In fact, it’s not just boxes that I like, but tins (*LOVE*), pouches, bags, blister packs (Most of them are outright evil, I usually hit a well-designed one just before I reach the homicidal stage of accumulated frustration).

It’s gone beyond the childhood magic of being able to play inside them.  Which is good since I don’t fit inside the box for my bluetooth headset.  But even if they aren’t viable as fortresses or spaceships any more, they are still magnificent articles of function and design.

For functional value, you can’t beat a box.  It packages whatever original item you got that the box contains.  Small ones can help to organize the litle doodads that seem to magically breed on my desk.  Larger ones become storage for cables, or pencils.  Shoeboxes store photos or cards or pens.

And all of that is assuming I’m ready to give up their originally designed purpose of allowing the safe transport of their intended containee.  I got an LCD TV.  And I can’t imagine what happens if there’s ever a defect that forces me to return the TV to the factory.  Because you don’t get a flatscreen TV sized box at any random box store.  Certainly not one with perfectly sized and cut styrofoam shoulders.   What if I need to send my laptop in for warranty repair?  Or my running shoes?  Or this tub of yogurt?

Every once in a while, having a box that’s just right for a job only reinforces the perceived value of the rest.  I had to return a dead disk drive and the stringent packing requirements required considerable care, and a box, a box sized just so, a box that I had because I’d bought a just-so-sized device just a few weeks before.  Being right, that one time, every  few years, that’s what makes it okay to stack the boxes of boxes of boxes of boxes on top of the other boxes of boxes of boxes.

I’m a prisoner, in fact, of potential.  Of my collection of tins that are bound to be useful, of my boxes which could definitely do something, and the giant boxes which couldn’t possible do anything else.  My basement is full of boxes which contain other boxes in a recursive cardboard matroshka fractal.

But I have an escape plan.

For one, I’m going to dispose of boxes that are more than two months old.  That’s long enough for any immediate warranty issue, I think.  If I can find them a home, that’s great, but I’m not going to spend a lot of time on it.  More important to get them out of my way, so that they stop stressing me.

For another, I’m just not going to buy candy tins anymore.  Not if I can at all resist.  I have no practical use for the tins I already have, and I don’t need the candy that’s inside.

For a third, I’m going to replace the mysterious shoeboxes on my desk with transparent tubs I got from the dollar store.  Being able to see inside means that my searching is a lot more efficient.  And the standard look and feel makes me feel a lot more organized and ordered.  A lot less stressed.

And last…  I’m going to keep a few of my favourite tins.  Just a few.  Just enough to make getting rid of the rest not hurt.  You can’t expect me to go cold turkey.

No related posts.

Yes. But, Be Careful.

I killed a computer that way.

Yes

USB is designed to let you use 127 devices per controller, and most computers have one controller per port.  Which means that hooking up 2 drives (or more)  isn’t going to be a problem for your operating system.  Most of the time.

But…

You know when you plug in your memory stick and it doesn’t require a power cable?  That’s because USB is a “bus-powered” connection.  Which means that your computer is providing the power to run the thing you plugged in.  This works great for low power devices like a thumb-drive, mouse, keyboard or camera.  But high-power devices, like printers, usually require an external power cord.  And the reason for that is that USB is designed for low power, so the device needs a little help.

Hard drives are in between printers and flash drives.  Spinning the disks requires power.  If the disk comes with external power, you’re free to connect as many of those as you like.  But if the disk uses USB power, there’s a bit of a danger-zone.

My drive drew too much power from the USB port.  Which fried a fuse or something, and killed all four ports on the back of my Mac.  Apple kindly offered to “repair” the dead part for more money than the cost of a new Mac, so I thanked the “Genius” and left.

Be Careful

I could have avoided this with a powered USB hub.  Plug the hub into the wall power, and *if* a device ever misbehaved, this time I’d be down a $10 dollar hub, and not a $700 Mac Mini.  The critical thing is to make sure that it’s got a power source other than the computer.

