Second, independent of any next steps in the process, I’m just ready for this draft to be done. It’s a tremendous intellectual strain to force myself to write every day after work. Some days I hit my word goal, some days I don’t, but I am at least getting a couple of pages done every day, and I’m finally reaching the point of exhaustion. I need to finish this draft just so I have a draft finished, at which point I’ll be able to step away from the process for a couple of weeks before starting again. I’m honestly just ready to be done with the thing for a bit, but in order to do that, I have to finish it, as exhausting as that may be.

But I’m slowly but surely making my way to the finish line, and I hope to have a draft completed by the end of the month. Here’s hoping!

Being creative every day is hard. If this statement comes as shock to you, then you’ve probably never tried it. I’m about 170 pages into my novel right now, and even though I know where I want to get and know the road that I need to take to get there, actually walking that road is getting very difficult. I think part of it is just fatigue from having written so much over the last couple of months, and the rest is an eagerness to just finish this draft and be done with it. I’m thinking more and more about what needs to be fixed with what I’ve already written and less about the writing I’m doing now. That doesn’t make for productive writing, but it’s also unavoidable. The story has developed in ways that I didn’t expect, and now I’m filled with the desire to return to the beginning of the story and make changes to reflect the turns the tale has taken. Themes have begun to emerge, and I want to make sure that those are properly seeded throughout. I also want to make sure that the characters are behaving consistently, as well as make serious changes to the language used throughout. Truthfully, I always expected the first draft to run long, and now I’m ready to cut it up. But I can’t do that until I finish this draft. I’m guessing that I have between 70 and 100 pages left to go. Here’s hoping I can finish before the end of March.

I’ve decided not to get an iPad right now. Don’t get my wrong: I’m still wildly enthusiastic about the device, and am convinced that it represents the first step into the future of computing. But unfortunately being a poor white boy is not conducive to buying highly advanced technological devices, even when they are semi-reasonably priced. The bottom line is that right now I need to be watching my money, and spending $500+ on an iPad would not be fiscally responsible. But there’s another factor at play as well, namely that just as v2 of the iPhone was a huge leap over v1, I’m confident that v2 of the iPad will be light-years ahead of v1. The design will be refined, we’ll likely see a front-facing camera integrated , and the price may well drop. When that happens, a purchase will be inevitable. But for now I’ll just to be content staring at them through the display window. Alas…

I’ve spent way too much time recently improving my computer. I’m coming up on the end of my warranty, and consequently am taking steps to make this thing last as long as possible. I’ve cleaned out nearly everything Power PC related, moved a significant amount of media to external hard drives, and freed up about 30 additional gigs of memory on the machine. I’ve also replaced all my icons, installed Adium as my chat client, and have been experimenting with Boxee, among other things. I would ask if that makes me a nerd, but I know that the answers is no. There are many, many other things that make me a nerd. This is just frosting.

Was I the only person bored by the Incredibly Important Summit to Decide the Fate of Our Health Care System yesterday? No? Good.

I have been listening to the Alan Parsons Project way too much lately.

I have been blogging way too little.

Go USA.

The film is filled with beautiful imagery, an understated and effective score, and a very naturalistic and moving performance by Sam Rockwell. But the biggest reason to recommend Moon is the way that Jones approaches the subject matter. I hate to bash on Star Wars, but the series corrupted America’s concept of science fiction. Sci-fi has became a byword for action-adventure in space, and even when brave directors have tried to break out of that formula, they haven’t met with much success. Even films like The Matrix and its various knockoffs were simply “action-adventure IN THE FUTURE” or “action-adventure WITH COMPUTERS,” rather than classical 2001-style science fiction. With few exceptions, the genre on film was for a long period of time nothing more than simple variations on action-adventure.

But science fiction isn’t defined by explosions in space. Science fiction uses advances in technology to expose truths about the human condition and the way we adapt to brave new worlds. That’s why I’m thrilled to see a film like Moon so well received. It’s a film about a future that we can easily envision. What it does, like all great sci-fi, is explore the consequences of that future. And coupled with other recent projects like Caprica (yes, I know it’s not set in the future, but you get the point), it gives sci-fi fans a little bit of hope about tomorrow’s genre projects.

There’s nothing wrong with big budget blockbusters like Star Wars. Those are really enjoyable films. But every once in a while, a Moon is a welcome relief.

The difference between Keynes and Hayek is that Keynes’s theories were primarily concerned with providing politicians cover for expanding government control of the economy, whereas Hayek’s were concerned with explaining how things work.

