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Will be AFK for much of tomorrow, so I’m going to take a shot at having a post previously written come up automatically. Stay tuned …
-the Centaur
Words, Art & Science by Anthony Francis
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Will be AFK for much of tomorrow, so I’m going to take a shot at having a post previously written come up automatically. Stay tuned …
-the Centaur
Welp, while I’ve missed a few days, I have overall kept ahead of the blog wolf. By a hair. My lovely plans to build a buffer have resulted in one backlogged article, which I’ll post tomorrow to keep myself honest (and keep it from becoming stale) and basically no buffer. I’m only ahead because I sometimes post several articles per day, like today.
Sigh. No wonder I’m so stressed out - I make even being a dilettante a chore.
-the Centaur
So after a gut punch, one of the most important things to do is to take time out to recuperate.
But funny thing is, the highly effective sangria above wasn’t the thing that broke me out of my funk. When something bad happens, I try one of the following strategies to feel better:
As for why that last conversation happened …
Which goes to the next item on the list ...
You’ll note that nowhere in here is “get a drink.” That’s a terrible idea - if you think you need a drink, you probably shouldn’t have one, as needing a drink is the road to alcoholism. For that reason, and many others, I always stop at one drink per day - period. No matter how strong the drink, it’s almost impossible for a one hundred and eighty pound male to get drunk on just one.
Having a drink after you feel better, on the other hand, can be a great relaxer. But how do you get to that relaxed state? Well, one thing I try is, well, trying to resolve the problem.
But the point at which it turned wasn’t when I got a drink. It wasn’t after I took a nap, took a walk, talked to people, changed the scene, got a book on political economy, got coffee, or texted the involved parties to finalize the resolution of yesterday evening’s gut punch. It happened at very strange place, as I was drinking coffee, as I was reading, as I was texting with my friends to resolve the problem, I got sucked in to the problem that prompted me to get the book, a question I heard in an unrelated political debate from last night. As is usual in these cases, I found that the debate followed the rule of thirds: on a third of the topics, my buddy was definitively wrong, on a third, I was definitively wrong, and on the middle third, there were open unresolved questions worthy of debate. And as I started to look at those questions … I had a brainflash on how to solve them.
And then on a meta-brain-flash, as I realized what tacking the problem was doing to my mental state: it was fixing it.
The particular question I was tracking - how to evaluate economic policies - is something I’m going to be working on for a while, but I can give you a flavor for it: how do you know whether a political candidate’s economic policies will work? Sometimes that’s easy: for example, Democrats like to spend when the economy’s doing well, and Republicans like to cut when the economy is doing poorly - and both sides are dead wrong. An economy is not a household - cutting spending in a slump will cut the state’s tax revenues and cause an austerity spiral and increased debt; spending in a boom incurs obligations that the state can’t sustain in the next slump and increased risk. These are pretty close to ironclad laws, that operate whether you believe in big government or small or low taxes or high; those are just the dynamics of economies whether you like it or not - whether you believe it or not, suck it up.
But looking long term, some policies promote growth, and some don’t; and it isn’t always clear which is which. What’s worse, exogenous factors - those pesky world events like wars and plagues and wardrobe malfunctions - throw an unavoidable amount of static on top of whatever we’re trying to measure.
The book I’m reading gives me, so far, the impression that individual outcomes are, roughly, helped by a country’s growth, and a country’s growth is affected by things it can't control, like the luck of history and geography, and things it can, like culture and institutions, with evidence strongly suggesting that institutions matter more than culture, since some countries have kept their cultures but changed their institutions and shown amazing growth. The factors that seem to affect this most are protecting private property, having enforceable contracts, reducing barriers for investment, having a level playing field for businesses, and creating equality of opportunity for citizens … but …
But how much of this is noise, and how much is reality?
And that got me thinking: if you assumed some randomness affecting growth, could you tell apart policies that caused 1 percent growth, or 2 percent growth, or 3 percent growth?
Turns out ... you can.