Sometimes you’ve got your laptop in a hotel room, and you’ve got no choice.  And that’s fine, use the device, it’s meant to work.  But  when you’re home, it pays to be pessimistic.  Most of the equipment you’re using was built by lowest-bid manufacturers, and a little paranoia can save a lot of money in the long run.

• Picture is “Finished 4” by oskay.  Click on the image to see the original

No related posts.

So faced with a need to rent a car, I thought I’d price a few options, and one of the places I checked out was Enterprise Rent-A-Car, who presented me with one of the better prices I saw in my traverse.  But then I started clicking around and caught a little bit of fine print that prompted a spit-take:

KILOMETRES ARE UNLIMITED AS LONG AS THE VEHICLE REMAINS INSIDE THE PROVINCE OF ONTARIO, WITH A MAXIMUM OF 4000 KILOMETRES.

My immediate reaction was laughter. But I’m using the internet, which gives me the power to expose my brand of lunacy to an audience of millions tens a friend, maybe two.  Thus was I unleashed.

Because I took my inner smartass and let him loose on twitter:

Enterprise Car Rentals: "Unlimited mileage in province, up to maximum of 4000" Unlimited… with maximum? What are they, a telco?

And that was the end of my amusement, hurled into space like whatever the joke version of a satellite would be called.   But in internet-space, anyone with a search engine can hear you scream.  Which is why I got…..this in response from @enterprisecares:

@sunilsebastian We’re listening & would like to address this w/ you. Pls follow us & I’ll DM you my contact info (Elizabeth w/ Enterprise)

That’ll teach me to be clever.  Enterprise is listening. 

I think it’s a healthy thing to do for customer support.  And I appreciate the businesses that take the time to talk about it, even when it’s as unsatisfactory as the CIBC Aerogold contact was.  I respect that they pay attention, though obviously they have to do something good with that attention to be impressive.

But there’s nothing to address with me, not here.  What I have is a punchline, not a problem.  Still, I tried again, trying more immediate dates to see if it made a difference, and here’s a screencapture of the result.

So here you go Elizabeth @enterprisecares. I hope this helps you.  You definitely helped me, because I finally had an idea of something to blog about. 

-s

Related posts:

1. Exposed without Company: The Question of Insurance

First, the thing that wasn’t ready, previously, well, it’s done, public, old news.  But I went back and looked, and it may suck that I killed a book, but the result is still cool.  Go visit the callboard at the Théâtre Illuminata, and check out Chapter 1.

I barely had to do anything, but the flash widget is just fun.  For some reason, just clicking on the pages and waving them around is strangely thrilling.

Other than that, life kinda goes.  I’ve just started a children’s guitar lesson podcast.  I wonder if children’s guitars hurt less, because my fingers were raw, the day after.

Another creative project I’m trying to start working on suffers from a serious predation problem.  But still, I’ve been trying to sort gummy bears.  I finally had to tie the bags and move them to make me stop snacking.

MMm…  gummys.

We’ll see just where it goes.  And how much survives my snacking to become art.  And if my dignity can stand deliberately doing art.  I’m a little traumatized there.  Fortunately gummy bears taste very therapeutic.  Want one?

Anyway…  I’ve remembered that I have this thing.  I guess that means I have to try to use it.  And yet I’m still not sure of my voice here.  So here’s a placeholder.

Oh!  Yeah!  My dear friend Pam, from Facing East Again, came by to visit.  She and her kids and I traipsed till our little feeties were sore.  But I’ve got some good pictures.  Eventually.

Gotta work. Ciao!

Related posts:

1. Some Moron Cooking

I’m amazed how easily a pure heart and good intentions can be lead astray. I hope that fragility will be taken into account as I lay my own heart out for judgment, and, Gentle Reader, I beg forgiveness for the darkness of the deeds done. But though I have many ways to rationalize what happened, in the end, there can be no question of my hands have wrought, and if I must bear this blight upon my soul… …then I shall at least honor one last commandment as I take my place as a Son of Cain.

