Lately I've been thinking about the information overload in today's society, and how fundamentally, technology doesn't make getting the truth easier, it merely changes the means by which honest and dishonest folk communicate their messages.
I've been disturbed lately by some of the blogs I follow which discuss the wholesale manipulation of photography in the middle east. This editorial illustrates the concerns rather well.
It's easy for the message - "Innocent civilians hurt by big mean army" - to become far more important than whether or not we're actually being shown truthful shots of innocent civilians hurt by a big mean army.
It's also easy for us to be very confident in our world view, without good support. How do we know what is happening in Iraq? Well, because we have news. How do we know that the news is a realistic or accurate portrayal of the situation? Because they interview a few people? Because all the news reports the same thing? Because the politicians don't dispute the news? Because they quote statistics?
In reality, news can only capture a small fragment of life. The morning newspaper probably doesn't correspond closely to the average daily life. Few of us were murdered, mugged, or subjected to arson in the last day. That's not entirely bad - that's just how news works.
But when we begin to rely on the news for forming opinions, and especially when the news is not even being honest in their reporting of the details, how can we trust our views on situations?
I've been thinking lately about the value of integrity in society, and how it matters for so many jobs.
Janitor? It's a real nuisance when stuff starts disappearing.
Clerk?
Chief Financial Officer? It's a federal diasaster when millions in funds start disappearing.
Auditor? Arthur Anderson...
Reporter?
Photographer?
Diplomat?
Politician?
Parent?
Pastor?
Citizen?
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Disturbing Friendships
I came across this link in the very cool Freakonomics blog. Basically, a guy is selling himself as a "Rent-A-Pal" for 30 days, including unlimited e-mails. I'm not sure if this offer means that he'll send as many e-mails as one wants, or just that he won't report them all as spam.
I am a bit surprised that nobody has bid the $20 minimum yet. It can be hard to get someone to listen to you, and I figured some internet loner would put $20 down to get some social interaction.
I suppose if the selling bid is high enough, I might consider making myself available as an internet pal. Perhaps I could sell myself as an internet counselor and discount my services to $40-$60/hr. Some disclaimers would have to apply about advice being purely for entertainment purposes.
I spent part of today merging my old Pine addressbook with my primary Outlook one. It was interesting to go back at all the different names I've stored. Some of them are of people I barely interacted with, and yet I can instantly identify who they are and how they are connected to me. Other are of people that I *think* I knew for a period of time, yet I cannot place the name at all.
There's also a weird sense looking through the names. There are people I frequently interacted with a year ago that I rarely think of today. There are people that I rarely interacted with that I often ponder what happened to them. I'm also reminded of the people who have wandered back into my life after I was sure they were gone forever.
Finally, I'm reminded how solitary our life journey tends to be. I have a some friends I still keep in contact five years ago. A much smaller group from eight or nine years ago. And just a handful from beyond that. (I actually suspect that I keep in touch with more high school acquaintances than people from my freshman year of college.)
Even with the multi-year friendships, most of them have ebbed and flowed over time. People drift into life for a while, then out, then back. And then there's the plain bizarre, like long distance friends who move to my neighborhood.
In thinking through the solitariness of life, I've been contemplating what it means to influence people. My church likes to talk about the vision of knowing God, helping others to know God, and helping others to help others to know God. (And yes, for the math geeks reading, that is a recursive vision.)
I'll try and blog again about my contemplativeness after it cools.
I am a bit surprised that nobody has bid the $20 minimum yet. It can be hard to get someone to listen to you, and I figured some internet loner would put $20 down to get some social interaction.
I suppose if the selling bid is high enough, I might consider making myself available as an internet pal. Perhaps I could sell myself as an internet counselor and discount my services to $40-$60/hr. Some disclaimers would have to apply about advice being purely for entertainment purposes.
I spent part of today merging my old Pine addressbook with my primary Outlook one. It was interesting to go back at all the different names I've stored. Some of them are of people I barely interacted with, and yet I can instantly identify who they are and how they are connected to me. Other are of people that I *think* I knew for a period of time, yet I cannot place the name at all.
There's also a weird sense looking through the names. There are people I frequently interacted with a year ago that I rarely think of today. There are people that I rarely interacted with that I often ponder what happened to them. I'm also reminded of the people who have wandered back into my life after I was sure they were gone forever.
