[Written by my friend N. Scott]
Our office stands on wooden stilts,
overlooking a small lot of gently used cars.
All were garaged—and are one-owner vehicles,
if anyone asks.
At lunch we eat pulled pork sandwiches with beans,
listening to Rodney Dangerfield rant about the
respect we want more than money.
And Alonzo’s laughter puts pirates to shame.
Every night, the dark flash
of one elusive mouse across the living room floor.
There is no sense in a hunt, a capture,
a slaughter or release; just go in peace,
I say, and he/she winks at me,
crawls into a backpack against the wall.
It’s good to make new friends in fall.
I am quoting an NP song with this title, but it applies to the way I feel about my thesis. First of all, am supremely grateful for the assistance of my classmates, professors, DD, industry people and old and new friends for trying to help me navigate the murky waters of a thesis topic selection.
I am teetering between something strategic/interesting/political that would likely enable me to pursue employment with the EU (a case study on a UK e-gov/m-gov cross-platform model that has increased engagement to digitally divided populations) and something fun that draws on my multimedia and activist background (ubiquitous video and the redefinition of the public realm, as RG has termed it), which would look at the political impact of user videos shot from mobile devices and distributed online (for activist purposes or political documentation or whatever else) but which would also potentially pigeon-hole me into a lifetime of further work with iNGOs. Turns out it’s a lot easier to come up with a cool name for your imaginary thesis than actual research questions and theoretical frameworks.
If I freak out, I can always return to my original idea of measuring user perception of new m-parking initiatives in San Francisco. But that might be, as Abhi says, “really boring.” Also I have to do a presentation on my final idea in two weeks. Which, in the grand scheme of my MIT life, is the equivalent of two hours. But I am still grateful for those two hours, and all the people who haven’t completely given up on my intellectual abilities. Yet.
I made this for my friend P.’s company, since they helped set up my trip around rural villages and covered the muy caro import taxes on my new camera. The legit documentary video I’m working on will offer more detailed and objective critique; this just serves as an introduction to the goals of the project, from the telecom’s perspective.
So I finally got around to redoing my original site, tapiocaproductions.com, and turned it into a photo gallery. I’ve used a great free gallery template called Inexhibit to build it. Big fan of Indexhibit. Needless to say, DD also redid his site with it: noparticularplace.net. Seek and find.
I made the big time: my hastily-written Peru article on wireless internet in rural areas is now cross-posted on my director Henry Jenkin’s blog. Read it and weep. Or, you know, get bored and do something else.
Not a whole lot to report. Hung out with Ryry tonight and watched his show at the (new) House of Blues, in an exclusive room where the walls were lined with fragments from Indian garments and where his brother and I discussed the merits of singing karaoke in the suburbs.
Commence unorganized updates: Classes begin again next week. There is so much video footage I still have to edit, all in Spanish, and so much of it I don’t understand. The hot days are gone. I think I’ll see rural Vermont this weekend. I’ve been going to bed later and later every night, nearly dawn sometimes, and every night I go to sleep excited about the chocolate loaf cake I will eat the next morning with blueberries, and every morning I wake up a little sad that I can’t lift my head and glance out the window at the sprawling Pacific (sigh, Lima) and the colorful buildings that lead to it. Sometimes I lift my head anyway and look back, even though there’s just a green wall. Kind of like trying to scratch a leg that’s been amputated. Also I still carry tissues in my bag just in case I have to pee on the side of the road. Full disclosure.
Hello, autumn. It’s about time you arrived.