I’m one of those unfortunate bastards who gave up drawing, just when I was getting good at it as a pre-pimple teen. This means that I still draw as I did when I was 12 – 14 – like. Which sucks. Bigtime. I’ve had plans about doing something about it for years. And I haven’t. Now Jakob does it seems.

Jakob is in a completly crazed drawing mode these days, weeks – months maybe soon. He’s drawing like mad, all day long. Where running out of paper, and today I even had to tell him to PLEASE not draw on the stereo with that permanent felt tip marker. Every day when I pick him up at kindergarten, there’s a new roster of drawings of the day waiting. The grown-ups (that’s what they’re called in kindergartens), tell me that he’s producing twice – maybe three times – as many drawings as the ones I see. Hard to keep track of.

Monsters, robots and creatures with sophisticated technical limbs, big mouths and sneaky symmetri spurt out of the boy. He just sits there, completely taken by his own creations, and works enthusiastic and concentrated for hours. So far it’s just “characters” he’s doing, which I find very inspiring.

All of the sudden I find myself actually using the nice set of drawing pencils I bought years ago. Jakob and I sitting around the table, equally taken by the magic of the pencil or the permanent marker.

I’ve heard other parents rage about this before. I guess all parents that are remotely interested in drawing, painting or any kind of arty activity, will at some point get to experience the effortless, and in a way reckless, approach of their child. An approach mostly lost by most adults. Kids don’t need all the details to be accurate. They’re not really so tied down by right and wrong, and most importantly, I think, they’re experiencing the world – the magic marker – for the first time.

Enviously I try to copy some of Jakob’s drawings, just to capture some of the “I don’t give a hell – attitude” that he seem to pour into most of them. Sometimes I just use some of his patterns as a starting point. Just to see where they take me. Sometimes I hear myself almost yelling at him, like another 5 year old, because he wants to draw on my drawing as well. I mean, really, it’s hard not to get upset, when the boy all of the sudden approaches the best human face I’ve drawn *ever*, with a black permanent marker, while asking: “Can I colour the head, Dad?”

In the morning where going out to get some more paper. Lots of paper. And pens. We need pens, markers, pencils, maybe even an electric eraser. We cannot afford to run out of supplies. We have a lot of learning to do while the fire burns – both Jakob and not least me.

I’m currently looking at the world through a new type of window. New to me at least that is… I’m sitting in my small living room that have recently grown considerably larger, due to the fact, that I have pulled a stationary PC out of it. My home is now officially Mac territory.

Lately I have found myself critizising & designing user interfaces and usability design for a living. I have done so for some years now, as a part of my work at Titoonic. With a variety of purposes, missions and target audiences. For games, web sites and advanced software for kids. But allways with the PC as my own working foundation, and as the unconscious meassure of standards, of good and bad, of right and wrong.

Somehow it seems irresponsible of an interaction-, usability-, user experience-, and communications designer not to absorb as many ways of solving the problems of the trade as possible.

The solution is actually quite obvious. I’ve bought a 15′ PowerBook. I’ve scrapped the old noisy wintel-hell and I’m forcing myself onto a path that I forsee becoming a troublesome one; I’m (currently) the only Mac user at work, and the guys are already giving me hell for switching. My brains keyboard shortcut centre is temporarily fucked up. I feel a frightening, yet at the same time somewhat comforting, lack of control. I’m not used to photo library software that wants to take charge of all my files, instead of using the folders I’ve created. I get scared when iTunes move my music around and follows some weird system depending solely on all the music files to have proper ID tags (allthough I recently bought an iPod nano, I’ve allways used WinAmp). And what’s up with Photoshop not having a solid gray background – I mean, I can see my friggin desktop image through it ?!

On the other hand. All that are just indicators of what I’ve been used to so far. Not of good and bad, or right and wrong.

I find myself in a small living room, slimmed down of approx. 20 kilos of ugly, default gray, noisy wintel steel and plastic. Everything just works. I’m not getting any info I don’t need. Not even while booting (”Searching for secondary slave” – well, aren’t we all in a way?). I’m listening to my music streaming from the PowerBook to the stereo (yes, I know I would have been able to do that on the wintel PC as well, but still, the AirPort with AirTunes is Apple, as well as the ease of setting it all up). That’s a promising couple of first experiences.

