My Essential Technology

A response to an assignment for a Psychology and Technology course:

I think that, if I had to think about it (and I do), I would have to say that my Apple MacBook Pro probably has done the most to redefine the way that I think about my "self." For the purposes of this blogpost, my "self" includes "my thoughts, emotions, and behaviors that distinguish me from those around me." It has changed the way I think about myself perhaps in exactly all of the ways Apple once intended their products to define their consumers: as a rebel, a freethinker, a--I'm not being serious. 

Realistically, however, I do think that the computer is used as a tie to how I define myself as a creator, not just a mundane worker. I define myself as someone who is open-minded, creative, friendly, and driven. I think that my computer reflects that. I suppose this makes this piece of technology more of a reinforcement of who I like to represent myself as more than something that changed the way I think about myself. It defines my "self" as the type person as which I'd like to be defined.

My MacBook Pro is a platform of creativity. It allows seamless photograph editing, graphic designing, video editing, creative writing, etc. It's also a platform for entertainment (movies, music, etc.) And it is never slowed by my endeavors, unlike countless other computers I've tried in the past. It is designed well, and that makes a difference to me. We all want our technology to look good (maybe I'm generalizing).

I'm able to work from home on school and employment projects (behavior modification). I'm able to do more things now than I was capable prior to its purchase--many of which are school/work related. Although I try not to let it, I can't help but sometimes allow it to make me feel proud, as if I've done my research and come out on top because of it. I have never (knock on wood) had a problem in the four years I've had my computer. However, time and again I overhear friends, family, strangers, classmates discuss how horrible Apple is--and Macs and the like. Soon, though, I find they always end up with some wretched computer malfunction: virus, slow/bogging performance, improper operation, "necessary" hard drive reformatting. And it is at that point, that this expensive collection of metal and tiny elements makes me feel smug. What a punk I've become.

Where did this thing come from? Although Apple has an 1,800 employee production plant in Elk Grove, California, my MacBook Pro was most likely manufactured by Shanghai, China where most are produced. A Senior Hardware Engineer at Apple makes a bit over $125,000.00 a year but that's just one of many positions that could've had a hand in my MacBook Pro, and likely a gaudy amount compared with the factory workers in Shanghai. Reports estimate that a $999.00 MacBook Air costs about $718.00 to produce (in 2010). With that math in mind, an $1,899.00 MacBook Pro would be around $1,300.00 to produce.

The working conditions at Apple are pretty impeccable "on campus." At Apple campuses, there are few if any HR complaints, excellent health benefits, access to their latest and greatest products, excellent dining options, and it's pretty to boot. However, not as much can be said for the factories abroad. Reports of poor working conditions and workers on strike don't exactly live up to the Apple reputation.

Dare I say I love this machinery? I don't. But I'm endlessly impressed by it. And I have an appreciation for each of the hands that went into its creation in some manner. A creation that drives creation. How absolutely wonderful.

All Ebb and No Flow

There's a lot of funny jokes people tell you when you have a new baby or are about to have a new baby. Oh, well, I guess its advice, but it always sounds like jokes to me- just funny little blurbs that have been passed on and on about how to handle the impending trauma called parenthood.

Newborns are a lot of work, and if you didn't know that, I'm honestly not sure where you're coming from. Maybe you're a person who's an only child and only been around babies or children once or twice in your life when you've gone to buy something at a store near a playground where you watch the peaceful newborns being strolled and swung. I envy your perception, if that's the case. Anyway, everyone (else) knows newborns come with a lot of grief but the payoff is that they're cute as hell (after the initial swollen, weird alien phase), they're growing and learning from you, and whether they're your own, a friend's, a relative, a little part of you is shaping a little part of them. That's beautiful. That's the awesome cycle of life.

There's this good piece of advice people give you when you're first starting out, though. You're new to parenting, you've just given birth (or gone through some crazy adoption process), you've added a new life (and all the needs that go with it) to your own life (and needs). You're really just exhausted. So people tell you, "It's really important that you sleep when the baby sleeps."

Sleep when the baby sleeps? I understand this because trust me, from experience, the amount of sleep you get can GREATLY affect the kind of person you're going to be that day. So in order to take care of yourself and give a full strength go at good parenting, you should be well-rested. But I kept thinking when I had Ellbot, when the hell do I get all the other stuff done.

