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Bugging

I spend a small amount of my job creating bug reports for the software that I document. Most of the bugs that I create involve faulty screen text that the mostly foreign-born software testers and developers don’t pick up on. Engineers, bless ’em, just don’t see a difference between “Inspected Date” and “Inspection Date.” They’re not bothered by a single dollar figure called “Total Costs.” Email, E-Mail, E-mail, and EMail look exactly the same to them.
Bugs involving user interface nuances are regarded as nit-picky and low priority. My mentality is: how can clients trust our software’s core functionality when they’re distracted by our wildly inconsistent use of the terms “add” and “create?”
I won’t hold back on logging bugs for spelling and grammar mistakes, but inconsistent capitalization is one offense that I’ve laid off so not as to incur too much wrath. Today’s bug of the day – “ID, not Id” – was an exception.
“Bug Description: The ID field is displaying on the user interface as ‘Id’, not ‘ID.’ ‘ID’ is a means of identification. ‘Id’ is the part of the psyche, residing in the unconscious, that is the source of instinctive impulses that seek satisfaction in accordance with the pleasure principle and are modified by the ego and the superego before they are given overt expression. Which would you rather code?”

Posted in The 9 to 5.

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By Meredith – July 26, 2007

Nixon Grade School

A study of public school names in 7 states has found that it is increasingly rare for schools to be named for a president or other person, and much more common to choose a natural feature or an animal. The researchers recommend further examination of how school names contribute to public education’s civic mission.
One startling finding: Of the 3,000 public schools in Florida, 5 honor George Washington, while 11 emulate manatees. Yes, the founding father of our country has been humbled by the sea cow. (Check out Manatee High School. You’d think their mascot would be a no-brainer, but they’re the Manatee Hurricanes. Brilliant.)
A Washington Post article lists the names of Northern Virginian schools that have opened in the past decade, including Colonial Forge, Forest Park, Mountain View, Riverbend, and Stone Bridge. One citizen committee considered honoring Barbara Bush or former governor Mills E. Godwin, but decided on Forest Park because “Next to the park. Not offending anyone. Not controversial.”
Of course “Nixon Grade School” is not an appropriate moniker for anything besides a punk band, and “Clinton High School” insinuates the punch line of a dirty joke, but if all of our public figures are that polemic, then maybe school names that sound suspiciously like residential communities are indicative of a larger problem. Is the fabric of our society so porous… are our values and morals so scattered… are we so busy worshipping Paris Hilton that we cannot agree on our children’s heroes and role models?
Perhaps branding plays a large part in the trend. Pretty soon public schools will tap into their latent marketing muscle to sound as uncontroversial and bland as possible: Sunny Schoolhouse. Bright Acerage. Ritalin Academy. Brainy Pastures. The Benign School.
Me, I went to Methacton High School in the eponymous school district. Yep, just a good, old-fashioned Indian public school name that has long ceased to look or sound strange to me. Supposedly, “Methacton” is a Lenape word that means “evil hill,” which succintly sums up the public school experience for me. In college, a friend didn’t believe that my school was called Methacton. “It sounds like a designer drug,” he said. “I think I took some methacton last night.”

Posted in Americana.

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By Meredith – July 25, 2007

London’s Flooding

Areas of southern and central England are paralyzed by severe floodwaters after receiving 2 months’ worth of rain in one day. A number of towns, including parts of London, have flood warnings in effect through tonight as the rivers continue to rise. This is England’s second public emergency this summer caused by a deluge of rain. (Boy, I admire those Brits. Note how they use the swanky word “deluge” in news articles, whereas the American media relies on the term “flood” and makes repeated, pointed references to Noah’s Arc.)
Hundreds of thousands of residents are currently affected by the loss of services such as tap water and electricity, with officials warning that it could be weeks until the water supply is restored. Entire communities are being evacuated, the trains are not running, and individual horror stories are mounting. “I went out yesterday morning for a latte, to be told it couldn’t happen as the Wiseman dairy was under water,” reports a journalist in Gloucestershire. A hotelier reports that rising waters forced people to spend the night at the hotel.
Hm. The famous British stiff upper lip can weather bombs and terrorism, but apparently dissolves in water faster than a Wham Bar. How can the country that would not bow to Hitler be humbled by 19th century drainage infrastructure?

Posted in In the News.

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By Meredith – July 24, 2007

Gone Fishing

Or something spiritually-akin to fishing, like sleeping.
Allow me to revise my previous declaration: “Gone Sleeping.”

