I’ve been more serious about playing piano lately. “Serious,” by the way, means that I’m doing it more often and I try to practice things that are hard for me… I’m in a big practice practicing phase at the moment.
So, I was pleasantly surprised to find that a local hotel bar has live piano music on Fridays and Saturdays. That got me looking, and there seem to be a few places in Dresden where I can go and hear live piano.
I’ve resolved to visit them all. Here are the ones I’ve found:
Hotel Elbflorenz: Where my wife and I went on a date and I was surprised to hear the piano. I’ll be going back soon.
The Maritim Hotel: There’s a “piano bar” that apparently always has live piano? I’ll call and confirm before I go.
The Innside in Dresden: Funnily enough, I learned about their live piano by finding it in an angry online review. Apparently, you can hear it the in the rooms directly under the piano…
Klavierhaus Dresden: Probably the only place I don’t plan to visit, they mostly sell pianos (and I have one) and organize what look to be the kind of piano concerts I’d feel compelled to dress up for…
Champagner Lounge Dresden: I’m least excited about this one, because it seems to be reaching for a clientele that seems to be comprised of people who would annoy me.
Have I missed any? Does anyone expect that I’ll be frustrated by the experience? This isn’t the sort of thing that I usually do, so I’m unsure myself if I’ll like it.
This might seem like an obvious statement to make — especially regarding fitness — but I’ve learned that every day is better than three or four times per week.
I’m still not in a routine that ‘just fits’ or a routine that I can’t imagine not doing. I’d like to get there, but, for me, exercise is a thing that I consciously choose to do because I know what it can do for me afterward.
And I struggle with making it a routine.
Enter, the idea of every day. For a while now, I’ve been using a 4-week challenge app on my phone as my ‘strength training.’ In fact, I’m restarting the challenge for the second time (I’ve been through it at the first to levels of difficulty.)
You don’t need to open a dictionary to know that ‘every day’ means something different from what I accomplished in January. But, in January exercising four times a week — my old stretch goal — was a bad week.
I think that counts for something.
Even more, I’ve been feeling the changes to my own body, which is a nice thing to be able to report.
I still have the beer belly (“gas tank for a sex machine!”) that I want to get rid of, and I’m not pushing the scale much. But, when I hold my increasingly heavy kids, I can feel my core is stronger. Back pain has become so rare that, when it does rear its ugly head, I almost always realize “hmm, yeah, I haven’t exercised this week like I should.” (And that means that there’s a sort of positive-reward cycle that encourages me to exercise.)
In fact, as I’m going through the challenge again for the third and last time, I’m starting to wonder where I’m going to find my next every-day workout routine. The app I’m using (here, in the Google Store) offers workouts tailored to individual muscle groups “shoulders and back” and “chest and arms” or whatever. So, that’s the logical starting point, but I’ve been enjoying the simplicity of knowing that I have to free up a bit of time, start the app, and just do what it says.
So, we’ll see what happens when I ‘graduate’ out of the challenge.
I just spent well over twenty minutes trying to write a quick post on how I got my newest Django project to serve CSS.
In the end, it was more difficult to try to get WordPress to format the bits that were supposed to look like code than seemed worth it to me. For a short time, I tried settling to just have it display as preformatted.
In the end, the preformatted tags seemed to always gobble up the surrounding paragraphs, no matter how I tried to go back in and edit them.
Sure, the new WordPress editor is beautiful. But if it makes blogging more difficult, why bother?
I doubt there is an author about whom I feel more conflicted than I feel about W.E.B. Griffin. And, of his many series, I doubt there is one that I like more — or feel more frustrated by — than the Brotherhood of War series.
Officially, this is a review just of The Lieutenants, the first book in the series, but unofficially, I have read through this series at least a half dozen times. I love these books, and I’m occasionally frustrated by that fact.
