it is done

I don’t usually do posts about my personal life. however, there are few events quite so momentous, and since this particular event spans both the personal and the academic, I thought it appropriate (nay, necessary!) to include here. this is also a bit delayed, but still relevant.

on June 19th, 2009, I became Dr. Baumer. that is, I submitted the final version of my dissertation to the UC library (more specifically, the UMI website whereat I could submit a .pdf of my dissertation, thus sparing me the procurement, and printing of my dissertation on, 100% cotton acid-free 20-25 lb. watermarked dissertation paper) and the accompanying paperwork to UC Irvine’s graduate division. I still haven’t become accustomed to people calling me “Dr. Baumer,” as several people, including my father, my cousin, my advisor, several friends, and the administrative assistant at graduate division, have done by this time. because of scheduling details, I actually walked in the commencement ceremony on June 6, even though my defense was on June 15, because UCI only holds one commencement per year, at the end of spring quarter, for all those graduating any time during that calendar year. thus, even before I was official Dr. Baumer, people were already using that appellation for me.

I had wondered from time to time if I’d feel different. based on what I’d gleaned from others’ experiences, I suspected that I wouldn’t, and indeed, I don’t feel much different. but at the same time, I do, although it’s not a recent thing. thinking back over my time in graduate school (the details of which I will not recount or reminisce here, but were all told quite fabulous), the times that I noticed “feeling different” were quite before I completed the requirements for my degree. there were two I recall specifically.

the first was during my first year, in fact my very first quarter, of grad school. I could feel myself changing, changing rapidly, in ways I could not with specific words describe but could with the utmost certainty feel. in addition to moving such a great distance to California—not just physically, but also socially, emotionally, etc.—I ended old relationships, began new ones, found new friends, strengthened ties with old friends, and reconsidered the very constitution of friendship. I was becoming new, becoming someone new, a new and different person, but, somewhat paradoxically, I simultaneously felt as if I was becoming more myself.

(I must admit, at this point, that I’ve been reading Dave Eggers A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, and can feel myself being influenced by his writing style, if only in a pale, imitative sort of way)

the second was some time during the midst of my graduate studies. again, rather than being tied to a specific moment, it was a change that happened over a longer period of time but still felt rapid and sudden. during this time, I experienced a number of realization, realizations that I have been subsequently told are integral to success in graduate school. (1) I realized that I knew more about research than did my advisor, in technical, philosophical, epistemic, and other ways. this was a bizarre sort of realization, even given the fact that my advisor’s primary training (i.e., his undergraduate and master’s degrees) was in biology and animation. why I expected that he’d be knowledgeable about the technical details of my work, I’m not certain. this is not to say that he was unhelpful; quite to the contrary, his was integral advice in getting me “unstuck” during crucial periods, and his was invaluable encouragement in enabling me to finish. this realization was closely coupled with the next, that (2) I cared more about my research than did my advisor. similarly, this is not to say that he did not care, but rather than I was the single most important factor, the driving force behind getting my research done. the third realization is one that’s difficult to express in words, but is potentially the most important, likely most associated with, and potentially definitive of, becoming Dr. So-and-so. (3) I was, as a researcher, intellectually independent. yes, obviously, like any other researcher, I consulted with my colleagues and superiors. yes, obviously, like any other researcher, I bounced ideas off of friends and family. however, I didn’t feel as if I was working for anyone. I was working for myself, following my own agenda, pursuing the research questions in which I was interested. I suspect that some may enter graduate school with such a feeling, knowing at least generally, if not precisely, the path they wish to pursue; and I further suspect that many more leave graduate school without experiencing such a feeling, following rather the belief that they are largely a cog in the research machine of their advisor, their institution, their funding source, or some other overseer. however, it seems to me that such a feeling of intellectual independence is the defining trait, the raison d’être, of an academic, and I count myself lucky to have been given the opportunity to experience that feeling.

as one would assume, I’ve been quite busy over the past several months completing my dissertation work, which is partially the reason for my lack of blogging. I will try to return to something of my previous pace (generally averaging around one post every other week or so), but I make no promises. I’m writing this post on a plane on the way back from Ireland (via a layover in Amsterdam), constituting something resembling an (all-too-brief) post-dissertation vacation. starting July 6, I will be beginning began a position as an Assistant Project Scientist (which is more-or-less a big name for a post-doc) at UCI, largely doing follow-up research on my dissertation research, but also starting in on all the projects and ideas I’ve had to keep on the back burner while finishing up my dissertation. thus, while I envision having slightly more free time as a post-doc, since I won’t be worried about passing quals, completing advancements, or writing/defending dissertations, but I’m assuming I’ll be super busy doing research, mentoring/supervising undergraduates, and trying to figure out what it is that I’ll be doing next.

