adventures « Kenny Smith | Omnes hic sumus discere.

adventures

I crashed my bike again

I’m fine.

Just a perfect, beautiful, lovely, chamber of commerce day. The sort of day you want all the time. The sort of day that you know is really a marker. The sort of day that will stick around, for a while, if you’re lucky. The sort of day you know isn’t going to last.

But I got ahead of things, and so I found a way to sneak outside and enjoy it for a whole hour.

I invited my lovely bride out for a bike ride, so that I could chase her for 45 minutes and then slowly drift away from her, which has been the way it has worked this year.

After the turnaround, and before I got dropped, I managed a few photographs. We totally posed this.

And here’s me saying goodbye to her, because, for most of the rest of the way, she would be in the distance, and then gone, and I could just sit there and pedal into the wind with my thoughts and playing the rest of my week’s work out in my head. I wonder if I would go faster if I did that less. I wonder if I did that more I’d go slower, or if the work would be better. I didn’t have time to ask her, because soon after this, she was gone.

What happened next was, well, exactly what I said. The headwinds caught me, I sat up, started thinking about stuff and just casually pedaled my way home. I counted the vehicles that passed me dangerously. I’d just been thinking about how I’d gotten away from using that as a bit in class, and I should get back to that. Today, there was the commercial service van that almost hit The Yankee and gave me a little more room. Then there was the oversized black GMC pickup, which almost hit me, And then the white Chevy Silverado which almost clipped me while trying to save two seconds to immediately turn in front of me. I’m not sure why your two seconds are worth risking another person’s life, but that’s how it works.

Today, all of that happened within 36 minutes.

But the real fun was later! I completed much of the planned route, returned to the neighborhood, and then lost my back wheel. I felt it go to the right, felt me go to the left, and felt me hitting the ground. Heard myself saying “Ow! Ow!”

I landed on my surgically repaired shoulder, which is fine. I landed on my knee, which is scratched. I landed on my elbow and forearm, which has some nice road rash. For some reason I couldn’t get up in my bike shoes, so I kicked them off, and stood up, trying not to get a leg cramp at the same time. Looked around, surprised that no one saw this. Picked up my bike, where the left handlebar had gotten wedged beneath the top tube, the front wheel cranked all the way over. I couldn’t get undo that. Also, the handlebar was pushing the rear brake line, so the whole of my bike was shut down.

So I carried it, bleeding, the short distance home. I was very close.

Put my stuff away, inspected my helmet and was pleased to see I didn’t smack the ol’ noggin. I celebrated by hammering free the headset from the top tube, checked the wheels and the brakes, and then went inside.

Cleaned my wounds, took an angry, painful, shower. We did the first aid routine. Gauze, bandages, marveled that all of the bleeding parts are right on the bending parts of my limbs. So we made use of some ACE bandages. Then, I got ready to go to class.

Our department had an open house today, so the floor was filled with students. I tried to stay out of the way, hoping no one would bump into me. Already, I’m a bit sore, and that’ll become a problem tomorrow and Friday, but also, see above.

In class, I had to apologize for sitting sideways, because we mummified my leg. Also, I had to apologize for being delayed with grading a few papers. That was supposed to get done this afternoon, but the day got away from me, as you might imagine.

This class was about fan identity. I do this whole lecture through the lens of being an Auburn man. I make fun of Georgia. I discussed social identity theory, role identity, and identity fusion theory, which is my favorite of the bunch. I show this video, as an example of a shared experience. I show them where I was in the video.

They were a bit interested in that one, because it is surreal. And it was surreal. (Also, I think, it is why I don’t like being in crowds.)

I talk about Warren St. John’s Rammer Jammer, which has some incredible anecdotes about fan sacrifice. I show them videos of the viral Roll Tide Willie guy. Some of them know of him, but one of the local stations did a nice little profile package on him, and it is entirely different.

While it is playing I’m trying to count the number of people I know who are that guy. More than one. He looks like a caricature, but he’s a real guy. And since I’ve been asking them to think of fans as a client rather than as being a fan themselves, it seems important to give the guy a little understanding.

I show a terrific NFL hype video, which won’t embed here, but does allow me to point out roughly all of the positive things we’ve been talking about.

As a test, I showed this video. It doesn’t really get laughs. I don’t know why.

After I gave them my big Go Vote speech we got out a few minutes early.