What’s wrong with these books
Aside from the fact that just about every character in the books would be considered a knuckle-dragging neanderthal by modern standards, I can get really frustrated by the way W.E.B. Griffin’s millionaire characters (and there’s at least one in each series) play the “I have money and influence” cards to get past seemingly insurmountable obstacles.
Sure, a character who has a private airplane can be all over the country and take part in a lot of the action. I get that, and I don’t resent it. In fact, I wish all rich people were like Craig Lowell of the series.
On the other hand, at least once per book, there’s some problem that only gets solved because of the money and influence that Craig Lowell weilds. When so many other characters are working at overcoming actual obstacles, to have a character who seems to be the deus ex machina of the series can seem cheap.
Possibly worse than the role that money plays in the series, I genuinely resent how much of the plot is recapitulated in each subsequent book. By the time you’re three or four books into the series, it can feel like all you’re doing is re-reading things you just read. (I tend to binge these series.) If W.E.B. Griffen had decided to do without all of that, he’d have so many more pages in which things could actually happen. And I’d like that.
Why I keep coming back to these books
These books are like old friends to me. When I’m sick, or down, or just at loose ends, I like to return to them. Because even the playboy millionaire is the kind of person you like to return to. W.E.B. Griffin writes series the way record companies cast boybands: there’s the beautiful one, the unlikely warrior, the legit war hero, the starchy by-the-book one, the honorable German WWII veteran who was part of a plot against Hitler.
No matter how formulaic it sounds written down (and, considering it’s just about the exact same cast, but with different names, as you’ll find in his Honor Bound series, it’s clearly formulaic), Griffin does such a good job of writing the characters that it’s a genuine joy to spend time with them, to watch them overcome obstacles. (And to mourne when more than one of them is surprisingly killed.)
Even more than that, these books are much more about the brotherhood than about the war.
When my wife sees I’ve got the books back out again, I think she imagines me reading about soldiers jumping out of firing positions and overwhelming the enemy. There is remarkably little of that in the book. (In fact, what little combat there is — from post-WWII Greece to Korea and Vietnam — is almost incidental to the story.)
Instead, there is a group of officers struggling against ‘the system,’ whether it’s because someone who is too chickenshit (too literal with rules and regulations) wants them out, or whether it’s because they’re the inspired ones who can see the way things are going and they want to influence the development of the Army (and, in this series, of Army aviation, in particular).
As a middle child and life-long outsider, I can relate to the ones who feel themselves to be ‘outside’ the traditional system (here, the ‘ring knockers’ of West Point, also called the WPPA for West Point Protective Association). And, because this is fiction, the characters who you learn to like have a better than average chance of success.
That, more than anything else, is what keeps me coming back.
What’s more, I can see that people are clicking through to Dynamic-EFL.com. That’s exactly what I wanted.
But very few of those people are signing up for a free trial. And, so far, none of the ones who have clicked through have made a worksheet with it.
It makes me think.
I have two thoughts on the whole thing.
Maybe I need to explain it better
I worry that I don’t sufficiently explain what the software does. Or, perhaps, that I over-explain it. After all, I already totally get what the software does and why it’s amazing.
Perhaps more images and fewer big blocks of text? Perhaps a better video walkthrough?
There’s a lot I could do to make it better, but, it’s a whole extra challenge.
Maybe it’s a numbers game
I’ve probably had about a hundred strangers look at the site since I started really trying. That’s not a lot of people. Ideally, it will be more and more with time, as the whole strategy of sharing static resources to attract teachers pays out.
But, maybe I just need to accept that I need to get x number of eyeballs on the site for each person that’s going to sign up. And maybe I have to accept that it’s going to be y number of people who are willing to sign up for each person who invests the time to really understand what it does.
Most likely, it’s both
I mean, I probably could make it more clear what people do. (And maybe break the explanation out across several pages, so that Google Analytics will be more of a help seeing what people are interested in)
And it’s probably the case that great explanations and onboarding can only reduce the values of x and y from (from the numbers game section), not turn every visitor into a conversion.
