Darkness falls across the land

I noticed a strange orange light in my office at 4:30 PM today, and looked out the window to see the sun very nearly set over the University of Alberta (which is to the southwest of my window).

I start work at 8:15 AM (technically) and finish at 4:30 PM (technically). Every year, thanks to the wonders of the latitude of Edmonton, for about two months, we are plunged into Darkness While Not At Work. According to my technical hours of work, this is scheduled to begin on November 23 this year. It will last until January 6, when I will be graced with one minute of light after work. It won't be light before work until February 4, though.

The only thing that will make this tolerable this year is a south-facing, high-rise, well windowed office. Thank the Flying Spagetti Monster for that. I pity the people who don't have windows.

Naturally, if your hours of work are different, this miserable period will differ for you. Why don't you consult these sunset/sunrise tables and let me know your predicament in the comments?

Saved by the Hammacher Schlemmer

I am now the proud owner of the Hammacher Schlemmer Peaceful Progression Wake Up Clock. This little beaut has light, sound, and smell to gently pry me from sleep for 30 minutes before it beeps politely at me. The light mimicks the sunrise by getting progressively lighter, the heat from the bulb activates the aromatherapy beads to release my choice of Lavender, Energy, or Coffee aroma, and several built-in nature sounds like birdsong and babbling brook all work together to wake me in the evil dark that is Edmonton winters. Hooray.

W. pointed out that it looks like a Dalek from Dr. Who. "I WILL WAKE YOU I WILL WAKE YOU I WILL WAKE YOU," he impersonated perfectly. It was creepy. And inaccurate. Everyone knows that Daleks are studded, while my alarm clock is clearly ribbed.

Empowered by Delete

Email is the bane of my existence, I admit. I've tried any number of techniques, most of which I got from the Get-It-Done Guy, and they sort of work. Well, they would work if I would follow them to the letter, but inevitably I slip. Things like "only check your email at set times." "Include a line in your email signature to manage expectations of when people can expect to hear back from you." "Triage your inbox; don't stop at each item and get sidelined by the content." Yeah. That last one is really, really difficult for my magpie mind.

(Ooh! Shiny object! Must investigate!)

...

(Focus! Blogging here!)

Sorry, I'm back now. The other side of the email management techniques are those that try to change the behaviours of others. For example, encouraging employees and colleagues to not copy you on emails you don't need to know about.

Yeah, like that will work. I can't even stick to my own email management techniques. How can I expect others to? And besides, exactly which emails do they believe I don't need to know about? Mind read much?

So, I have long been an advocate of the delete key. Copy me on whatever you want. If I don't need to know about it, I'll delete it. Better to have had a chance to read 10 emails wherein one really matters, than to have risked missing the one.

I also subscribe to lots of newsletters. Lately, I really don't have much time to read them, so I've been deleting those a lot, too. Imagine my surprise the other day when I realized that deleting email made me feel extremely productive. I had 26 new messages since my last check, and 24 of them were deletable. "Wow!" I thought. "Look at all those emails I took care of!"—let's set aside the fact that I meant "take care of" in the same way that the Mafia does: "What happened to Jimmy the Mouth?" "I 'took care of' him ... heh heh heh."

(Okay, I watch too many crime shows. But seriously, what else is there to watch?)

Delete made me feel productive. Accomplished. Empowered. Not bad for 60 seconds of work. So, send me all the Cc's you want. Heck, if there's a Nigerian prince out there who needs to get in touch, send him my way.

"I have been waiting to hear from you for some time, regarding your New Bank ATM DEBT CARD 2010 valued $6,000.000.00 United States Doll—"

[DELETE]

If a tree falls in the forest ...

Yesterday in my mailbox I received the Edmonton "CanPages," a directory of Canadian businesses in one's local area. CanPages website informs me that these directories are distributed to 391,852 households and 28,332 businesses in Edmonton and area, and Canada-wide, they have a circulation of greater than eight million.

I have to ask why.

I could feel my inner environmentalist die a little when I extracted the 800+page monstrosity from my mailbox yesterday. I felt guilty just holding it. I know I will never, ever, use it for anything. I can't remember the last time I consulted the Yellow Pages, the most complete business listing, let alone one of these supplemental yellow directories.

I had our soffiting repaired by the parents of a woman I met at a scrapbooking retreat. It's a family business. They did an amazing, hassle-free, reasonably priced job. CanPages listing? Nope.

I've just got the name of someone who can do our floors (when we have time and money) from a woman at work. She said he does fantastic work--hardwood, tiles, drywall, whatever. CanPages listing. Nada.

When I needed a graphic designer, I turned to recent grads of the school where W teaches. I'm tickled by both the product and the price. CanPages listing? Hell no, they don't even have a company name.

Even when I want to order take-out or delivery, I turn to the Internet, not the phone book. If I'm unsure who to go with, I will recall recommendations of friends.

Trusted businesses found through social capital.

Even on the personal level when I need a friend's number, I turn to Facebook. Only when it lets me down (not everyone posts their numbers on Facebook for privacy reasons) do I consult the White Pages. Even then, I'll probably just send them a note instead.

