# 2012: Don’t let the door hit you

I told my wife that this blog post was going to consist of one sentence: “2012: good riddance to bad rubbish”.

For posterity’s sake, I’ll spell it out a little more. The last half of 2012 has been particularly trying. I traveled too much and worked too much. I moved to a new apartment in a new borough. I had too many deadlines on top of each other. And my amazing wife has somehow been even busier than I’ve been, which has made ours a hectic home. So, while there’ve been some really wonderful parts of 2012 (especially watching my son turn from a baby into a toddler), I’m happy to bid it farewell – and good riddance.

In lieu of a roundup in the style of the last few years, here are a couple of thoughts I’d like to keep in mind during the upcoming year.

• Don’t get too comfortable professionally. In 2012, I fine-tuned my professional work to be more highly focused and purpose-driven. (See this post for some related thoughts and strategy.) This process has been a success by just about every metric: I’m making better money, and I’m doing work that has a broader impact. But I’ve got to be careful not to fall too deeply into the niche I’ve chosen. As I become more and more of an expert, I find myself supervising others rather than building myself; and when I do find myself building, it’s rarely something really new and interesting. Expertise is good for your career, but, almost by definition, being an expert means being bored more of the time. I’ve got to remind myself to keep doing new things, even if (or especially if) it means leaving my comfort zone.
• I can’t do everything. 2012 was the first year where I really felt that I was reaching the limit of how much work I can realistically do. Another side effect of expertise is that you start to think that you have an infinite capacity for taking on new projects, but the truth is that everything suffers if you allow yourself to be overextended. I’ve got to start saying no more often, and being more realistic when I schedule myself.
• Turn it off sometimes. My schedule in 2012 has lulled me into thinking that it’s OK to check my email all the time, or to work every evening, or to work every weekend. For me, these things are decidedly not OK, and I should start acting accordingly. If it means that I’ve got to start taking on fewer professional projects, so be it.

Here’s to a bright and sane 2013!

It only took a few months of working full-time with computers for wrist fatigue to kick in. After a stretch of 10-12 hour days at the keyboard (at the time, it was the chiclet keyboard of a Macbook), my wrists would feel tight, and my fingers weak. I’d just quit my job working for the state to be a freelancer, and I began to panic that my body wouldn’t hold out!

So I made a couple of drastic adjustments to the way I work. The one that’s had the most general benefit has been my standing desk, which allows me to keep my eyes straight forward, and my forearms parallel to the ground. Aside from this, there are two other big changes I’ve made to my setup. These are directly related to the keyboard itself.

1. Dvorak – August Dvorak, inventor of the Dvorak keyboard layout, famously quipped that a text that would require 12-20 miles of finger travel on a QWERTY keyboard would take just one mile on Dvorak. This is probably an exaggeration.. Still, it’s hard to deny that Dvorak has a lot of intuitive appeal: vowels appear in the home row of the left hand, the most common consonants in the home row of the left hand, and typing English words generally requires fewer row jumps and other ugliness.

Switching to Dvorak was hard – far harder, in my experience, than switching to a standing desk, or to Linux, or even to Vim. For a few weeks, I spent an hour or two per day doing drills in Master Key. Then I switched to using Dvorak in the morning, until my brain would hurt so bad that I’d switch to QWERTY by around 10am. When I could finally make it until noon using Dvorak, I quit QWERTY altogether, as code switching between the layouts was proving more difficult than Dvorak itself.

During the transition, I was a slow typist (30-40 WPM for prose around the time of the final switch, down from 90-100 on QWERTY). This affected my work efficiency. Worse still, the stress of hesitating the slightest bit before each key press was actually making my wrist fatigue worse than it was with QWERTY. But I persisted. After about six weeks using Dvorak full-time, I was up to maybe 60-70 WPM. (I’m since up to at least my pre-Dvorak speeds.) And, most importantly, I finally started to reap the ergonomic benefits of Dvorak. I’m able to type with far less wrist movement than before, with the result that I have much, much more stamina – those 10-12 hour days tire my brain way before they tire my fingers. Totally worth it.

(Side note: A lot of people – people who are not touch-typists to begin with, I guess – put stickers on their keyboards to show the Dvorak layout, or even pop the keys off and rearrange them. I never did this. It forced me to learn the layout much more thoroughly. Plus, it is an order of magnitude more bad ass to type Dvorak on a QWERTY keyboard.)

