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Category: technology

Simply Outdated

Simply Outdated

Walker in the Suburbs sends out no newsletters and keeps no lists. It accepts no followers and receives no comments. This is because Walker in the Suburbs is published on a hopelessly outdated template that its author hasn’t the time to upgrade or change.

But there is a silver lining. Walker in the Suburbs will not be sending you an email asking you to update your privacy settings. It will not be worrying too much about the European Union’s GDRP, which I had to Google to spell out — that would be the General Data Protection Regulation plan.

Walker in the Suburbs is not quite as outdated as my old phone pictured here. But it’s definitely in a digital backwater. 

Simplicity has its rewards.

A Walker in Afghanistan

A Walker in Afghanistan

If I lived in a war zone I would probably walk, crunch and use the elliptical. The stress relief would be worth the tedium, or even the danger.  So I get why people wear their fitbits when they’re in harm’s way, especially if they’re gadget geeks who want to measure their workouts.

But I don’t get why they share their data with a fitness sharing app called Strava, which then posted the whereabouts and movements of their customers in a heat map available for all to see. So by clicking on a route called Sniper Alley outside the American base in Kandahar, Afghanistan, you could find the names and hometowns of those who use it. Combine this with some basic Googling and you have a trove of information.

I first read about this oversight yesterday, how it was discovered almost by accident by a college student in Australia. Why didn’t someone realize sooner that this technology could be used to reveal troop movements, the identifies of agents and so much more sensitive information?

Sharing data is a way to personalize technology, to humanize it.  But whatever is shared can be abused.

I hate to admit it, but in a world of smart cars, smart appliances and smart houses … we’re going to have to start reading, really reading, those privacy statements. And companies who collect sensitive data must do a better job of telling us how and when they use it.

Otherwise we may find ourselves walking in Afghanistan — with sniper guns trained on us.

(Photo: Washington Post)

Still Life with USB Cords

Still Life with USB Cords

I was thinking today as I pulled a phone charger out of a drawer that I basically live on about one one-hundredth of the things I own. Heck, it may be more like one one-thousandth!

This phone charger was lying on top of a tangle of wires and cables that date back to my house’s Paleolithic Era. On the top are a few USB cables but underneath are old Walkman players, ancient cameras and … a pair of binoculars.  Ah, so that’s where the binoculars are.

It’s the same in my chest of drawers: Three pairs of wearable pants on top of five pairs that are too old or don’t fit. Plainly a purge is in order. But purging takes time.

I don’t get rid of stuff as quickly as I could because I think the stuff may some day come in handy. Those old jeans will be fine for painting and the Walkman could be pressed into service if my iPod breaks … and … well, you get the idea.

So the stuff remains, and I live on top of it. Makes me feel pretty silly, if you want to know the truth.

Vehicle

Vehicle

I’m a sucker for round numbers, so I’m writing today about the round number this blog just reached. Just a tad self-involved, wouldn’t you say? Meta, at the very least. But I can’t resist, now that I’ve gotten more adept with the screen shot tool.

In fact, I’ve gotten more adept with more technology than I ever thought I would. Not by choice but by necessity. And still I lag behind. I fumble for the headphones to take a Skype for Business call. I need help submitting my time sheet if my time sheet is the least bit complicated. I post stories all the time — as long as long as someone else can size the photos.

Yet somehow I keep muddling along. Because technology is a vehicle, not an end in itself. It’s a means to an end. And if you keep at it (as I keep at this blog), it will reward you in ways you couldn’t have imagined when you began.

The Return

The Return

The “return” key of my little Mac laptop (the key called “enter” for all you PC types) had been growing balkier by the day, so on Sunday I took it to the doctor — the Apple store’s “Genius Bar” in my local mall.

I worried there would be a gloomy assessment — perhaps I would need another keyboard or even another machine.

But no, it was good news. All that was required was to flip off the key top and replace the pad underneath. “A piece of dirt may have gotten in there,” the technician said. (Really?! A piece of dirt in my house?) And apparently the machine is so delicately calibrated that even a minuscule crumb can bend the little tabs that hold this responsive pad in place beneath the key.

