possibility of untrue accusations, it is pretty clear that the vast majority of allegations are well supported, and I shake my head in disgust. But I’m only talking about the symptoms of the deeper systemic disease…

At this point, I could branch off into about 50 directions to pin this idea down. I could head into things that are quantifiable and therefore measurable. For example, I’m currently putting insulation into my shop/office/garage. The hope is that I can heat it through the winter without tripling our power bill and/or tripping breakers with multiple electric heaters. This is a terrible task because it is clearly illustrating how badly I need to get a gym membership, but it’s a great task because it is entirely measurable. As long as I can work a measuring tape and a staple gun without falling off a step ladder, I’m good. I know the outcome. How can you apply that to another human being, much less any group of people? Beyond a certain point, you can’t measure reality. Ask today’s leading quantum physicist about the nature of reality and you will get something that basically amounts to opinions with supporting math. What happens to a square meter of forest if the neighboring tree grows just enough to cast 30 minutes more shade on that patch of the landscape? The answer is an informed guess. Don’t get me wrong. Human beings are very good at navigating existence through guesswork. One could argue that the fact that we all guess a little differently adds up to a self balancing system of survival.

Rather than delve into the other 49 branches of this argument, let me throw the flag of human nature onto the field. Just like the court system of replay-driven due process that has become professional football, let me disclaim the following by saying that I am speaking in observations. As far as I’m concerned, yours are as valid as mine, and I welcome your observations to the discussion. The only real difference is that I am writing mine here and now, in my typically wordy fashion, and attaching my name to them. That out of the way, human nature is our ultimate double edged sword. It is the source of our supremacy on this planet and the biggest problem we face. What is knowable about human nature? One is that it expresses itself in individuals in a myriad of ways, but in the aggregate, it resolves into patterns that we can observe. Take any group of people across any arbitrary division and given enough people, you will see every trait that human nature has to offer. Generosity, selfishness, peace, violence, productivity, laziness, honesty, deceit, codependent neuroses, bug nuts predatory insanity. These things and all the others always appear. Two is that sex is inextricable from human nature. Despite our best efforts to neutralize gender roles of late, it is simply not possible to ignore the fact that we are here because of sexual reproduction, and that makes sex a survival trait. The minute we lose our survival traits, some other species takes over. In the here and now, that means that we can’t wish it away. Sex plays a role no matter whether we notice it or not, or whether we wish it were true or not.  Sorry. This reality has consequences. Some male dirtbag will always try to take advantage of it through situational power, some woman will always find a way to use it to her advantage, and some homosexual couple will always have to contend with the opinions of others, even if they are trying to adopt a child that will be far better off in their care than it would be in some hellhole adoption pit somewhere in the world.  Personally, I would wish those children into any caring home. Three, it is the nature of humanity that every last one of us is riddled with our failings and blind spots. Of the two, blind spots are the worst because they prevent us from seeing what we are doing to ourselves and those around us. The constant lack of ability to step back from ourselves and ask the basic questions is probably the biggest problem with human nature, and we all fail that test almost every day.

At the same time, that exact same failing can be a strength that keeps us going when there are no good options in life. Holding up the old left hand – right hand scale, is the lack of perspective a strength or weakness? I’ve just said it was both, in true gray-area fashion. In most of the world, it’s probably a huge strength. People live in conditions that would make those of us with time to blog collapse in despair at the broad picture of our lives. We could easily end up talking to a rotten head of cabbage named Wilson. But here in America, the by-and-large land of comfort and convenience, failing to see the forest for the trees is a gaping hole of weakness. We could easily end up talking to a Costco-sized cupcake that we have decided to name Cupcake. Given all these systems and conditions of plenitude, we should have time to see the big picture. Again, sorry, but what heck are we doing? By sticking my head out the car window, I can see that we have abused our power by taking the microscopic and making it into the whole of existence, and that’s why we live in a society of complete relativism that somehow manages to become utterly absolute in a heartbeat.

