Artemis by Andy Weir | Book Review

ArtemisArtemis by Andy Weir

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Mildly entertaining near-future engineer fiction wrapped in a caper and then dipped in a half-baked survival story set on the moon. Like The Martian, a nerd uses her science powers to solve increasingly complicated scenarios in order to survive. Unlike The Martian, I didn’t care about any of these characters. The dialogue is wooden and the entire narrative suffers under a peculiarly jocular sexual humor. The main character, Jazz, is the kind of girl guys who don’t actually know too many girls always think they are about to meet. Smart, sexy, sarcastic and just a little bit out of reach. I enjoyed it well enough but the ending left me with a shrug.

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For Tinker

We lost our friend Tinker today. We can’t choose the time but, with practice, we can prepare to be present and generous when they need it most.

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You Can Stop Reading That Book, or A Farewell to A Farewell to Arms

Life is short. Don’t read books you hate unless someone is making you, like your teacher or your students or a weird criminal who breaks in to houses and makes people read things they don’t want to read at gun point.

People who make themselves read bad books are psychologically disordered. They are wastrels. People who spend time unnecessarily reading books they don’t enjoy have unrealistic expectations of their own longevity. They have delusions of immortality.

I was once a psychologically disordered wastrel myself. I used to compulsively finish reading everything I started. Once the marker was placed, I could not remove it until the last chapter was turned. Sometimes I loathed the book but read on anyway with the kind of self-flagellation that leads to anxiety and disappointment.

And then, one day, I realized I am going to die someday. I gave myself permission to stop reading things I don’t enjoy. Now, when I find myself reading a book I don’t enjoy, I read just long enough to understand why I am not enjoying it. Fifty pages is enough. If an author cannot manage to somehow interest me in 50 pages, they aren’t really trying.

Most recently, I decided to dust off my Hemingway. I made 32 pages into A Farewell to Arms. The novel promises a “frank portrayal of the love” between somebody and somebody else which “glows with an intensity unrivaled in modern literature.” Hemingway’s description of the German attack on Caporetto is “one of the greatest moments in literary history.” Umm. Okay. 32 pages. There are mountains, and it is snowing. There’s a war but you can’t see the war because they keep taking vacations. And, during vacation, the character I don’t care about tries to date rape the other character I don’t care about. She tells him to stop. Then, she tells him not to stop. I don’t know if he stopped. I pulled the bookmark.

Of course, sometimes not enjoying the book is the whole point. You might find yourself enjoying the experience of not enjoying a book. Like the summer in high school my friend Brian and I made a bet to see who could read L. Ron Hubbard’s Battlefield Earth the fastest. That was the summer before our senior year in high school. I didn’t have a lot going on, I guess. I lost the bet. Cooler kids than we chugged cheap beers that summer. We chugged bad science fiction. It still makes me sad.

It may be hard to give yourself permission to not read a book. You may feel guilty. Do it anyway. Pull the bookmark. The feeling passes. Life is short and there are 45 shelf feet of not yet read books waiting in my basement.

The Boy on the Bridge by M.R. Carey | Book Review

The Boy on the Bridge (The Hungry Plague, #2)The Boy on the Bridge by M.R. Carey

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Much more than a zombie story, M.R. Carey’s The Boy on the Bridge blends science fiction and horror themes into a legit work of character-driven contemporary literature with insightful things to say about the human condition. The characters are complex and the dramatic tension builds throughout.

The Boy on the Bridge is set in the same universe as Carey’s first novel, The Girl With All the Gifts, which I enjoyed very much four years ago but remember few specific plot details. You can read either of these books without spoiling the other.

During the height of the Hungry Plague (aka zombie apocalypse), a small team of soldiers and scientists are dispatched to traverse the withered United Kingdom countryside to collect scientific samples that might help understand the plague and how to defend against it. The team is confined to the safety of Rosie, their oversized land rover, with occasional tension-laden excursions into the open. Discovery of a new kind of hungry presents the core scientific mystery and a Pandora’s box of moral dilemmas. Conflicting ideas about duty and loyalty drive the crew to make complicated decisions that bring the reader toward a devastating but thoroughly satisfying end.

