I have been really enjoying Tame Impala’s new album. I have always appreciated Kevin Parker’s work, but it has never really stuck as I have always been in a different place in regards to my music. However, The Slow Rush meets me where I am right now with an interest in music with thick sounds and intricate hooks. This now has me diving back and re-listening to the back catalogue in a different space.
I started reading Paul Browning’s book Principled, a book that:

Tells the story of trust destroyed and regained and as it does, aims to impart practical advice that can be adopted by any leader wishing to become a more trustworthy leader.

I am left wonder what part space places with this? Although this book is about various strategies, I am left wondering whether some spaces are more conducive towards ‘trust’ than others? This is particularly pertinent as I recently moved desks. Whether it be location, mood, light, I wonder if there is something different with where I now sit and work.

When I was young, I spent a lot of time in a truck. My step-father used to delivery for PFD. Staring out from the bunk, the world seemed flat. I was therefore shocked when a few years ago I retraced those early steps to find an undulating terrain.

I wonder if in part this was a product of growing up in the outer east of Melbourne? A place named after is volcanic red earth. Living in an area filled with hills and valleys maybe made me take such space for granted?

The train was held up going into the City Loop this morning, so the driver put over an announcement explaining the situation with an added dash of self-depricating humour. There is nothing that he necessarily did to cause the hold-up. However, informing everyone in a light-hearted manner eased the tension in a crowded space.
After a frenetic few weeks, I was discussing the challenge of change management with a colleague and how my current role differs from being in the classroom. He said that I was more than a teacher delivers prescribed material, that my efforts to not only solve problems, but also build confidence and understanding make me an educator. I think that is where the challenge is. Think kind of has me thinking about Solo Taxonomy.
In a recent group meeting, we watched John Boccuzzi’s TED Talk on the power of the customer experience in getting people on board. It told the story of purchasing a set of glasses and the service that was provided. This was all validated through the responses of strangers who complemented the man on the purchase. The premise was that experience of service and support matters.

I totally agree with this, but the problem is that not everyone can ‘sell glasses’ and sometimes children do not want to eat their vegetables, no matter how many crazy faces you make for them on their plate. It sometimes feels we look for such ‘solutions’ so that we have something to justify why we might have failed or where we could improve next time. The problem is that sometimes ‘the experience’ is somewhat arbitrary. No matter how nice your tone is or how you smile, if you are selling ice to Eskimos then you will always be up against it.

I took my daughter’s to the city twice this weekend. In part it was to celebrate (or mourn) the end of the school holidays – ironically, I have been back for two weeks. But it was also to give my wife space and time to get her Masters work done. I often take the girls into the city, but this time was different as the youngest was without nappies and a stroller.

This should be a joyous occasion. No more changing bums or pushing the stroller. However, there was a part of me that felt somehow out of whack. These habits have become a part of my everyday life. Like all habits, I am happy to change when needed and often push myself to do so, but the connection with identity is an odd one. A colleague recently highlighted this when she asked whether persisting with certain routines involving others was in fact for me. Although I don’t think I persisted with nappies etc for my own sake, it does leave me thinking.

I am currently churning my way through A Handmaid’s Tale. One of the things that I am left wondering is who decided on all the technological solutions? Whether it be the cattle prods or severing arms, we do not get insight into the thinking behind such decisions, Gideon’s Josef Mengele.

This is one of the things about technology, whether good or bad. So much of the work that goes into managing and understanding it is assumed. It is incorporated into everyday life, magically maintained by modern day magicians. The challenge we all have is to stop every now and then to pull back the curtain and reflect upon the biases and intent really at play.a

I am currently read (or listening to be correct) to Cory Doctorow’s Walkaway. What interests me is the idea of the future. There are many aspects of the novel that seem far beyond today, yet at the same time there is an uncanny plausibility that haunts the whole time.

I think this experience is no different to other novels set in the future as well as the fast:

The books challenge us how we live without telling us how to live.

I have lost count the amount of times that the art of making a sandwich has been used as the ultimate example of human algorithms. Although I agree it can be useful, I do not think that it provides the nuance for appreciating machine learning. For me this comes in the form of music.

I love listening to music with my daughters. One minute it might be a Disney classic, the next some pop song off the radio. What interests me is when I introduce something new to see the response. Each decision influences the next choice. This rather than sandwiches captures the challenges and complexities associated with ‘algorithms’ and ‘machine learning’.