The central red line is 2% growth, projected out over 20 years. The dotted lines above and below it are 1% and 3% growth … and the grey range is the max and min of a stochastic simulation of ten different histories, each with 5% random variation from year to year, which looks something like this:
The point is, if you get a gut punch - like in the bottom trajectory above - it can look like you’re running a bad policy on a time range of a decade or more before things start to get back on track. On twenty year time horizons, however, you really can start to see an affect. On even longer time horizons, having the right polices can be the difference between a country like Nigeria - rich with oil wealth, yet having a flat growth range - versus a country like the US or Japan or even Botswana or South Korea.
This doesn’t show whether I or my buddy is right - in fact, this model, even as an abstract model, would need to be augmented greatly, to get a proper range of growth rates, of randomness, of the types of exogenous influences and their timescales. But even in its current state, it shows that under a very broad set of assumptions … I and my buddy were right to wrestle over this problem.
What we do now matters, not just in the next election, but twenty years down the road.
And doing that work took me out of my slump. It connected me to an earlier conversation, to earlier problem solving skills not engaged with what I’d been doing just prior to the gut punch. The gut punch still needs to be dealt with - but now it’s just an event, not a thing that causes random spikes of rage and anger when I’m trying to drink my coffee.
And that’s how I learned a new way to deal with a gut punch.
-the Centaur
Appendix. The graphs above were generated via the following Mathematica code:
RandomGrowth[initial_, rate_, fuzz_] :=
initial (1 + rate) (1 + RandomReal[{-fuzz, fuzz}])
ProjectGrowth[initial_, rate_, fuzz_, years_] :=
NestList[RandomGrowth[#, rate, fuzz] &, initial, years]
InterpolateGrowth[initial_, rate_, fuzz_, years_] :=
Interpolation[ProjectGrowth[initial, rate, fuzz, years]]
FuzzyGrowth[initial_, rate_, fuzz_, years_] :=
Table[InterpolateGrowth[initial, rate, fuzz, years], {iterations, 10}]
fuzzyTwoPercent = FuzzyGrowth[1, 0.02, 0.05, 100]
Plot[{
Min[Map[#[x] &, fuzzyTwoPercent]], Max[Map[#[x] &, fuzzyTwoPercent]],
InterpolateGrowth[1.0, 0.02, 0.0, 100][x],
InterpolateGrowth[1.0, 0.01, 0.0, 100][x],
InterpolateGrowth[1.0, 0.03, 0.0, 100][x]},
{x, 1, 20},
Filling -> {1 -> {2}},
AxesOrigin -> {1, 1},
AxesLabel -> {"Years Downrange", "Growth Rate"},
PlotStyle -> {Thin, Thin, Thick,
Directive[Thick, Dashed],
Directive[Thick, Dashed]}]
and
Plot[{InterpolateGrowth[1.0, 0.02, 0.0, 100][x], Map[#[x] &, fuzzyTwoPercent]},
{x, 1, 20},
AxesOrigin -> {1, 1},
AxesLabel -> {"Years Downrange", "Growth Rate"},
PlotStyle ->
{Thick,
Thin, Thin, Thin, Thin, Thin,
Thin, Thin, Thin, Thin, Thin}]
I hope you enjoyed this exercise in computational therapy.
Well, I spoke too soon: as a surprise during my team’s offsite yesterday, they gave me a real Googleversary birthday cake. And a gift card to Cafe Romanza, one of my favorite coffeehouses (the other two top faves being Coupa Cafe and Cafe Intermezzo). I don’t think I could have been happier at that moment:
But I was sure happier today, having a nice dinner with my wife at our mutual favorite restaurant. We could have gone somewhere “special”, but I wanted to go to Aqui, the place that has the best memories of eating for me, not because of all the time I spend there writing, but of all the wonderful conversations I’ve had there with the love of my life, my wife.
She didn’t let me take a good picture of her, but she certainly got good pictures of me.
Now off to Facebook - I got over 50 well wishes from people on the occasion of my birthday, so as far as I am concerned the people who think that computers are making us less connected to other people can just go Like themselves. Gotta dash - the longer I spend saying thank you, the longer I put off my birthday spanking. (Actually, I already got that, but it’s the principle of the thing).
-the Centaur
Oh yeah, I almost forgot: I’ve been at Google ten years as of this Saturday. Hooray!