I drove home, called my mom to tell her I got her grandfather’s pocket watch working. Missed a turn and wound up way off course before I figured it out. Every nondescript field looks the same in total darkness.

Got home and learned that I’d bled through the bandage on my elbow. Bled into a white shirt. I could feel it during class. Didn’t want to make a scene. All of that blood will come out of the shirt, though. And it’s an old shirt, so that’s not a problem. But, I need to figure out how to clean the elbow of my sport coat. And now I get to figure out how sore I’ll be tomorrow, how much more sore I’ll be on Friday, and what Saturday might feel like.

adventures / photo / Rowan / Tuesday — Comments Off
29
Sep 26

Yes, I put Rockwell in my slide deck

My car is wonderful. It is almost 20 years old, and aside from being hard on tires for a while, it has been great the entire time. I need to do a little regular maintenance, but every car needs that. This weekend I drove a newer car, and when we go somewhere in my wife’s car, I think about this story, which is on its third iteration, and still not bothering people enough. Your car’s data privacy problems are worse than you think<:

(R)esearchers from Northeastern University, in collaboration with Consumer Reports, published an in-depth examination of connected vehicle privacy behaviors. Utilizing nearly two dozen vehicles from CR’s test fleet, the team sought to answer critical questions: Which cars transmit data? Who receives it? Does it cross international borders? And what personally identifiable information is actually being exposed?

David Choffnes, project lead and former director of Northeastern’s Cybersecurity and Privacy Institute, said the goal was to reveal the sheer scale of modern vehicle data tracking and highlight how little visibility or control owners truly have over it.

“I think the conclusion is that there’s a lot to be worried about,” Choffnes said in an interview.

To get a complete picture, researchers analyzed 21 late-model vehicles from 19 brands currently sold in the US, along with 30 companion mobile apps linked to active vehicles.

Manufacturers, enthralled with selling you off something you bought from them, are happy to sell you out to advertisers, to your insurance company, and probably to anyone that asks. They’re counting on motorists to forget about this because they’ve got to get from A-to-B and, besides, Spotify connects easily.

This is going to be an opportunity for a company to offer some other option. I don’t need a touchscreen, I don’t need moodlighting, and I don’t need you to report my driving to anyone without context. (There’s a lot of crap in the road, and sometimes you just want to dodge it.)

If no one takes that part of the marketplace then we basically find ourselves in a loose-to-strict technological cartel.

I think of that for a lot of reasons. One of them is because, today. My office hours were interrupted because of a fire alarm. I dutifully gathered my things, trying to make a quick assessment of whether anything else in my office needed to go, just in case, and then walked down the six flights of stairs into a cement chamber merrily repeating the sheer trill of the fire alarm. Students stood on the sidewalk outside on three different sidewalks. Ours is a big building. Everything in the frame is the same building.

There is housing, a gym, some sort of offices, and a bunch of academic stuff in there. The alarm could be about anything, anywhere. Even still, I decided to stand on the opposite side of the street, even though there’s no smoke emerging from anywhere. After a few minutes, I walked over to where my class meets, and finished my

we started talking about surveillance in my digital media class. The students had to read a brief chapter about it. This becomes a curious part of the subject matter because they think they know about this. I used a cool slide-shattering transition for this one. No one laughed at the joke I’d prepared for it.

We start talking about databases and data mining and implicit data and, much like that car example, above, people don’t necessarily want to think about this all of the time. The platforms quite obviously count on that. It is within their best interests to be less than transparent and forthcoming, to allow you to think of the good, and not the potential. And so I put up this slide.

People, after all, just want to post their thing or see the thing that others posted. And, yet, they’re going to hear about various parts of this for about four meetings in a row.

We talked, among other things, about the new Meta Muse, and how it’s breaking rules and what that means, and … well, first I had to explain Meta’s Muse. What it presently is is a dangerous mess masquerading as a product that you have to use, because marketing.

It’s worth pointing out: no one needs that product, but the company absolutely needs to convince you otherwise. And we could, perhaps, say that about quite a few of these tools and toys.

After class I walked back over to my building. Happily, it was still standing. The fire trucks were gone, and people were moving about as normal. On the way, though, I walked by the statue, Contact. I wrote about it here. Then, last week, we looked a bit more closely at the couple’s hands.

Today, a quick study of the man’s jacket.

You have to love that texture. It’d be comfortable, and probably quite breathable. I am trying my best not to think that the artist, Seward Johnson, was leaving a code for one of his fans to find his secret, buried treasure.