But, admittedly, all of the above are just lame excuses for my to buy an expensive computer. The actual reason for this purchase when I’m being completely honest to myself is – brace yourselves; I’m petting a slick titanium finish 2,4 kg completely wireless (at least for 4-5 hours more) computer, that looks friggin cool. That’s it. I’ve bought the design.

What’s even worse is, that I have now found myself turning into one of those bloggers that crowd the blogosphere with mile long praises of all their designer hardware. Designed by Apple in California. Made in China (but that’s a different story).

Tour guides usually describe and document the highlights of a city, country or region. All the sights, and what makes them so special are described. That’s all fine. But how often have I not found myself taking pictures of all the banalities when I walk through a new city equipped with the eyes of the tourist?

I have a theory.

If I was to document all the most common banalities of the Copenhagen cityscape and put it on a web site, it would prove to be new, strange and exotic to many people. If I however documented all the sights of the city, I’d only repeat all the tour books in the world describing Copenhagen. As interesting as that might be, it would not reveal anything new.

So, why not create a collective hub that collect everyday banalities from around the world? A celebration of all the little differences that only the tourist, the stranger and the guest will notice.

Document:

Your way to work
How do you get there? Car? Walk? Bus? Subway? Bicycle?
Your day to day shopping
Where do you buy your groceries? Where do you rent your DVD’s?
The streets
Signs, appartment buildings, cottages and houses of the place you recide
Everyday stuff
All the things not worthy of mentioning and what won’t fit into a regular guidebook
I’m pretty sure that something like this already exists in some shape or form… But I don’t know where.

Google Earth is Jakob’s favorite “game” for the time being. This morning we’ve been to Illinois, Tokyo, The Forbidden City and somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Jakob is the skilled pilot, and I’m sitting right behind him, as his trusty passenger as we soar the Earth.

Over the last decade or so the world has grown remarkebly smaller. With Google Earth (and the other similar apps out there) it has grown even smaller again. Smaller, but most importanly, within your personal control and reach.

“Look Dad, I’m dragging the Earth.”

To Jakob, the concept of cities, countries, continents on a planet in space is still very abstract. He knows that he lives in Vesterbro and Valby (parts of Copenhagen). He’s quite sure that Denmark has something to do with this as well, but what a country is, and that the world is made up of different countries, is beyond him. Yet, this morning, he was the pilot who took his passenger on a spin or two around the globe.

When I was his age I had a globe with a light bulb inside of it and a map of the World on my desk in my room. I was deeply fascinated with it, but the size relations never really soaked in and the level of detail left me in the dark of what the World really looked like.

When the Apollo flights brought home the legendary photos of the Earth-rise over the Moon they made a significant change. At some level I think that the long term effect of apps like Google Earth will change our perception of the planet even more.

Bringing a detailed map of the World to the people is a good thing. I’m not doubting that. However, the impact of this view of the World will go beyond what we find convienient and cool right now. Kids like Jakob will grow up with a different view of our planet.

I’m not really sure of what the new perspective will be, but I think Jakob’s question gives a hint:

“Can we try another planet, Dad?”
“No, it’s the only planet we’ve got.”

I remember back in the old days, when I was watching rally on TV. I loved – as I still do – to watch the shots from the on-board cameras where you can see what the driver sees, and what the driver does. It was so cool and I wanted to be the driver so bad.

Later SEGA Rally came out and I played it until my fingers bled, and I thought to myself that it was almost like watching rally on TV.

My son Jakob is a little short of five years old and he likes rally on TV just like his dad did. I haven’t forced him or anything – he’s always been a motorhead.

Only difference is that when Jakob is watching rally, he pretends he is playing a computer game. TV is just like the game – Not the opposite.

Two strangers meet. The one needs help and the other is willing to help. They make a mutual commitment. But something goes wrong… The tragedy of commitment, expectations and contracts commence.

Some time ago Joen posted his Rules of Paid Creative Work. Allthough very useful and relevant in many aspects in all its simplicity, I think some nuances are worth digging deeper into.

Anyway, back to our two strangers:
The first guy has a problem, and is willing to pay the other for his help. The other agrees that he would be the right one to help, in exchange for a compensation. They agree, and engage in a mutual commitment. The only problem is, that the first guy didn’t realise what deep shit he was in, and the second guy didn’t take the time to find out what was really involved.