that seems to be the question on everyone’s mind. whenever I mention that I just finished my Ph.D., people almost invariably ask me “so what are you doing next?” while the later half of the above paragraph describes the near future, I’ve also spent a great deal of time thinking about the more distant future, as in, what I’m going to do after I complete my time as a post-doc. ::insert a long pause while I stare at the clouds out the window contemplating my future::. I entered graduate school, in fact my very motivation to apply to graduate school was, to become a professor. while I’ve had and continue to have certain misgivings about that occupation (if not about academia in general), a tenure-track position at a research institution seems the most amenable to pursuing the goals I want to pursue. with the above-mentioned feeling of being a (relatively) independent intellectual, I’ve been spending a great deal of time considering just what those goals are, and the questions and issues towards which I find myself most drawn (the details of which I won’t explore in this already (almost too) long blog-post) strike me as best pursued in an academic/university context. as any sane person in my position would, I intend to keep an open mind about potential paths to pursue, but for now, what’s “next” is burrowing into some serious research, publishing like crazy, and keeping an ear open for academic research positions. (how pragmatic, I know, but what did you expect?).

hybrid design practices - ubicomp 2009 workshop

some friends and I recently had a proposal for a workshop on hybrid design practices accepted to the workshops program of ubicomp 2009. whatever are hybrid design practices, you ask? here's a snippet from our cfp:

Current Ubicomp research and practice often go beyond interdisciplinarity. New hybrid practices are created, by synthesizing methods from multiple disciplines, such as design, ethnography, engineering, and sociology. This does not only imply crossing of disciplinary or epistemological boundaries, but also engagement across diverse cultural sites and perspectives. We take hybrid practices to mean day-to-day interdisciplinary practices that are often established beyond pre-designed institutional, disciplinary, or transdisciplinary boundaries. This hands-on workshop will focus specifically on hybrids that involve the design of ubiquitous computing systems, drawing together both individuals who have experience developing and using such hybrids, as well as those who have an interest in applying hybrid practices to their work.

Thus, this workshop explores questions such as:
• How might ethnographic field work be incorporated into design practice?
• How might design practice work be incorporated into ethnographic field ?
• How might fieldwork or design sketching be integrated more closely into the process of theorizing?
• What might theory-oriented design or design-oriented theorizing look like?
• What role can Ubicomp design practice play for cross-cultural and multi-sited explorations?

sound interesting? check out more at the hybrid design practices workshop webpage.

position papers due June 25 via email to Silvia (lindtner [at] ics.uci.edu).

extremes

a few days back, I heard someone make the following comment. he was describing different reactions to the advent of some new technology (I don't recall exactly what), saying that different people felt very differently. the two poles of reactions were described as follows: "it was the best thing since sliced bread, or the worst thing since the guillotine." wow. since it was during a formal research talk, I had to exert a massive effort not to laugh out loud. "the worst thing since the guillotine"? is that a common adage, or did the guy just make that up?

unintended consequences

my apartment complex recently implemented a new parking permit system. until last fall, residents received plastic hand tags with an pretty uniquely identifiable iridescent sticker (ostensibly making them difficult to duplicate). as September 2009, they switched over to an electronic system. residents enter their car's license plate number (or those of their visitors, with a limited number of visitors per quarter) online. cars from parking and transportation equipped with cameras and a specially designed computer vision system then drive around the parking lots, automatically issuing tickets for those parked illegally.

nevermind for the moment the surveillance and privacy issues. those are certainly pretty complex, but I feel like they're also some of the more obviously problematic aspects of this technology. what I want to comment on here is a somewhat subtler impact I noticed a week or two ago. it used to be that going to the grocery store, the movies, the dentist, or wherever, one would quite often see hang tags for the graduate student housing complex in which I live. it's not as if I know or am friends with a very large fraction of the hundreds of grad students that live there, but seeing those hang tags created something of a sense of solidarity, of community; it made me feel like I was not alone as a grad student and that, even in this hyper-planned suburban area in which I live, there was a group of people with whom I could identify.