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By Meredith – July 24, 2007

Just Wild About Harry

When people ask me if I’m into Harry Potter, I say “No, I’m not a fan of fantasy.” Which is absolutely true, but a more complete truth would be “No, I’m too much of a snob. I consider indiscriminate mass-marketing to have a high correlation with crap quality. Media sensations tend to be juvenile, intellectually unstimulating, and devoid of anything offensive. It’s just not interesting to me.” But I can’t say that, because I’m really, really trying to be less of a prick.
I read one Harry Potter book and saw one Harry Potter movie. Coincidentally, it was the same one : Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. When I went to go see the movie, I didn’t realize at first that it was the same book I had read. Oh, yeah. The Quidditch World Cup. The Triwizard Tournament. Heh.
Since my experience with Harry Potter is limited, I’ll take it on faith that it’s a worthwhile pursuit. Faith, and the New York Times, who in a generally positive pre-release review of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows called the series a “monumental, spellbinding epic… deeply rooted in traditional literature and Hollywood sagas”. (I’ll suppress the urge to snidely remind adult fans that it’s a children book written on a fifth-grade reading level.)
But regardless of any literary merits, it’s obvious that what fans love most is the ritualistic hooplah surrounding each book’s release. The anticipation. The speculation. The late-night release. The frenzied, sleepless devouring of its pages. When you’re a Harry Potter fan, you’re not just some nerd with a book. You’re apart of a huge community of nerds with the same book.
It’s difficult for me to reconcile this public frenzy with the solitary act of reading. When I read a Washington Post article called ‘Harry Potter and the Death of Reading” all my niggling dislike of Harry Potter became crystallized. To me, reading is slinking around a library or book store looking for an interesting book. Reading is curling up under the bed covers with a book propped on my stomach. Reading is a temporary escape to a private world that I like to pretend that I discovered.

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By Meredith – July 19, 2007

A Meal Fit for a Bush: Cheeseburger Pizza and the Decline of the American Empire

Emboldened by the commutation of Scooter Libby’s prison sentence and Bush’s evident nonchalance about leaks within his flailing administration, White House chef Cristeta Comerford stood before an international gathering of chefs for statesmen and royals and let it slip: President Bush’s favorite meal is… Cheeseburger Pizza.

Cheeseburger. Pizza.

My brain short-circuited, conjuring a slideshow of culinary monstrosities: white buns bloated with beef patties and dripping mozzarella, or two limp slices of pizza sandwiching a puck of meat, or, most viscerally, a post-coaster pool of half-digested cheeseburgers and pizza, mingling in vomitous union beneath a rollercoaster.

Comerford, a trained and credentialed chef who broke glass ceilings just by entering the White House kitchen, tried to maintain her dignity. She described the dish, with all the seriousness of haute cuisine, as “every ingredient of a cheeseburger on top of a margherita pizza.” That poor woman. Whipping out the word margherita in an attempt to elevate what is essentially ground beef dumped on dough for a grown man with the palate of a lunchbox-carrying third grader.

A bit of research revealed the dish’s origin: the 2005 season of The Apprentice, where it was marketed by none other than Donald Trump and Domino’s as the “American Classic Cheeseburger Pizza.” Classic. Sure. It’s a real pillar of our national culinary heritage, like Kraft Singles or dipping fries in a Frosty.

So no, I’m not surprised that Bush’s childlike intellect is fueled by Cheeseburger Pizza rather than anything involving flavor complexity or fiber. I’d already read excerpts from former White House chef Walter Scheib’s memoir, Eleven Years, Two Presidents, One Kitchen, and it was no secret: the Bush family’s tastes were about as evolved as a drive-thru menu.

And just a thought: perhaps the man who refuses to eat hummus because it’s “icky” should not be allowed to make historic decisions about the Middle East.

Posted in In the News, migrated.

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By Meredith – July 18, 2007

I Scream for I Scream

I spent the day researching enterprise document management systems (DMS). I can’t decide what is scarier: Reading the system requirements and installation directions for the open source projects on SourceForge, or looking at the stock corporate photos of insanely smiling people on the web sites of proprietary software.
It was one of those days: Under the scorching heat of a mid-summer’s haze, I lift a fully-loaded waffle cone of vanilla soft serve above my head and bite off the tip. Smoldered soft-serve drips onto my tongue as steady as an IV. Then, the deluge. My face is covered in my own sugary brazenness. Yes, it was one of those metaphorically silly sticky days.

Posted in The 9 to 5.

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By Meredith – July 17, 2007

30 Minute Train Poetry: She Runs in Heels

“She Runs in Heels”

All manners ignored, all poise indiscrete,

a bun-haired corporate valkyrie on Congress Street

Bolts past the midday crowds on hobbled feet.

Her legs pumping as steady as wheels,

Her steps unthrottled as she runs in heels.