I have dealt death to an innocent. I’ve tried to hide it. I’ve tried to cover it up, and forget about it in the joy of current events, but like a tell-tale heart, I see my victim everywhere I turn. The very name hangs in the air like an anthem, like a chorus. It is a parade of triumph for our Victorious General, and only I burned by what was wrought in her name.

It was in service to a valiant goal. The bitterest turns so often come that way, do they not? It wasn’t the taking of a life, it was investing of life, and for a little while it did not matter where the parts of the whole had come from.

But the creature is alive, and the bodies are buried and I have the dry withered voice in my ear, the voice of conscience proscribing against hubris.

I killed. I killed her child, given to me from her hand. Given to me with love and honor, and I killed it. By her request. With her approval. But I did it.

It’s only an ARC edition. Not the final version of the book. And I have copies of the released edition, the metaphoric first fruits of the vine. But this was my ARC. Signed. To me, and to the darling girls who helped me.

Then Lisa Mantchev wanted to put sample content for the website, and the volume’s binding made scanning unworkable. And the black business fell upon me. Sidekick. Technical Advisor.

Murderer.

I couldn’t even give it a clean death. Instead, I pulled the cover from the binding, and then leaf by leaf I ripped the very pages out of my very own signed copy of the true first edition of Lisa Mantchev’s first novel.

I don’t pretend that I did it with any ease. I was raised to a tradition that held books as treasure, to be passed on when I was done with them. I am careful with them, far more so than people realize. Many of my most read books still creak when they’re opened. And now I have desecrated a book. That book.

The only time I used a knife was to carve away the binding to make the pages separate easily. As I did it, my mind’s eye saw the pattern of filleting a fish. But a fish is food, not treasure. Not the firstborn of my friend’s mind. Not jealously held as a prize after so many years of bragging to my friends about knowing an author with a book deal.

Even after the deed was done, I couldn’t throw it out. I couldn’t discard the body. I killed it, but that didn’t stop me from loving it. So I ignored the body. I walked by it and didn’t look.

And then I did look. And I knew what I had done. And I knew what I had to do.

I can’t share it yet. Give me another day or two. Lisa “Frankenstein” still has to yell “Throw the switch.”

(And then I have to figure out how to actually, you know, throw the switch.)

Related posts:

1. Why the book had to die
2. Review: Eyes Like Stars — Lisa Mantchev
3. i can haz BOOK!!

It’s screwy.  I never get mail this fast.  I got the shipment notice on Friday.  We don’t even have mail on the weekend.  Saturday pickup is all.

But today, I got home, and the phone rang as I opened the door, and it was Lisa saying hi. And I had this box waiting for me.

And it’s the book.  It’s THE BOOK!!

LISA!!! LOOK!!!

Now I have to go wipe my eyes.

Related posts:

1. Review: Eyes Like Stars — Lisa Mantchev
2. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark
3. Fingertap Dance

Instead, people say, “I’m not creative.”  Or they just stay quiet and admire (or envy) the artist types who are bizarre, incomprehensible animals capable of tricks as strange and remote as a gecko running up a wall or a hummingbird hovering in air.

I’m one of those people, by the way.  I don’t think of myself as creative, but I work and I play in spaces that depend on creativity.   So I may have an identity issue, but the good news is that I am also living proof that creativity isn’t only for people with paintbrushes.

Creativity is difficult. So what?

Barry Schwartz is the author of “The Paradox of Choice,” and I’ll refer you to the presentation he made at one of the TED conferences.  But this line from the attached bio is probably a very apt summary:  Infinite choice is paralyzing, Schwartz argues, and exhausting to the human psyche.

Creativity is entirely about choices.  Lots and lots of choices.   Imagine being sat at a computer and told to write a book.  Or handed a palette of paints and told to paint something.  Imagine a big block of granite.  Imagine being told to do something with that big green field out there.

What kind of book?  What should I paint?  What do I sculpt?  Should I make the field into a garden or should I put up a building?

That empty space is a monster.  A terrifying monster.  There are so many options, it’s impossible to know which one to pick.  Paralyzing and exhausting, remember?

