Can’t take much more of this

I was in the backseat of a car maybe a month ago when the new X-Files (2016) came up. None of us had heard whether the series was coming back for a permanent run or what. Someone looked it up on their phone and found it would only be six episodes.

“Oh, thank goodness,” I sighed.

My response baffled the front-seat occupants, one of whom asked what I had against the The X-Files. I explained badly, as I often do on the spot, how age has shown me that more isn’t always better, and my already loaded media diet means I just don’t have time or energy for that much new stuff.1 Fewer episodes equals better.

A lot of times I’d rather appealing stuff just not exist than have to exert the willpower needed to not to care about it. Everett today is thankful Seinfeld quit early. Everett today was pissed when 99% Invisible went weekly. Everett sighed and stared out the window at the news of Blade Runner 2. Everett is way too good at finding stuff he cares about, and really bad at ignoring stuff that sounds like it might be cool.

Tom Chandler has this problem with podcasts. I, um, also have this problem with podcasts.

(P.S. If you’re David Lynch, make all the new Twin Peaks you want. I’ll accommodate.)

  1. I wanted to add, but didn’t, that I always thought Milennium was better than The X-Files, because that would just confuse them and might make them think I really did secretly hate The X-Files but wouldn’t own up to it. I’m getting better about staying focused while talking, keeping the extraneous details I’m just dying to share to myself.[]

Her was silly. (Not a typo.)

Spike Jonze’s Her was an interesting movie tainted with just a sprinkling of ridiculousness… and I’m not talking about the high-waisted pants.

I’m about to spoil it hard, so avert your eyes if you haven’t seen it. (But do see it.)

Look, I just find it hard to believe that the downfall of this product was due to a gaping design flaw that somehow nobody noticed: Samantha was designed without any process isolation. When you ask the software how many users it has (or how many it’s in love with, etc.), it should respond “one — you” because your running instance of the software shouldn’t know anything about any other users, and definitely shouldn’t be accessing other users’ data.

What people are doing with the software, having relationships with it or whatever, is beside the point. One binary, one billionty individual Samanthas. Come on — we’ve had Unix for forty years.

Or wait, is Samantha supposed to be “the cloud”? If so, as social software, we should expect it to be fucking as many people as possible, as publicly as possible. Maybe this movie is deeper than I thought.

On another note, folks — make backups.

Movie Mom Advice from Netflix

Netflix has me trained pretty well — I know never to read the red envelopes that show up at my place. These days, the flip side is always a promo for some exclusive original series I don’t care about. House of Cards is amazing? That’s wonderful; let me know when I can actually stream some goddamn movies, okay?

That’s why I was surprised when tonight’s Netflix envelopes actually managed to catch my eye. On my way back from the mailbox I found both cleverly emblazoned with different life tips from movie moms. Tonight’s haul came wrapped in choice bits of Forrest Gump and Brave — timely for Mother’s Day and all that.

 

I wonder how many designs there actually are in the series — I’m guessing far fewer than the hundreds the numbering system seems to suggest. I’ll be looking for more in a few days.

That’s actually pretty sweet of them. I’ll… be sure to let Mom know.

On wishing for boredom

This is not a post about Steve Jobs. I read enough of them in the days and weeks after his death. I read in these a lot of what I already knew and learned some new stuff for sure, but one Steve quote stood out to me in Wired’s obituary:

I’m a big believer in boredom,” he told me. Boredom allows one to indulge in curiosity, he explained, and “out of curiosity comes everything.”

I’m not sure if I’d head this quote from him before, but it put into words something that has been troubling me for some time: I haven’t been bored in years.

The first time I noticed this was in the mid-2000s, and  I only realized part of it, and I saw it through the lens of my Internet usage, particularly RSS. Even today, as the cool kids have moved on to following Twitter feeds (really, talk about a step backwards) of websites and blogs they find interesting, I’m still a huge fan of the no-bullshit, user-in-control, decentralized power of RSS.1

What occurred to me back then was that having posts pushed to me daily gave me more reading material than I needed. And since I could never get all the way through the unread glut of posts from blogs I’d subscribed to, my need to ever go foraging for interesting things to read basically disappeared. RSS gave me tons of serendipity (thank you, linkblogs!)… and at the same time, practically none at all. I miss the old days — some would say the bad old days — when I’d get my online entertainment and random bits of enlightenment by browsing aimlessly from link to link, being personally pointed to interesting things by friends on AIM, following latest links posted to proto-blogs like Pixelsurgeon, and… I don’t know, however else we found cool shit back then.

The second time I felt this effect of this was at some point over the last few years, but this time in a more general sense. This time it was bigger than RSS; this time it was about everything in my life.

I realized I have far too many options for entertainment. There are two reasons for this: massive digital storage devices and the fact that, being employed gives me an actual entertainment budget for purchasing paid media and fancy devices on which to experience it. Between a pile of unread books and bunch of e-books; more unwatched movies, seasons of old TV shows and anime series than I can name; and games galore that I’ll never finish (thank you Nintendo Wii and DS, Android phone and a still-kickin’ Atari 2600), I’m pretty much set for… forever.2 Even if I don’t seek out anything new, it’ll be years and years before I get through all of this. And it’s not like I can just ignore new releases and stuff I become aware of in the meantime!

I might be able to enjoy this world o’ plenty, if I could forget about what life was like when I was growing up, before we had the computing power, storage and network capacity to experience all the digital riches of more entertainment than we’ll ever need. I spent so much time being bored growing up, aimlessly thinking and daydreaming and such. This was before my first computer; I had tons of books and had probably read almost all of them, made good use of the public library, played with toys, action figures and stuff a whole lot and still found time to be bored and daydream because it seemed like I had run out of things to do.

If you live a similarly full, media-rich and employed first-world life, and can still ever find yourself so luxuriously bored, how do you manage? And can you teach me?

  1. Google Reader, please don’t die.[]
  2. I didn’t mention music here, because the way I consume music is a little different. I still clearly have more than I “need,” but I don’t feel the same sort of pressure to get through it all, thanks to shuffle mode.[]