I’m not going to bother explaining what the iPad is. If you’ve been anywhere near a computer today, you’ve seen it and formed an opinion on it. My opinion, predictably, is of the OHMIGODITSTHECOOLESTTHINGEVERIHAVETOHAVEIT variety. That said, I understand that some people aren’t as enthusiastic. They ask why it’s preferable to a laptop. They say it’s essentially an oversized iPhone or iPod Touch. They question its purpose, and the purpose of tablets in general. In short, they don’t “get it.” That’s understandable, and honestly there’s nothing wrong with that. And while I’m not an expert in theories of media consumption, I have been thinking about the issues raised by the iPad and by other recent technological advances in some depth, and would like to offer my perspective.

The iPad is revolutionary in its functionality. More importantly, however, it is revolutionary in the conceptual theory behind it. Simply put, the iPad challenges existing paradigms of media consumption in ways that no device has since the advent of the Internet itself. A bold statement, to be sure, but if you’ll allow me to explain, I’ll do my best to convince you that it is also a well-founded one.

Consider your personal concept of home computing. You’re most likely reading this piece on your laptop or desktop computer. Over the years, the various devices that you’ve used to connect to the Internet have changed in appearance, OS, and power, but the way you use them has remained essentially the same. To use a computer, you sit down somewhere, place it either on a hard surface or (if you’re brave) on your lap, hunch over slightly so that you can see your screen properly, manipulate the small pointer icon on screen either by a track pad or by a peripheral sitting on another hard surface, and point and click your way through your computing experience. Now, there isn’t anything objectively wrong with this process. However, because it is the only process that the vast majority of computer users have ever experienced, there is a very strong sense that not only is it the “proper” way, but also that there is no need to improve upon it.

In short, the paradigm through which we view our computers and the ways we use them has become rigid. Even programs that do new and innovative things still conform to the basic rules of this old paradigm.

Again, there’s nothing wrong with this system, insofar as it is functional. But the question Apple is asking with the iPad is, “Is there actually a way to do this better? Is there a mechanism through which individuals can interact with their personal computers that would be superior to this traditional point-and-click interface, that would open up not just new programing possibilities, but entirely new functionalities?” It’s the same question Nintendo asked when it developed the Wii, casting aside twenty years of video-gaming tradition and embracing a new model of functionality. It’s the question that Apple itself asked more than a quarter-century ago, when it abandoned the dominant DOS format of computer interaction and replaced it with the point-and-click interface that we’ve all used since. These weren’t just leaps in functionality; they were conceptual leaps, leaps that depended upon the genius of particular individuals who were willing to challenge the dominant paradigm of technological interaction.

This is what Apple is doing with the iPad. It is challenging the dominant paradigm of computer use. It is stating boldly that there is another way of interacting with our computers that may be functionally better than the old way of doing things. This is a radical notion, especially when one considers how ingrained point-and-click is in our computing culture. Apple is essentially asking people to abandon the lens through which they have viewed computers their entire lives, and to accept that there is another, potentially better way of doing things. For many people, this is asking too much. But just as DOS was cast aside by point-and-click, and just as motion-control in video games is rapidly becoming widely accepted, so too might the iPad philosophy of personal computing use come to be embraced by the world at large. It won’t happen overnight, but it may happen.

But there’s another aspect to what’s happening here that I think bears mentioning. As a senior at Middlebury I took a class with Professor Jason Mittell (that’s him in the sidebar) about television in American culture. One of the projects I worked on in the class was  presentation on how new technologies are changing the way that we view television, not only practically, but also conceptually. For every media user – and we’re talking about computers, television, music, everything – there is one question that above all else determines how we interact with the various devices that we use in our everyday lives. That question is: what is media – the content and functionality or the delivery mechanism? It’s an important question, and not as easy to answer as you might think.

Consider television. Do you have to be watching a physical television set to be watching television? A lot of you probably say yes. But if you are watching the same programming that is being broadcast to your television on your computer through Hulu, or on your iPod through a video file, why don’t you consider that watching television? Its the same content, the same functionality, just on a different screen. So why isn’t it all television?