Boy on the Bridge presents a slow start. It took me a few chapters to figure out where we were and what was happening but the action layers nicely to build a claustrophobic sense of dread and inescapability.

Boy on the Bridge is a dystopian novel with a hopeful heart. If you can enjoy reading about the collapse of civilization and the possibilities that might come after, this book will make you very happy. After, of course, it has already broken your heart.

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It Is What It Is | Flash Fiction

Aubrey. I’m dead. It is what it is.

It sucks.

I raised you to live your life with no regrets but I’m realizing too late that any thinking person who gives a damn is going to have his regrets. We make choices. Some of them hard. Forget what I said about no regrets. People who care are going to have regrets. I have them, too.

I am trying to imagine how you must feel, watching this message. Me on a screen telling you things I could have easily told you in person. We talked every night. Sometimes I called you. Most times you called me. I need you to know how good it felt to get those calls or the texts and emails. It felt good to know you were thinking of me, making room for me in your life even when you lived so far away. That room was my world. It was everything.

But now, I’m dead and you are wondering why I didn’t tell you I was dying. It isn’t easy to explain. I wanted you to know, but I didn’t want to bring that into our special space. I just wanted to be what I was for as long as I could be.

And I had work to do. Important work that I couldn’t share. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you. I just didn’t want it to swallow your life until it had too.

When your mother died, I promised I would raise you to be brave and strong and curious. I raised you to be kind. To take care of others. And I am so proud of the person you are. It is my sweetest reward.

I always told you not to worry yourself with whether or not there is a God. A God who needs you to believe so much without seeing isn’t a God worth knowing.

I was wrong. There is a God. He just doesn’t like us all that much.

Sorry. I’m rambling. Its the medication. They’ve got me on these pills that mix my head up, make it hard to think. Everything I used to do easy comes much harder now.

When you see this, I’m already dead. But I want to tell you things about my life I never took the time to tell you. I’ve been reading a lot of philosophy. Its bullshit, mostly. But useful bullshit. It puts your life in perspective. It teaches you to think about yourself realistically. Most people walk around clutching their religion to help themselves feel important or they spend their lives angrily pushing it away to help themselves feel important.

We aren’t important. But we have importance. We can do important things.

This isn’t what I want to tell you. I’m getting tired and I’m afraid I’ll leave something out. Something you will need to know. You’re so smart. You’ll figure it out.

None of them are alike. Each of them has a different story, a different need. Treat them individually. Get to know them. They won’t always tell you what they need. They won’t usually know. Take the time to figure it out.

Every one of them has fallen such a long way. Every one of them has been marked by that fall. Just be the kind person you already are. The rest will be okay.

I’m getting tired. I need to rest. I’ve written a lot of notes to help you figure it out. It is powerful, terrifying work. It is necessary.

I wish I could see you. Tell you these things.

How we used to sit on the porch and watch the night sky. All those shooting stars you tried to wish magic out of. So many times you wanted them to be ghost angel of your mother. I told you they weren’t actually stars or your mother but leftover bits of iron from the leftover universe, which was something even better than magic. We were both wrong.

Regrets.

Now I’m dead, and it is what it is. I just need to say it again.

Every day you made a special place for me and I made a special place for you. Keep carrying me there. But don’t stop with me. Open yourself up. Break yourself open.

It doesn’t matter if there’s a God. There are miracles. I know there are. Let them come in. Feed them. Clothe them. Set them on their way.

Okay. That’s all kiddo. Time to go now.

It is what it is.

Getting the Right Things Done

I hit a slump at work last year. It happens from time to time. I still showed up. I still tried my best, but my best was becoming less and less effective. I still loved my job. I still cared, but I was working harder and harder for less result. I knew it. The people who know me best knew it but were often too kind to inquire.