I shudder to think of what this means for the future. I mean, I’m careful with my computer, but I can’t use it in a vacuum. But I was lucky this time. The return was repaired in 10 minutes and I was once more back to fluid typing — which, like so many other things in life, one fails to appreciate until it goes away.

Earthbound

Earthbound

The Udvar-Hazy Air and Space Museum was a spur-of-the-moment decision, a way to fill the hour between Georgetown and Dulles Airport. I hadn’t been there for years — since long before the …

and the …

arrived there. And I was totally unprepared to have my eyes well up. I’m getting emotional about airplanes? Come on!

But the Discovery was so battered and patched, and the Concorde was so sleek and lean.

And they and all the planes and space capsules and satellites there were so much the stuff that dreams are made of that I just couldn’t help myself.

They were made for the sky, but they are earthbound now. No longer where they belong.

Feeling Sorry for the Circus

Feeling Sorry for the Circus

I started feeling sorry for the circus even before I heard about the elephants. I knew it was only a matter of time before the elephants disappeared. Now I can’t help but think the whole enterprise may be on the way out.

The posters arrived a few weeks ago, pasted all over the Metro system. The circus is coming, the circus is coming! “Hmmm,” say the children, barely lifting their heads from their iPads, phones and computers.

The circus may be losing the battle, but it’s not going down without a fight. “Believe in the unbelievable,” trumpet the posters. But what is unbelievable anymore? Surely anything can happen, anything does. Dancing dogs, contortionists, trapeze artists, a man shot from a cannon. But how can these compare to even one frame of a computer game, film or TV show?

Yes, the circus is real; humans and animals defy gravity, death, the possibility of humiliation. But what does it matter?

Will the circus be around 20 years from now? I hope so. I’d like to say yes. But then again I like to believe in the unbelievable.

That’s E-Life

That’s E-Life

Speaking of the dark side, I’ve spent much of the last two days thinking, writing about and dealing with technology. The dealing-with part is funny, because while covering a competition in which students presented various expert legal systems (high-level stuff for my feeble brain), I was confronted with a tech emergency of my own.

My little digital tape recorder was suddenly beeping and declaring itself full. I made do the old-fashioned way — by taking notes. But the juxtaposition of the two events made me smile.

We are riding so high with our smart phones and tablets and computers — until we aren’t! That’s E-life, I guess.

(Old-school knowledge delivery vehicles.)

The Touch

The Touch

Reading on my Kindle (see previous post!) these recent weeks means I spend more time touching screens. There’s my smart phone screen and my iPod screen, each requiring a different sort of touch.

The phone, especially its keyboard, is best when I get a rhythm going. If I misspell the words, auto-complete makes up for it … unless it substitutes something completely nonsensical instead.

The iPod is the size of a large postage stamp and is best approached with a smooth but pinpointed movement. If not I may end up with a Broadway musical when I want medieval chant.

As I’ve become acquainted with the Kindle, I see that it’s the most sensitive, the most eager to please of all the screened instruments. Even if my index finger only hovers above the gadget, it thinks I’m ready to turn the page.

Virtuoso pianists are often said to have a  “good touch.” Something in the way they stroke each key creates a warmth of tone. The piano keys are not pounded, they are caressed.

I think we modern-device users are developing a skill we could use elsewhere, if we chose. I think we should all learn to play the piano.

Google Gripe

Google Gripe

To write this blog I must sign in to my account. And starting a couple of days ago, I was told I must sign in via a fancy new one-account Google sign-in.

At work I must sign in to Google to view the calendar and learn when my colleagues will be taking vacation. I must also sign in to Google to learn the analytics of the magazine I edit. To do the latter two, I’ve been using Google Chrome (the only way I can get to the calendar).

This goes under the category of “biting the hand that feeds you,” but … I’m starting to get enough of Google. The thought of moving my blog is headache-inducing for sure. But still, a girl’s gotta dream.


(A seasonal photo that has absolutely nothing to do with Google!)