however, since the deployment of this electronic system, no one needs to display hang tags anymore. I didn't even realize that something had been lost until recently when I saw someone who had an old tag up that she had not taken down, which made me realize that I missed the tags. it was interesting, because I'd heard lots of discussion among students and professors about the implications of the new system as related to privacy and surveillance, but I'd not heard anyone else mention the socio-emotional impact of not seeing grad student parking hang tags. I wonder if anyone else has had similar experiences. I find this a particularly provocative example of the development of sociotechnical systems. often times, designers are encouraged to consider the impact their designs may have, beyond just the technical, before deploying them. certainly, one could have hypothesized about or considered surveillance-oriented impacts, but the impact of the absence of visible hang tags would have been, I suspect, harder to anticipate and even harder to address. I wonder if there are better ways of predicting, and accounting for, such effects, short of actually deploying the system.

magic

well, it's probably just coincidence, but it's fun nonetheless.

for those of you who don't pay particularly close attention to these sorts of things, the end of this week we have a Friday the 13th coming up. most people think about Friday the 13th as a particularly unlucky day, a superstition the origins of which are much debated. however, growing up, I always noticed that particularly good things would tend to happen to me on Friday the 13th. none of them were particularly momentous -- I won something in a drawing at school, I received some good news about planning a family vacation, I spent the day hanging out with friends -- but they always gave the entire day a "good" vibe.

recently, my attention was called to an interesting numerological fluke; the UNIX time code for 1234567890 resolves to 23:31:30 Feb 13, 2009 (UTC). for those unfamiliar with UNIX time, that means that, at 23:31:30 Feb 13, 2009 (UTC), exactly 1234567890 seconds will have passed since 00:00:00 Jan 1, 1970, a date which is dated as the beginning of the Epoch. for me, this will be 15:31:30. to see how this resolves in your timezone, you can try one of the following:

Mac OS X: date -r 1234567890
Ubuntu Linux (or Debian or similar flavors): date -d @1234567890
other: man date (see what parameters to use to convert UNIX time to local time)

many commenters on the post linked above seem to believe that such coincidence bodes incredible unluckiness, but I like to that that it will be far more lucky than un. as it happens, at that exact second, I will likely be listening to a talk (or questions thereafter) by Ben Schneiderman. not sure what kind of (un)lucky events to expect, but I'm guessing the talk should be pretty good.

fabulous

I recently came across some brilliant creative work: spam poetry. these are poems constructed entirely from the subject lines of spam emails the poet receives. the dates on the website give the impression that the work is a couple years old, but I just discovered it recently.

here are two of my favorite stanzas. the first is from "Sometimes I worry":

grammarian and under

funded

education is dead

in America.

I wonder if the poet looks for subject lines that include punctuation, like that ending period, or if she adds punctuation as needed. the other one I like is from "全国総合出会いセンターよりお知らせです。":

To everybody in Columbus

An apology -

The cookies are coming....

RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

possibly the best poem currently on the front page is "Your secret?" which must be read in its entirety to appreciate it fully.

while there are myriad reasons that this work is fabulous, rather than engaging in an intellectual diatribe (and since I've still much more data to analyze today), I'll just leave it for you to enjoy.

an intentional error?

while looking up email addresses for some faculty in my department, I noticed an interesting anomaly. if I simply click on the faculty member's email address, it opens my email client with a new email properly addressed. however, if I right click, select "Copy Email Address," then paste it in the To field for a new email, there is a leading "%20", the HTML code for a space. I initially thought this might be just a typo, that there was an extra space in the mailto tag, but the character appear on all the email addresses. perhaps this is some sort of counter-spam effort.

looking closer at the HTML source, it does seem to be counter-spam. for example, the link to email Richard Taylor shows up as follows:

<a href="'&#109;&#097;&#105;&#108;&#116;&#111;
&#058;%20taylor&#64;ics&#46;uci&#46;edu'">taylor&
#64;ics&#46;uci&#46;edu</a>

to the average human eye, this looks mostly like a bunch of mumbo-jumbo, but effectively it's encoding the mailto tag using ASCII code points, swapping the letters for numbers. thus, if someone looks directly at the HTML source, as most spam harvesters do, it doesn't look like an email address. even if someone does try to automatically harvest it, there's an extra space in there. however, when the browser renders it, everything looks normal, and you can even click on the address and your email client will automatically remove the extra leading space for you.

what I don't quite understand is how or whether this actually impedes spam harvesters. if a browser can render the above coding into a meaningful email address, why can't a email-harvesting bot do the same? do most harvesting bots just go for low-hanging fruit rather than trying to decode obfuscated email addresses? is it just a matter of adding one more layer of resistance? or is there something intrinsically difficult about having a bot resolve the above HTML to a meaningful email address?