We live in a system, us Americans. That system is supposed to do certain things. Keep us safe, guarantee a rule by law rather than the whim of a monarch, allow us a level of freedom and independence, and perhaps most importantly, give us a choice in our own future. In order for any of that to work, we are expected to have an informed voice in a very large, impactful discussion. That voice is expected to be passed along to our representatives in government, who are supposed to represent us on the larger stage. If that representative fails to support our views, we are expected to vote that person out of office at the earliest opportunity. Yes, I know. It’s all Civics 101, but we seem to have lost track of this basic chain of accountability. Even worse, our so-called leadership appears to have lost sight of the fact that they work for us (in theory) and typically try to run up a hill under the banner of their own advantage (in power, money, favor, what have you…) and forget who put them office. Yes, our one… er, two party machine serves as the banking system for their rise to power, but you and I are the currency. Like all good banks, the party system is far more capable of enforcing allegiance that any dollar bill in a wallet. Any of our vaunted leaders who read this (I suspect the number is zero) would ruffle up in indignance. It might be true indignance because they are actually trying to represent us, or in far more dramatic faux-indignance because they don’t want to be caught out, lining their own power pockets and failing to serve the needs of their constituency. Aka, us. You and me, the ones who find out that our tax dollars are going to pay off sexual harassment suits, the ones who fill out all the forms every year to discover that our government keeps treating it as their money rather than ours.

The extreme voices say that the only peaceful recourse is to reconfigure your life to pay as few tax dollars as possible, thus controlling the government through sheer cashflow desperation. They say that your failure to cry out loud at every failure of accountability is your failure, rather than the fault of those who wake up every day with a new scheme to abuse the system you support. In other words, they say the mess is your fault. I’d say up to a point, they are right. In the same breath, I’d say those extreme voices are wrong. What are we supposed to do with a self-serving system that uses us as money batteries to finance abuse that falls right back on our shoulders? All of the logical answers will never happen. In pure logic terms, we should demand term limits at a minimum. Experience in lawmaking can quickly turn from disconnect from real existence to disdain for the problems of normal Americans. Some politicians seem so disconnected from our reality that they need a brutal punch to the face to remind them that their rhetorical reality is not the final arbiter of actual American reality. Term limits put a cap on how far their perception can stray from the concerns of the rest of us. The argument that experience counts in Congress is the same as saying that experience counts in mob style protection money. If you can break my knees, will that make it more likely that I will be able to pay the bill at the end of the week?

The most extreme voices say that we should either fall off the grid and disconnect ourselves from our government, or rise in armed conflict to the government. You may get away with the former if you are willing to experience discomfort and inconvenience, but we have a whole set of examples to remind you that you won’t get away with the latter. We’ve had governments in my lifetime that would put up with all manner of sins, but not a direct ideological conflict. The real problem with most of the ultra-extreme views is that it comes with baggage that has nothing to do with a system of America that actually works. If you are preaching white nationalism in the woods somewhere, you’re missing the point. If you are anti-any-culture or racist group, you are again missing the point. At various points of history, there has been extreme resistance to different cultural groups of immigrants. Most of them considered completely white,  I might add. Odds are that if you are preaching some form of hatred, you are talking about your own ancestors. The people to whom you owe your very existence…

On the other side, if you are screeching labels at people like the pod people in Invasion of the Bodysnatchers, then your extremism is equally to blame. And by equal, I mean you could reread the previous paragraph with your own views inserted. I don’t care who you hate, sooner or later someone in that group will do something that bursts your bubble of belief. You could take note of that when it happens and adjust your reality a bit, or you can stick your fingers in your ears, close your eyes, and say, “Lalalalalalalalalalalala!” In a system where we have no connection between our reality and the noise that pumps out of the collective Americana, this is actually a reasonable response.

Where does that leave us in world where we are subjected to pointless identity politics from all sides and talking heads telling us how much rampant racism and oppression still exists, to the point where people feel entitled to take up sniper positions and gun down police? I’m not saying that these things don’t exist, just that they are not the all-encompassing plague that drives news cycles. At any rate, I could argue that facts all day and fail to convert anyone.

Let me use the Big Rewind to explain. There was a time, a very long time, in which we didn’t have the luxury of any of these debates. We had life, and we had death. We had survival. If you lived in a tribe that spent its entire day roaming far and wide to find enough food to keep living, I don’t think I need to explain that any stranger presented a threat to survival. Even today you can find stats on how much land it takes for any animal population to survive. This tribalism became the same as racism. You were either a part of the system of the world or you were “Other.” Perhaps the stranger became more valuable to the tribe than the resources he or she consumed and became part of the tribe. Perhaps the stranger stayed separate and simply consumed food within the territory of the tribe. They stayed “Other” and thus needed to be eliminated to improve the odds of tribal survival. This was life or death after all. Part of human nature is this legacy. Within every one of us is that seed of racism in the form of “Other.” We can overcome it, but we can’t ignore it. It was handed down to us from hundreds of generations for whom it was not an intellectual debate. It was pure survival that resulted in us. Is it not illogical that human nature contains a racist component that must be overcome through conscious thought.

