Adam Keys is Thinking

If you’ve ever bikeshedded a design discussion or suggested how a feature might work, you’re a hybrid. Ever refer to yourself as a specializing generalist? That’s a hybrid.

In the past couple of years, I’ve discovered an interesting way to think about programming problems. I try to solve them while I’m away from the computer. Talking through a program, trying to hold all the abstractions in my head, thinking about ways to re-arrange the code to solve the problem at hand whilst walking. The key to this is that I’m activating different parts of my brain to try and solve the problem. We literally think differently when we talk than when we write or type. Sometimes, the notion you need is locked up in other parts of your brain, just waiting for you to activate them.[1]

But sometimes, when I’m doing this thinking, there is something I really miss: the feel of the keyboard under my fingers and the staccato of typing. If there’s an analog to “I love the smell of napalm in the morning”, it’s “I love the sound of spring-loaded keys making codes”.

With the release of the iPad, it’s quite likely that a large percentage of the population can start to eschew the traditional keyboard and pointer that have served them in such a mediocre fashion for so long. On the other hand, you can take my keyboard from my cold dead hands. I really like typing, I’m pretty good at it, and I feel like I get a lot done, pretty quickly, when I’m typing.

Last year, I decided I would give other text editors a try. I stepped out from my TextMate happy place to try VIM. I knew this part of the experiment wasn’t going to work because when I felt like I’d gone through enough reading, tutorials and re-learning of VIM, I sat down to tap out some code. And…nothing. I felt like I was operating the editor instead of letting the code flow from my brain, through my fingertips, onto the display. It was as if I had to operate through a secondary device in order to produce code.

Sometimes it seems that developers think with their fingers. I’m not sure what the future of that is. We’ve created environments for programming that are highly optimized for using ten fingers nearly simultaneously. How will that translate to new devices that focus on direct manipulation with at most two or three fingers at a time. Will new input mechanisms like orientation and acceleration take up the slack?

Will we finally let go off the editor-compiler-runtime triumvirate? Attempts to get us out of this rut in the past have proven to be folly. I’m hoping this time around the externalities at the root of past false starts are identified and the useful essence is extracted into something really compelling.

In the mean time, it’s going to be fun trying the different ways to code on an iPad as designers and developers try new ways to make machines do our bidding.

Some of the most villified companies are poorly regarded because of the way they treat their own customers. Think about people complaining about AT&T’s service in New York City or people put on hold for hours by their electric company during a power disruption. Instead of treating these problems as real, telephone and electrical companies treat them as items in a queue to be dealt with as quickly as possible.

And thus, systems are set up that put a premium on throughput. Rewards are given to those who prevent customers from taking the time of the real experts who might fix a problem. Glib voice menus serve as a layer of indirection before you even reach a human. Service disruptions often bear a message tantamount to saying “we know we are not giving you the service we promised, buzz off and wait until we manage to fix it.”

Despite all this, sometimes you come upon a real jewel. Someone who really helps you, who cares about what’s going on. That special person who doesn’t care so much about their average call time, but who takes the time to get you to a happy place.

These are good actors working within a rotten system; kindly cogs in a vicious machine. I could call up AT&T and talk to any number of nice, well-meaning and empathetic people. Sometimes they are empowered and can fix the problem I face. Just as frequently, they want to help but the system they operate in prevents them from doing so, either because it would take too much time or because it is deemed too expensive to put the decision in the hands of those answering the phones.

When I describe them as cogs, it’s almost literal. Though manufacturing in the US is in serious decline, manufacturing-style management is not. Managers routinely and without irony describe people they might hire as “resources” that they can “utilize”. If there were a machine that could pop out customers whose problems had been resolved, managers would “utilize” those “resources” in the same way. Indeed, the majority of information systems attempt to do just this.

My point is that we regard a company like AT&T, Microsoft, Walmart, or Coca-Cola as a homogenous thing with its own will, priorities, and personality. But companies aren’t homogenous, because people aren’t.

Here’s to those kindly cogs. Thanks for making our interactions with these unpleasant behemoths just a little less daunting.

(It so happens I’m presenting this at Dallas.rb tonight. Hopefully it can also be useful to those out in internetland too.)