For the way I conduct my business, they just don't make sense any more. And from an environmentalist perspective, these directories make me sad. To their credit, CanPages uses 40 per cent recycled paper and 60 per cent paper made from mill waste (source). However, how much of that 40 per cent, if any, is post-consumer? And how many of those eight million directories make it back into recycling facilities?

I just wish there was something more I could do than blue bin my copy. I would happily take suggestions as well as to hear how you feel about phone books in general.

The Way I See It

My Starbucks Venti Tazo Refresh tea to-go cup is sporting what I think is my favourite "The Way I See It" of all time:

#76
The irony of commitment is that it's deeply liberating—in work, in play, in love. The act frees you from the tyranny of your internal critic, from the fear that likes to dress itself up and parade around as rationalhesitation. To commit is to remove your head as the barrier to your life.

—Anne Morriss

What's your Starbucks cup say?

Epiphany on Rollerblades

The other day, I went for a rollerblade in the Mill Creek Ravine. If you've ever bladed you know: rollerblades are heavy, and compared to skating there is a lot more friction between the wheels and the road than between a skate blade and ice. So, going anywhere is hard work.

Besides, it's not a flat place, the ravine. There are some big hills down and some big hills up, and some long gradual inclines and declines.

At one point on my journey, I was wearing out the brake pad on my right heel going down one of the big hills because I was scared of falling and hurting myself, so I was slowing my descent. This is typical behaviour for me: I am afraid of travelling at speed unprotected (like, say, other than in a car, train or plane), and my usual defense is to let my weight fall backwards—which leads to a loss of balance and usually a fall.

This day, on my rollerblades, though, I had an epiphany: If, when rollerblading, moving forward on a flat surface is work, going up a hill is more work, and going up a big hill is sheer hell, being afraid of the only time on blades that didn't require any work and would therefore be the most fun was ruining the experience.

So, I sucked it up, knowing that if I committed to going down the hill at speed I wouldn't cause myself to fall, and rolled down the hill—at speed. Whee!

Today, I was talking to an acquaintance about her budding online romantic relationship. She told me she'd recently learned from a mutual friend that he really is a nice guy, and that made her kind of afraid.

For some reason, my rollerblading experience popped into my head, and I told her about it. "If we are afraid of good things, what's the point?" I said.

Indeed. If we are afraid of good things, what is the point? From rollerblading, to the rest of my life.

Did Twitter save the PVR star?

My favourite bit of media trivia is that the first video to air on MTV was the 1979 hit "Video killed the Radio Star" by the Buggles. It's a song about a singer whose career was cut short by the new medium of television.

There's been a lot of talk since the beginning of this century on whether the things like PVRs or the Internet would "kill" television ... or at least television advertising revenue. Lately, lots of statistics have been coming out saying that adults in the 18-34 and even the 35-55 age groups spend a lot of time ("a lot" being defined here as "of concern to television networks and show producers") watching videos on YouTube or other video sharing sites—although a recent study by the Council for Research Excellence debunks those earlier claims.

At any rate, whether we get our TV fix from Hulu (Canadians: ask me about my hack) or TiVo or equivalent, we're certainly less likely to watch the ads on TV—and in this way, are "killing" the medium by sending advertiser dollars elsewhere ... possibly.

But, I've noticed two trends that seem to give some hope for TV.

The first of these is the new genre of reality shows that allow audience participation, like the Idol franchise and I'm a Celebrity; Get me out of Here! These shows have a short window right after they air for folk to call in or go online to vote for who stays ... or goes. Obviously, if people want to participate, they'll have to watch it while it's on. The take-away from this is not that transferrable; the last thing we want on air is for every type of show to be either a) some version of a reality show or b) involve the audience in every decision. (User-Centred Design is not the same as user-designed ... more on that in another post.) But since participation requires attendance at time of broadcast, these sorts of shows seem less likely to be PVR'd for later viewing (though I must admit that I didn't watch the last week of American Idol until two weeks after it aired because I was away—and I was SO not happy with the results ... sorry; digressing) and therefore the ads are more or less watched—or at least displayed to the room in which the TV is.

The second trend is far more interesting, I think, and from what I can see, totally grassroots. People are using social media sites like Twitter to chat with each other about their favourite shows while they're watching them. I've seen this with shows like Lost, Fringe, and Dollhouse (seems to be a genre thing happening there ... hmmm). I've also seen it with Formula 1 races over at Sidepodcast, where they've built a "Live Commenting Live ... Thingy"—essentially, a blog comments box that continually refreshes—that lets race fans the world over watch the BBC's televised feed and discuss the race as it happens.

As a bit of a Marshal McLuhan fan, I find the latter quite an interesting throwback to the advent of radio, and then television, when friends and neighbours gathered together to listen and/or watch together. McLuhan's four Laws of Media said that every medium ...

1. enhances


2. obsolesces


3. reverses into


4. retrieves

So while some fear that the Internet might obsolesce TV, these virtual communities are retrieving the sensibilities of the old communities that would gather around the radio or TV to listen/watch their favourite shows together.

I like the idea of watching with people from all over. TV can be pretty isolating, and this way seems more social. Imagine that: social ... media ...!

What do you think? Did Twitter save the PVR star?