The problem we face is that the real conflicts do not exist between groups like white people and black people, American citizens and illegal immigrants, Christians versus Muslims -insert your conflict here; it is the conflict among the expressions of human nature. Human nature is largely innate and subconscious and very few of us have the time or energy to examine it. I examine it continuously, like a weird hobby, through myself and others. Here’s what I have found, on top of a relatively racist upbringing in the South. If I personally meet someone of something other than my profoundly white Western European ancestry, I don’t even consider race. Do I like this person? That’s it. Some people I like instantly; some people annoy me before they even open their mouth. Regardless of race, and for reasons I may never really understand. If my simple notice of their ethnicity makes me racist, then I am racist. Perhaps I’m tribalist, but I doubt it. I tend to think more in terms of family, which I extend to include anyone important in my life. Perhaps I’m just applying an organizational tag like human metadata. If you can meet someone without the moment of noticing physical characteristics, then you are far more enlightened than I. Personally, I think everyone notices, in the exact same way that people notice someone they find attractive. In an instant, before any thought or cultural/sexual ideology even begins to kick in. It takes practice to observe this progression, even in ourselves, because it happens blindingly fast. Speed is of the essence in survival traits. We shouldn’t have time to decide.

The instantaneous is not the point. It may save us from the hubcap flying at our windshield, but it doesn’t define us. What does define us is what happens when that instant passes and we begin to apply all the rest of our thinking to the equation. That’s where the beauty and ugliness of human nature expresses itself. It can go either way because we made it to the top of the food chain with our adaptiveness. A professional baseball player can train himself to react to a pitch that goes by at speeds that may as well be a bullet for the rest of us. A marathon runner can rewrite their entire metabolic system to deliver a superhuman result. A biathlete in the winter Olympics can go from all out aerobic effort to the utter calm of high levels of marksmanship in seconds. The body control this requires is also superhuman. Presumably, every highly trained soldier on the planet can do the same thing. All of this is built on a physical foundation, but it’s control of the mental process that makes it happen. You can prove it in the storied 4-minute mile. It was impossible until it was done, and then the mental wall was destroyed and it went from impossible to expected in a historic blink of the eye. You can even see it on TV today. I present American Ninja Warrior, a cartoonish athletic competition that may as well be superhero training for the likelihood of any of us doing what those people do as routine. At some point, there is always an obstacle that takes out everyone, until a metaphorical Spiderman shows up and beats it. Then it becomes possible, and the top third beat the same obstacle shortly thereafter. It really makes you wonder; what are our actual limits?

On the other side of the coin, you may use the same sublime human capacity to take the instantaneous reaction and turn it into something grotesque. I’ve said it for years. The measure of a man is not in the reaction; it’s in what he does with it. I meet an attractive woman who was attractive before I could even notice my reaction. It’s built in. I say to myself, “She’s attractive,” and that’s it. I do not translate her attractiveness into any course of action or assumption of conferred rights to the direction of her life or my access to her body. I think this is fairly typical. On the other end of the spectrum, I may have Zeus-like control of Hollywood and decide that makes every young actress a toy that I can use as I see fit. I may be a Congressman who sees every photograph as an opportunity to grab a female posterior and then explain it away as, “I take thousands of photographs. I can’t remember every ass I’ve grabbed.” I may scheme to the point of actually installing a door locking button under my desk so that my bag of sex toys can be forcibly sold to a woman who is suddenly faced with more existential dilemmas than a cat in a dog kennel. In more mundane circumstances, I may translate friendliness into sexual intent and take up stalking as a hobby. I may use that imagined intent to create an imagined rejection and the whole situation could become obsessive and violent. But I don’t. Why?

