[…] here’s a non-exhaustive, highly-opinionated list of best practices for websites that focus primarily on text. I don’t expect anybody to fully agree with the list; nonetheless, the article should have at least some useful information for any web content author or front-end web developer.
Zoinks! Just reading the few paragraphs in Kumar’s Introduction suddenly renewed my pride at being among the few humans who build web sites. I’ll go so far as to say: Insomuch as it is within my powers, I hereby declare said Introduction to be mandatory ready for anyone who types upon a keyboard anything which subsequently appears on the Internet.
Next I’ll point out—imagine I’m the tour guide with the headset-mic and we’re on the open-air bus touring behind the scenes of How the Internet Really Works—that this enormous article will show you just how complex a modern web site has become. But rather than panic, I take this as heartening. Having danced lightly through this page, each thing which I learned, helps me to do better going forward.
It is curious to note the old sea-margins of human thought. Each subsiding century reveals some new mystery; we build where monsters used to hide themselves.
I’d like to do a bit of meta-discussion to start this week’s email. (If you’re reading this on the web site, these posts are assembled into a weekly email. This post sits atop this week’s assemblage.)
I reworked the stuff at the top to ensure that each email has a little more “what the heck is this?” context. I’ve moved the “hey could’ya?” contribute stuff down to the very bottom, (and added a non-subscription, any amount you like option.) I’m imagining that keeps it from being in the way, but is still noticeable—if you scroll all the way to the bottom, you’re probably finding at least some value in the email.
I’d be happy to hear any thoughts you have about these changes: Is the please-support-my-work stuff too out-of-sight now? Does the stuff at the top make sense? After reading these emails, is there anything you’ve wanted to do—anything at all—that you didn’t know how to do?
To that end, Drucker recommends that executives routinely take part in “systematic abandonment.” Every few months, an executive should do a reevaluation of all the organization’s practices, looking at everything the organization is doing and deciding anew if the organization should stop or continue it.
Drucker was writing explicitly in the context of business executives. McKay does a nice job of showing how those principles which serve executives so well, work equally well in one’s personal life. I didn’t have this process—this guiding principle from Drucker’s work—identified clearly in my head. But I have it firmly implanted into how I instinctively do things.
I’ve had more than one person make the joke, “Craig, how many clones do you have?!” (I like to jokingly reply, “Yes, I have several clones, but none of us can get the others to do anything we don’t want to do ourselves.”) I accomplish a lot. While I have a number of clear advantages—such as where I was lucky enough to start in the game of life, luck in biology, and luck in opportunities I was shown—those aren’t the truly magic ingredient. The magic ingredient is what I don’t do. It doesn’t matter what specifically it is that I don’t do; Each of us has to make those decisions for oneself. What does matter is that I am willing to regularly and often spend a prodigious amount of time examining what I am doing, and how I am doing it. And then ruthlessly cutting away things that I should stop doing.
As climbers, we are inventors of our own goals, and must decide on our own how to achieve them. There is nobody else there. Nobody to control. We do extreme, dangerous things, and nobody else can say what is right or wrong. There is no moral loathing. We have only our instincts about human behavior, and in the end we are our own judges.
Second, and maybe more practically, I now think about what I buy on a cost-per-use basis, which lets me account for the replacement cost and lifespan of a product when comparing between products.
Bailey presents some interesting way of thinking about purchases. One idea he presents is that you can think about anything as a subscription service— if you imagine it will be recurring. Toothpaste? …that makes sense; it’s silly to consider the cost of my “subscription” to toothpaste, (but it makes intuitive sense since we know we’re going to buy it over and over.) I’ve often heard about lifestyle creep, where the money we spend expands to meet our paycheck. And one way that happens is by habit development.
I get a pay raise—HA, yeah right… sorry. And I try this new Thai restaurant. It’s a little pricey, but I start going there occasionally, then more often, then… I’m suddenly the largest-by-purchasing-total customer of that business. doh. If instead, I had considered: This $30 meal is a subscription… wait wat. I don’t even get to the part where I try to wonder-out how often I want to eat there. I’m on the maybe-don’t-purchase-it brakes as soon as I combine “$30” and “subscription.”
Bailey also mentions the good old “cost per use” idea, which I use all the time. But just in case that’s new to you, you really need to click through.
What lessons and insights can be gained from exploring podcasting techniques, storytelling, and the challenges of capturing personal narratives?
The challenges of starting a podcast while maintaining authenticity take center stage in this dialogue.
I’ve found it much easier to interview someone I barely know, much harder to interview someone I know really, really well.
~ Elise Smith (20:04)
This conversation centers on the art and technicalities of podcasting, from choosing equipment to crafting meaningful episodes. Elise shares insights into how minimal research can simplify podcast production, emphasizing focusing on impactful storytelling over technical perfection. This approach reflects a desire to balance efficiency and creativity in podcast creation.
The discussion also explores the challenges of finding and interviewing guests, particularly those who have experienced significant turning points in life. Elise highlights how podcasting provides an intimate platform to capture raw, emotional experiences quickly, contrasting the immediacy of podcasting with the long timelines of book writing. Additionally, the dynamics of interviewing strangers versus close acquaintances reveal the complexities of creating content that resonates with listeners while addressing the unique comfort levels of guests.
Takeaways
Finding balance — Producing a podcast with minimal research can increase focus on storytelling.
Interview strategies — Open-ended questions and familiar anecdotes help guests ease into conversations.
All of our digital platforms and systems, from the social media networks we post on every day, to the storage services we rely on to back up our most important files, to the infrastructures that power our digital world economy, are vulnerable to irretrievable data loss. Over time, file formats, applications, and operating systems go obsolete. Legacy systems become impenetrable. The migration of data to new systems risks breaking the chain of information transmission.
Data loss is a tremendous issue. (I’m setting aside the other problem of data which stays around despite our desire for it to go away.) All forms of data storage “rot” in some fashion or another. (Because, entropy.) It’s not so much about our storing data, as it is about our continuously moving data forward to better—which isn’t always the newer or newest technology at hand—storage. Don’t think “data storage,” but rather think “data movage.”
I’ve absolutely mastered the art of wringing maximum utility for me out of all of the data I create. But in terms of post-mortem— well, it seems a lot harder for me to actually care about that, so I’ve ignored it. While I’ve not gotten behind the Permanent Legacy Foundation myself, it is interesting none the less. I sometimes wonder if my slipbox is worth wondering about preserving? …what about my journals? (They could be a treasure trove of research data on mental illness.) …what about the thousands of pages on this blog? …what about my collection of quotes? …physical (slides, prints) or digital photography?