2. Kinesis Freestyle keyboard – I’d been typing for a long time on chiclet-style keyboards: first the Macbook, then the Macbook Pro, then an Apple USB keyboard. These keyboards are beautiful and quiet. But they don’t give much feedback. And touch-typing on them requires you to crook your wrists outward, in order to get your fingers resting on the home row. On the recommendation of my main man Marshall Sorenson, I bought myself a Kinesis Freestyle. It’s got nice, clicky keys. And it takes the idea of ergonomic keyboards to an extreme: the two halves of the keyboard are actually separate pieces, separated by an 8″ cable (a 20″ version is also available). Now I can keep the two halves positioned in such a way that I don’t have to bring my wrists too close together, and I don’t have to bend them at a funky angle to touch type.

Kinesis Freestyle 2

I love this keyboard so much that, now that I’ve switched away from the Mac, I’ve bought myself a new, non-Mac version of the Freestyle. (I just got it in the mail yesterday, prompting me to write this post.)

It takes a bit of work – and some risk – to make radical changes for the sake of ergonomics. But it’s an investment in the future. And don’t we all want to Win The Future?

### Bonus! Buy my old keyboard

Needs a good home

[EDIT 2012-10-03 - The keyboard has found a good home. Take good care of her, Will!]

I won’t be needing my much-loved Freestyle for Mac anymore. Wanna buy it? It’s in perfect working order, and I’ll clean it up real nice before sending it out to you. These puppies are $100 new (and, actually, it looks like they’re discontinued at the moment, until the Freestyle 2 for Mac comes out). I’ll be happy to let it go to a faithful reader of this blog for$50, continental US shipping included. (If you’re outside the contintental US, contact me first to ask about shipping.) If I don’t get any bites, I’ll put it on eBay, but I’d rather see it go to a friend. Leave a comment or drop me an email: boone /at/ gorg \dot\ es.

# Ode on a supper club

Wood panels, fake bricks, dim lights, frosted glass
Padded horseshoe bar, cushy pleather stools
Cigarette vending machine

Brandy old fashioned sour, rocks glass, maraschino cherry
Pickle garnish, olive garnish, mushroom garnish
Blatz, Schlitz, Old Milwaukee

5pm rush
Order at the bar, shake of the day
Table numbers on table tents

Hot bacon dressing

Fried fish, fried mushrooms, fried frog legs, fried cheese
Prime rib king cut, prime rib queen cut
Twice-baked potatoes

Getting dressed up means
The Packers shirt without a grease stain

# Ten years

I realized today that, as of a few weeks ago, I’ve lived in New York City for ten years.

In 2002, I was a college senior in Mt Vernon, Iowa. I’d received a few different offers for graduate school fellowships. In the end, I ended up choosing CUNY more or less on a lark; NYC seemed like a cool place to live. So, I packed up a truck, and moved to a city two thousand times the size of Mt Vernon, and one hundred times the size of any city where I’d ever lived.

In everyone’s life there’s a handful of breakpoints: moments at which you make a decision that (intentionally or otherwise) forever and irreversibly changes everything. Ten years on, it’s dizzying to imagine the path not taken – the road that didn’t lead to this city, this job, this wife, this child, this me. I’m humbled, and somehow comforted, by the power that chance and caprice wield over the formation of the things that make up a life.

Here’s a picture I took of myself a few weeks after moving to my first place in NY, a shared apartment at 129th St and Lenox Ave:

Plus ça change….

# Blog, come forth!

This blog has gone unloved as of late. I’ve been working too much, and not taking the time to sit back and think about the work I’m doing, and I think that’s a bad thing. Reading Alan Levine’s call-out the other day reinforced the feeling that I should devote more attention to reflecting in this space, if only for my own sanity.

So, as a starting place, I made a new theme – my first revamp since I started this blog in late 2008. I ripped off Mark Jaquith’s idea and used Twenty Twelve – the new default theme that will ship with WordPress 3.5 – as my parent theme. It’s much easier on the eyes than my old theme, and its responsive nature allowed me to uninstall WP Touch. (WP Touch, you served valiantly lo these many years. RIP.) If you’re interested, I’ve made my (very modest) child theme available on Github.

