In my previous post, I added an essay that my husband submitted to the Globe and Mail. It was read by an actor and posted as a podcast. Unfortunately, I haven't figured out how to post that essay to my blog.
However, I do have a useful knitting technique video that I would like to post. It describes how to knit with two colours. I'm fascintated by this technique and have done some experimentation. I just learned that I have been knitting slightly wrong. It's great having the internet: since knitting has become something of a lost art (in my family at least), I find it's a perfect resource for learning something new. About half my knitting lore comes from videos I've watched online.Sadly, as I was looking for other podcasts, my old-school computer reminded me why I want to replace it. Any podcast, over a few minutes long, takes ages to upload. At least YouTube doesn't take too long but, then the videos are fairly short. Not sure if that's the reason or not. I'll spend some time going through this assignment some time when I'm using my work computer, or ... when Santa brings me a new computer (please?????)!
I'm pasting the assignment instructions below so I don't lose them.
Assignment #10: Due. Nov. 23/08
1) Explore YouTube & find a video that interests you. Cut & Past the video’s URL into your blog post so we can view your selection too!
2) Check out these Podcast directories and try to find some podcast that might be of use to your organization.
a. Podcast.net
b. Podcastalley.com
c. Yahoo Podcasts
3) Create a blog post about your experiences with the applications you have used today. What did you like or dislike about the sites? Why did you choose the video/ podcast that you did? Can you see any features or components of these tools that might be useful to your organization’s website?
Additional reading:
For more information about podcasts check out Yahoo: What is a podcast tutorial.
Want to create some podcasts of your very own? Check out these sites:
Yahoo: Publish a podcast
Odeo’s Studio – online recording studio.
Beginner’s guide to Podcasts & Creating Podcasts
How to podcast tutorial
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
globeandmail.com: The agony of quitting
globeandmail.com: The agony of quitting
Written by Greg Hood-Morris
Originally published in the Globe and Mail on November 25, 2008
Four. Eight. Twelve. Thirteen. Twenty-six. Thirty-nine.
Six numbers popped into my head while I was sitting on the rock at my father's grave. The stone has a nice and level ergonomic perch. Had it not been chosen in such sad circumstances, it would be a nice place to relax and reflect.
I recently left a job I didn't care for at all.
It hadn't been my intention to remain with the company for so long. It hadn't been my intention to spend any time there at all.
I started on a Monday in July. By that afternoon, I had been given the world's smallest cubicle, a scientific calculator that scared me as I tried to make sense of unknown letter combinations, and access to an ancient green-screen DOS computer application that was another fount of cryptic codes. I decided I would say, "Sorry, I thought this position held more of a communications aspect to it," and try my luck elsewhere.
Then, the next day, I got the phone call. My father had terminal cancer. It was weeks, not months. The man who had just helped me renovate the kitchen of the sturdy old house my wife and I share with our son. The man who, just the week before, had joined me on a 35-kilometre bike ride down a rail trail.
Two months after that call, a small, square marble box holding the corporeal remains of my father sat on the cemetery grounds, waiting to be committed to a burrow beneath the boulder.
All through that time, all through the decompression and adjustment to the new normal that followed, I whiled away the hours in my little cubicle. My work ethic was shattered. The job was wildly unsuitable for me, and the intense sadness I carried around like a silent albatross made for some difficult Monday mornings.
But it's funny. Just before his end, my father wrote letters to the four most precious people in his life. Mine contained a phrase I've been carrying around with me for the past two years.
He wrote, "It's no use working at something all your life that you don't enjoy." He was right — the perspective on life of a dying man is probably the clearest you're going to get.
Do what you enjoy doing, to the best of your abilities. I took that advice and put it on the shelf marked "good advice, for potential use some day."
It fit beside the soundly ignored investment suggestions and the reasons why you shouldn't take up smoking (I quit, but it was tough).
There it sat until this spring, when I decided to make a timeline for myself and my future. I even applied for college, though I knew a return to the shady glades of academia was the last thing I wanted to do. My wife and I started salting money away, no easy task for a young family in an old house. And in July, I sent my manager a letter saying I was returning to school. My last day there would be at the end of August.
The agony of my decision was overwhelming. Was I a good person? A loving dad? A responsible citizen? Responsible people don't walk away from reasonably good incomes. I had never left a job that wasn't superseded by a better one, both in pay and prospects.
But then I drove into the cemetery, past the rows of orderly headstones, and there on the big rock near the back fence I saw his name: Peter Richard Hood-Morris — 1944-2006. The same last name as mine, so familiar and yet so strange when read in the sunshine, engraved on a metal plate. I staggered over and sat down heavily on the rock's comfortable contours. I held my head in my hands and wept.