Corner the Dragon…

That big green field is just too hard for most of us to take on.  But that is where creativity techniques come in.  All of them have the same goal:  Take the problem of infinite choices and break it down into something more human-scaled.

Sounds complicated, but it’s not:  I’m sure we’ve all had a time at a new restaurant where we’ve stared at the menu and had no idea of what to pick.  But after the meal, good or bad, it’s really easy to say, “Next time, I think I’m going try a different appetizer.”

It doesn’t sound like much, but composing a meal from menu choices is a creative act.  Not as creative as composing the menu in the first place, but still creative.  And playing with that meal composition is *also* a creative act.  Not as creative as coming up with the original meal, but that’s my point.

…Then put it out of your Misery

Coming up with something from nothing is difficult.  Coming up with something from something else is easy.  So the way to make being creative easier, is to avoid starting from scratch

Put something in the big empty field.  Once there’s something there, you can start thinking about what’s wrong with it, and what you like about it.  Or you’ll start thinking of questions.

Instead of trying to do heavy lifting with that untrained “creativity” muscle, you can help it with your well-developed “refining” muscle, and make large and small adjustments till you get to something you like.

Now all we need is a fast way of finding the something to start with.  And I’ve got a few simple, easy to use recipes for “somethings” to fill the empty spaces.

1. Make an Educated Guess

If you have any clue what you think the end-state should be, start there.   Be as detailed or as vague as makes sense.

As an example, if I told you to take a picture of a group of people, odds are you’re going to stand them in a line.  And then if you decide the line makes the picture too wide, you’ll move people around into two lines.  Or you’ll step back.  Or maybe you’ll get them to wear a team shirt.  Or…  you get the idea.

Here’s a wilder example.  If I told you to build an airport, you probably have never done that before.  But you need flat long spaces for runways.  And you know you need terminals for the planes to get to, and you probably want those close to the runways.  And you need parking near the terminals.

In consulting terms, we call this a Straw Model.  Something that’s approximately the right shape and size, and then you can adjust the bits.  You can use it to sketch a face, or plan a city, or get a rough idea of the plot of your book.

2. Make a list

When I don’t know what the answer looks like, I make a list of the things I do know.   At a minimum, it makes me think of other things about what I might be trying to create.

It gets the mind going, and sometimes ideas fall out.  Sometimes they’re not even related to whatever you’re thinking about.

Feel free to throw in random ideas.  Or to play a free association game, and write the first thing that comes to mind and then the first thing that connects to that.

The list will help you to see things in the big empty space.  If not, try organizing the list, and make notes as new thoughts come to mind.  Once you get to the structured list process, you’re into something called Mind-Mapping.

3. Throw something random at the wall and see what sticks

Sometimes you really do have nothing but a big empty space, and no idea how to fill it.  And at that point, if we’re talking pure creativity here, the best approach is to just do something.

Do something random.  Hit a photography website and use the 7th picture.  Pick a different medium.  Make a mark.  Pick a color and use that as a theme.  Go for a walk.  Read a magazine.

Hit a search engine, search for inspiration.  And then do something.

You’re not done till you make a mark

What you do doesn’t matter. As long as you do something, you can start to tweak it.  Once the empty space has reference points, you are better able to deal with it.   And once you start to have ideas, you can try one of the other approaches again.

The Secret Sauce is Repetition

The real secret to faking creativity is repetition. Even first-rate professional artists don’t get everything right on the first try.

The techniques above are ways to get past the beginning which is the most difficult part.  But once you have a straw model or a list, that’s when you’re most likely to figure out something that you forgot, or misunderstood.  Or you’re going to think of a different way to do things.

And so you try again.  And again.

Wrong is as good as right

Sometimes your first attempt will feel like a disaster.  Your guess may be wrong.  I make models in my work all the time and discover problems.

But whatever mess I create is only a first draft.  And now instead of having to invent something, I can say, “Hey, my piece about creativity didn’t talk about failure and that’s really important.” which is a lot easier to address than the larger question of “What should I say about creativity?”

