One of my closest collaborators is a teammate far away — I'm in New York and Emily Withrow is in Chicago.
We stay connected chatting on Slack. But recently Emily asked if I could regularly update my Slack status to indicate what I was doing at the moment, like coding, meeting, eating. It's the kind of thing colleagues in New York know just by glancing toward my desk.
Changing my Slack status isn't hard; remembering do it is. So I built a bot to change it for me.
I'm pretty sure I purchased Civil tokens today — literally buying into an experiment to put journalism on the blockchain.
After the sale, There were no tokens in my wallet and no indication my purchase was "on its way." Just a blank screen.
Unsettling, but I'm not actually worried.
UPDATED at 7:45 pm ET on 9/17/2018 with new information. See the end of the post for details.
It's my time to go crypto.
I've followed blockchain technology, principles and trends for years without getting involved, but now have couple of reasons to get real: A new blockchain-based journalism project is about to launch, and my employer, Quartz, just launched a new cryptocurrency newsletter.
It also seemed perfect for my practice of beginning new things repeatedly.
Earlier this year, friends Manoush Zomorodi and Jen Poyant left their public radio jobs to join a new journalism … thing … called Civil. I had heard snippets about Civil, and started listening to Manoush's and Jen's podcast, ZigZag, part of which attempts to explain it.
After weeks of being pretty confused, I think I get it. Here's my attempt: Civil is a system designed to foster and reward quality journalism in a decentralized way, in contrast to platforms like Facebook and Google upon which so much journalism rests today.
The system’s backbone is the blockchain-based Civil token, abbreviated CVL. Holders of tokens can start news organizations in the system, challenge the membership of other news organizations in the system and/or cast votes when such challenges arise.
I have no idea if it will work. But I’m interested, and I’d rather participate than watch from the sidelines. So I’m willing to give it a whirl and okay with losing a little money in the process.
To participate, I just needed to buy some CVL ... though it turns out there's no just about it. But that's okay, too.
[I recently presented this post as a 5-minute Ignite talk.]
On a morning flight some years back, the pilot's cheerful voice came over the speakers.
"I'm glad you're flying with us. This is the first time I've flown a Boeing 747,” the captain said with a pause. “Today."
We all laughed, of course. Who’d want to be on a pilot’s maiden flight?!
Not us. We want experts. Society counts on them. Companies pay them better. Spectators watch them play. Vacationers rely on their forecasts. We attend educational institutions and work long hours to become them — the qualified, the trusted, the best.
Nobody likes being a beginner.
Except that I do.
Several friends recently planned a party for maker, e-textiler and all-around awesome person Liza Stark — and I wanted to celebrate her with blinkies appropriate for the occasion.
The event was to take place in a rented house with a porch overlooking a slice of woods.
I decided to fill the trees with digital fireflies.
About this time last year I set out to make something every week in 2015.
In the end, it was actually “Make Every 1.7 Weeks.” But two exciting things happened along the way:
- I made many, many more things than I would have otherwise, learning a ton.
- I was invited to write a book.
“Daddy, I want to learn Python,” announced my 12-year-old daughter a couple of weeks ago. Boys in her youth group know it, she said. She wanted to, too.
Say no more.
I’ve introduced my daughters to a variety of friendly programming platforms, including Kids Ruby, Hopscotch, Codea and Lua in Minecraft. They’ve sweetly tolerated my programatic prodding. This was the first direct request.
I quickly ordered two paper copies of “Learn Python the Hard Way,” by Zed A Shaw, and we’ve been walking through each lesson together — one every week.
I stumbled on a fun, visceral way to show how Arduinos can sense and respond.
In preparation for a presentation at the Online News Association Conference in Los Angeles, I grabbed a Ping distance sensor I had in a bin. The Ping works like a bat — it emits an inaudible, high-frequency sound, and listens for the sound to bounce off an object. The round-trip time between ping and reflection reveals the distance.
Yesterday the Streamlab class put do-it-yourself water monitors into Gatorade bottles and anchored them in the Monongahela River near Morgantown, West Virginia. They’re now texting their data readings live.
We’re sensing conductivity, which is a good indicator of dissolved solids in the water, and temperature. The locations are: upstream of an industrial site, downstream of the same site and further downstream below the Morgantown lock and dam.