# Project Reclaim update

Back in March 2011, I kicked off the Project Reclaim project. Since then, others have picked up where I’ve left off – most notably, Doug Belshaw and D’Arcy Norman (who have surpassed me both in the reclaiming and in the blogging about the reclaiming). Behind my radio silence, though, has been a flurry of recent reclaiming activity:

• I’m mostly de-Mac-ified. I recently bought a Samsung Series 9, which is serving as a stopgap full-time machine until I have the time to set up a desktop Linux rig. On day one, I wiped the Windows 7 installation and installed Arch Linux. It took some time to get set up, and I’m still using my Mac for a couple of things (Picasa, Skype, the old Adobe AIR Tweetdeck), but I’m almost totally moved over. I may write a post or two in the upcoming weeks about specific parts of the transition – there were some pain points, to be sure, especially in the initial setup. But, in general, it’s been smoother, easier, and more pleasurable than I would have guessed. Using Linux full time makes me feel like I’m back in the driver’s seat of my computing life, and it feels extra good to know that 95% of the software on my full-time machine is non-proprietary.
• At the same time that I moved to Linux, I also switched to Vim. I’d been a user of BBEdit, which is a really great piece of software, but moving away from the Mac meant I had to choose something else. So I figured I’d go for the powerhouse of all text editors. Vim has a certain allure. When I was younger, I studied jazz piano. I remember watching my instructor play and being driven nearly to tears: I understood, in broad strokes, what he was doing and why it sounded the way it did, but it crushed me that I couldn’t translate that knowledge into the same kind of performance magic that he could. I feel much the same way about Vim masters. I’m far from a master, but I’m getting much much more fluent. Also, of course, Vim is non-proprietary, and it gives me major geek cred. So, big win all around. I should note that the Vim transition has actually been far more difficult than the Linux transition, and it was only after about four or five weeks of full-time use that I started to feel like I was back to my pre-switch level of productivity. (In this sense, it was a lot like switching from QWERTY to Dvorak.)

The big proprietary services and software products left in my life are Dropbox and Twitter. Moving away from Dropbox is fairly simple – see D’Arcy’s great posts on his experiments with Owncloud – I’ve just been lazy about it. Twitter is far more complicated, both technically and socially, as well as far more pressing, given Twitter’s recent NBCishness. So that’s the next mountain to climb.

How many others have been Reclaiming over the last year or two? Would love to see more projects along the lines of D’Arcy’s and Doug’s.

### The problem of the free software freelancer

Many contributors to free software projects fall roughly into one of two categories:

1. Employees whose employers who have taken a stance to support free software development – like Facebook or Automattic
2. Hobbyists who contribute in their spare time

In some ways, these two categories represent the extremes of a spectrum: the first group contributes because it’s their job while the latter contributes because they love it. These motivations are by no means mutually exclusive; I’d hope that most people who are paid to work on free software also love to do it. But this short list does describe what I would call the two “pure” drivers of contribution.

Between the two extremes lies a considerable gray area, where the two varieties of motivation – love and money – may coexist in the same person, yet point in different directions. Take me. I am a freelancer, specializing in development and consulting on WordPress and related technologies. On the one hand, I’m an ideological advocate for free software, and I love contributing. On the other hand, the dynamics of the freelancer’s situation often discourage contribution. There are only so many hours in my day, and when the work hours are spent doing client work for WordPress, I hardly want to devote my limited free time to working on WordPress for free. And clients have a bunch of perfectly understandable reasons for not wanting to share the work that they’re paying for: they don’t want to spend more money than necessary to get their site working, they want the competitive edge that may come from secrecy, and so on. The two “pure” motivations for contributing are in conflict with each other.

### The patronage model

To combat the conflict, so that I can contribute more, I’ve moved increasingly toward what I think of as a “patronage” model. Broadly, the idea is that clients fund the process of turning the custom-developed features (that they were already going to pay for) into something that can be contributed back to the free software community; in exchange, they get certain benefits, like prestige and publicity. For me, the strategy has come down to a couple of key rules.