I decided to clear my head and walk around the cemetery for a while. As I read the names and dates on the headstones, a thought occurred to me, a vague connection to a lyric from the Doors: "No one here gets out alive."
So be it. Sure, things will be tight for a while, but at least I'm taking a chance on using my skills rather than toiling in the drudgery of something I'm not great at or enthusiastic about.
I walked back and sat down on my father's grave rock, seeing his advice through a better perspective. Life is not a rehearsal, and sometimes risks must be taken. But if those risks are undertaken with forethought and clarity then it's a clear and obvious choice.
Four. Eight. Twelve. Thirteen. Twenty-six. Thirty-nine.
The numbers floated in the sunshine in front of the fragrant pine trees. I'm not a great believer in omens, but it seemed too obvious for me not to take those numbers into the nearest variety store and convert them into a lottery ticket.
Then again, I thought as I sat there, maybe it was just my brain throwing up a game to play. Something to distract me from the business at hand, and the alternating currents of despair over my rash decision and sublime smugness for seeing beyond the here and now to the potential of a better future.
That night the lottery numbers were drawn. I won a free ticket.
Greg Hood-Morris lives in Cambridge, Ont.
Illustration by Lori Langille.
Written by Greg Hood-Morris
Originally published in the Globe and Mail on November 25, 2008
Four. Eight. Twelve. Thirteen. Twenty-six. Thirty-nine.
Six numbers popped into my head while I was sitting on the rock at my father's grave. The stone has a nice and level ergonomic perch. Had it not been chosen in such sad circumstances, it would be a nice place to relax and reflect.
I recently left a job I didn't care for at all.
It hadn't been my intention to remain with the company for so long. It hadn't been my intention to spend any time there at all.
I started on a Monday in July. By that afternoon, I had been given the world's smallest cubicle, a scientific calculator that scared me as I tried to make sense of unknown letter combinations, and access to an ancient green-screen DOS computer application that was another fount of cryptic codes. I decided I would say, "Sorry, I thought this position held more of a communications aspect to it," and try my luck elsewhere.
Then, the next day, I got the phone call. My father had terminal cancer. It was weeks, not months. The man who had just helped me renovate the kitchen of the sturdy old house my wife and I share with our son. The man who, just the week before, had joined me on a 35-kilometre bike ride down a rail trail.
Two months after that call, a small, square marble box holding the corporeal remains of my father sat on the cemetery grounds, waiting to be committed to a burrow beneath the boulder.
All through that time, all through the decompression and adjustment to the new normal that followed, I whiled away the hours in my little cubicle. My work ethic was shattered. The job was wildly unsuitable for me, and the intense sadness I carried around like a silent albatross made for some difficult Monday mornings.
But it's funny. Just before his end, my father wrote letters to the four most precious people in his life. Mine contained a phrase I've been carrying around with me for the past two years.
He wrote, "It's no use working at something all your life that you don't enjoy." He was right — the perspective on life of a dying man is probably the clearest you're going to get.
Do what you enjoy doing, to the best of your abilities. I took that advice and put it on the shelf marked "good advice, for potential use some day."
It fit beside the soundly ignored investment suggestions and the reasons why you shouldn't take up smoking (I quit, but it was tough).
There it sat until this spring, when I decided to make a timeline for myself and my future. I even applied for college, though I knew a return to the shady glades of academia was the last thing I wanted to do. My wife and I started salting money away, no easy task for a young family in an old house. And in July, I sent my manager a letter saying I was returning to school. My last day there would be at the end of August.
The agony of my decision was overwhelming. Was I a good person? A loving dad? A responsible citizen? Responsible people don't walk away from reasonably good incomes. I had never left a job that wasn't superseded by a better one, both in pay and prospects.
But then I drove into the cemetery, past the rows of orderly headstones, and there on the big rock near the back fence I saw his name: Peter Richard Hood-Morris — 1944-2006. The same last name as mine, so familiar and yet so strange when read in the sunshine, engraved on a metal plate. I staggered over and sat down heavily on the rock's comfortable contours. I held my head in my hands and wept.
I decided to clear my head and walk around the cemetery for a while. As I read the names and dates on the headstones, a thought occurred to me, a vague connection to a lyric from the Doors: "No one here gets out alive."
So be it. Sure, things will be tight for a while, but at least I'm taking a chance on using my skills rather than toiling in the drudgery of something I'm not great at or enthusiastic about.
I walked back and sat down on my father's grave rock, seeing his advice through a better perspective. Life is not a rehearsal, and sometimes risks must be taken. But if those risks are undertaken with forethought and clarity then it's a clear and obvious choice.
Four. Eight. Twelve. Thirteen. Twenty-six. Thirty-nine.
The numbers floated in the sunshine in front of the fragrant pine trees. I'm not a great believer in omens, but it seemed too obvious for me not to take those numbers into the nearest variety store and convert them into a lottery ticket.