I worked hard. I stayed busy, but I never seemed to accomplish the most important things. My to do lists exploded. I had a hard time setting priorities. My to do list was such a complex tangle of folders, alerts and tags that I could no longer discern the important from the merely urgent. I fell into the trap of choosing a few easy things to mark off each day and letting my email inbox decide the rest. Email poured in from all sides and I couldn’t get a handle. I was drowning.

The problem wasn’t that I had too much to do. We all have too much to do. The problem was my poorly designed workflow. Enter David Allen’s book Getting Things Done. (Find it at your local library.)GTDcover

Getting Things Done is a dead simple guide to organizing workflow. I read Getting Things Done over winter break and am practicing the core principles at home and at work. Here’s my quick take. I was coming home from work everyday braindead and exhausted because I was constantly misusing my mind. The brain is brilliant at detecting patterns and creating new associations between ideas, but the brain is terrible at remembering. An effective workflow allows the brain to do what it is meant to do and stop wasting precious energy performing tasks it cannot accomplish.

Most productivity tools and literature emphasize management of time and priorities. Time and priorities cannot be managed. Only actions can be managed. My wickedly complex To Do lists failed because they tried to manage ideas and priorities rather than actual actions.

Allen’s GTD workflow focuses exclusively on actionable next steps. Lists are meant to capture all relevant next steps and organize them into contexts. To Do lists should only contain lists of things that can actually be done. My To Do list was choked with non-actionable items like Solve Climate Change or Establish World Peace. These aren’t next steps. These are projects.

You are probably laughing at me right now because you already knew this. Its okay. I’m laughing too. I knew better but did it anyway. Projects belong on their own lists, which are then broken down into actionable next steps.

The list of next actions is sacred and must be rigorously protecting from the inevitable intrusion of multistep projects. Allen gives a fundamentalist definition of a project as any outcome you desire within the next year that requires more than one step to achieve. Solving Climate Change and Establishing World Peace are obviously projects. Less obvious perhaps, mounting a TV on a wall might also be project with discrete steps. You have to research the available mounts, select the appropriate mount, purchase the mount, install the mount, hang the TV and then deal with the attached peripherals. Again, you probably already knew this but the reason I avoided so many items like that on my list was confusion about how to get started.

The insight Allen offers isn’t so much that projects are comprised of actions. The insight is that getting those actions broken down and captured in advance reduces a lot of unnecessary cognitive tax. The discipline is deciding in advance what will need to be done so that you don’t waste precious mental energy thinking about it when you have time to actually do it. The useful habit is always deciding in advance.

The other useful habit is organizing next actions by context rather than topic. My To Do lists were developed around the idea of keeping actions into discrete topical lanes. This meant that before deciding what needs to be done, I had to sort through a mishmash of competing projects or themes to find tasks that were both important and achievable at that particular moment. This did not work well.

It is far better to organize next actions into contexts, like Email; Phone; Writing; Quick Hits; and Intense Focus. This helps put next actions into a context of energy and focus. When you are making phone calls, use that list. When you need easy wins, use the Quick Hit list. When you can focus deeply, use that list. The idea is make decisions easier by making the list serve the energy and focus available at any given time. You can’t always do the thing that is most urgent, and you probably shouldn’t. You can always do something. There’s always more to do than can be done. The goal is to keep doing things and keep moving forward.

There’s a lot other practical help to be had. Allen offers advice on email, my arch-nemesis. So far, it has helped a lot. Allen talks about the piles of stuff in my life and helps me understand those piles as actions to which I have not yet committed or properly understood. Stuff is deadly. We must kill our stuff before our stuff kills us.

The practice is to get everything out of your head, captured on a list and then organized into context for appropriate future action. Dead simple but definitely a practice.

So you are probably reading this and marveling at how any of this could be a surprise to me. You might be wondering how they let me manage multiple libraries and supervise a team. Some days, I wonder the same thing.

I love my work. People depend on me to bring my best. They deserve my best. I deserve to come home with my brain intact so that I can share my best with my family and myself. To do that, I need new habits.

So far, my Getting Things Done workflow has helped that happen. It is a work in progress which I will adapt as I go. If it works, I won’t need to tell you. You’ll see it happen. I’ll answer your email. I’ll follow up on that conversation we had last month. I’ll have time to sit and talk big picture because the urgent, unimportant distractions are no longer nipping at my heels.