• Learn to preach the free software gospel – People and organizations like to feel that they’re being good citizens. So I’m prepared to explain to potential clients how their particular contributions, and free software stewardship more generally, can provide broader benefit. The nature of the pitch differs depending on the specific client and feature, but there’s almost always a larger story to be told about how the software community would be improved by the contribution in question. It can be useful to explain how the dynamics of free software development differ from proprietary retail software: Propietary software is developed on speculation, where the hope is that the upfront cost will be recovered by huge volume at low prices. In contrast, the vast majority of free software users don’t pay anything, which leaves the Kind And Generous Samaritans to bear the brunt. Don’t be afraid to sound lofty – in cases where the software wouldn’t be built without the patronage, the patron really is doing something wonderful.
• Stop accepting work from the wrong kinds of clients – In contrast to the foregoing rule, some potential clients don’t care about “being good citizens”, and no amount of clever proselytizing will change their minds. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this attitude: one of the freedoms of free software is the freedom to use it without any moral obligation to “give back”. But, as a developer who does care about the community, I’m not interested in working for this kind of client. So I don’t.
• Only accept client work that can result in contributions – Most client jobs, at least in web development, are primarily about implementation – taking off-the-shelf software, maybe installing some plugins and customizing a theme. This kind of work generally does not require the kinds of novel development or deep bugfixing that results in meaningful community contributions. There is nothing wrong with this kind of work. But, personally, I don’t find it as inherently interesting as novel development, and it doesn’t make the best use of my limited development time. Thus, I usually only take on a job if it looks like I’ll be able to spin off something truly new.
• Break down the cost structure – It costs more to build something for broad use than it does to build something for a single client. Every time you have to add a UI for options, or abstract a piece of code for more customizability, it takes time and money. Be honest with the client about how much extra money it will take to turn bespoke code into something distributable. This also means being strategic about itemizing the project scope. When writing a spec for the project, try to separate out those parts that could be turned into something distributable, so that it’ll be easier to provide an honest breakdown. There may also be cases where a client wants to contribute, but doesn’t have a clear idea how to do so – in these cases, don’t be afraid to suggest ways of dividing up the project so as to provide the biggest benefit to the community.
• Provide the right kinds publicity for the patron – Make it clear to the client the ways in which they’ll receive credit. Some ideas: Include the patron’s name in the name of the plugin. Write a blog post or some tweets thanking them for their patronage. Include the patron as a co-author. Maintain a credits.txt file in your codebase.
• Include strict licensing and IP clauses in the contract – I include language in all of my contracts to the effect of: All custom development for this project is subject to release under the GPLv2 or another relevant free software license. I do not do work-for-hire type clauses, or other arrangements that involve giving exclusive intellectual property rights to the client, because I want to maintain the right to release the software under a free license. I’ll admit that this stipulation has caused me a good deal of trouble in the last year, but it’s extremely important to me for two reasons. First, I’m an active contributor to the very same free software projects that my clients want to use in their projects. If I develop something proprietary for them, and then (knowingly or unknowingly) I include this proprietary code in something with a free license, I could be held liable for violating the license terms both of the project and of the client. Second, and more germane to the discussion here, every hour I spend doing proprietary development is an hour not spent on free development, and I think that free software is important for a number of critical reasons. So I don’t work with a client who won’t agree that all custom work be releasable (at least in theory) under a free license.

I’ve been freelancing full time for about two years. During that time, I’ve managed to take on a growing number of increasingly large projects. Through the same period, due to the patronage model, I’ve largely maintained – or even increased – the amount of time spent contributing to free software projects (even as my free time has been dominated by marriage and fatherhood!). More money in my pocket, and more free software for community use. Truly a win-win.

Not everyone will have my good fortune to be able to stick to such a strategy. I’m lucky to be offered far more work than I could possibly accept, which means I can turn down the stuff I don’t want, in accordance with the rules listed above. And I’m fortunate to be well known and well respected in my field. But it should be noted that my good fortune is not a coincidence. The more of your time you can devote to public work in free software – whether that work is as a hobbyist or as a patron-sponsored freelancer – the more well known you’ll become in the community, which will result in more job offers and more leverage with potential clients. It’s a virtuous circle that takes some courage to break into, but ends up being beneficial to everyone if you’re successful at it.

### Small-scale patronage and the future of free software

Just as important as the benefits that the patronage model has brought to my own career is what it says about the future of free software development. Software like WordPress will never be commercially supported like Windows, where development is funded by the license fees of millions of users. For major development on free software projects, it’ll always be incumbent on a few generous patrons to provide resources. But there are dangers in overcentralized patronage: if, say, Automattic decided to abandon its committment to the WordPress project, a huge percentage of dev resources would suddenly dry up. The contractor-patronage model I’ve described here is a way of increasing the number of patrons, while lowering the financial bar for patronage – organizations can contribute in a meaningful way with just a few thousand dollars. Adopted widely, this promises to be a more secure foundation for ongoing free software development.