Now, I make it a policy not to mention my employer, with two exceptions: coincidentally, as a consumer, such as my recent article about running Google’s TensorFlow deep learning package on my MacBook Air; and concurrently, as an employee, when my employer’s just announced something I’ve worked on.
I’ve abided by this policy for years, even before my current employer, because you really do have no protection from your employer for anything you write: you can get fired for it. Even if you run your writing past your employer for legal approval, your company could be acquired tomorrow, and the new owners’ legal team could review what you’ve done and decide to fire you for it.
So I don’t talk about my current employer on my blog. I disclose both my writing to my employer when I’m hired, and my plan not to write about them, and then I go blog about my own damn business.
But Google’s been awesome to me for the last ten years, so it deserves an exception. It’s been awesome. Even the stuff that comparatively sucked was better than the average at most jobs I’ve held - and most of it didn’t suck. I get to work with awesome people, on awesome problems, with awesome resources, and have eaten a lot of awesome food while doing it.
So, thanks, Google, for all the awesome.
-the Centaur
Pictured: not my birthday cake, not from Google; just a great slice from Cafe Intermezzo.
A repost here from Facebook … I caught the opening of the Superbowl in a Gordon Biersch waiting for my flight back from Atlanta, and damn, that was patriotic. I shed a tear when Lady Gaga sung the national anthem - straight up, no antics - and then they showed troops watching from Afghanistan, and fighter jets buzzed the stadium. God bless America.
And in case anyone’s wondering, I mean this completely non-ironically. Yes, the Superbowl is the epitome of commercialism, but it need not be crass, and it’s by choice that they’re making it patriotic. I’m not a sports guy, but I love watching football with my family whenever I go home; it gives us something to bond over.
And isn’t that what the Superbowl did for us this Sunday? A third of America watched it, everyone from football jocks to computer nerds. A whole spectrum of people participated in it, from the first Superbowl MVP to Lady Gaga to makers of two minute jingles to troops serving their second tour overseas. They even piped it into the plane, and people cheered and jeered at the outcome.
The Superbowl could just be a game, but it’s an institution that brings America together.
Thanks, guys, for a job well done.
-the Centaur
Welp, there went a day. I had a lot of plans for this extra day that I had before my flight back, but mysteriously I woke up around 3pm after almost 13 hours of sleep, with my whole body feeling … I dunno … pummeled.
I was a bit mystified, until I remembered what happened at around 5 in the morning: I woke up with a vicious cough, took some NyQuil, and went back to sleep.
Now my nose is clear, and my time is gone. Apparently that NyQuil shit works.
But! As a bonus, I (and now you) get this reflected sunset, which appeared late this afternoon as I was sitting down to get some writing done. Enjoy!
-the Centaur
So I’m continuing my adventures at my undisclosed location *cough* Atlanta *cough* and reporting my activities after they happen, as is my habit when off adventuring when I’m not making a public appearance. And one of the things I enjoy doing when on a trip is, after all the work is done, catching a late night movie. Like, at the theater, on a big screen with a comfy seat and a soda, not on your phone.
I was watching the conclusion of The Hunger Games, and I’m glad I did. The first one was OK, but the second one grabbed me in a way that no movie has since The Empire Strikes Back - not that I haven’t seen better movies, like, oh, I dunno, Mad Max: Fury Road or my favorite movie, Kiki’s Delivery Service - but I felt hooked into a series in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.
And the movie delivered something else too: big screen cinema. My buddy Jim Davies has a theory that some kinds of stories are best suited for some kinds of media, and I agree. Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” would not work as a miniseries; it relies on the quick sharp punch of poetic language. Babylon 5, with its A and B endings and epic space battles would only work as series TV. The Martian movie was great, but it lacks the electric punch of that crackling opening and the games it plays with text: “Chapter 1: Log Entry SOL 6: I’m pretty much f*****.”