My fifty-year collection of upbringing, training, inculturation, experience, and good old trial and error didn’t turn out that way. Lucky me. Life is a collection of experiences and relationships. Thanks to our highly adaptable brains, we can interpret all of these things in any number of ways. You may hear the same commercial three times in a row and think, sign from God. I may hear it and think somebody’s getting fired. Everything we encounter is subject to our mental game. If I meet a person, a potential relationship, with the notion that I am somehow superior in the grand scheme, I’m probably making a huge mistake. If I view another person as some kind of target that could be used to fulfill some need I have, and I’m referring to deep personal need here, not, “Will this lightbulb work?” then I am probably making a huge mistake. On the other hand, if I meet every person with the attitude that there is some value, something worthy of respect, some beauty of human nature waiting to be encountered, then all those initial reactions disappear as fast as they occurred.

It’s a great idea that plenty of people make impossible. All the best intentions disappear in the second instant when we encounter someone who is pointing those same mistakes in our direction, and we are forced to put up some kind of defense. People can be hostile, tired, judgmental in a way that may be aimed at you specifically, one of the groups you happen to inhabit, or literally everyone they meet. You have no way of knowing, but you still need to react. Then human interaction devolves into a messy interplay of actions, reactions, and overlain thoughts that usually become judgments. If we can get past that, then maybe a relationship occurs. Maybe we walk out with the appropriate lightbulb, maybe we earn a new drinking buddy, or maybe we find the love of our lives. Usually the lightbulb is good enough.

My point is that human existence is difficult. There are potentially no boundaries to what that means, which requires us to apply some meaning to it. Every day, every moment, we are forced to ask ourselves what we know. What do we actually know? What can be determined to be true with no prerequisites needed? In isolation, the answer is virtually nothing. The truth is that we only determine truth together. Without others, we can only know hunger, fear, pain, discomfort or the lack of those things. We might not even be able to determine the simple awareness of existence without someone else to serve as an example. Love? God? Creation? Law? World? Purpose? We determine truth together, and right now, we’re really bad at it.



*If you’ve spent any time on this blog, you know that I like to destroy my own credibility as a reminder to both of us that we all are all limited in ways that we may not see. Just like you, I am simultaneously a valid and invalid voice. Anyone who tells you otherwise is selling you something you probably don’t want.


24 hours later, Sharon is feeling much better. Only 38 hours until she gets home! Her laptop is finally fixed without a complete re-installation of Windows, and it runs better than new. As a geek, I’ll admit, I’ve lost a few steps, but I can still pull it off. And yes, I got the old drive copied before it disappeared in a puff of smoke. Small victories…

Technology from Apple and Some Crazy Writing Considerations

I did a crazy thing. After years of avoiding Apple tech for very practical (and yet entirely biased) reasons, I bought an iPad Pro.

I did it for several reasons. One, the quality of the Apple Pencil, two the optimization of apps in the Apple ecosystem… In other words, Android app makers have the same problem as PC app developers. They have to optimize for a million different hardware configurations. Apple app developers have a finite number of hardware configurations to support, which means that for any given app, the iOS version will generally work better. Third is that there are apps available on the iOS landscape that don’t exist on Android. For the most part, these are “pro” apps in various disciplines that I need.

Two weeks later, the results are in. In terms of the inside the Apple box experience, Apple rocks. In terms of dealing with the larger world of technology, iOS is an utter mess. The walled garden of Apple works great if you have no idea what you are doing; it will protect you and keep you calm so that you can carry on. If you are trying to include Apple into an existing system, prepare for a fight.

For years, I have categorized user interfaces into two categories. One is self explanatory and lends itself to flow. It leads you to logical places and maps itself into your work as you proceed. The truth is that only a tiny minority of software works this way. However, a lot of people are working very hard on the concept, and the rise of mobile devices seems to be a spur to push interfaces into new modes. Some of the iPad apps have incredibly good interfaces. Unfortunately, most software still falls into a metaphor I call City Software. If you know the city you are in, you can access everything it offers and allows. If you don’t know the layout, you are lost.  In a real city, you wander the streets until you find your way. In software land, you push buttons to see what they do. In the Apple ecosystem, it’s entirely possible to push buttons that do things you don’t want to do, because Apple has built a meta game around iOS. In all honesty, if I knew nothing and had no expectations, I probably wouldn’t notice the problems until I had already developed the habits that Apple wants me to learn. I would be focused on the pretty hardware and the incredibly nice screen. Unfortunately, there are two major problems. I know entirely too much in the form of decades of tech experience. From Apple’s perspective, I have all the wrong habits. Problem number two is that the iPad Pro is being sold with the Pro moniker and with the touted expectation that it can replace a laptop. I never believed it could really replace a laptop; it’s a support device with some very good solutions to my common tasks. However, I did expect a relatively fluid capability for moving files around the way that Pros tend to do. The brand new iOS 11 was said to improve that capability, but those improvements really do nothing to open up the file system. The walls around the Apple walled garden are fully intact.