Think about music, a media that has thrived in the digital space. In the old days, an “album” was a physical record that you could touch. You played it on a device that require physical contact. Then we made the move to CDs, and an “album” became a disc that slid into a laser-based device. And now we’re in the age of digital content, where a physical unit isn’t even required. Now we download “albums” from various sources. Three different delivery mechanisms – and yet they’re all “albums,” because the content is essentially the same. (To put it simply: no matter how you hear it, Frampton Comes Alive will always be Frampton Comes Alive.) And yet despite the fact that we’ve accepted that notion when it comes to music – and I say that as someone who LOVES vinyl records, mind you – we are reluctant to accept it with television. For most people, television is still what you watch on your television set. There’s nothing objectively wrong with that view, but there are alternatives, and I believe that within my lifetime, we will reach a stage where television becomes a multi-platform media in the same way that music has.

So now we have to ask the same question of our personal computers. What is our personal computer, conceptually speaking? Is it the traditional physical unit, or is it the content? The old paradigm says that the personal computer is the device, and that the device must conform to a rigid set of principles – i.e., television must always be only a TV. The experimental paradigm – the paradigm upon which the iPad relies – says that content and functionality is what defines a media, and that the notion that a personal computer must always be in the traditional form of a personal computer is foolish. A personal computer can be on any screen, in any setting, using any method of interaction. It’s not tied down to an old-style unit. That’s the same principle that created a pocket computer in the form of an iPhone, and it is the principle at work in the iPad.

So the iPad, then, is the intersection of two radical notions: that there may be new and better ways of interacting with our computers than we are using now, and that the computer conceptually is defined not by our traditional notions of its physical form, but rather by its content and functionality. And that is hard to accept. The iPad demands a fundamental change in the way that individuals view their computers. A lot of people will not make that change. Even among those whose habits wouldn’t even push the iPad’s technological boundaries – which is to say, a majority of people – accepting the idea that they could interact with their computers in a way that doesn’t require a keyboard and a mouse is a huge leap. And for those of us who demand quite a bit of our computers; who engage in heavy photo and sound editing and play videos games that require heavy processing power, accepting a less powerful machine as our primary computing tool is inconceivable. But to lean on the computing structure that has been conceptually unchallenged for a quarter century and write-off any possible alternative is just plain narrow-minded.The iPad as it exists today is far from perfect. I’d have loved to see multitasking, but I’m confident it will be included in this June’s iPhone OS update. More critically, I’d have liked to see a webcam of some sort, and a firewire port would have been very nice. But to nitpick at tiny features that I’d have liked to see in the theoretical tablet is pointless.

You see, the iPad isn’t the end of Apple’s tablet experiment. It’s the beginning. It is the first major step forward in tablet computing in forever, and the first tablet that has the potential to truly go mainstream. What that ultimately means is that it is the first major challenge to the widely-held notion of what personal computer use actually is that we’ve seen in the Internet age. And while it may not ultimately supplant the traditional computer system of keyboards and mice, it will almost surely change the way we look at our computers. Regardless of how successful the iPad proves to be, the fact that Apple is even trying to push those boundaries is cause for celebration.

And last night I finished reading the first of what will likely be many Wodehouse tales I consume over the next year, entitled Stiff Upper Lip, Jeeves. I won’t bother providing a synopsis, as the whole of the story really consists of a series of increasingly frenetic conversations revolving around a few small but ostensibly significant plot devices. What makes Stiff Upper Lip, Jeeves a wonderful read is Wodehouse’s mastery of language and the precision with which he draws his characters.

The novel is told from Wooster’s perspective, with the narration conforming to his unique understanding of the English language. Words are constantly misplaced and misused, and details of the plot typically fly right over his head, leaving the reader to sort out for himself what is actually happening. In many ways a passive protagonist, Bertie is nonetheless tremendously entertaining, especially when paired with the much more astute Jeeves, who repeatedly rescues him from uncomfortable situations, including his impending marriage to Madeline Bassett, his contentious friendship with Gussie Fink-Nottle, and his dangerous physical encounters with Roderick Spode. (Crafting outlandish names for his characters is one of Wodehouse’s greatest strengths.)

The key to the novel’s brilliance is Wodehouse’s understanding of the power of detail. He builds his characters around one or two very small ideas and then plays variations upon them as a master musician plays variations upon a theme. No character is fully developed (save possibly for Bertie himself) but they are developed enough that we feel we know them just as we know our fellow human beings. In a sense, Wodehouse perfectly captures the phenomenon of casual human interaction – no small feet, but essential to a novel that focuses primarily on the petty and idiosyncratic.

Author Christopher Buckley observed of Wodehouse’s creations, “It is impossible to be unhappy while reading the adventures of Jeeves and Wooster.” On that point, he is correct. Every line of Stiff Upper Lip, Jeeves elicits pleasure, and I recommend to anyone who enjoys frivolity, mirth, and good writing. It is an exceptional piece of work.