# SOPA, Media Conglomerates, and the Moral Obligation to Boycott

SOPA, in its current form, is dead. But the fight to keep the internet an open platform for communication, creativity, and commerce is far from over. Pacts like ACTA are in some ways more troubling than SOPA/PIPA, as they represent attempts of copyright extremists to do an end-run around the US Congress. (Rep. Daniel Issa has spoken about this recently.) The root problem is not a specific piece of legislation, or even a single piece of technology, but fundamental disagreements about the nature of intellectual property, the relationship between the producers and consumers of media, and the role of government regulation in shaping and enforcing worldviews (be they conservative and profit-focused, or progressive and individual-focused). The fight will continue for as long as these disagreements persist. And the copyright extremists will continue to have sway as long as they have enormous amounts of money, and as long as the political system is arranged in such a way that deep pockets dictate legislative agendas.

This conception of the problem suggests two broad strategies. First: attempt to change the political structures that allow campaign and lobbying money to play such a significant role in the legislative process. Primarily, this is an argument about campaign finance reform. For a very readable outline of the problem, as well as the sketch of a few specific strategies for combatting it, I highly recommend Lawrence Lessig’s recent book Republic, Lost. Needless to say, solving the problems of money in politics is enormously difficult and complex, so I’ll set it aside for the moment.

The strategy that I want to consider here focuses more directly on the fact that media companies are very rich, and can afford political canoodling. (Operating here on the admittedly oversimplified assumption that media companies – TV, movie, music, book publishers – are driving the legislation.) These companies get their money from the people who buy their wares. So, in theory, if everyone stopped going to the movies, buying music, watching TV, etc, then they’d have no money. In other words, a boycott.

A few days ago, I tweeted something suggestive along these lines:

When you buy music, watch TV, or see a movie, don’t forget: the makers hate the free internet & will spend huge amounts of money to kill it.

Assume that the premise here is right (namely, that the people who make media – by which I mean, those who choose which media gets created in the first place, who fund its creation, who are responsible for its distribution and marketing, etc – hate the internet as it currently stands). That means that when you make them richer by buying their stuff, you are increasing their ability to fight the internet. All things being equal, then, someone who values the open internet should not spend money in this way – that is, you’d be morally obligated to boycott.

But all things are not equal. (Such is life.) There are some factors that may mitigate the obligation to boycott:

• How valuable is the open internet, really?

I’m assuming that an open internet is valuable enough to defend. I may be totally wrong about this, or I may be overestimating how valuable it is. The less valuable the internet, the less obliged we are to fight against the forces that would wreck it.

• How much collateral damage would a boycott cause?

The supporters of SOPA/PIPA talked a lot about the zillions of Americans who make their livings working for media conglomerates. If boycotting media companies would put them all out of work and out on the street, that’d be a bad thing. Of course, this is a complete caricature. For one thing, you can (and should, and hopefully did) make the very same argument about the zillions of Internet professionals who would be harmed by stifling legislation. More importantly, it’s not as if SOPA vs non-SOPA is a zero-sum game, where media professionals all lose their jobs if SOPAesque bills don’t pass. It’s likely that piracy is not as financially harmful as these companies complain, and it’s likely that there are anti-piracy measures that would not harm Internet professionals.

There’s another kind of collateral damage you might be worried about: the damage caused to the creative people (musicians, writers, actors) who are directly responsible for the media that people love, and the subsequent damage to the “art” itself. In addition to the general points made in the foregoing paragraph, I’ll add that this assumes that the stuff produced by these companies is worth saving. For every The Wire (or whatever your favorite piece of popular media is), there are thousands upon thousands of pieces of trash. Taking these turds out of circulation is probably a *good* thing. Moreover, new models of direct funding for quality art (think Radiohead, Louis CK, projects taking place on Kickstarter) reduce collateral damage even further.

• How much do you value the media produced by these companies?

If you’re a TV junkie, or you love the movies, then it’s certainly rational for you to cling to them a bit more than someone who doesn’t care about these media (see the ‘turd’ comment above).

• How likely is it that a boycott will make a difference?

Probably hundreds of millions of Americans are consumers of TV, movies, books, and music. For a company like NBC Universal to take notice of a boycott, much less to change corporate policies as a result of the boycott, would require huge numbers of boycotters. You might thus argue that your individual boycott would have no positive value.