Each kind of medium emphasizes different elements - pure audio in radio plays; pure text in novels; an actor’s expressions in theater - and even within the medium of moving pictures, some are better suited to some stories than others. Animation emphasizes the impossible with the tools of graphic design, for example; while It’s possible to make a live action movie of Kiki’s Delivery Service - they did - but they had to work enormously hard to create the imagery that the animation made effortless, and it still doesn’t quite have the same resonance. Even within a particular type of movie, the type of imagery has its own demands. Some images work at any size, others are best left as animated gifs or vines to be played on your phone … and some demand the big screen.
Movies are about spectacle; about imagery that can fill an entire theater. And, in one spectacular moment in The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 2, in which an enormous tidal wave of oil fills the whole screen and roars down upon our heroes, my breath was briefly taken away — followed by the thought: yes, this should appear on the silver screen.
Movies have more value - in particular, having a shared experience with unchosen strangers, but more importantly, a shared narrative experience that builds a common bond - but it was a late-night show of an end-of-run movie, and the only people in the theater were a bunch of yapping effers in the back row, so that one bit was a bit spoiled for me.
But for one brief moment - actually, for many moments - I felt movie magic through the spectacle of the silver screen.
Totally worth it.
-the Centaur
So I’m continuing my adventures at my undisclosed location *cough* Atlanta *cough* and reporting my activities after they happen, as is my habit when off adventuring when I’m not making a public appearance. And one of the things I enjoy doing when on a trip is, after all the work is done, catching a late night movie. Like, at the theater, on a big screen with a comfy seat and a soda, not on your phone.
I was watching the conclusion of The Hunger Games, and I’m glad I did. The first one was OK, but the second one grabbed me in a way that no movie has since The Empire Strikes Back - not that I haven’t seen better movies, like, oh, I dunno, Mad Max: Fury Road or my favorite movie, Kiki’s Delivery Service - but I felt hooked into a series in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.
And the movie delivered something else too: big screen cinema. My buddy Jim Davies has a theory that some kinds of stories are best suited for some kinds of media, and I agree. Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” would not work as a miniseries; it relies on the quick sharp punch of poetic language. Babylon 5, with its A and B endings and epic space battles would only work as series TV. The Martian movie was great, but it lacks the electric punch of that crackling opening “Chapter 1: Log Entry SOL 6: I’m pretty much f*****.” It’s possible to make a live action movie of Kiki’s Delivery Service - they did - but they had to work enormously hard to create the imagery that the animation made effortless, and it still doesn’t quite have the same resonance. Some images work at any size, others are best left as animated gifs or vines to be played on your phone … and some demand the big screen.
Movies are about spectacle; about imagery that can fill an entire theater. And, in one spectacular moment in The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 2, in which an enormous tidal wave of oil fills the whole screen and roars down upon our heroes, my breath was briefly taken away — followed by the thought: yes, this should appear on the silver screen.
Movies have more value - in particular, having a shared experience with unchosen strangers, but more importantly, a shared narrative experience that builds a common bond - but it was a late-night show of an end-of-run movie, and the only people in the theater were a bunch of yapping effers in the back row, so that one bit was a bit spoiled for me.
But for one brief moment - actually, for many moments - I felt movie magic through the spectacle of the silver screen.
Totally worth it.
-the Centaur
So I’m continuing my adventures at my undisclosed location *cough* Atlanta *cough* and reporting my activities after they happen, as is my habit when off adventuring when I’m not making a public appearance. And one of the things I enjoy doing when on a trip is, after all the work is done, catching a late night movie. Like, at the theater, on a big screen with a comfy seat and a soda, not on your phone.
I was watching the conclusion of The Hunger Games, and I’m glad I did. The first one was OK, but the second one grabbed me in a way that no movie has since The Empire Strikes Back - not that I haven’t seen better movies, like, oh, I dunno, Mad Max: Fury Road or my favorite movie, Kiki’s Delivery Service - but I felt hooked into a series in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.
And the movie delivered something else too: big screen cinema. My buddy Jim Davies has a theory that some kinds of stories are best suited for some kinds of media, and I agree. Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” would not work as a miniseries; it relies on the quick sharp punch of poetic language. Babylon 5, with its A and B endings and epic space battles would only work as series TV. The Martian movie was great, but it lacks the electric punch of that crackling opening “Chapter 1: Log Entry SOL 6: I’m pretty much f*****.” It’s possible to make a live action movie of Kiki’s Delivery Service - they did - but they had to work enormously hard to create the imagery that the animation made effortless, and it still doesn’t quite have the same resonance. Some images work at any size, others are best left as animated gifs or vines to be played on your phone … and some demand the big screen.