The plan for the near future
Believe it or not, my plan is to not do much. Sure, I might re-work the landing page(s). But, I think I’m at a point where I need to trust that some people are going to like the service. I’ve recommended it to colleagues (who promise to have a look when they have time) and I’m spreading the word on LinkedIn.
Now that I’m getting excited about the Fantasy Pilgrimage idea, I’d like to start directing my creative coding energy in that direction. So, until I have a handful of users who are willing to provide feedback so that I’m not longer just guessing at things, I don’t plan to mess around with the code of the worksheet generator very much. (Though I may make it possible to create and distribute ‘coupon codes’ that extend the free trial, in order to create a sense of urgency for the people who use the site.)
Until then, I think it’s time to let the site try to prove its own worth.
The serious tree scientists I know warned me off from reading this. “It’s unscientific,” they said. “He talks about trees wanting things and thinking. He has no way of knowing what they want or if they think.”
And, for a while, I didn’t read it.
Instead, I enjoyed the brief section on ‘how trees work’ in Hugh Johnson’s “Trees.” But it wasn’t enough and, eventually, I picked up a copy of The Hidden Life of Trees.
Is it unscientific?
I don’t rightly know. There is talk of trees smelling and tasting, but then he explains exactly what he means and it’s clear that he’s using human-centered language to communicate with humans. I never felt he passed anything off as fact that wasn’t, and always clearly labeled speculation.
His level of anthropomorphizing trees can be seen in the way he talks about beech and oak trees ‘competing.’ That’s not a shocking use of the word in biology. (At least, not for us armchair biologists.)
Is it good?
Yes. An unqualified yes.
So much so that I thought it presented enough information, easily absorbed, for me to have the framework for my A Year in the Woods project. So, that’s great.
Now, though, a week or two after I’ve finished reading it, I have to say that I didn’t retain a ton of the information. Sure, there are things I learned: the younger trees leaf out first, because the ground warms up before the air, and spring ephemerals are dormant for ten months of the year and are a sign that a forest is at least 150 years old.
But, there’s a lot that I read and it blew my mind… and then I didn’t have any other information to connect it to in my head and it’s gone again.
So, it’s a great book and heartily recommended to anyone who likes trees or the forest, but it may be hard to absorb everything in one go. (If you’re like me.)
Here’s a brief reflection on what has been hard for me, as well as how I hope to improve it.
I’m very confident that ninety percent of the traffic to my site right now comes from me. That said, when I log in to the page, I’m overwhelmed by data and it’s really hard to pick apart which data is mine and which comes from someone else.
This is compounded by my next challenge.
I did a bad job with URLs
When I was setting up the URLs of the site in Django, it just seemed easier to include a lot of information in the URL itself. So, my site has a lot of things like ‘/group/<id>/’ as a URL, where the individual group number is a part of the URL.
It hasn’t been a problem until now, but now it means that each group shows up as its own URL in the analytics report. That creates a lot of noise for me to try and pick through as I try to see how people who are not me interact with the site.
Even more, once others are using the site more, it’ll make it hard to see how people who aren’t me are actually using it as a product.
What I’m doing now
Google enables you to set up goals in analytics. I didn’t bother with that before, but I’ve established two different goals:
People click through to begin the signup process. I often check what the site will ask of me before I use it. It would be nice to know how well my site is leading people to that opportunity.
People making it to the end of the signup process. Obviously, this is my ‘real goal.’ But, as nobody seems to be doing it, it would be nice to have it recorded when they do. Even more, it would be nice to see what path leads them there.
I’m hoping that Google will not only record how often these goals are ‘achieved,’ but also separate that traffic out from the rest. Where does it come from? What do they click on beforehand?
What I’ll do with my next site
Based on my experience with analytics so far, I think I’ll consider them more in designing the URLs of my site. I’m starting to consider work on the Fantasy Pilgrimage idea and I think that I’ll include more in the query string than in the URL.