Showing Up

Whenever I feel too self-important, I think about the courage it took to walk across a bridge in Selma, Alabama in 1965. Most of the people that day didn’t give speeches, address news crews or create a riot. They went for a walk. They got pushed back. They walked again. They walked until they made it.

The March to Montgomery took three tries, but 25,000 people arrived in Montgomery on March 25, 1965. The Voting Rights Act became law later that year.

Twenty-five thousand people showed up. They changed the world by taking a courageous walk. Together. I don’t know their names. I don’t know their stories. They changed the world by showing up.

2018. My country is broken. My daughter is 10 years old, and the world is nothing like the world I thought I would give her. I’m not doing enough.

I can’t be a hero, but the world doesn’t need heroes. The world still needs people willing to show up and take a walk.

Oprah Winfrey, Barack Obama, Donald Trump and Luke Skywalker Cannot Save Us Now

Oprah Winfrey gave an incredible speech last night at the Golden Globes. She was honored with the Cecil B. DeMille Award for “outstanding contributions to the world of entertainment.” Oprah used the opportunity to connect her experience seeing Sidney Poitier win that same award in 1982 with the experience of young girls who were watching her last night. Oprah was focused, inspiring and, most of all, generous.

We live in a distracted world. Moments when everybody pays attention are rare and getting rarer. Oprah used her moment to direct our attention to the importance of a free press to bring truth to light against corruption and abuse of power. She brought the forgotten life of Recy Taylor out of history and into my attention for the first time. She connected the often unseen struggles of industrial, agricultural, service and military women to the #MeToo movement of Hollywood. She honored the achievements of women while reminding that those achievements are often well-supported by the work of like-minded men. She did it all in under nine minutes.

Predictably, the Morning After headlines read “Oprah for 2020”. I love Oprah. She brings people together rather than pushes them apart. She inspires people to search for the best in themselves and bring that out. More importantly, she inspires people to search for the best in others. She came up through tremendous adversity to become one of the most influential, successful people alive today. Should she be president? I don’t know. I don’t even care right now.

We need to be careful. We have solved or are solving most of the simplest problems in the world. The problems that remain are really, really hard — racial intolerance, global resource distribution, climate change and nuclear holocaust to name just a few. These problems won’t have a single, simple solution and they won’t be solved by a single person, corporation or nation.

And yet, with each passing year, we seem increasingly fixed in the blind hope that electing the right president will save us. President Barack Obama received the Noble Peace Prize just eight months after taking office. The award underscored a phenomenal accomplishment, becoming America’s first African-American president, but the award also seemed to be aspirational, a down payment on expectations that one person’s vision might permanently transform reality. The Nobel Prize was an honor about which Barack Obama himself was conflicted.

Seven years later, slightly less than half of American voters elected the candidate who stood on stage at his party’s national convention and actually spoke aloud the words, “I alone can fix it.” You’ve probably been following the rest of that story.

We keep searching for saviors. The problems you and I face together are scary. They are overwhelming. We keep looking for an Abraham Lincoln, a Winston Churchill or a Luke Skywalker to save us. We won’t find them. Not even Luke Skywalker can save us now.

And so, as we watch Oprah’s eloquent moment, let’s accept it for what it is. An inspiration. A challenge. A call to action.

Oprah for 2020? I don’t know. For the moment, it is just all of us together. If we are inspired, challenged and working together, that can be enough.

Soonish | Book Review

Soonish: Ten Emerging Technologies That'll Improve and/or Ruin EverythingSoonish: Ten Emerging Technologies That’ll Improve and/or Ruin Everything by Kelly Weinersmith

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Soonish by Kelly and Zach Weinersmith is an enjoyable romp through the possibilities of near future technology. Light-hearted but informative, the authors explain how technologies in nascent stages today may underpin the way we live tomorrow. Underscore the word “may”. While Soonish exuberates in the ways technology could improve our daily lives, the authors harbor a healthy aversion to prophesy.