Sadly, this is at least partly true – I’m sure there are many times more people who would go to bat for their TV shows than for the kind of heady internet freedoms that intellectuals get excited about. That said, January’s blackouts demonstrated a deep dependence on the Internet for a broader swath of Americans than I might have guessed. In any case, even a single dollar kept out of media company coffers is one dollar they can’t use to fight the open internet. The “everybody else is buying media anyway” argument is the same kind of reasoning that leads to looting during blackouts. (See also Kant.)

So what does this all mean? I think that there are a couple of takeaways:

1. I think there’s a decent case to be made for a broad boycott.
2. Even in the absence of an organized boycott, I think there’s a decent case to be made for individuals to boycott.
3. If you care about the internet (if you’re reading this blog post, you probably do), you cannot continue to patronize these media companies without at least recognizing the indirect effects of your actions.

This last point is the most important. Every meaningful decision that you make is an ethical trade-off, and this one is no different. When you continue to patronize media conglomerates, you are saying that what you get from them is worth the damage that you thereby do to the cause of an open internet. You may be right about the value of this trade-off, or you may be wrong, but you can’t in good faith continue to consume without at least thinking about it.

# IKEA standing desk

In the spring of 2011, I converted to a standing desk. At that time, I was unsure that I’d want to stick with the setup, and thus I didn’t want to spend the money on a proper standing setup. So my conversion to standing was effected by a motley collection of milk crates, thick books, and other implements of heightening culled from the corners of my apartment. More than half a year later, I’m still using and loving the standing desk, so I made the decision to get something a bit more permanent.

“Proper” standing desks – those that are built for the purpose – tended, in my research, to fall short in a couple of ways. The first is cost. Decent standing desks seemed to start around four or five hundred bucks, and go (way) up from there. The vagaries of New York living mean that I didn’t want to lay out huge amounts of cash on something that might not fit in my next place. I wanted something cheaper. The second shortcoming of manufactured standing desks is size. It’s pretty easy to find what they call “workstations”, which have a surface of about two feet squared. My 27″ monitor by itself requires nearly that much space, and I wanted surface area for writing, a second computer, coffee, etc, yet full-size tables seemed pretty hard to find. Lame surface size is related to my third problem with existing standing desks, which is the paltry storage underneath. I wanted lots of it, and commercially produced standing desks seemed, at best, to dedicate vertical storage to a printer (BOOO PRINTERS).

So I needed something fairly cheap, fairly big, and with a lot of storage underneath. A bit of trawling turned up this hack, which made a desk by combining a few different kinds of Ikea bookshelves. Unfortunately, that desk was too big for my space (I have about 66″ of horizontal space to deal with, and that setup requries a minimum of 73″). But it made me think I could do something similar using IKEA bookshelves.

Here’s the finished product:

And here are the details:

• 3x BILLY bookcase – Two of these bookcases serve as the ends of the desk. Since I knew I’d have a bunch of additional space underneath, I bought a third, which is just slid underneath for extra storage.
• 1x VIKA AMON table top – They didn’t have this in the same wood tone of my BILLY bookcases, so I got bright red instead.
• 1x BILLY wall shelf – I needed something to raise my monitor and laptop up to eye level, and this gives me some nice desktop storage to boot. I couldn’t find something that spanned the full width of the table top, so I just centered this one, and used the extra space for speakers.

Total cost for these pieces was, as of yesterday, about \$230+tax.

One of the big bonuses of using bookshelves as table legs is that I don’t need to worry about stability (like I would with regular table legs). The only fasteners I used were the four drywall screws I drove up through the bookshelves to keep the table top from sliding, and the two I drove down through the wall shelf to keep it in place.

If you’re looking to do something like this yourself, make sure you think carefully about height. I chose this combination in large part because the resulting table height (about 43″) works for me: in bare feet, standing on my anti-fatigue mat, my elbows are at almost exactly a 90 degree angle while typing. I’m between 6’3″ and 6’4″, so your ideal desk height may vary.

# 2011

A bunch of stuff happened in 2011.

Like 2010, 2011 was a year of transitions for me: in my relationship with academia, in the way I earn a living, in the way I present myself as a citizen-builder of the internet. Being a parent is the biggest transition of all, forcing me to put into perspective the ways I spend my energy and the ways in which I define myself and what has value to me. (This transition has been overwhelmingly a Good Thing.) Continuing to strive for the right balance in these areas will, I’m sure, be a hallmark of my 2012. (Thankfully, I have no plans to have a child or get married in 2012. A man needs a year off from major life events!)

Happy new year!