Tuesday, March 17th, 2015
Link: James Joyner: Your Second Third Drink
Sunday, March 1st, 2015

In a recent episode of his podcast, Clay Jenkinson was discussing Thoreau and Walden. He focused in on the idea of “living deliberately”, a concept I could not help but conflate with some form of minimalism. It’s an idea that has been resonating with me lately as I have found myself increasingly discomforted by all the stuff I have dragged into my tiny house through the years. It’s almost overwhelming.

And I think, “How did it come to this?” and I have to admit that it is because I have not been living deliberately. When I see a new and shiny toy, I grab it to satisfy that immediate want — but I give no thought to where that thing will fit into my life in one or two or ten years.

The move towards replacing physical artifacts with bytes has helped tremendously. My Kindle has so many more books on it than I would be able to store as physical copies. Our iTunes library is expanding while our groaning DVD shelves are happy to not be called to further service. But these still come with an economic cost that I don’t always fully consider in the sense of living deliberately. And that doesn’t even begin to factor in the psychic costs of my nagging worry that Amazon or Apple will flip a switch one day and all my “investment” in those books and songs and movies will vanish in less than a puff of smoke.

So this deliberate living (in a minimalist possession style anyway — I will save thoughts of things like food for another day) starts to sound pretty good when I take a hard look at where my time and energy and money goes.

But how to start? There are two clear points: there is the commerce side where I bring possessions into my life and there is the other side where I have to live with them. The commerce side is more of a regular habit that must be handled with a new commitment each day. But the housing-life-possessions side — Ah! Now that presents and immediate and severe challenge.

SO I star taking stock: what do I need to be happy? I need a good chair to read in. And a good sofa for when I need a good lie-down. And a good TV. And a couple of good boxes to plug into that TV.

I need a good computer. And a good phone — these are how I make my living. I don’t need a good tablet (finally! A concession!) But I do need my Kindle.

I need a good pen and some bottles of ink and good paper and a good notebook, but I have at least convinced myself to stop buying more of these things for now. Even though I really want some.

And the list goes on (I haven’t even gotten to my small whisk[e]y collection…). I believe my definition of “minimal” may need to be calibrated. And that can no doubt turn into a life-long pursuit of contemplating and refining that definition. But one thing is decided not on the list of things I need and it breaks my heart.

I don’t think I really need all these books.

Our house is basically a library. We have filled it with shelves. We have filled those shelves with books. We have stacks of books. We have piles of books. We have bags of books. Our storage closet is filled with boxes filled with books. When we buy books now (and we buy books!), we can give only small thought about an organizational system as the pressures of reality force us to put them wherever there is an empty space or (in some cases) where we can convince gravity to look the other way.

I married someone who loves books as much as I do and it is glorious. And I love books a lot. I love reading them. I love holding them and smelling them. I love running my eyes along their colorful spines and reading their titles — each one an invitation. I love being surrounded by them and just existing in their presence. But I have to wonder: how much of that could be satisfied by a trip to the library? How much space at home am I sacrificing and is it worth it?


I don’t know if I can get rid of them. Each fiction book is a miniature universe, filled with possibility. I can’t throw away an entire world so callously! My non-fiction books are even more valuable for they are filled with knowledge and the potential for self-betterment!

I find myself paralyzed by sentimentality and I do not know if I can overcome it. Even for books I have not opened in decades or technical books that are staggeringly outdated, I don’t know if I can stand to part with them.

I may have failed at deliberate living before even starting — and that is before discussing any of this with my spouse (a vital piece of any lifestyle experiment!). Perhaps I am doomed to live more like Jefferson (but without the astounding intellectual gifts that allowed him to gain enough status to mostly get away with it in his lifetime).

But I have a secret. None of those books on our shelves is Walden. I’ve never read it. I think I shall and maybe Thoreau will speak to me and help me overcome my own worst instincts.

But when I read Walden, I think I shall get a copy from the library.

Friday, November 21st, 2014
Link: LWN: High-DPI displays and Linux
Hat Tip: Hacker News
Friday, October 10th, 2014
Link: An interview with Håkon Wium Lie
Hat Tip: Hacker news
Tuesday, February 25th, 2014

I was recently asked: “What does it mean to be a developer? What are some traits that you think successful developers should have?”.

I certainly don’t have the answers for a question like that. But I do have opinions. I shared them with my friend, but I think it may also be worthwhile to share them with you as well.

Ultimately, “being a developer” comes down to one thing: a developer writes code. This, of course, is a pretty broad definition.

Because it’s so broad, there are a lot of paths to being a developer. Traditionally, you might think of analytic “mathy” people being developers. And that’s certainly true, and it’s where the roots of the industry lie. But creative “artsy” people can also be great developers. And, because the world is not easily broken up into two sets of people, there are all sorts of other kinds of people who can excel at software development.

But different people can approach the field different ways and look for different goals. It takes a hard-core mathematician to work up solid and correct encryption software, but that person may not be the most suited for building something like Facebook’s recent Paper app. Some people will like to work out their software on paper before ever opening a text editor so they know exactly what they’re building. Others like to explore and make mistakes and figure it out as they go.

Because I’m only one person, I can really only talk about what it means for me to be a developer. I’m not a representative sample by any means and your mileage may vary.

And I, without question, fall on the side of building things as I go and learning and exploring. When I was in school, I noticed that there tended to be two sorts of students in lectures (and here I will pretend that the world is, in fact, easily broken up into two sets of people): those who would raise their hand and ask “What about when you do {X}+{Y}+{Z}?” and those who would just type “{X}+{Y}+{Z}” into their laptops to see what would happen.

I was definitely in the latter set. One of the things that I love about computers so much is the way they make it so easy to just try and see. They make it so easy to just try and fail. And when you try and see and try and fail enough times, eventually you learn something. And then it’s on to the next thing. And then the next.

And sure, there’s a ton of advantage to reading and taking classes and what have you. The good part of a CS education isn’t so much that it teaches you to program (which schools do poorly and only because it’s necessary), but because it gives you a good idea for the shape of problems: so when you find a new problem that sort of looks like problem {A} but also looks a little like problem {B} when you squint, you know what to Google for.

I find that programming, at its best, is a creative endeavor: it’s taking a problem and figuring out how to solve it within a set of constraints. And a lot of that can be taking different solutions for similar problems and squishing them together. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t: but it’s almost always fun.

So when I try to come up with the things that I think make me a good developer (and again, there are so many different kinds of developers that this cannot possibly be representative), the list starts to look like:

  • Experiment. Try things. Fail. Learn. Repeat.
  • Tinker. Try new technologies, languages, techniques. It’s not about developing mastery: it’s about seeing the shape of the industry so when a new problem appears, you have a wide body of experience to be able to say “Hmm. I think if we combine technology {A} with service {B}, it might get us close to a solution.”
  • Read. Read about all the things there are to tinker with. Read about directions and new ideas and exciting people. Read all the things that the best developers are writing about their craft. Sometimes they’ll be right. Sometimes they’ll be wrong. But they’re always full of exciting ideas about the industry’s history, future, practices, failures, and so much more. There’s no substitute for experimentation and tinkering, but there’s just so much to learn and so little time that we have no choice but to follow in the footsteps of giants.
  • Always Be Coding. Developers love programming. It’s in the blood. It’s one of the most fun things you can do. Create things. Throw them away or ship them, it doesn’t matter. Then create some more.

There’s so much about programming, so many areas to focus on. And I don’t have advice about any of that, because all I know to do is to chase all of it. Like a dog chasing a car, you’ll never catch it: but that’s just not the point.

Good luck.