Movies are about spectacle; about imagery that can fill an entire theater. And, in one spectacular moment in The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 2, in which an enormous tidal wave of oil fills the whole screen and roars down upon our heroes, my breath was briefly taken away — followed by the thought: yes, this should appear on the silver screen.
Movies have more values - in particular, having a shared experience with unchosen strangers, but more importantly, a shared narrative experience that builds a common bond - but it was a late-night show of an end-of-run movie, and the only people in the theaters were a bunch of yapping effers in the back row, so that one bit was a bit spoiled for me.
But for one brief moment - actually, for many moments - I felt movie magic through the spectacle of the silver screen.
Totally worth it.
-the Centaur
We are back in business. Apparently it was a temporary database glitch. Time to make sure my backups are up to date. Meanwhile, since I’m waiting to find out where my next meeting is, enjoy a picture of a coffeehouse that I am totally not at right now.
-the Centaur
… the Library of Dresan is letting me add posts, but all other operations are squirrelly. Stand by.
-the Centaur
So me and my wife are super cool about most of the things we do - I get home late, she stays up later, I travel for conferences, she travels for work, no matter what’s going on, we get along. But one of the rules we’ve established is to not discuss our travel plans in public until after they happen, unless it’s for a public appearance.
One of the reasons is that she’s an artist, and I’m an author, and sometimes the things that we create can irritate people, and if you publicize your schedule it opens you up to attack. So she’s asked me not to publicize our location or our travel plans. That won’t stop Goldfinger, of course, but it makes it less easy for a determined whacko.
So, I’m … somewhere, to give a company talk, but it’s not a public talk, so consider it an undisclosed location. And I took the red-eye, as is my habit for crossing country, because I hate losing a day. Prior to my talk, I’d lined up a whole day full of meetings with people so I could use this time productively … but as of this morning, all have canceled or failed to respond.
I’ve no worries: if my meetings are all canceled, I’ve got a giant stack of papers to read for a brand new project at work, so I’m covered. But I don’t want to drive away from the meeting site in case my last meetings go through. So I’m nearby, in a coffeehouse, chilling out, waiting to either hear back on my meetings or to get the good news that my hotel has a room ready for me to check in.
And you know what? It’s nice to have a respite, a little time to chill. For someone who juggles a job, writing, a small press, and comic book work, it’s easy to get overwhelmed.
A few minutes to chill is a good thing.
-the Centaur
So, as you may or may not know, I’m trying to blog every day this year, and just now, taking a brief respite after my red-eye flight, I decided to extend my tracking spreadsheet from just January to cover February. And when I did so … my tracking graphic suddenly turned into … I don’t know … an origami Pac-Man?
I’m not even sure how this particular chart type could make the above graphic, so I’m not sure how to fix it. This probably should get filed under “if you break the assumptions of a piece of software’s inputs, it will break your assumptions about its outputs.” Best thing to do is probably start over with a new graphic.
-the Centaur
Poll watchers may have noticed that Donald Trump has apparently failed to come first in the Iowa Caucuses. I know at least two people - one of them being my military advisor, and the other being Trumpwatcher Scott Adams - have predicted that Trump would win the caucuses, then run the table.
I have a number of bad predictions about the race - namely, that he would bow out as he’s bowed out before, as a result of his genius brand management. He didn’t. But I did also predict that winning the nomination takes more than leading in the polls - it takes a good ground game, and that with half of Republican voters unwilling to vote for Trump, he had a hard road ahead of him.
Now, there are forty-nine states left, and plenty of time for Trump to turn it around. And a lot says he might - Adams would say because he’s a Master Persuader, some of my friends because they think he’s awesome, and my old high school history teacher would say populist demagogues are always popular.
But, if Trump wants to bow out when the going gets rough, as Trump did before the last two times he ran, he will have accomplished a genius act of brand management. You can’t buy publicity like he’s gotten through his antics, and he’s made the things he cares about the focus of the campaign. Kudos to his skill.