Let’s get this out of the way right now: the election of Scott Brown was a straight-up referendum on Barack Obama’s presidency.  Obama made it so by heading to Massachusetts to campaign for the bumbling Martha Coakley, and didn’t even attempt to deny when stumping for her. But Scott Brown also made it so by running on an explicitly anti-Obama platform.  It’s not like Brown was trying to hide his conservative stripes from the electorate. In fact, what makes his victory so astonishing is that he actually ran as a tax-cutting national security hawk who promised to be the forty-first vote against Obama’s health care monstrosity.  A full 72% of the electorate believed that Brown was at least somewhat conservative, compared to only 22% that saw him as a moderate.  And he won! In liberal Massachusetts, a state that hadn’t elected a Republican Senator since 1972, he won a seat that hadn’t been held by a Republican since Henry Cabot Lodge in 1952. Add that to the fact that fully 56% of voters said that health care was the issue that most influenced their vote; that 50% of voters said it would be better to pass no bill at all than the bill before Congress; and that 51% percent of voters flat-out oppose the current health bill (with 41% percent strongly opposing it), and it becomes difficult to see the election as anything other than a slap in the President’s face. (All figures from Rasmussen Reports.)

And you know, that’s not a shock either. What President hasn’t faced some sort of rebuke from the public? It happens. In fact, it’s meant to happen. Our particular form of democratic republicanism is structured to enable the electorate to let their government know when it’s going to far. The Founding Fathers were fearful of rapid change spurred by momentary eruptions of public outrage, and when they wrote the Constitution, they installed mechanisms to prevent it.  There’s no question about that.  Insofar as the results of the election reflected the will of the people of Massachusetts – and by extrapolation the will of the American people, who have repeatedly shown themselves to be strongly against the President’s current health care proposal – the system worked.

But the liberal literati seem to think that far from being a perfect example of the electorate exercising its power over the government through the system, Brown’s election demonstrates that American democracy is in fact broken.  Yes, their interpretation of the results is that because the public consciously chose to derail the Obama agenda, the system has in fact failed.  How do they arrive at that conclusion? Well, I can’t claim to know what lurks in the mind of every liberal, but my instinct tells me that the reaction comes from a paradox, which is a necessary condition of the liberal philosophy as it exists in modern America.

The fact is that the progressive agenda that drives liberals cannot be fully enacted by the will of the American people. This is because it is in many ways fundamentally at odds with the traditional American ideas of individualism and self-reliance, and consequently is relegated to minority status among American philosophies. (Witness this Gallup poll, which found that only 21% of Americans identified themselves as liberals by the end of 2009.) However, the general thinking among progressives is that despite their agenda’s unpopularity – and they recognize it as unpopular, or else they wouldn’t feel the need to disguise it every election cycle – it must be enacted in the name of social justice.  And there is the dilemma. Liberals recognize that their policies are not widely supported by the American people, yet they believe that those policies must be implemented in the name of righting societal wrongs.

When the electorate votes them into office, liberals naturally celebrate. They seem to think that the people have finally come around to them; that they have accepted the progressive agenda and recognized the genius of their enlightened leaders. In short, the agenda has won people over. But when they are voted out of office, liberals refuse to believe that their agenda lost people. Instead they panic, because suddenly the system no longer serves their goals. They realize that under a system in which people can turn against the enlightened agenda so quickly, no true “progress” can be made. Consequently, this system – the system of American democracy – has failed them. It is at this point that they claim to have lost faith in democracy.

I’m not going to pretend that conservatives always handle electoral defeats with grace and dignity.  But I will say that I’ve never heard a conservative rail against the system itself simply because the people have dealt them a defeat. Most conservatives simply try to figure out how to win next time, how to win the people’s favor once more.  Liberals, though, seem to want to cut the people out of the process entirely, because to them, anything that stands in the way of enacting the progressive agenda now must be eliminated.

But that’s nothing new. It’s just the logical extension of a philosophy that holds at its core the belief that not only does an enlightened elite knows what’s better for a country than the citizenry as a whole, but that it is the right of that elite to see its agenda implemented, regardless of public opposition.

And so you see, the latest electoral setback that liberals have endured – the victory of Scott Brown – may have inspired headlines like the one above. However, for liberals, faith in American democracy did not just evaporate because of Scott Brown. It vanished a long time ago, when they chose to embrace a philosophy that holds as its highest virtue the service of “social justice,” rather than the service of the will of the people.