The point is to get to *something* that you can then bend and warp and wiggle towards something right.  A mess isn’t as satisfying as a beautiful result, but any result is a step forward.

In being creative, there’s no such thing as failure.  Instead you just try again.

Persistence Approaches Perfection

A professional athlete rehearses their moves, over and over again.  A professional artist draws small sketches and studies, before ever moving to a wall-sized canvas.  Writers make outlines when they need one, and writes draft after draft.  Film directors make story boards, and then scripts, long before they start shooting.

Nobody begins at the finished product.  It’d be great if we could skip the refining process, but it takes a lot of skill and practice to get to that point.  And it’s those masters who put the most effort into developing a systematic progression.

They’re masters because they practiced.

Creativity is like that.

Things to take away

• Creativity is actually hard, so it’s okay if you feel challenged.  As long as you don’t let the fear stop you.
• Sneak past the intimidation by trying to find ways to break up the empty space:
  • If you know a lot, mock it up with a Straw Model
  • If you know a little, make a list or a Mind Map
  • If you know nothing, throw in something random.
• Repeat!  Repeat!  Repeat!!
  • Failure is USEFUL!
  • Persistence offers rewards

So leave me a note and tell me what you’re going to do to be creative.  And then go do it.

Related posts:

1. Random Tip: Closing a Folding Knife
2. Mindmapping the Desert
3. Strawed in, Weighed and Sourced Out

That operation was called D-Day, and since then the name has lived on as a moniker for a day of decisive action. But other than that I had no idea what it was called D-Day, so I started looking things up.  Here’s what I learned:

1. There’s a startling consensus of online references that there’s no conclusive explanation of why they referred to the invasion date as “D-Day.”
2. Second, this hasn’t seemed to stop anybody from making guesses.

The articles I read pointed out that D-Day seemed to be just a “day,” and it’s well within the military mind-set to pick such a simple naming convention.   The clever thing about obscuring the date is that even if the enemy knew where you were going to attack, without knowing when you were going to attack, they have to stay on maximum alert from now to whenever to try to stop you.  And that never works.

Going back to my reading, I also saw suggestions that it might be “Decisive/Decision” which vaguely makes sense, I guess. That one seems a little more questionable. But since everybody is speculating, why not add to the mix.

My theory is simple. I think the D is the result of one of two scenarios:

• Possible, the plan name was meant to provide another misdirection. In support:
  • It’s well documented that Allied forces put effort into creating false impressions of where the attack would land. Misdirection drew German forces and supplies away from where they could oppose the landing.
  • The Allied armies had famously been defeated and evacuated at Dunkirk in 1940, given a certain symbolic value to reclaiming that patch of shore.
• Most likely, in my mind, is that the generals had a series of scenarios for an invasion and had given them clever names like “Alpha,” “Bravo,” and so on.  And if they picked plan Delta, then the attak probably happens on Delta-day. D-day.

That second theory has the elegance of simplicity, but I don’t know if I’m right. Then again, what they called the plan doesn’t really matter.

Since posting, Jenna Waterford has pointed me to a lyrical explanation, that they invaded on D-Day at H-hour: The Day of Days; the Hour of Hours.  This does seem consistent with the do-or-die atmosphere that is attributed to this invasion.  (And I love having smart friends.  Even if they expose my dreadful use of English.)

Does it?

I plan to make a pilgrimage, some day. It seems important to pay my respects.

(Pictures by sebastian.yepes.in and Martin McDonald, respectively)

Got a question?

Related posts:

1. Slaying the Creativity Dragon

Today’s experiment, Lentil Salad. 

I’d take a picture of the result, except, as is so often the case, I didn’t think to take the picture till I was finishing the last bite.  I mean, it’s lunch, I don’t sit with my camera poised against the possibility of an interesting meal.  Not lunch.  Not when I’m at work. 