I understand the reasons, namely security, revenue protection, and the Apple “stuff that just works” ethos. I also understand the massive amount of effort that any opening of the iOS file structure represents, not just for Apple but for every app developer in the ecosystem. The benefits to the current system are plentiful, especially if you intend to hand an iPad to a child, or even a parent who has heard of this world wide web thing, but is probably never going to settle in front of a full computer. And why would they? Full computers are easy to break, even for people with years of experience. There are all kinds of concepts to understand, rules to follow, maintenance to keep in mind, cables everywhere.

If, on the other hand, you intend to utilize the “Pro” aspect of the iPad Pro, then you are going to reinvent your workflows. Hold on tight. Option one is simply don’t install any apps that duplicate the functions of apps that come pre-loaded. If you don’t have multiple apps that use the same types of data, then guess what? It just works. The problem is that Pros tend to have very specific demands, which means option one is not an option. Option two is to try to do your homework, choose the apps that cover your needs, and start figuring out how to move data around. While it is technically possible to do a great deal of work from start to finish on an iPad, and it’s also possible to combine apps efficiently to handle more complex workflows, the fact is that most of the “Pro” apps need some form of data sharing. If you use your device for web surfing, social media, and media consumption, none of my grumbles will affect you. At worst you just log into things on whatever collection of machines you have and everything synchs itself automatically. If you originate work on your iPad that will need to be finished on a full computer, or if you have a pile of stuff on your computer that you need to take with you, then the fun gets ramped up to 11. By fun, I mean pain, suffering, and generalized angst.

Here’s another set of options. You can plug your iPad into a USB port on your computer, fire up the crappiest old dog of software known as iTunes, figure out how to time travel back to 2006 and transfer files to your iPad. This has a few advantages once you poke around a bit. It’s fast, good for large files and large collections of small files. It has the ability to target SOME apps, but not all of them and certainly not the default apps, as far as I can tell.* The key to the pre-loaded apps, I believe, is to add stuff to your iTunes library, tell it what to synch, and off those files go, assuming iTunes didn’t crash and was able to find your iPad. ( I’ve seen both more than once) When that’s done you can open those files on the device, also assuming you want to open them with an app that starts with a lowercase ‘i’. That other app for the same files has no clue that they are there. The exception to this rule is that the photos library seems to integrate well with third party apps, and the caveat to this whole piece is that I’m a Pro at some things, but not Apple’s Way. *Those of you who can identify my ignorance, please set me straight!