Adding things like group numbers (or, in my case, the UUID of specific vocabulary words) in the URL means that each user visits their own specific subset of URLs. Moving them to a query string would mean that each user visits the same URLs and the analytics could give me a more generalized overview of the way users interact with my site.
Maybe I’m late to this party, but a I’ve tried to get more done in my days, I’ve learned to really appreciate the value of a good to-do list and timers on my phone. In fact, they may be the thing I use my phone for most — after photos, perhaps.
Concentration is a mixed blessing
I like to think that I’ve been blessed with pretty good concentration. I can focus on something longer, I think, than most and actually enjoy blocking most of the world out.
When I’m supposed to be doing things in parallel, though, that’s not always a blessing. Food that was boiling on the stove may be burning by the time I remember to check it. A kid who was told “twenty more minutes of Minecraft” may easily get forty minutes if I’m distracted somewhere else. (Though, really, shouldn’t the kid monitor the time on his own?)
I’ve found that, for these situations, teaching myself to set a timer on my phone every time I think “I’ll check that in ten minutes” — and then teaching myself not to turn the phone off until I’m on the way to check — has really made me more effective.
Sticking to something
Similarly, when I realize action isn’t required of me for another week or so… well, a timer won’t work. For that, I’ve found an app that will give me notifications that can’t be brushed away without being marked done or ‘snoozed.’ (It’s called “Tasks: Astrid To-Do list clone“)
Again, it’s been a question of teaching myself to realize “this is something I’ll forget, I’d better add it to my to-do list,” but it’s meant that I get a lot more done… and on time.
Even more, things I want to do often — liking writing postcards once a month the family — can be entered as recurring tasks. Maybe other people just think “hey, I haven’t written a postcard in a while” or “I just did my monthly invoice, that’s a reminder I should write some postcards,” but that doesn’t seem to work for me.
My recurring reminders include fitness, and cleaning the balcony. (I feed birds on the balcony, and don’t want a certain wife I know to think it’s too poop-encrusted.) Every three days, I even get a to-do notification that I should check my calendar for the next three days, so that I don’t get any surprises.
Some things — mostly coding — I keep track of on paper. When it’s time for me to code, I get out the paper I was using to take notes and keep track of things to do and look where I left off. For everything else, though, there’s a timer or a to-do list.
Call me childish
I get that “I only get done what my phone tells me to do” seems a bit childish. Or, maybe, millennial. But, I’m focussed on getting more done with lest frustration and, for now, I’m happy to have found something that works for me.
I think that the biggest thing that my dad gave me to take into adulthood is my memory of him constantly learning, constantly growing. The kids were often (involuntarily) part of his quest to learn new things. These ranged from reading about the Civil War and visiting battlefields (not my favorite vacation memory) to teaching himself amateur radio and morse code or getting qualified as a physics teacher only a few years before his retirement.
From my dad, I have the idea that I, as a human, am really never finished growing. It’s given me the courage to pick up new skills (such as coding, or piano) as an adult.
And, because I’ve loved it, it’s something I want to give my kids.
Not the kind of thing you can preach
We all know parents who believe in “do as I say, not as I do.” I’m not a big fan of that for several reasons (I’m 38, can you really expect more willpower from a 5-year-old?).
But, this is especially the kind of thing that I can’t preach to my kids. (Which is not to say that I don’t, I won’t be upset if they have “you just have to practice” echoing in their ears as adults.) But, it was watching my dad that brought me to that realization.
So, it seems logical that it’s something they have to see me doing.
And so, I’m practicing practicing
For a while, when I thought about this, I thought ‘well, I code, and the kids can see me learning that.’ But they can’t see me learning that. They just see Papa standing at the computer concentrating. I could be doing anything, as far as they’re concerned.
So, I resolved to get my good example game on.
I’ve started playing piano again. And, in fact, because I’m going to teach myself to practice a skill in the hope that my kids will know it automatically, I’m focusing more on drills and scales and the likes than I did the last time I played.