I enjoy a well-crafted application. I place a high value on attention to detail, have opinions on what design elements make an application work, and try to empathize with the users of applications I’m involved in creating. Applications with a good aesthetic, a few novel but effective design decisions, and sensible workflow find themselves in my Mac’s dock. Those that don’t, do not.

The applications I observe fellow creators using to create often don’t fit into their environment. They don’t fit into the native look-and-feel. They ignore important idioms. Their metaphors are imperfect, the conceptual edges left unfinished.

In part I notice this because as creators we tend to live in a few different applications, and time reveals most shortcomings. But in part, I notice this because the applications are in fact flawed. Flawed to the point, that you would think given my opening words, that I would refuse to use them. And indeed, I refuse to use many of the applications that others find completely acceptable for making the same kinds of things I do.

Increasingly, it seems the applications that people who create things live in offer a disjoint user experience. I’m thinking of visual people living in Photoshop or Illustrator or developers living in Emacs or Terminal.app. We use these applications because they best allow us to make what we want and get in our way only a little bit. But, it’s a tenuous relationship at best.

What’s this say about what we’re doing and the boundaries that we operate along? Would we accept the same kinds of shortcomings in say, a calendar application or a clock widget, if those were central to our workflow? That is, is there something about the creative process that leads us to accept sub-perfect tools? Is it inevitable that someone seeking to make new things will find their tools imperfect? Is the quest for ever-more perfect tools part of how we grow as makers?

I hate closing with a bunch of questions, but this piece is but an imperfect tool for discovering an idea.

Ed. Closing could use some work.

Embedded within the migraine that is American politics are some very interesting ideas. Economics, markets, ethics, freedom, equality, education, transportation, and security are all intriguing topics. Recently, I figured out that the headache comes not from people or trying to make the ideas work, but in politics. Getting a majority of the people to agree on anything is a giant pain of coordination. When you throw in fearmongering, power struggles, critically wounded media, and the fact most people would rather not think deeply about any of this you end up with the major downer that we face today.

All that said, here are some pithy one-liners about politics:

• If I were part of the Democratic leadership, I’d be wondering how you take the high road in a race to the bottom. And win.

• If I were a Republican, I’d be wondering how to dig myself out of this giant hole I made by winning a race to the bottom.

• If I were a libertarian, I’d be wondering how to convince people that the Tea Party is different from what I believe in.

• If I were a leader of the Tea Party, I’d be wondering what I’m going to do when someone who claims to be a part of the Tea Party blows up a building or goes nuts with an assault rifle.

• If I were a politician, I’d wonder how much I have to compromise my values and what I really wanted to accomplish but still get enough votes to keep my job.

• If I were skeptical of climate change due to human activity, I’d be wondering how I’m going to find a spaceship, because this line of reasoning leads to the conclusion that the Earth is about to become very inhospitable.

• If I were a nihilist, I’d wonder…nothing.

There, have I offended everyone?

Last March my wife and I joined a gym, started working out with a trainer, started trying to eat better, and set out to improve our health. Amazingly, we’ve stuck with it (after two previous failed attempts in years past) and are both in much better shape than we’ve been in for quite some time.

One of my personal reasons for doing this was what I’d been hearing about the correlation between working out, eating better, and brain function. Lots of people who read way more into this than I do had been saying that if you eat better and exercise more, your brain will work better.

I’ve noticed this first hand. The day after my first serious run, my mind was in overdrive. I had lots of great ideas, I worked through them quickly, and I didn’t procrastinate when it came to exploring or realizing them.

Today, I had the opposite experience. I went out for a rather large Tex-Mex lunch. Lots of starch. I got home and took a nap, as is often my wont. Usually I wake up ready to get back to work after my naps. But today was different. My brain was thoroughly sluggish. My body’s energy was going towards digestion, not thought.

I guess this is something of a break-up letter for me. You see, I’ve long enjoyed the large, starchy lunch. But, I’m not sure I can put up with it anymore. If its a choice between starchy, tasty lunches and a high-functioning brain, I’m going to have to choose my brain.

Sorry, lunch-time gutbombs. We had a good run, but I’m going to have to quit you for a while.