Last year I spent a couple of nights in a Comfort Suites hotel and earned a handful of points in their loyalty program for my stay. I don’t stay in hotels often enough to redeem any rewards, but I don’t want the points to go to waste.
Many loyalty programs have expiration dates for points or miles at the end of the year. If you don’t plan on using them – or if you don’t have enough to redeem for any awards – see if they have an option to donate your points to charity. You may not have enough saved for a gift card at your favorite restaurant or store, but some programs let you donate in smaller increments to a good cause.
Sure, the $5 donation I made to the Red Cross with my expiring points isn’t a huge amount. But it’s a lot better than letting the points disappear!
Just over a decade ago I started my college’s computer science program. I’d always loved computers; I remember the days playing games on the computer of my best friend who lived down the street, before my family bought one of our own. Once we did, I remember writing stories on some old DOS software and then finally venturing into the world of Windows 3.1 and Windows 95.
I was rather late to the Mac owners’ guild, at least by my friends’ standards; I started with one of the Luxo Jr.-style iMac G4s with the round base and the flat panel in April 2002, during my first year of college. Now of course I’d used Macs before I’d entered college; some of my first experiences with computers were on Apple IIe boxes in my elementary school’s computer lab, playing really basic games in green pixels on a black screen with nothing but a 5 1/4″ floppy drive. Through middle and high school I worked on a bunch of computers through my school’s technology clubs and programs, and for my junior and senior year in high school, I took some time in an independent study to refurbish Power Macintoshes with a goal of supplying each classroom in the building with a computer with OS 7.6. Through this love of tinkering, I entered college thinking computer science was a natural choice. I still use the concepts I learned in those first C++ classes every day.
The big shift
But after I set that iMac on my dorm room’s desk, something happened. I started looking at more than just the code. I studied how things looked and worked. If it didn’t make sense, I wasn’t happy with it. It wasn’t enough for me to go from point A to point B in a program – you had to get there well. You had to get there and enjoy the experience. Now of course, this kind of thing didn’t make sense to a lot of the computer people around me at the time; computers are supposed to help us get something done, so who cares how it works as long as it works?
Eventually I switched to new media to investigate some of these other facets of technology, and I ended up graduating with a degree in new media and minors in computer science and psychology.
I never noticed it until a few days ago, but there’s a strange correlation between the time I’ve used Macs and the time I studied design, usability, and how technology feels. And though I’m still technically a coder both by title and occupation, my true love has really grown into this analysis of how things work, how they’re used, and in a similar vein, how we can use technology to do things we’d never imagined possible.
Time travel
I have no real interest in time travel. I doesn’t really care to see what life was like when dinosaurs roamed the earth, and I don’t really want to see how life will be two hundred or a thousand years from now. I like living where I am and seeing where it goes on its own. But if there’s one journey I’d make, I’d take my iPad back to around 1950. I’d like to show those people what we can do: the power we hold in our hands with a magical web that connects all of us, and this device I hold in my hands. I’d show them that this machine, lighter than most books, can access an almost infinite amount of information as well as being used for drawing, used for reading, used to hear and see entertainment, used to see a friend’s face in real time from across the country or the world. I’d like to see their reaction, and I’d want them to guess the time from which I came. I think a lot of them might expect the 2300s or 2400s. I’d love to see what they would say when I told them we’d have all this power, all this possibility, in our hands in less than a century.
Now of course, Steve Jobs isn’t solely responsibly for my shift to design and usability, and he’s not solely responsible for the technology we hold in our hands that would baffle and mystify those living just a few decades ago. But more than any other single person, Steve showed us that it’s good to push the expectations of what is necessary and possible.
I respected a lot about Steve. I respected his taste, his refinement, his eye for a good idea. I loved the way he thought through a product and wasn’t satisfied with anything less than the best.
I’m just glad I was alive to see everything that’s happened over the last decade, and I’m excited to see where we go next. Above all, it’s safe to say that if there’s one person in my lifetime I see as an inspiration, it’s Steve. Thanks for all you did, both for the world and for me.
I’m at the University of Maine right now, looking down the hall at a bunch of barefooted undergrads walking around outside Hauck Auditorium. It’s second nature for them; they’re dancers taking a break while practicing for the dance showcase later this week. They’re not even dancing, but I’m smiling here in the Union’s Lookout area.
A bunch of people always ask why I spend so much time taking photos of the dance shows here. The simple answer: I love it. I’ll take as much time as I possibly can spare to watch dances, plays, and concerts. I love the passion, the creativity, and, in the case of dance, the athleticism and artistry.
But there’s a larger reason, too. We’re at a great time for the arts for central Maine. There’s a core, devoted group of people who are trying to do everything possible to create a vibrant arts community in the area. Ten years ago, nobody would think that we’d be able to bring top-tier acts to the Bangor area. This year, we have Lady Antebellum, B.B. King, and many more visiting the Bangor waterfront. The Folk Festival brings 100,000 people each August to appreciate music from all around the country. Bangor area theatres are packed for amazing productions.