Finally, I'm reminded how solitary our life journey tends to be. I have a some friends I still keep in contact five years ago. A much smaller group from eight or nine years ago. And just a handful from beyond that. (I actually suspect that I keep in touch with more high school acquaintances than people from my freshman year of college.)
Even with the multi-year friendships, most of them have ebbed and flowed over time. People drift into life for a while, then out, then back. And then there's the plain bizarre, like long distance friends who move to my neighborhood.
In thinking through the solitariness of life, I've been contemplating what it means to influence people. My church likes to talk about the vision of knowing God, helping others to know God, and helping others to help others to know God. (And yes, for the math geeks reading, that is a recursive vision.)
I'll try and blog again about my contemplativeness after it cools.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Stuff, stuff, stuff everywhere...
...and not a bit to use.
So I've spent the last few weeks helping several people move. Or at least, eating the food they provide when I show up to help them move. I'm not entirely sure how helpful I've been in every case.
Today's move reminded me of a couple hobbies my parents tried to involve me in growing up - gardening and fish. But I've also gotten to thinking about how much stuff I have...and how much of it I ever use. I'm struck by the 80-20 rule. I use 20% of my stuff 80% of the time. Actually, I suspect it's more like I use 10% of my stuff 90% of the time...and most of it never. But I tend to think of things like "Well, who knows when I'll use this 'Get well' card...it'd be a horrible thing to get rid of, only to discover that I really need one."
Now could I find that card when I actually need it? Probably not. Would I even think of the fact that I have it? Probably not. But it faithfully sits on my shelf, collecting dust and being remembered mostly in cleaning sprees and blog entries.
My desk happens to have a 1 page printout of Master of Orion 3's keyboard shortcuts. Total cost to recreate: Maybe 3 cents? It has sat on my desk for months. I feel that way about a lot of my possessions: With the right alignment of the moon, it'd be useful. Most of the time, it just takes up space.
From time to time, I've thought about finding a giant box and putting all of my various unused items in it and inviting my friends to sort through it. (Anyone looking for a copy of KOTOR I?)
It's weird. I'm hesitant to throw anything away for fear of being wasteful, and yet I'm not clear that my room is serving any purpose for many items other than being a temporary landfill.
It's a problem that makes it hard for me to jump into hobbies. I know my tendency to collect stuff, and I don't really care to jump into a hobby just to collect more stuff.
So today I've been thinking about "What does it mean to be responsible with my stuff? What do I really need to keep? How do I accumulate less that I won't use? And what do I do with the stuff that 'ought' to be useful, but never is? For example, my compass for drawing circles."
So I've spent the last few weeks helping several people move. Or at least, eating the food they provide when I show up to help them move. I'm not entirely sure how helpful I've been in every case.
Today's move reminded me of a couple hobbies my parents tried to involve me in growing up - gardening and fish. But I've also gotten to thinking about how much stuff I have...and how much of it I ever use. I'm struck by the 80-20 rule. I use 20% of my stuff 80% of the time. Actually, I suspect it's more like I use 10% of my stuff 90% of the time...and most of it never. But I tend to think of things like "Well, who knows when I'll use this 'Get well' card...it'd be a horrible thing to get rid of, only to discover that I really need one."
Now could I find that card when I actually need it? Probably not. Would I even think of the fact that I have it? Probably not. But it faithfully sits on my shelf, collecting dust and being remembered mostly in cleaning sprees and blog entries.
My desk happens to have a 1 page printout of Master of Orion 3's keyboard shortcuts. Total cost to recreate: Maybe 3 cents? It has sat on my desk for months. I feel that way about a lot of my possessions: With the right alignment of the moon, it'd be useful. Most of the time, it just takes up space.
From time to time, I've thought about finding a giant box and putting all of my various unused items in it and inviting my friends to sort through it. (Anyone looking for a copy of KOTOR I?)
It's weird. I'm hesitant to throw anything away for fear of being wasteful, and yet I'm not clear that my room is serving any purpose for many items other than being a temporary landfill.
It's a problem that makes it hard for me to jump into hobbies. I know my tendency to collect stuff, and I don't really care to jump into a hobby just to collect more stuff.
So today I've been thinking about "What does it mean to be responsible with my stuff? What do I really need to keep? How do I accumulate less that I won't use? And what do I do with the stuff that 'ought' to be useful, but never is? For example, my compass for drawing circles."
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