Option two is embracing the cloud. I don’t like the cloud concept any more than I like software subscription models. Both take control out of my hands. But, I understand that the cloud is part and parcel of the modern Tao of Tech, whether I like it or not. So, having been broken to the bit, I now gaze at the sky and ask, “Which cloud?” It turns out that the answer quickly becomes, “All of them.” All the big names anyway. For me, it started with Dropbox, way back when. I think I have 5.15 Gigs at my command over there. Still free. I think their minimum is just north of $8/month, which seems mighty expensive compared to the others, and way too much for something I don’t like. Somewhere in the Windows upgrade march, the Microsoft cloud became a thing, and the Office subscription (that it’s impossible to live without if you work with a single human being who happens to be named “Not You”) bumped the cloud storage up to something large enough I’ll never have to think about it again. Then the Android smartphone combined with the Chrome browser somehow dragged me into Google Drive, which I actually use almost every day. A cheap Chromebook came with 100 Gigs that I thought was supposed to expire, but still hasn’t. 100G is more than I’ll ever write plus an airport shuttle’s worth of human genomes. I’ll take free as long as possible, because the only thing worse than something you hate is something you hate that has a billing cycle. Check that… I can’t really claim to hate Google Drive anymore; I just don’t trust it. And then there’s the iCloud. It’s new to me, but my wife’s old iPad has been quietly backing itself up for years and banging up against the 5 Gig limit, largely due to our rather excessive tendency to take dog photos. I found the family sharing option for iCloud and went ahead and bumped up the storage to a level that is epic for Sharon’s iPhone and old iPad, but for two new iPad Pros, one of which is a lovely shade of Rose Gold, well… I suspect we’ll cram that old iCloud full of dog photos in no time flat. Obviously, iCloud is the default option for iOS, but there are a few iOS 11/app combos that haven’t worked out the bugs yet. My highly informal and unscientific testing makes it appear that iCloud is much slower than Google Drive and Microsoft’s cloud was much faster. That probably says very little about how well they actually work and a great deal about relative popularity of the various services, especially over Thanksgiving weekend, when all those iPhone photos were flying into the cloud like crows being chased by a flock of really angry finches. Aaaand finally… As an Adobe CC subscriber, I have access to the Creative Cloud. I have some vague notion of what it’s supposed to do, but my ingrained Adobe habits of 21 years have kept me from even touching it yet – and by yet I mean a long time. I expect those programs are using it behind my back. I really don’t want to know. All those shiny iOS apps that appear to be pale shadows of the desktop versions, yet come with the subscription, will have me using that Creative Cloud soon enough. Yay, me! All geeked out. More clouds than a Puget Sound winter.

Some unnamed “Pro” apps of the non-Adobe variety seem to have a distinct preference for Dropbox. Of course they do. It costs the most. The real issue is that I have five clouds, a collection of apps that use only one or two of them, which means that eventually I will have to know which cloud to use from my computer to make sure the files end up accessible to the app I intended. This drops right back into the closed file system problem. On any other machine, including my Android phone and probably a Raspberry Pi, I can just dump a bunch of files into my current project folder and load them into any app I want to use at any time. The only drawback is that I can potentially lose track of an entire project folder, but it has not happened, ever. I have every project folder I’ve ever done, back to 1988. That’s my OCD, right there! Every once-huge set of files tucked away in microscopic corners of modern hard drives. The only exception is good old standard definition video. It lives on DVCAM tapes in a drawer underneath some articles of clothing that are almost as unlikely to be seen ever again.

Option three involves emailing files to a convoluted email address that somehow sticks it somewhere on my iPad to be seen by who knows what apps. There are probably some good use cases for this option, but I can’t imagine a scenario where I can use email and not use a puffy white storage network. The majority of files I generate tend to make email servers complain.

I thought I was pretty clever with Option four, but Apple hammered me like a rusty old nail. I bought the SD card adapter thinking it would work like it does everywhere else, as general storage for transferring files. Nope. You plug it in and the Photos app opens up. If the stuff on the card doesn’t look like a photo or certain flavors of video, then you can forget it. The good news is that for its one and only intended purpose, it’s still very useful for me. I have multiple cameras filling up SD cards on a regular basis.

Now, it may seem like I have buyer’s remorse, but that’s not true. The iPad Pro is a fantastic piece of hardware, and the Pencil works so well that I can avoid much more expensive options for the same purpose, in a device with easier portability and longer battery life. The apps I’m using are uniformly excellent and in some cases, inspired pieces of design. I did my homework. There are also certain niche apps that only exist on iOS because of Apple’s long affinity with creative communities. I can think of dozens of people who could literally take an iPad and replace a laptop. In my particular case, I can’t go that far. I do things that require some serious heavy lifting on a desktop machine. If iOS moves in the direction of the smoother integration I’ve been blabbering about, then I would probably never buy another laptop. I’d happily use the iPad like a laptop and the desktop for heavy duty work.