The dancers down the hall are doing their part. Over the past few years, I’ve met many of them in one way or another, and they all love to perform and love to push the envelope of what they can do. They’ve brought the dance program forward, and they’ve brought dance outside the auditorium to the stages of UMaine and beyond.
I bring my camera not only because there are hundreds — if not thousands — of beautiful shots within each performance, but also because I want to capture all of this as it happens. I want to embrace the creativity and innovation that’s happening every day around me in any way I can.
Maine — and the world — is changing, and I want to be there. I may not be one of the dancers down the hall, but like each of them, I can’t stand still.
Last night the Auburn School Committee decided to take a big leap in educational technology: every kindergartener in the city will receive an iPad this fall. Critics of the plan didn’t waste any time finding the comment sections of daily newspapers across the state. Can you blame them? Why would you want to give a $500 device to a kindergartener?
The answer: we don’t live in the 20th century anymore. A decade ago, Maine decided to embark in a one-to-one learning environment with the state’s seventh and eighth grade students by giving each an iBook. Since then, the program’s been extended to high schoolers.
Kindergarten isn’t the same as seventh and eighth grade. But then again, the iPad’s not the same kind of device as a laptop.
Try this: find a family with young children (under five years old) and an iPad. Ask which person in their household uses the iPad the most. Don’t be surprised if they name a child. I know at least four families with kids under five, and not only can the children understand how to use the iPad, they enjoy it and use it often. Some have even joked (or not) that they need a second iPad as a result.
The major criticism of Auburn’s plan (other than the expense) seems to be that kids shouldn’t need iPads to learn reading, writing, and arithmetic, or that they shouldn’t rely on technology to learn new material. It’s important that iPads and other educational technology are used as part of a rich experience for children, particularly in younger years. Students need time to play, interact in groups, and use tactile objects to learn. iPad time shouldn’t take away recess, just as a video or book shouldn’t take away nap time.
But if you’ve used an iPad, you know the experience is nowhere near the stereotype of a workstation computer from the 1970s. Technology can supplement traditional methods of teaching and learning by offering a rich, engaging, and memorable environment that helps children learn and retain material faster and more completely. Forward-looking educators know this. The George Lucas Educational Foundation showed this brilliantly in a seven-minute video they produced from a visit to Portland’s King Middle School. Apple produced a video about fourth graders using iPod touches for improving literacy.
Maine students can’t be left behind as the rest of the world adopts technology. Is one-to-one learning the best approach at a young age? Maybe, maybe not. But I commend the Auburn School District for introducing new and modern ways of learning and helping Maine to stay on track in an ever-changing world.
With all the hard-hitting news coming out of Maine lately, it seemed like a great time for a new source.
I bet people would buy it.
Yummy whoopie pie photo by Joy.
I’m happy to announce that I’m launching the first of my Track projects today. It’s called next:maine, and it’s up and running at nextmaine.com.
next:maine is a new place to collect stories about how people are moving Maine forward. Sometimes it seems pretty tough to spot the new and exciting things that people are doing every day in Maine among the day’s headlines, and I want next:maine to be a place that solely focuses on the great work people are doing in Maine to help create the future.
You may notice that the design of the site looks a little reminiscent of Another New World. That’s not a coincidence. I want to take what I’ve learned from ANW and apply it to Maine innovation – but I don’t want to stop there. I’m eager to build next:maine in new ways over time, but I thought this was a great place to start.
I’ve lived in Maine my whole life. I love this place, and I really want to see Maine lead the way to new technology and innovation. Hopefully next:maine can allow people to realize how individuals and businesses are making Maine work and grow.
I’d love to hear what you think. Please let me know what you’d love to see on next:maine, or send a link my way if you know of a story that would fit well. You can subscribe to next:maine with RSS or via email, and you can, of course, follow next:maine on Twitter.
When I was looking at the candidates for governor last year, the question on the ballot to me really wasn’t a question of party; it was a question of a vision for Maine. I’ve come to love Maine as a place of progress, of beauty, and of opportunity, and though we may be going through a tough time right now, I’ve always felt that Maine’s strongest attraction is what it can offer that other places can’t. From the beautiful coastline to its welcoming people, I think Maine is a place that can not be matched anywhere else in the world.
So when I looked at last year’s candidates, I was struck by the difference in opinion of how things should be done. One side seems to stress the potential of Maine that’s usually used in tourism materials: a beautiful, open, free state with lots of possibilities for recreation and for a great way of life. The other side seems to think that the solution for the state’s problems is near-completly business-centric, in that if we make it easy for business to come and stay here, the state will end up back on track.
I love Maine businesses, and I’m quite happy to say that we have more than a few really successful businesses in our state. But the problem with encouraging business unconditionally is that it impedes on the characteristics of Maine that make it special and unique. Over the first few weeks of LePage’s administration, I’ve realized that I was on track with my thoughts last year; while I honestly believe that LePage wants what is best for the state of Maine, I see his approach as misguided and short-sighted.