The contract is not the most important object or issue in their relationship. Commitment is. Without commitment a contract isn’t worth anything, and without the truthful commitment of both parties, neither of them will experience a successful relationship.

Expectiations is an immediate second on the list of importance. Without specification of the expectations a contract isn’t worth anything, and the boundaries of your commitment are likely to be stretched. Specification or spec is in this case the more technical term for the stranger’s expectations.

Basically it all comes down to expectations. It hurts when your expectations aren’t met. When someone meets your expectations you’re satisfied. If something exceeds your expectations your very satisfied, or maybe even happy about it. Thus, your expectations are the standards you meassure a thing by. By defining expectations – by specifying – you and the stranger in need of your assistance create a shared standard of meassurement.

Your primary job in order to help a stranger, is to reveal as many aspects of the problem as possible. Ask questions and listen. Investigate and take notes. Listen, listen, listen. Find out what the stranger wants to achieve and who or what he wants to reach or influence. Find out what his conscious and subconscious objectives, desires and goals are, and help him the best you can to achieve them. Evaluate if you really are the right one to help him – and let him know in an honest and direct way if you’re not.

Next, describe to him in great detail how you see the situation. Calibrate and align expectations by describing and specifying what the stranger needs, and how it is that you can help him. Describe what the problem consist of and how exactly you are going to solve it. Define what to meassure the outcome by.

Do not expect the stranger to know what you know. Do not expect that he can explain or understand the problem for which he needs your help. On the contrary do expect that he actually needs help in any way you can imagine to be of assistance. Because if he didn’t need your help, he wouldn’t come to you in the first place.

The two strangers that met, made a mutual commitment, but failed to create shared expectations to meassure their relationship by will probably end up both being troubled and dissapointed. The thing is, that the relationship would have failed even if they had a contract. The relationship would never exist had they lacked commitment, and it would have evaporated had one of the strangers lost his commitment halfway – Even if they had a contract.

Every once in a while everybody should make a commitment to a stranger in good faith. Be prepared to postpone the contract, as long as you don’t make any compromises when it comes to commitment and creation of shared expectations. At least not when you’re dealing with a stranger.

…When it comes to friends, work and money it seems to work the other way around – The contract is by far the most important AND the most neglegted.

I like doing things that I have never done before. But I fear doing them. My body and unconscious self reacts against the New Thing. Every time.

My fears show their ugly head in a new disguise every time a new deed is approaching. My organism may try to drown me in stress hormones, and I’m unable to see straight for days, up until… the New Thing.

Headache is another typical guest in the days leading up to a New Thing. The pain is whispering; “Go back to bed, stay at home, call in sick!”, and I’m almost starting to listen at some point. I try to tell my self that I probably haven’t been drinking enough, until I realise that once again, it’s that Fear of the New Thing that’s hammering my dome and igniting my male hypochondria.

The paradox here is, that I know for at fact, that some of what makes me most happy, is exactly doing things that I haven’t done before. Doing New Things increase my feeling of happiness.

Yet, the fears remain.

It’s the reptile or the cave man in me, that surface in situations like this. My body is reacting on instinct. Reasoning won’t work, my intellect isn’t enough to convince me. Neither the reptile nor the caveman will believe what my cortex knows; I won’t fall, the ice wont break, I can manage.

To me, The Fear of the New Thing is a reassuring proof of evolution, of how little we know, and of what we’re not really in control of as a species. And it’s an area that renders room for personal improvement.

Moderation. Taste the word as you say it. Moderation. To moderate something. I find it fairly safe to say that we agree that moderating extremes usually is a good thing. But sometimes moderation leads to entropy – everything gets brown and lukewarm.

This post is a follow-up on a comment I wrote on Brian’s brilliant post on Market-smarts, Focus Groups and Originality…

Allthough the I-Pod-loving, P2P-savvy netizen digirati of today usually come across the term ‘moderation’ in relation to discussion groups, fora and blog comments, the moderation phenomenon extends to all areas of what we tend to call life.

By moderating something you take away the nasty pointy bits. You censor racsist comments and you try to prevent abuse. Maybe you choose to tone down your appearence in a job interview, or on the first encounter with the in-laws. That’s probably all good…

But there is a far more dark side of moderation that lead into entropy.