I'm not talking about housework, cooking, studying, philanthropical outreach, or anything like that. I'm talking about a shower, eating, and clearing a path to the couch. Now she's 7-months-old and I'm back full-force in school. I'm constantly thinking when is there going to be balance. She naps less now, and it seems like there's more to do (especially now that the post-partum pity is gone.)

So right now, I don't sleep. "Sleep when the baby sleeps," doesn't cut it. She naps less, and what little time that's worth I use to jump in the shower when I forgot to that morning or eat the forgotten breakfast-lunch (not brunch.) So the only time I can get any schoolwork/housework done is after 9:30p. Then, it's up in the morning at 6a. I'm exhausted.

So as I tell her daily, thank god Ellbow is beautiful and awesome. Otherwise, I think I'd crack.

Interpreting a Wide Wide World

From her growing book collection, I try to read my six-month-old daughter a story everyday whether it is a whole "baby" book or a chapter from an "older reader" book. Recently, I've been reading (and rereading) The Poky Little Puppy by Janette Sebring Lowrey and illustrated by Gustaf Tenggren. It was a thoughtful gift given to her over the holidays by some close friends.

I have heard of this story many times. Being one of the twelve original Little Golden Books, it’s quite a popular story. It wasn’t until my daughter received it, however, that I realized I had never actually read the book. So as I read it aloud to my wide-eyed daughter for the first time, it was new to both of us. It was an exciting journey into imaginative storytelling that I was excited to take.

At the end of the story, I closed the cardboard cover, and it was released into the tiny round fingers of my daughter’s little hands. She took it, and as I watched her gnaw on the golden corner, I realized I had no idea what the message of the book was. What did I just try to impress upon a six-month-old? It’s difficult to impress tangible and clear facts upon the child such as, “This bowl is hot,” let alone an ambiguous moral lesson.

One would think that, being such a classic children’s story, it would be fun, maybe rhyme, and of course have a lucid moral insight or poignant message nestled in its jolly text and playful imagery. Nevertheless, there I sat going over the words in my head. I pried the book from her tiny fingers and tiny jaw and looked it over. I remembered it all correctly. So what was it trying to say or teach?

For those of you who have forgotten or are less familiar with the story, let me refresh your memories. In the story, there is a family of five puppies and a mother. The five puppies set out to explore the “wide, wide world,” day after day, digging a hole under the fence as they go. The mother scolds the puppies for digging a hole under the fence and sends them to bed, dessert-less. The poky puppy, however, lags behind the others, noticing scents, sounds, and sights that the other puppies overlook. The first two days, the four puppies race home to dessert that the poky puppy traces, only to be scolded for the hole they dug. The poky puppy toddles home later, lapping up the entirety of the desserts.

On the third day, the same events take place; except when the puppies are scolded, they repair the damage to the fence area and are rewarded with dessert after all. The poky puppy, however, misses out because he was lagging behind, as usual.

You see, my confusion was born from the biggest inconsistency in the story. It’s easy to trace the lesson the four other puppies face. They should’ve listened to their mother. They didn’t; so they were punished. The poky puppy, however, gets rewarded twice for being poky then punished the third time. What’s the lesson here?  Since that first reading, I’ve read the story many times. I think I’ve figured it out.

The poky puppy is poky, yes, but through his pokiness, he is also an observer of the wide, wide world around him. He picks up on the sights, sounds, and scents that the others overlook. There’s merit in that; there are perks, and thus rewards (desserts). One should be ever observant of the world surrounding. Take pleasure in tiny details. Explore every curiosity. The puppy is enjoying life in every facet—every beautiful feature around him. One might also ascertain that the four others are punished in their disregard for their surroundings, their neglect for detail and attention.

Then arises a dilemma. Why then is the poky puppy punished in the end? That’s where I’d be stuck, time and again. Although in his pokiness the puppy becomes an observer, an absorbent sponge soaking up the sensory stimuli of the wide, wide world, he does so carelessly. He disregards the companionship of his siblings, and the battle of the hole under the fence seems to not even include him. He is disconnected from his role in his family.

In short, it is good to be poky and to observe the details that surround. It is good to extract enjoyment from every facet of life. However, one can be poky to a fault. In realizing the minute elements that one encounters, one can forget all about the wide, wide world.