goatee
highlanders
°2019.08.01.Thu | Why even reasonable people disagree
I’ve been thinking a lot about interpersonal conflict, especially around something I’ve been struggling with this past year.
Interpersonal conflict arises for many reasons, the bulk of which are manifestations of attachment, aversion, and ignorance. Cognitive biases and disordered thinking contribute as well.
However, putting aside all of that, it’s possible for even reasonable people to disagree.
Having taught conflict management for a couple of years, I’m well acquainted with “I-statements,” Nonviolent Communication (speaking of observations, feelings, needs, and requests), log-rolling (and other non-zero sum interactions), and separating positions (I need your orange) from interests (I’m hungry, can you help?).
All of these tactics are about identifying and expressing interests, which are informed by values, understanding, and circumstances.
Each of us has values, a priori beliefs, which can be unexamined or even in conflict between themselves. A useful maxim for speech is to ask: is what I want to say kind, true, and necessary? It’s great when these three values are aligned, but sometimes they are not; sometimes I have to suffice with one or two out of three. Sometimes people have different values (e.g., individualism vs collectivism), though there’s often more overlap than we think. Learning to express our values, even when conflicted, is a step toward finding common, or at least not dissimilar, interests.
Yet, people with the same values can still disagree: they can bring different understanding to bear. You and I can both value friendship and a mutual friend, but I happen to know that she dislikes cilantro, and you do not. For a time, we might disagree about where to take her for dinner. This is a toy example, but what we know affects our understanding of more important concerns. Again, sharing what we understand is an important skill—though personal experience is frustratingly difficult to communicate.
Finally, even if we share the same values and understanding, our interests can diverge because of our different circumstances. It can be as simple as you are at the top of a narrow staircase and need to come down, and I am at the bottom and need to go up. Sometimes, our circumstances (our commitments, jobs, and relationships) put us in conflict. In this example, one of us will have to wait. That said, we too often fail to consider our shared values and to communicate our understandings.
Even if I disagree with a person, I need not feel enmity, which can make things even worse. I can’t blame you for needing to come down the narrow staircase. And it is better for one of us to cede than for both us get caught in an angry stalemate. Since you can come down more quickly, I’d likely invite you to do so if I can do the same next time. Life is rarely as simple as a toy example, and we ought always look for agreeable opportunities.
°2019.07.18.Thu | Goose Pond Lake
We had a lovely long weekend in New Hampshire.
Casper isn’t keen on swimming, as he was when younger, but he still loves the water. Kayak or canoe, he rests his chin on the gunwale and watches the water go by.
We tried paddle boards on this trip, and he contentedly climbed on and lounged as his tail dragged in the water. Once, when back from a trip across the lake, he climbed back aboard as if to say, “okay, let’s go back out.”
°2019.07.16.Tue | Passing time
Sitting by the water, Nora and I occupy ourselves playing twenty questions about people, places, and things across nineteen years of shared experiences.
°2019.05.13.Mon | Casper on a rug
°2019.02.21.Thu | Are podcasts making me even more solitary?
I just started listening to Hidden Brains’ “Close Enough: The Lure Of Living Through Others.” I was expecting it to be the usual digital-self story I could skip, but I haven’t because of the focus on YouTube: a man who watches how-to videos instead of making stuff, a women who watches other womens’ meticulous bedtime routines to relax, and another woman who imagines being a musician without making the effort to do so.
I watch a lot of YouTube myself: how-to channels on boat building, lock picking, and knife making; explainers such as veritasium, CGP Grey, minutephysics, and Practical and Real Engineering; channels about alternative living and tiny homes. I was a huge fan of the user-generated content on Current TV – and was an early adopter of a DVR to remove the awful adverts – and I see YouTube as a fulfillment of its predecessor’s vision. Of course, not all of my 120+ subscriptions are user-generated: many news, visual arts, music, and documentary channels have mainstream media outlets as well. Still, I watch more YouTube than anything else, including Netflix. As someone who loves to learn, the allure is strong.
Although I don’t feel I’m living vicariously – and don’t feel guilty about watching YouTube, especially in the winter – I do have a different concern, in which podcasts are also implicated: I live a relatively solitary life. This has two obvious reasons: I am a shy introvert, and I’m well beyond the age of making lots of friends. Generally, that is fine, I live simply. I’m wholly content to spend a nice day with my spouse and our dog walking about the city, or sitting at the park and chatting with our dog friends. But I wonder if YouTube and Podcasts undercut one of my significant social drives: interesting conversation.
