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Oct 25
You can wind the week down with a lot of work
After a day of committee meetings, and email, and grading, and a bit of class work, I realized that every Friday is like that. Most days are similar. Some days have classes. Not every day has committees.
For a while today was so full, though, that I wrote a To Do list for the afternoon. I’m not a big To Do list guy, but I find that, from time-to-time, it’s an actual productive way to do a bit of cognitive offloading. Plus there’s a little satisfaction of having it all laid out in front of you. Fridays have become a lot of that this semester too: just a big block of uninterrupted time to take on what needs taking on. And, finally, there’s the muted pleasure of scratching a thing off a list. I didn’t use check marks. Didn’t draw a line through an item. I scratched it out aggressively. I don’t know why that is.
Speaking of cognitive offloading, I do a thing in my classes now where I show an AI fail each day. Usually it is an image. I try to find the sports-related one since those are my classes. And I try not to make them all about Google’s AI, which is unrepentantly terrible. If I just showed that thing every day I’d look like I was piling on. Some of these are funny. And sometimes my students ignore them. It is either, I’m not as funny as I think I am — which is not true — or they feel like I’m shaming them about lousy technology that has been marketed to them and they’ve fallen for — which is true, for the most part.
Here’s my next example. The perils of letting AI plan your next trip:
Miguel Angel Gongora Meza, founder and director of Evolution Treks Peru, was in a rural Peruvian town preparing for a trek through the Andes when he overheard a curious conversation. Two unaccompanied tourists were chatting amicably about their plans to hike alone in the mountains to the “Sacred Canyon of Humantay”.
“They [showed] me the screenshot, confidently written and full of vivid adjectives, [but] it was not true. There is no Sacred Canyon of Humantay!” said Gongora Meza. “The name is a combination of two places that have no relation to the description. The tourist paid nearly $160 (£118) in order to get to a rural road in the environs of Mollepata without a guide or [a destination].”
What’s more, Gongora Meza insisted that this seemingly innocent mistake could have cost these travellers their lives. “This sort of misinformation is perilous in Peru,” he explained. “The elevation, the climatic changes and accessibility [of the] paths have to be planned. When you [use] a program [like ChatGPT], which combines pictures and names to create a fantasy, then you can find yourself at an altitude of 4,000m without oxygen and [phone] signal.”
People will trust the weirdest things.
This is lousy op sec, and of course silly on the face of it, and catty to boot. Great reporting from the Star Tribune.
After the day’s work was done, we hoped on our bikes and rode up the road for a miniature group ride with our neighbor. Here I am, out front. Or, rather, here is my view in the one moment when no one was in front of me.
I’m riding with two All-Americans here. One of them a rather recent All American. I’m just trying to stay close to the drafting lines.
Near the end of the ride, on a false flat, there was a tease of a sprint. And then there was a sprint. My lovely bride spun it up, and the many years and thousands of miles riding with her told me instantly what was happening. So I sat on our friend’s wheel. She went to the inside of the lane and tried to take on the three-time Ironman. I was right in her slipstream, waiting. I figured if she got over I was going to counter attack. It would be beautiful. And then she sat up. Our neighbor is pretty new at this, and probably a bit stronger than she realized, but the other person in that photo is pretty fierce.
So I finished third, which is a perfectly fine way to start the weekend.
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Oct 25
A specific elegance
Here’s the view from the campus office, where we live next-to-corner-office wishes and sixth floor dreams. Also, I share this office with my lovely bride, though we are seldom there at the same time. Offsetting office hours make that happen this semester.
Anyway, just look at those clouds. There’s a certain elegance in the clouds when they thin and march out like that. I wonder if that’s how earlier artists were inspired to take on the challenge of forced perspective.
The office has lights, but I do not know if they work. Plenty of natural light comes through that window, and I’ve never tried turning them on.
The office has the four travel posters that commemorate our honeymoon. And there are a few other framed things on the wall. I should add some of my own. And there’s a bookshelf, but I should add some books that are currently sitting in the basement, looking awesome. We have a rug we need to bring in.
I have also been collecting vintage local sports pennants. I’d all but completed the set when countries started shipping things to the U.S. The baseball pennant I bought two months ago from someone in Canada is somewhere stuck in that morass, so I’m getting a refund. But I need a new vintage baseball pennant, so back to E-bay, I guess. Then we can get a giant frame and hang that on an office wall.
In my mind, this will look really classy and cool.
The first problem is that there’s a lot of cool stuff I could put on a wall. The second problem is the nails. Or, more precisely, the nail holes. It feels very permanent, and I don’t mean in the photo that’s been on your grandparents’ wall your whole life sense of permanence. This is silly, there are several high quality putties and sealants and a fresh coat of paint goes a long way, but puncturing drywall is a real commitment.
This also explains all of the things not hanging on walls here at home, where I could also put up some other cool stuff.
In Criticism today we watched the new documentary on British Olympian Tom Daley.
It left something to be desired, from a critical perspective, but Daley was an executive producer, and I’m sure that figures into it. He’s going to tell his story his way — and why not? With that in mind, much of it felt a lot like a sort of oral history he was recording for his children.
It’s also an unconventional documentary in some respects. He’s watching footage of himself on a big screen, footage from throughout his life, because there have always been video cameras. And he was such an incredibly high profile athlete throughout his diving career, there were always broadcast cameras, too. Plus, I’m a big believer in the need of time and space away from the subject of a documentary. Maturing, evolving, crystallizing perspectives and all of that. This doc ends with his Paris Olympics. (And it felt rushed at the end.)
It got a mixed response from the class, now I’ve just got to get them to explain aloud why. But criticism is a learned process, and we’ve got some time yet to go this term.
In org comm my god-brother-in-law came to talk about his work. He’s a professional mountain biker, a filmmaker, a storyteller. Brice is also pretty great at all of those things. So he talked about niche storytelling. He was great at that, too. Here’s one of his films.
What was gratifying to me was to see how so many of the students were engaged in what he was saying, even though he is in a niche field, and this was not their niche. Well, most of them. One guy in the room, turns out, rides a bit, and they got nerdy with the vocabulary in a hurry, which was amusing to watch. There were suddenly industry specific terms flying all over the place and everyone else in the room came to realize they had no chance of catching up, or even catching on. It’s a niche kind of storytelling.
And look, I ride bikes. I tell stories. I do niche things. I teach this class. I was taking notes on what Brice was telling us.
I have some more things to grade, but if I did that tonight, what would I do tomorrow? Plenty of other things, of course. So I’ll just grade (tomorrow) instead.
See how I do that? There’s a certain elegance to it.