Then again, I thought as I sat there, maybe it was just my brain throwing up a game to play. Something to distract me from the business at hand, and the alternating currents of despair over my rash decision and sublime smugness for seeing beyond the here and now to the potential of a better future.
That night the lottery numbers were drawn. I won a free ticket.
Greg Hood-Morris lives in Cambridge, Ont.
Illustration by Lori Langille.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Knitting In Utero
My favourite projects are usually those that require the shortest attention span. Though I love the process of starting to knit a sweater, I dread finishing them. Maybe it's because I don't want to part with my creations, maybe it's because I love the feel of the yarn between my fingers.However I hate to admit it, I think it's also because I'm afraid I'll be disappointed by the end result. What if it doesn't work? What if I just don't like it? Small projects are great. Success or failure means much less. And, that tea cozy looks great on my teapot. And, hats and scarves are really great gifts. Problem is, I have four sweaters and one blanket in utero.
I can only wonder. Do other knitters have this back log of projects that call out to them? "Finish me!" "No, finish me first!"
Okay, that's just weird. If knitting projects were to call out their to knitters/creators, let's hope they don't squabble.
A project that I'm proud to call my own is a skull and crossbone teacozy that I gave my brother-in-law for his birthday. Currently, I'm working on a complimentary rice cozy. (Shh! Don't tell him.)
Assignment # 9 - Online Applications & Tools
Replacing Microsoft Word? Anything that makes me less dependent on one software supplier makes me happy. I'm feeling a little too dependent on the giant Microsoft corp for my liking! Bring it on.
Well, I've tried Zoho Writer and I'm disappointed. It's nice to add smiley faces and be able to change the font. When I tried to import a photo and then post to my blog - horrors! - the picture floated into the middle of my banner. Thankfully, it disappeared when I deleted the post. So, perhaps I need to do some more experimentation.
Nonetheless, I am impressed and the above post discussing my knitting hang-ups ~ minus the photo which I uploaded using this old Blogger tool ~was completely written in Zoho. Looking forward to playing some more.
Well, I've tried Zoho Writer and I'm disappointed. It's nice to add smiley faces and be able to change the font. When I tried to import a photo and then post to my blog - horrors! - the picture floated into the middle of my banner. Thankfully, it disappeared when I deleted the post. So, perhaps I need to do some more experimentation.
Nonetheless, I am impressed and the above post discussing my knitting hang-ups ~ minus the photo which I uploaded using this old Blogger tool ~was completely written in Zoho. Looking forward to playing some more.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Assignment # 8 - Wiki resources
I am intrigued by Meatball - as found from reading FrontPage. I find FrontPage difficult; after reading a conversation between more highly technical individuals than myself, I find I only understand half of what they're on about. Perhaps that's the point of wikis, is that they serve their community and, since I am not part of their community, I can't add value. I need to find a wiki that's closer to my needs.
Meatball is a community of active practitioners striving to teach each other how to organize people using online tools. Members here are either community managers or are building supporting tools; MeatballOutreach lists some of our affiliated projects. We gather here in a spirit of BarnRaising, exchanging help when needed, mostly by teaching each other.
Meatball, on the other hand, is interesting because it sets itself as a resource for groups setting up their own on-line community. Their opening statement is very welcoming:
Meatball is a community of active practitioners striving to teach each other how to organize people using online tools. Members here are either community managers or are building supporting tools; MeatballOutreach lists some of our affiliated projects. We gather here in a spirit of BarnRaising, exchanging help when needed, mostly by teaching each other. BarnRaising is exactly what we need to do to create enough impetus to start an internal, or local wiki resource.
At work, sometimes we don't have all the answers: as much as we'd love to, it's not possible using our currently resources. Since I fear redundancy, I think a wiki might be the answer. If all the staff at Lutherwood had the ability to update an internal wiki, we'd be one step closer to knowing everything! The next logical step, as I see it, would be to create a community services wiki that anyone in the community would have access to modify. After speaking with the client, I would search the community wiki to find a possible service match.
Could this lead to information overload? I hope not. It would make our resource centre more resourceful. Also, it would stop me from having to google for information that I might not find - or if I do, it's often out-of-date.
WatStart Wiki is a refreshingly, user-friendly wiki. It's also easy to read and easy on the eyes... especially after reading the dense comments in FrontPage. However, it doesn't seem to have much participation: few comments, many comments are a year old, and some sections are still blank. Perhaps the community did not find much value here.