I can tell you the code doesn’t say anything about looking inside these subjects pockets for the treasure. Realistic feeling as a lot of this feels, you can’t reach in the pockets. Or so I’ve heard.

But in looking at the code that we can’t crack at a glance, you might notice some interesting small details. He really nailed the wear on the jacket vent. I’m pretty sure most of my jackets look like this.

The jacket also has wide lapels, and an oversized pocket. And the man seems to have a bit of stubble on his face, which is almost tucked out of site. I know this isn’t for everyone, but it is easy to marvel at the detail put into this project.

We’re going to study the faces next week. But, for now, I have to do a bit of studying on what I’ll be discussing in class tomorrow. So, until then, keep your hands at 10 and 2, just in case your car is telling on you.

adventures / family / Monday / photo — Comments Off
28
Sep 26

Back where the heavy land and the green sands meet

A period of time can move quickly. A period of time can move slowly. This weekend was more of the former. I had about 84 hours on the ground on this trip, a strict limit I impose so that no one gets too weary of my antics. Here’s one last photograph from my Alabama sojourn.

I touched on this on Friday, but the water has defined and developed and dictated terms in that little corner of the world. And, right there below that sunset and at the bottom of that hill is a bit of that water, a tributary of the river that does all of those things. That particular part itself being full of mystery, awe and normalcy.

I’ve never lived on the water, so my levels of appreciation about it are all over the place. But if I sit here and write about this for too long it could become a classic Southern Gothic tale. (Right through here passed the Trail of Tears, after all. In fact, I’ve spent much of my life going back and forth across one segment of that route, for goodness sake.) So we won’t dwell, for now.

This morning, after a bit of work I watched my flight get delayed … hours in advance … we sat around a while. And then we moseyed our way to drive toward the airport. Mentally saying “until next time” to these familiar, old, family haunts, while counting the unimpressive amount of yard signs for the upcoming midterm elections. (There are not a lot. None for the Republican running for governor. One for his opponent. And, in deep red Alabama, in three-plus days of traveling the highways and byways of two counties, I saw exactly one sign that bragged of a presidential endorsement. Even in Alabama there is no juice left in those coattails, mixaphorically speaking.)

We stopped outside of Nashville and had one of those time warp lunches. When we sat down we figured we could walk around a few shops to kill a few more minutes. Before I knew it I was calculating the remaining travel time and demanding the check. Then we got diverted and — I don’t know if you know this — Nashville will demonstrate to you 24.7 why the people in east and west Tennessee hate middle Tennessee. There just aren’t enough “bless your heart” sayings go around. And, sure, word has gotten out about “bless your heart,” but we have other, deeper, more profound, more biting ways to insult people in the South. Not all of them have made it to the national discourse yet. Most of them were inspired by Nashville.

Anyway, made it to the airport just in time. Breezed through security like a rock star. Got down to the gate … and waited. Also, we waited. Got on the plane and we waited.

I don’t know how it is that the third-largest airline in the world is so bad at the basic demands of the job, but it really makes you want to avoid the fourth and fifth carrier.

Give them this: I asked for a tomato juice (because I read one of those pieces that says this is the drink that signals to the flight crew that you know the score, something about altitude, cabin pressure, and salt content) and they were suddenly, “Yes sir. Absolutely, sir. Another can of our hand-crushed tomato juice, sir?”

They did not. Also, it tasted like tomato juice, just like the last time I had it on a plane. Or the last time I had it sitting on terra firma. It’s enough to make me wonder whether I can believe everything I see on the web.

The flight was fine. Got in about two hours later than I should have. Read my way through all of it. Left the plane, managed to escape the airport, mostly by ignoring signs, following the crowd, and a vague sense of muscle memory. Happily reunited with my lovely bride, who made the sacrifice of waiting on me for dinner. We ate dinner. Now I’m working on class stuff for tomorrow.

There’s a lot to get through this week. Let’s get through it!

adventures / food / photo / Rowan / Thursday — Comments Off
17
Sep 26

Onions, anyone?

I woke up, I read the news. I did some work. I had an early lunch. I got ready to go to work. I sighed at all of the things I need to do. This, I thought to myself today, is where I wrestle this week into control. And also tomorrow. Also, let’s not think about all of the things I should do around the house. It’s that time of the semester already.

And so we hopped in the car.