To go on the record, I think Trump’s a poor choice for President. He’s anti-American, frequently insulting immigrants (like my grandfather) and veterans (like my father) and everyone who opposes him (like half the people a real President would have to deal with in office). He’s a loose cannon, frequently tossing out crap ideas that would sabotage our relations with our allies; some people call that “first offer in dealmaking,” I call that “being an untrustworthy liar.”
Now, not all his positions are anathema to me, and he’s got some good features. For example, he has a lot of business experience, though a number of his business ventures have failed or gone bankrupt; people who know a little about business (but think they know a lot) call that “compartmentalizing his ventures to protect him from losses”; people who know a lot about business at scale call that “gross incompetence” as a real businessman doesn’t let a business setback get spun into a public bankruptcy. But he has lots of experience running really big things, and would likely manage the running of the office passably.
But we can’t let him do that. We can’t trust Trump to respect his office. We had a bad enough time Bush skating on the edges of impeachable malfeasance until Obama took over and showed us how being a rogue president was done - but both Bush and Obama respected the office. If given the opportunity, Trump wouldn’t respect a congressional subpoena - he’s the one who does the firing, remember? So we need to make sure not to give him power he would have to give up when he’s impeached.
Sigh. Jeb!, why’d you stumble? Hillary, what was in your head when you set up that email server? And Sanders? Cruz? And what about Robert Jefferson Shmickelwhaite, former mayor of Benson, Arizona, that almost unknown guy who should have run who had all the experience and all the right positions but decided to sit it out this round?
Regardless, I love America, and whoever wins is my President.
But, if you’re going to run, even if you’re a “populist” or “Master Persuader” or even just “Making America Great Again”, it would behoove you to look at the math and make sure you’ve got a ground game when the time comes to stop polling and start voting. Ground game - that is, an actual nationwide campaign organization that, like, gets out the vote for your guy or gal.
Worth checking into.
-the Centaur
Pictured: Donald Trump, taken by Alex Hanson, used under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license, under which you are free to share or remix the work as long as it is attributed to Alex Hanson.
I like to pick up coins when I see them, but this is getting ridiculous. Recently I’ve netted 50 cents from money falling from heaven. Today’s find was weird: a quarter in the middle of my brand new copy of Principia Mathematica, Volume 1, which I’m reading as part of my quixotic quest to reinvent number theory for a young adult novel. :-P
Shipped from Amazon. Apparently a reprint (there are handwritten notes in my text which are apparently copied from whatever they used for camera-ready copy for this one). But with a quarter in it, stuck in the beginning of Chapter 3. It survived shipping, survived me carrying it around for a while … how?
The other one was weirder. A couple of months ago, I stepped out of the shower and pulled on a towel. I turned around, and a shinggg sounded, followed by the unmistakable sound of a coin falling to the floor. I looked around and found a quarter, which apparently fell from roughly where the bathrobes hang.
Only … we rarely use the bathrobes. There are no holes in the bathrobe pockets. The quarter fell, like from the air.
Now this is totally possible. We forgot and put a quarter in a bathrobe pocket, and I jostled it. The quarter got stuck in a knot. The quarter wasn’t on the bathrobe at all, and was stuck to the towel. The quarter was on the bathroom windowsill and I knocked it off. Et cetera. Et cetera. There are a thousand “rational” possibilities.
But it was still damn unusual.
Now I have 50 cents. That and four bucks will get me a Starbucks. Until the rest of my grande mocha Frappucinio falls from heaven, I gotta ask: who’s trying to tell me something, and what?
-the Centaur
So I’ve got enough data now - two months - and it shows my productivity in non-Nano months is about one third of the Nano goal. Because December and January are 31 day months, by now I should have produced a notch over 100,000 words if this was National Novel Writing Month … but instead I’ve produced a notch under 30,000.
The picture is a bit muddled since my productivity in successful Nano months is slightly higher than 50,000 words, and my productivity this month is slightly higher since I’m not counting some writing (some edits to stories, plus all the nonfiction writing I do at work). But it shows the social effect.
Nano triples your productivity.
-the Centaur