Laptops are great, but in my weird set of demands, they always end up dangling in the center of bad compromises. If I get one that can realistically handle the (non-writing) creative work, then the battery life is short enough that it’s not truly portable. There are exceptions out there, but I’m as likely to buy a $4000 laptop as I am to spend a million bucks on a car. Ain’t gonna happen. For writing, anything works great. For drafts, I’ll fire up Google Docs and start typing. My $180 Chromebook works for 11 hours and the screen is terrible, which is a strange advantage for old eyeballs, but that drab, low resolution viewport is comfortable for writing at on-the-couch distances. The keyboard is not bad, but most importantly, I won’t feel much remorse when I wear it out. And the Chromebook OS forces me to focus. That same crappy screen isn’t good for surfing the web. Web sites want higher resolution. I just open a file, hit the fullscreen button and start typing. And yes, the machine can do more, but really all it does well is Google Docs

My phone is a far more capable machine. If I were not the kind of person who drops right out of creative mode every time the thing makes a noise, I could hook it to a monitor, link it to a Bluetooth keyboard and type like the wind. Well, more like a gentle breeze, but still…

The laptop I have is getting older but it’s still plenty of computer, just as soon as I replace the non-user-replaceable battery. It’s okay, I have tiny screwdrivers. The problem with the laptop is that I can either plug it in, or spend time watching that infernal battery gauge. Because it falls on the performance end of the spectrum, I can’t really use it on my lap. Within minutes it’s ironing a patch of my right pant leg. If I don’t move it around, it will eventually start to burn it’s way through, and nobody wants that. If it’s plugged in, and I have it propped on something heat resistant, then two effects apply, I spend 5 minutes setting everything up, and just when I’m ready to write, a spastic Chocolate Labrador will get that power cord wrapped around her leg, freak out, and destroy half the room. In other words, my laptop is a skinny, self-contained desktop for a desk nowhere near that dog.

The iPad Pro, for writing, absolutely is a laptop replacement. It will last longer than I will, I can prop it anywhere, I can scale the type and brightness for Old Man Eye Syndrome, and as the cherry on top, there is an iOS version of my beloved Scrivener, which I consider the most complete and lovingly crafted writing app on the planet. Even the PC version, which is probably the ugliest of the three (the other is on the Mac), just makes me happy. I know that when I open it, I will not spend my time scrolling through an endless Word document.

I tested several keyboards and went with the Rugged Messenger by Zagg. I didn’t like the Apple version or the price. I’ve used a lot of Logitech stuff over the years and checked out their solution. It just looked heavy and clumsy. The Rugged Messenger has a back case for the device with a nice clip for the pencil. Trust me when I tell you I needed that clip, or that pencil would roam the house like a stray cat. The keyboard is Bluetooth and attaches magnetically – or not; typing with them separated works better than you might expect. The folding extension offers multiple angles using magnets in the case when everything is connected in laptop style. In another confession of weirdness, I have two quirks about keyboards. The first is that despite some big old hands, given the choice I actually prefer smaller keyboards for typing and full sized keyboards for controlling software. Two is that I rotate keyboards often. Multiple devices does the trick, and when I didn’t have that option, I’d just plug a different keyboard into my computer. If I don’t change things up, especially when I’m writing a lot, my hands will hurt. Eventually someone will use the word arthritis, I’m sure.

Sorry for the side trip into writer land. So, I like the iPad Pro, I hate the closed file system, and I hope that Apple devises a way to keep the functional stuff locked down while opening up the storage and the apps’ ability to access files in a flexible way that matches the workflows of most of the creative people I know. One last note. We all know that Apple has nailed the mobile device market. They invented so much of the definition of what a mobile device should be that even the best Android manufacturers are still using them as the benchmark. We also know that the focus that it takes to lead the mobile space appears to have stolen some of the thunder from the Mac side of the business. I’ve never owned a Mac, but I’ve been watching die hard Mac creatives drifting over to the PC dark side for quite some time now. My guess is that the biggest factor is some version of the value equation with an emphasis on the bonus points for having the best machine available. No matter how you feel about Mac OS, the latest and greatest Mac hardware is not the latest and greatest. And spec for spec, with very few exceptions, it costs a lot more than a PC machine with the very latest parts inside. The PC laptop makers chased the Macbook Pro for years, and in the same basic category, there are now twenty options for beautifully designed, high performance PC machines. On top of that, PC makers have been innovating with the basic rules of what a PC should be. Laptops that convert to tablets, laptops that flip backwards for different scenarios including a tablet form. Laptops with multi-touch screens, laptops with pens and pressure sensitivity, laptops in multicolored faux fur finishes. Nobody expects, or even wants, Apple to follow all these acts, but if they were to produce a laptop with Apple Pencil support, a flexible screen system with current spec parts inside, then Microsoft has left them a ton of room to set the prices high. Then they could make an ad about a true laptop replacement. Laptop, meet the new laptop.