Imagine having a girlfriend (or a boyfriend) that have invested a large sum of feelings in you. That’s nice. But then imagine that she/he automatically expects the right to ‘tone you down a bit’ or to moderate your statements before they ‘air’.

Imagine a great meal prepared by a marvelous chef. You’ll be met with amazing plates of gastronomic grandure and find yourself parishing in oral pleasure. Mmmh nice! Or maybe; Yuck!! The very avant-garde chef will present you with a plate of Cola-steamed Oysters on a bed of whipped cream!!??

Enter the owner of the restaurant; ‘Could you maybe tone it down a bit?’. A couple of years and 117 moderations later, McDonalds was invented.

And so on…

When watching, or eating, or listening to stuff made by people who really put their soul and personality in what they do, you are always at the risk of getting the whipped cream oysters. But you might just as well get a plate of sheer genious. You might experience music so weird, that if the CD did come out on a label it would never be ripped or you might disover the next genious.

When you try to moderate your loved one, you end up living with love’s answer to McDonald’s every day. And one of those days you’ll wake up wondering how the fuck she got to be that boring?

I want to spend more of my money on experiences.

Experiences are what you talk about when you sit around the fireplace when you get old and slow – Not all the cool designer furniture you’ve bought. Not that my life so far have been filled with designer furniture. Nor have it been all that crowded with incredible experiences (that could be bought for money at least).

One of the coolest presents I ever had was when a couple of my good friends gave me a ticket to a Six Flags park in the Netherlands. The ticket itself was worth practically nothing. The real present was the experience, the road trip and the excitement the ticket implied. My friends aren’t stupid. Of course they insisted on coming along, and of course I wouldn’t have it any other way.

In the end, their present ended up eating away an action jam-packed, overly expensive weekend of my life, while we crazed away on our ride-filled, Denmark/Netherlands 2 X 10 hours guy-thing road trip.

Could I have bought an I-Pod for the amount I spend on that trip?
- Yes. Probably twice…

Would an I-Pod have given me more pleasure?
- No. Definitely not.

Will the guys and me be sitting around the fireplace and talk about the cool I-Pods we bought back in ‘04?
- No. Definitely not.

Experiences last.

Only just recently – on a cosmic scale – I have realised that life is made up from choices. Even if you go through life without making any conscious choices (as I did for years) you still make potentially important choices by not making them…

I remember an episode of minor physical dimensions but with large thought provoking potential from a summer afternoon years back. One of my friends and I had agreed to meet and hang out. He arrived walking, laid back, enjoying the sunshine, relaxed with a pretty large greenish object in his hand.

As he approaced me, the greenish object in my friend’s hand turned out to be an extremely atrificial looking ice cream. I stared at it in shere disbelief and awe. I had never seen anything like it.

I asked my friend how it tasted? Without any hesitation at all he replied that

“It tastes like shit!”
“How come you buy an ice cream that tastes like shit??!” I asked like an ignorant fool
“I allways buy a different ice cream… Sometimes they just taste bad”

To me that sounded like something similar to stupidity – why buy an ice cream that you had very little chance of actually liking? Why not go straight for the ice cream that you know you like? If you really feel like eating an ice cream, then why risk having it spoiled by something that tastes like shit?

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

At that point of my life I wasn’t really used to making any conscious choices I think. I wasn’t really fit for choices. Choices felt uncomfortable and unnecessary. It felt like choices and options was a bad thing, and an excuse to always go for what felt safe and well-known.

What I really needed was a trip to Choice Bootcamp. I really needed to practice making conscious choices – even if it was on an ice cream micro scale.

To me the art of making conscious choices has turned out to be something I have to practice like a serious, difficult sport. It’s not at all like learning how to ride a bicycle to me. I easily forget to make conscious choices, unless I practice every day – unless I practice every time I get the urge to buy an ice cream.

Sometimes they taste bad – I grant you that much. But other times you stumble on an experience of taste and wonder that you only would have encountered by making a conscious choice that forced yourself away from the track of going for the things you know and feel safe about.

By not choosing you simply stick to what feels safe. What feels safe is always what you feel familiar with. By not choosing you actually choose to seperate yourself from a lot of potentially great tasting ice creams.