On campus I had a chat with a colleague around the copy machine. The water cooler is just around the corner, but that seemed a little too on-the-nose. I sent a thank you note to another colleague. I replied to roughly half a dozen student emails. I took care of a small task upon which I was overdue by an egregious 13 hours. I finished my notes for class. Right on time, too. As I scribbled out the outline of the last things I wanted to say today — I use a very small notebook and 75 minutes usually works out to about three pages of outline-stye notes. Today, comparing thoughts to my prepared slide deck, I turned it into four pages and offered a little silent prayer that the class would have a conversation with me.

They did! We sat in that super hot room, which is now baking at about 82 degrees, a remarkable improvement from a few sessions ago when I sweated completely through a sport coat while sitting still.

Today we talked about the social part of our techno-social lives. How the technology influences the culture and vice versa. I successfully resisted the urge to make any Star Trek references. We talked about how technology changes our expectations of things. I stumbled upon a great question … who have you talked to already today that is out-of-state, and how did you communicate with them. People dropped all sorts of states, one student talked to a relative in Jamaica. I had deliberately sent notes to people in a variety of places already this morning, just so I could make my point if they did not. But they did!

They’re becoming a class of talkers and that’s going to make all the difference.

Anyway, the first half hour flew by and then the second half hour did a slow crawl and then accelerated unexpectedly. It’s a 75 minute class and I think we wrapped up at 74 today. Just as I hoped and hoped as I planned.

They have to read a great paper for class next week and I hope a few of them like it. It can inspire great conversations, and in our techno-social lives that’s going to be key. Three students stood around and talked about that with me after class for a few minutes.

Also one student whipped out an iPod on cue, as if she knew where the class was going. She later told me she had a cassette tape Walkman that she’d discovered in her mom’s old things. And that she and her roommate go buy records. People are full of wonderful surprises.

After class I picked up my lovely bride and we drove home. We took part in the relative new ritual of sitting outside to read on Thursday evenings, because we know how to party. At about 6 p.m. she had to go inside for a meeting, and I stayed out for a bit longer to catch up on all of the ink that has been spilled today. This plane flew over head.

I didn’t look it up on the flight tracker app, because sometimes the mystery is better. This plane is on the usual route for airlines going to Europe, though, and I wonder where all of those people will wake up in the morning. I wonder if it is somewhere fun. I wonder if anyone looked out the windows and glanced down at the little places they are flying over and leaving behind to go somewhere fun. Let’s say Venice. Why not?

I went inside. Got cleaned up. Sat down at my computer to check the work email one last time, and do a few quick work related things that were on my mind. Set a fantasy team, checked the address of a meeting I have tomorrow. Attempted, once more, to wrestle this week into control. Succeeded, for half a second, in not thinking about the things I should be doing around here. Utterly failed at ignoring the work required of me next week or the week after. Then I recited the usual ritual: after that, there will be less today, and it will be easier.

Dear reader, this is a lie we tell ourselves every week. And already, my calendar is piling up into mid-October.

I was called down to dinner. We had barbecue chicken baked potatoes. We had barbecue chicken baked potatoes because my lovely bride had picked up some scallions. She doesn’t care about them, but I think scallions are a wonderful addition to most any plate.

Also, I do not have a good grasp of scallion-to-plate ratios. There’s a whole bag in the crisper. I retrieved it, found the good knife, pulled some onions out of the bag, considered what was in my hand, put some back, and started cutting. This was what I wound up with.

Note to self: four scallions is a lot of scallions.

They’re presented here for maximum comedic effect, but no matter how I pile and photograph them, that’s a lot of scallions. I was able to move things while cutting and eating so it didn’t seem like I was having a potato with my scallion plate. But there was a bite or two, right at the end, where it seemed no better than just pulling a handful right of the ground and eating it in your garden.

If you grow scallions I may come by and do just that. Not tonight. I’m good for tonight. But in the future.

adventures / books / family / Friday / photo / Rowan / sport — Comments Off
11
Sep 26

This fine day

What a fine day this was! It was a fine day! And it followed on the heels of another fine day. Fine days all around, for everyone. You might have to seek out the parts that make a day so, but if you hunt long enough you’ll realize that you’re only making the parameters for your day, anyway, so may as well just get to it. Let the day come to you, which I do to much, and hope it’s fine, or fine the things that redeeming, wonderful, and rewarding in every day.

I’m going to try that one day. But not this day. This was a fine day all of its own accord.