When I was younger and single, I’d spend my evenings in cafes. I could read, chat with newcomers and old favorites, and then leave when I wanted – a perfect scenario for an introvert. I also belonged to a few groups that welcomed heterodox discussions. I do have good conversations with my spouse, brothers, and students; I am fortunate. Still, I wonder if the quality and quantity of podcasts undercuts my motive to seek out good conversation? To put it in terms of the Hidden Brain episode, do I now live much of my conversational life vicariously?
°2018.11.21.Wed | Silver Lake at Breakheart Reservation
°2018.11.05.Mon | Autumn Leaves at Breakheart Reservation
°2018.08.09.Thu | Recounting my cameras
I look at my old photos often; it’s why a take them. I was recently wondering how many cameras I’ve had over the years (see Twitter).
After a Canon Rebel film DSLR in the mid-1990s, my first digital camera was the Fujifilm MX-1700. It was great to have a camera where I could see immediate results. It had 1.5 megapixels and was okay in bright light, but it struggled hard with indoor shots: lots of noise and slow shutter speeds, resulting in lots of blur. But I still have some favorite photos from then (1999). The Fujifilm MX-1700 was an odd looking camera, with a vertical design, but with the move to digital, why retain a film-based design?
In 2002, I moved to the FujiFilm F601ZOOM. At 3MP, its photos have twice as many pixels. Low light was still a struggle, and dynamic range was limited with plenty of blown out highlights.
Still, I have hundreds of photos from the F601ZOOM, some of which were in very difficult circumstances, like this concert photo of Matisyahu.
In 2007, I upgraded to the FujiFilm F40f. It had a horizontal point-and-shoot form factor. Digital SLRs were a thing now, but I prefer easy to carry compact cameras. Your best camera is the one you have on you.
The F40f was a modern camera, with a respectable 8M pixels, decent dynamic range, and facial detection auto-focus. I’d often hop on my restored muscle bicycle with the banana seat and ride around Red Hook Brooklyn.
I really miss those evening rides.
In 2011 features beyond megapixels started making a difference. I wanted to return to some of the manual control from film days but also go even smaller. I erred on the side of super compact: the Canon PowerShot ELPH 300 HS. It was so tiny it was awesome. 2011 was also the year a certain fuzzy critter makes an appearance in the albums.
The ELPH was also so tiny it was also only useful as a point-and-shoot. I returned to FujiFilm via the XF1 in 2012. The XF1 was my first camera to have a fake background blur that is now common on smartphones. Neat for photos of ginger beer bottles, but not for anything with a fuzzy edge.
I began 2013 with the Sony RX100. A tiny camera with a 1-inch sensor and viewfinder. The inch sensor meant excellent dynamic range, good low light performance, and some control over background blur (e.g., Casper taking a bath). Five years later, I still find its images beautiful.
In 2014 the perfect compact camera arrived, the Lumix LX100. It had a M4/3 sensor, fast zoom (f1.7 at wide) and manual controls! For years I dismissed complaints about dust getting inside to others’ carelessness. But it happened to me in 2017. I paid to have it serviced, took it to Prague this year, and the sensor dust was back.
I still use it when shooting with an open aperture (where the dust isn’t visible), and hope the rumors of a better sealed LX100ii are true.
This incident prompted me to get my first interchangeable lens camera in twenty years, the GX85. I can blow any dust off the sensor myself. I also enjoy using a telephoto lens.
That’s nine cameras (mostly inexpensive digital compacts) over twenty-three years. Not too bad in a hobby beset by GAS (gear acquisition syndrome).
°2018.05.31.Thu | Vegan in Prague
We haven’t been to Prague for seventeen years and much has changed in that time. Notably, there are now dozens of veg* restaurants. Every neighborhood has a few.
Nora and I use the “Vegan Guide to Prague” as our basis and collected a few notes along the way. These are roughly ordered in ascending preference.
- Loving Hut: they are okay in a pinch, but I quickly tired of Asian-style buffets.
- Maitrya: Buddhist themed, lackluster food. We asked for tap water and got expensive “vitalized water.”
- Pure Bistro: a tiny bistro and store near our place, for which I was grateful.
- Mlsná kavka: had an excellent veggie burger.
- Herbivore: upscale bistro and store on the river with a buffet of good food – though the bread was stale.
- Happy Bean: a bistro at which I got a great quesadilla with vegan cheese. The proprietor is very charming. Sidewalk seating is available.
- The Donut Shop: next door to the Happy Bean, this shop offers three vegan donuts options, including one of the best donuts I’ve ever had. (Things aren’t so sweet in Prague, so you don’t end up feeling queasy when finishing a donut.)
- Incruenti: I think our risotto and soup was the best food we had during our trip. Its menu and hours are limited though. Nice patio seating in the back.