My goals for a “lunch” are relatively simple.  I want something I can eat unheated, so I don’t have to line up at the microwave before I eat..  I want something that‘s relatively high protein, because nobody else seems to see how absurd it is to have lunch at noon when you come in after 8, so I need something that will tide me till I get to go home.  And I need something that will have at least enough flavour to make me feel like I’m not eating wet paper.  Oh.  And healthy and nutritious and low-GI and blah blah blah… 

Really, I mostly just want a meal that will hold me over till dinner, and that I can eat unheated.  And I keep hearing good things about these lentil things.  So, I did some reading and here’s a composite recipe:

• 1 cup lentils
• Some chopped ham
• Salt, pepper, vinegar, mustard, garlic, onions.

Boil the lentils for about 20 minutes (till soft), mix in the ham, maybe a spoon or mustard, onions, garlic, salt and pepper to taste.

Let it cool, throw it in a tub.

Eat it at work the next day

I have to confess, it came out vastly more tasty than I expected it to.  The little bit of mustard goes a long way, and with the pepper it had flavour and texture, both things I was concerned about.  The mustard didn’t seem like enough when it was hot, but chilled, it was surprisingly good.

The downside is that it’s basically mush, with all of the character and charm that mush brings to the table.  The first order response is that I bet this would be wicked as a dip or spread on toast or crackers.  And suddenly I wonder what would happen if I toasted some of the lentils and dropped them in, I bet the texture would make it very interesting.

So I don’t think this is my magic lunch that I can make in huge batches and eat every day for a month.  But it’s interesting. 

“Red Lentils” was taken by Paul Giunta

Related posts:

1. Sometimes you get the elevator

I hate the word

First and foremost I’m finding that while I can refer to your blog without any issue whatsoever, acknowledge this site as my blog makes my muscles tense like I’ve just been punched in the stomach.

I hate the look

Which is funny because the theme designer did a fabulous job on the theme, but the theme is not me.  I picked a nice tasteful theme so I would write and not stress about the theme.  But I’m not writing so much and I’m still stressing.

I hate the content

Okay, I shouldn’t hate the content, because I’m reassured by people that I trust that it sucks a lot less than I think it does.  I’m a smart guy, but I’m out of practice articulating bigger ideas and my goal for this place was to get some of those bigger ideas out.  Except I’ve got a lot of rough drafts and a dearth of posts.  And I’m good at communications, so each of those unfinished drafts is like an accusation.

I hate the identity

Because I’m not sure how to play this public version of me.  I’m a decent human being, loved by a few, respected by a few more, but right now we’re all still figuring out just how to bridge permanent exposure to private and professional lives and while I’ve got nothing I feel the need to hide, that doesn’t mean I’d put my life up on a billboard by my own choice.  So is this work me, or personal me, or how do I make it the touch point for both of these?

I hate the voice

I don’t have a voice here.  I haven’t figured out my answer to the identity question.  I’m struggling with content.  And I’m not posting enough to get a rhythm.    The rhythm was supposed to make it easier for me to write.  So I don’t write because I don’t have a voice, and I don’t have a voice because I don’t write enough.

This will not do

I’m smart. I’m possibly funny. I’m occasionally charming. I’m sporadically insightful, randomly clever and I’m a mighty fine teller of tales.

Yet I don’t feel like I’ve managed to communicate that here.  I’ve certainly not met my one-a-week post goal.  This space doesn’t feel like home base, the way some of my friends have claimed theirs. This is still an obligation rather than an expression of self which is what it needs to be.

I therefore propose to be me

So I need to do something different.  And the simplest answer is to not stress about making myself look like anything and just focusing on talking.  The silly post about muffins was goodness.  Emotion is good.  Dispassionate is okay from time to time but boring as a totality.

What does that mean?  Beats me.  But it gave me something to write about.  Now I will go stress about other things I need to get done.

And leave you with the large-scale version of my little avatar/icon thing.

This would be where a battle-cry would go, if I had one.

Oh, and all the pictures are of me, and by me.

Battle-cry again.   Here I go.

Related posts:

1. Finally getting the theme: Just Write!
2. Subduing the Task List, Part II