Taunt calf muscles clad in panty hose

Clench with each impact of heel and toes,

then a pause for the body to recompose.

Powered by Cosmo-sanctioned 400 calorie meals,

The world stops to watch her running in heels.

Pedestrians scan for the source of sound:

The clack clack, click click feminine pound

That signals a woman perched four inches above ground.

The head of a construction worker reels

to stare at her skirt as she runs in heels.

And her porcelain face yields no clue

About what goal she is propelled to pursue

In the world’s most impractical shoe.

The intrigue of it all! I’m dying to feel

The sublime confinement of running in heels.

–Meredith Green P

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By Meredith – July 16, 2007

Mt Adams 5774′ July 15 2007

During the last mile of our 9.5 mile day hike to the summit of Mount Adams, Mr. Pinault turned to me and crowed “Mt. Adams is in the pocket!”
“In the pocket” is one of many French idioms that bares a strong, almost deliberate resemblance to its English counterpart, “in the bag.” Normally I would have grabbed a tree branch which which to fashion a switch and whipped Mr. Pinault while shouting “In the bag! Say it, in the bag!” It’s the only way he’ll learn colloquial English. But it was Bastille Day, so I magnanimously ignored his foible and agreed with his sentiment. “Yes, another Four Thousand Footer has been pocketed!”
Rewind:
Mount Adams (elevation 5774) is the second tallest mountain in the Northeast (its neighbor Mount Washington is the tallest ). The first 2 1/2 hours were a steady climb on the Air Line trail through the woods. When we finally reached the “Stop” sign, we knew good views lay ahead above the treeline. The weather was kind: blue skies with a few clouds, fresh air, no wind. Mr. Pinault was elated that we were not going to die.









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By Meredith – July 15, 2007

I Feel Fine

More than a few months ago, I got an email from a young lady in Illinois about this website. It was very flattering and it ended with a vague request for “Any advice for my blog?” So I checked out her blog, which turned out to be an online diary of anguished emotion and teenaged narcissism. Each day featured no less than 1000 words about how she was feeling. Literally, it was like “I am feeling incredibly sad. I feel sadder today than yesterday. I thought I’d feel better if I talked to Tara. So I called Tara but she made me feel upset. Maybe I will feel happy if I smiled more. I feel scared about how I will feel tomorrow.”
And on and on. I wanted to advise her “Don’t torture the reader with daily updates on your mundane activities and emotions. Don’t write a lot if you’re not saying anything.” But being blunt to strangers isn’t my thing, so I said instead “Wow you’re really prolific and sincere. Try re-reading what you write, and imagine how what your readers are feeling.”
I never heard back from the young lady and her blog wasn’t updated the last time I checked, but I thought of her as I played around with We Feel Fine (here), a Java applet that “harvests human feelings,” which sounds creepy in a City of the Lost Children sort of way. We Feel Fine searches millions of blogs for statements containing the phrases “I feel” and “I am feeling” and compiles a database of these statements. When you go to the website, you can explore recent feelings, which are rendered as color-coded particles on a series of six aesthetically-pleasing user interfaces.
At first, I admired We Feel Fine more for its technical and artistic coolness than for its mission, which is to “make the world seem a little smaller… help people see beauty in the everyday ups and downs of life.” Yeah, mushy gushy feelings, whatever. But as I played around with We Feel Fine, I gradually saw the strange poignancy in a single statement that declares a feeling. Stripped of context and identity, it suddenly has the potential to be universal. I find myself relating to a surprising number of the feelings that I probably would not have picked up on from reading the entire blog. Here are just a sampling of feelings that I found today (really, go try it yourself)
i feel so conflicted about harry potter because I want it so badly but i dont because then it will be over (from someone)
i feel it is an act of extreme chutzpah for apple to ask me to pay 2200 (from
someone)
i cant deny that i feel somewhat nostalgic and sad of those great teenage and college years but i guess thats life and we need to try to get the best out of every age (from someone)
i feel like puking when i see such a stupid talentless asshole advocating social darwinism (from someone)
i feel like a caged bird in this town (from someone in tennessee)
i had some difficulty with my right knee in the beginning but it feels much better since i switched shoes. (from someone)
i feel like garbage (from someone in ontario canada)
i feel like a doll (from somone in warsaw poland when it was sunny)
i feel at ease (from someone)
i feel so alive this morning (from someone)
i feel the drink vouchers were free shots that tasted like christmas (from a 20 year old in bristol england when it was rainy)
i feel like someone punched me in the face (from someone in hightstown new jersey)
i feel like prancing around in the rain barefoot (from someone)

Posted in Existence.

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By Meredith – July 12, 2007