My biggest fear of the LePage administration is that they believe the ideal state of Maine is the political equivalent of Marden’s. They’d stress that a philosophy like that would make it easy and inexpensive to do business. Don’t get me wrong – I love Marden’s. But if you were planning a week’s vacation, would you want to spend it at Marden’s? I want to be sure that the promise of Maine as a unique state that offers attractions that nobody else can isn’t lost in a quest for rock-bottom prices and the ideal business climate. There’s plenty of space to build a landfill on Old Orchard Beach, but nobody likes to sunbathe on trash.
Maine can be a state that moves forward and embraces the future, or we can go back and try to live in the past. I want my rugged coastline. I want my trails through the woods. I want my neighbors to be free and equal and lead the life they should have the privilege to lead. I want my Maine to be an example to the rest of the world. I want my Maine to move forward instead of sliding back.
(I’d also recommend reading this article by Perry B. Newman in The Forecaster.)
The biggest challenge I’ve faced during my recent refocusing is trying to decide where I should concentrate my effort and time. As I said earlier, I have nine projects I really want to complete – but I can’t do them all at once. I’ve never had a good way to visualize where I should focus my energy.
A week or two ago I decided to try to map a rough schedule of my tentative projects. I’ve found that it’s been extremely helpful as I decide where to focus; instead of doing bits and pieces of all of the projects, I’ve set aside time to really concentrate on each individually. It’s going very well so far.
“The Track,” as I call it, shows the names (well, code names) of each of my nine projects, separated into my three major interest categories: development, photography, and writing. (You can click on the image of The Track to see a full-size version.) I’ll be referring to these projects by their names on The Track until they’re ready to be released:
- Operator
- Statler
- Seaglass
- Pine Cone
- Entrée
- Katahdin
- Reprint
- Exposure
Each project shows a rough estimate of when I’ll be planning the project, developing it, releasing it in a pre-launch/beta form, and then turning it live. Another New World, for example, is already live, so it jumps straight into the live mode on the schedule. Some won’t even start the planning period until 2012.
It may seem like overkill, but the schedule has really helped me concentrate on projects over the last couple of weeks. It’s great to have a representation of what I plan to do on paper in addition to everything that’s been on my mind.
I’ve struggled with the notion of a dream job my whole life (I’ve covered this before – a few times, actually). I’m getting closer to an idea of what that might be for me, but at this point I still don’t think I have a solid idea. As a result I’ve never been able to set my sights on a single idea.
The flaw with the parking lot state of mind is that I always build upon a collection of ideas. It’s tough for me to focus. I’m impatient about what I want to do, and I have more-than-a-handful of projects that I want to do right now. Problem is, instead of actually doing enough work on any one project to make something, none of them ever reach a point of “doneness.”
One of my overall goals for 2011 is to move my mind from the clouds to the track. Right now I have eight projects I really want to do; two and a half of them you know (Sephone, Pine Tree Photography, and Another New World), and five and a half of them you don’t (yet). This year, instead of racing back and forth between them all in my mind, I’m going to try a schedule. I’m going to try to work for a while on one, and hopefully its progress or completion will make it easier for me to work on another. I’m going to resist the temptation to do them all right now and try my hardest to focus.
Along the way, I’ll probably write a bit here about what I’m doing to keep my mind on track instead of in the clouds for these projects. Hopefully it will help to make 2011 a great year for the projects I want to do.
It’s sad when a tragedy divides more than it unites. Let’s look at the aftermath of the assassination attempt yesterday in Arizona.
Much of the controversy that erupted after the shooting stemmed from a post by Sarah Palin last March in which Giffords was one of twenty senators quite literally put in the crosshairs of a fundraising map; Palin also encouraged supporters to “reload” on Twitter that same day.
There are really two separate issues in play here. Most criticism seems to be focus on whether Palin’s map contributed to the motives of the shooter and whether Palin should be accountable for his actions. Just as important, I’d argue, was whether the map was a good idea in the first place.
Many people (including a number of Palin supporters) have argued over the last 24 hours that the shooter was clearly unstable and, even if he cites Palin’s map as a motivation for carrying out the act, couldn’t possibly have interpreted the map as it was intended by Palin. It’s a good point; no sane person would ever gun down a representative in a crowd and kill innocent people, among whom were a federal judge and a nine-year-old girl. Was the shooting the fault of Palin or other politically-charged figures, like Giffords’s opponent last year who felt it was a good idea to hold a campaign event to “target” Giffords in which supporters could shoot an M16? No. They can’t be held accountable for the actions of crazy individuals.
But was the map a good idea in the first place? As Giffords herself said in March, there are “consequences” to energized and polarizing speech. Was it really necessary, and does it help advance political discourse in this country? Conservatives have no shortage of material to use when appealing to those who disagree with the liberal agenda. Escalating partisanship to its current levels will inevitably lead to an increase in violence; as Paul Krugman writes, “violent acts are what happen when you create a climate of hate.”
Palin’s team conceded, in essence, that the map was in poor taste when they removed the page with the map from its original location shortly after the shooting yesterday. The question we face is whether this tragedy will cause us to reconsider how candidates appeal to their supporters; will it encourage them to be civil and respectful about those who hold elected office, or will we continue down the path to turbulent black-and-white politics?