But first, yesterday … I had to walk from the building where my office and some classes are to another building where I have a class. This was previously the sauna, but now it’s just the uncomfortably warm older person’s residence. The weather on the fourth floor of that building reflects what is going on outdoors, I was told. When it is hot, it is hot. Oh, the first three floors were nice and cool last week, but I am left to conclude they just ran out of duct work and insulation for the fourth and fifth floor. But, yesterday, because the temperatures have dipped every-so-slight, I only sweat through two layers of clothes.

In that class we discussed the diffusion of innovation theory. Started with agriculture! Bet you didn’t know that! See? A fine day for discovery. Some of the 19th century work that would go into Everett Rogers’ 1962 classic had to do with things like the spreading and adoption of information. Rogers then pulled on 508 studies across anthropology, sociologiy, education, medicine and agriculture and tried to explain how this theory can help us understand how and why new ideas and tech spread, and the conditions that help with that. Diffusion of innovation is such a beloved thing that a few years ago there was a 50th anniversary celebration for it. For a theory. I knew someone who traveled for that event.

We also talked about binary code and how that makes all of these digital things possible and how innovations can move beyond what designers or early adopters intend. I left them with something to think about. A question about a person becoming ones and zeroes themselves. I think I’m going to let them chew on that for another day or two before we get into it. It’ll make for an interesting mindbender when we get to Walter Benjamin.

On my way back to the office I got the third angle of the statue. From this perspective it looks like something sad has happened. Her face is just so. He’s gripping that hat a little too tight.

It still surprised me, to see that statue. I still think, when I catch it out of the corner of my eye, that it is two actual people in a particular moment.

One more wide perspective, next week, then we’ll start looking more closely at some of the figures’ details.

Last evening we got home and decided to sit outside and read. We know how to party! Also, our Sunday afternoon hot reading date is close to becoming a Thursday evening hot reading date, as well. When the sky is showing off, why not?

At some point, and I hope it is no time soon for selfish reasons, it’ll be cool enough to use the fire pit. Then we’ll be reading pages that smell of smoke and pulp. For other reasons, I am looking forward to using the fire pit, because we need to burn some twigs and branches.

I am reading Adin Dobkin’s Sprinting Through No Man’s Land, about the first Tour de France after the conclusion of World War I. Race designer, and editor of L’Auto, Henri Desgrange put on the most grueling tour possible. Dobkin makes the point a few times here that Desgrange’s ideal of a Tour winner was still coming into focus, even after a dozen races and four years without La Grande Boucle during the Great War. Some of these guys were still in the service. Some had just gotten out and had no time to train. They were going over some of the harshest terrain possible, less than a year after the war had ended, and even into new parts of France. This, for Desgrange, was an exploration, and a statement. While the point had, thus far, always been to sell more subscriptions and issues of L’Auto, it was also important to show France to Europe, and France to the French.

The thing about open road bike racing, even now, is that there is always a lot about the event we, the spectators, don’t know, even with cameras on motorocycles and drone shots and microwave technology. The empty spots in a given race are even more pronounced a century on. And, from here, maybe they don’t matter. But this does.

If there was enough credible source material, I’d read books on important and insightful anecdotes like this all day long.

Desgrange was a colorful and controversial character for many people, but at the same time the man knew what he was doing.

This evening we went to see my god-niece-in-law (just go with it) play her third varsity game at the college level. We saw her debut — she started! — recently and this game was also close enough to get to. Her mom was there. So were her grandparents. And also her godparents-in-law. That’s my in-laws, if you’re trying to keep this straight.

Before the game we met up for pizza with my in-laws and my uncle-in-law. (This gimmick gets confusing, but that’s what makes it fun.) We made it over to the game just as it was getting underway.

You know that old saying about missing the shots you don’t take? Our star player does not have that problem. Put the ball at her feet and she’s going to the cage. In this game her team got their first goal of the season. Then they put up a second goal. Guess who got the assist? And then, her teammates slipped her the ball twice more, and she got her first collegiate goal to tie the game 3-3.

The referee, let us say, enjoyed putting his stamp on the game, such that the other team were able to score with 29 seconds remaining in the game. When he wasn’t doing that, however, he was watching the emerging star do her thing.

We took a family photo after the game. They’d just lost a heartbreaker, they’re still looking for their first win. She was so happy. It’s still early yet, but it looks like maybe she’s found the right place for her — and isn’t that what all of this is about?

We went out for ice cream after. I told you, it was a fine day, just a fine day.