Idraw. Art was always the domain of my little sister, but it’s a free hobby and something the kids can do with me.
I’m still plugging away at Latin. The kids are officially learning with me, but more so that we can talk about it and that they can know I’m working on it than as any kind of test prep. They’re learning individual nouns (arbor, puella).
The idea is that these are activities I can do a little bit every day (or, most days) rather than standing at the computer not really accomplishing much because the kids are distracting me. They’re activities (maybe not Latin) where the kids can appreciate what is good and bad and realize that it took me a long time to learn a new song on the piano and hopefully understand that they can learn new skills through practice.
I can’t say it will work. But, on the other hand, I don’t think I’m responsible to make them into the kind of adult that I am. I think I’m responsible to be the best adult I can be, and to make sure they know the tools I used to get there.
A discussion that my wife and I have often is that our kids don’t really ever suffer consequences. Partly, that’s my fault. I’m as much a sucker as the next guy for “it won’t happen again” (spoiler alert: it always happens again).
And, partly, that’s a part of us understanding how uncomfortable some things are, and wanting — for good reasons — to spare our kids that. After all, we ‘only’ have three kids and their lives aren’t yet so complicated that we can’t offer a lot of support.
Day to day manifestations
It can be simple things: “Did you do your homework? Show me?” I — the one who never liked school and sees the teachers as ‘the enemy’ — rationalize the teachers should use up their patience getting the kids to do homework. Not us. After all, we barely see the kids during the week, why waste valuable family time on activities that very clearly fall under the heading of ‘school’?
Because my wife — who is German and ‘from’ the German system my kids are in — sees each homework activity as a brick in a set of stairs that will eventually carry my kids to success. And she sees dire consequences if the homework isn’t done.
I’m not German. I’m ‘from’ the American system where the teacher is frustrated and maybe humiliates you in front of your classmates and that’s it. I figure that, if that kind of responsibility is important to the teacher, they should set up their own system of consequences.
After all, if I say “clean your room” and it isn’t cleaned, then it’s on me to be the heavy and to establish consequences. I certainly don’t get help for the teacher on that.
The thing is: my wife and I don’t completely agree on what’s important, and the kids know which parent to ask for what. That’s not unusual, but I worry that it means my kids live a generally consequence-free life.
Add diabetes to the mix
And now, with diabetes part of the oldest child’s life, things have gotten… More difficult. Plans that I had to send him out on his own (he’s nine — and never unsupervised) with his bike to make a map of the neighborhood now seem riskier.
Even more, I’m realizing he’s trying less and less hard to manage his diabetes calculations, because he only has to guess at the correct injection to give himself for a meal and then his mom barks at him and then gives him the correct calculation. She, of course, thinks that it would take too long to make him do the calculation two or three times while we’re waiting to eat. I — the strict father, I guess — don’t see a problem with saying “are you sure?” and then letting him undercorrect. After all, the doctors made it clear that nothing terrible would happen.
Mom, though, is a diabetic and knows that high blood sugar is no fun. And she’s not willing to subject him to that.
So, she basically does the calculations for him when she’s home.
Why it matters
I’m a big fan of the idea that there aren’t any ‘normal’ childhoods and that, as long as the kids aren’t abused, reality will eventually file off all their rough edges sooner or later. I don’t worry about making an ‘ideal’ childhood for my kid.
But, as a spectator of the world around me, I see parents belittling twelve and thirteen-year-old children for being so helpless. We all know that that is too old to depend on parents. However, the parents belittling their children don’t seem to realize that they’re responsible for training their kids.
And it’s harder to learn new habits with thirteen than with nine.
That’s why I’m a bit frustrated that my plans to introduce consequences — or, rather, to allow my kids to start suffering the natural consequences of their (in)actions — seem to have been set back by this stupid disease.
How do you manage it?
If you’re a parent and you’re reading this, how do you manage these things? What consequences do you insulate your kids from? What do you do when a diabetic child makes a mathematical error? How do you and your partner negotiate these discussions?