Mfagan wiki is dangerous for those of us who enjoy learning about our physical surroundings. This is a serious time waster. That being said, I really enjoyed visiting this wiki. It might also prove more useful than mapquest or google maps. I particularly like the Waterloo Region Locator map: 
Though I see many uses for a wiki, there are two issues. One, is abuse or neglect, of the content. If you don't have a strong community that will participate in the wiki, there is no point to it's existence. If members of the community post misleading or incorrect information, this too can be dangerous. The community must be self-monitoring and aware of this issue to keep moving forward.
The second issue is information overload. Concise information is crucial. Say it once, clearly. Create a good search engine and organize the topics carefully. This too is important for the flow of the ever-accumulating list of things I think I should know.
Then again, I do tend to go on a bit. Practise what you preach, eh?
Monday, November 10, 2008
Assignment #7 - part 2
What does Web 2.0 Mean For Your Nonprofit? is a simplistic article that is apparently aimed at the lay reader who doesn't understand the concept overly well. This is a good thing.
A couple of years ago, I was sitting in a team meeting for a small non-profit. Our newest staff member was discussing the possibility of a blog. I think he was the only one who understood what he was talking about - I certainly didn't. Perhaps it was a shame because we could've got on the band wagon that much sooner. Then again, maybe not; as a small non-profit, we didn't have the resources (read staff, hours in the day, money) to consistently update a blog. However, we did send out emails to a readership that informed community members of large info sessions. These emails would have been perfect blog fodder.
But, would the blog have been ignored and left to become out-of-date? For this reason, I am relieved we didn't blog at the time. Now, if we only had more resources...
Speaking of which, an amazing link that this article gave me is http://www.marketingsherpa.com/. From here, I found a link with articles discussing non-profit fundraising.
This is not my job; and yet, I will always have a soft-spot for raising funds for good causes. I came across a most inspirational and incredible link at this point: http://my.barackobama.com/YesWeCanvideo. It's a 4-minute long song and video that gives back to the donor, long after they have already agreed to give. This video has now been circulated and enjoyed by millions and the simple message at the end is VOTE. No wonder he won the election.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Assignment #7 - part 1
Well, I was hoping to be caught up by now. However, as life will have it, I'm still playing catch-up. 
I think the Library 2.0 name, in retrospect, has been helpful in getting people to talk about looking at public (mostly) library service in a new way..... At a library in which I worked in the early 1980s, the director (in her 70s at that time) had for years assessed the community, formally and informally. We bought popular materials. We assigned our own call numbers, not blindly using those assigned by another library (including, to respond to local demand, a system of classifying classic fiction in the literature section, along with criticism of the author and biographies of the author–with one copy in fiction). Imagine–2 copies of a book with 2 different call numbers to make things easier for customers! We also clipped reviews and glued them in books (which customers loved) and encouraged customers to write brief reviews on a page tipped into the book. None of that involves technology, but it all encourages a feeling of community at the library and responded to real need and interest of the library users.
Library 2.0 is a new concept to me. And yet, when I took a look at my own library, I found it complete with a blog: www2.cambridgelibraries.ca/blog. I particularly liked this Halloween pic. Is the librarian standing in the Sci/Fi stacks?
I'm not sure I followed everything that was discussed in the article The essence of Library 2.0 by Meredith Farkas. Perhaps it's because I didn't take/have the time to read John Blyberg’s post, Library 2.0 Debased. (One of these days.) However, I can fully appreciate the concept of losing one's way with technology. Starting a project where the resources and the will-power are not available to continue. There are too many "ghost-towns" of websites that were abandoned or ignored by their creators. Many businesses and non-profits grabbed hold of the internet not knowing what they were getting into. The cost of maintaining and developing a web site can be overwhelming - especially for those who need a web site to communicate a complex message.
I also like Farkas' assertion that libraries should be, "Believing in our users - trusting them, listening to them, giving them a role in helping to define library services for the future." This is what all public services should aim for. Using technology - or not - should be determined by public's need. I wonder how my library decides what services to offer? Hmmm... something to research.
I also particularly liked a comment from this post:
Dale Says: January 25th, 2008 at 7:35 am
I think the Library 2.0 name, in retrospect, has been helpful in getting people to talk about looking at public (mostly) library service in a new way..... At a library in which I worked in the early 1980s, the director (in her 70s at that time) had for years assessed the community, formally and informally. We bought popular materials. We assigned our own call numbers, not blindly using those assigned by another library (including, to respond to local demand, a system of classifying classic fiction in the literature section, along with criticism of the author and biographies of the author–with one copy in fiction). Imagine–2 copies of a book with 2 different call numbers to make things easier for customers! We also clipped reviews and glued them in books (which customers loved) and encouraged customers to write brief reviews on a page tipped into the book. None of that involves technology, but it all encourages a feeling of community at the library and responded to real need and interest of the library users.
These are great ideas about bringing together people and books with technology playing little or no role. Technology has a place ... but it's not the answer to all our problems. Thanks Dale.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