Rather than make specific predictions, Soonish presents categories of technology which, if the conditions are right, could significantly alter the way we live the middle and last part of this century. Soonish explores cheap access to space; asteroid mining; fusion; programmable matter; robotic construction; augmented reality; synthetic biology; precision, personalized medicine; bioprinting; and brain-computer interfaces. Each chapter gives a clear, easy-to-understand synopsis of the current science as well as concerns and specific thoughts on how developments in the field might change daily life.

Cartoons and dad jokes abound, but they are endearing and, quite often, actually funny. But I’m a dad, so I get dad jokes.

Read Soonish soon. The content will likely be dated in a few short years and, if there’s not another updated edition, the relevance of this book will expire. That said, it is a great book for right now. Fun, accessible and thought-provoking.

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High School Zombie Story | Flash Fiction

The zombie apocalypse started on a Tuesday morning between fourth period and lunch, which surprised everybody. We had seen all the old movies and believed when the undead armies awakened it would happen late on a weekend evening during some kick ass party.

It happened fast when it happened. A bunch of kids called out sick that morning and more left through first and second periods. By third period more seats were empty than full.

Nobody was feeling right, and everybody was jumpy as hell. The air felt wrong and the whole school stank a little worse than usual.

Fourth period was a joke. Mr. Warner tried to lecture but he kept getting distracted by all the empty chairs. People’s phones had been going off all morning with the heavy traffic of text messages and the teachers had finally given up trying to tell people to put away their phones. Mr. Warner halfway tried to talk about covalent bonds and the mysterious forces of atomic attraction, which usually got him all hot and excited, but today he couldn’t stop checking his own phone every time it made even the slightest noise. Nobody knew why they were checking their phones every few minutes, sending and receiving messages. The text messages were just everybody randomly checking in with their friends, their family to make sure they were okay for no specific reason.

U ok?

Yup. U?

Yup.

or

feel like sht. just pked mi guts out in locker. omg.

Everybody was randomly opening, closing and refreshing their web browsers in between texts, summoning explanatory breaking news headlines that would not come.

I guess that we knew without knowing. Some of us. Or suspected.

But nobody was for real sure until Ainslie Marsden staggered into the cafeteria during lunch, all sweaty and slack faced, stabbed Couch Jones in the neck with a butter knife and proceeded to open his skull with her bare hands, pulling his face open from the eye sockets and nostrils and then hungrily devouring his brains.

Ainslie Marsden was one of the hot girls and seeing her pull Coach’s brains out with both hands through his face was a bit too much.

A few kids puked. I pissed myself.

“I thought Ainslie was bulemic,” Jimmy Napolitano said in a shocked whisper, which was an asshole thing to say but Jimmy could be an asshole that way.

“No. She’s vegan,” I explained. I can be an asshole, too.

We stood there, a cafeteria of us, watching Ainslie go to work on her hideous meal.

We all started making our way to the exits.

But then other slack face kids we knew came staggering in the double doors with that low, plaintive guttural growl that meant we were probably going to need to fight to keep our brains inside our heads.

They circled us. It was Sloppy Joe day in the cafeteria so we threw our plates of Sloppy Joe at them for distraction and lifted our cafeteria trays as makeshift shields to press our way through the advancing wall of newly necrotic flesh.

We knew it was for real when we heard a scream behind us and turned to see little Charlie Helton working his teeth into our English teacher, Mrs. Walsh. Mrs. Walsh was one of those well-intentioned teachers who enjoyed ruining something perfectly cool like The Walking Dead by explaining how the recent popular fascination with zombie apocalypse represented a deep, nihilistic dread corroding our culture. She said stuff like, “Nihilism is what’s left when a culture has lost all its beliefs but doesn’t yet have new beliefs sufficient to replace them.”

Heavy stuff. Except when a zombie’s munching on your teacher’s face, nihilism is what’s left during the time while your teacher’s face is getting chewed but you’ve still got your own.

Trays up. Circle around. The zombie apocalypse had begun.