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Archive for October, 2009

Television and low quality footage

Wednesday, October 7th, 2009

This kind of snuck up on me, but recently I noticed that many popular and established television stations use footage of a surprisingly low quality. As someone with a great attention to detail, I am hypersensitive to videos and images with many artifacts and shot in low resolution. This didn’t use to be the case- most footage I used to see prior to the embracing of te digital era by television at large was high quality, shot with professional video cameras. Nowadays it seems that the footage was shot with somebody’s cameraphone or a hand-held camcorder. This is surprising because given the budgets these stations have for equipment, I would expect the absolute quality to go up and not down.

I’m going to single out CNN for this, because I expect the largest televised news source U.S. to be leading the way in many aspects of news casting. Granted (controversial claim coming), CNN has a lot of work to do in many spaces, and the quality of video is certainly not the most important one to focus on (I’d focus on, I don’t know, the quality of the journalism), but that one is certainly the most striking one.

This is particularly painful given what I know about technological progress that has occurred in the past decade. We can transmit information very efficiently (compare the bandwidth needed for H.264 relative to analog transmission) via a number of media to a number of devices. It’s cheaper than ever to capture and process visual information. Why, then, do we seem to get lazier about maintaining a high quality standard of what we see?

Life Hack #23: Write notes to yourself

Wednesday, October 7th, 2009

I often catch myself having microthoughts in the least expected moments- in a restroom, while working out, in a dream, while listening to the radio. I like to write them down because many times a small thought would lead to a really good idea, or even a change in my life philosophy.

There are, of course, many ways to write notes to yourself. I like doing it electronically, because I don’t want to transcribe everything. I also like my notes to ultimately end up either in my inbox (which I treat as a high-priority todo list) or go directly into the todo list). A simple solution of using the Notes app on my iPhone and then emailing the notes to myself once I’m done, or just keeping a “compose email” window open at work and sending the items to myself atthe end of the day does the trick for me.

What is a cause?

Wednesday, October 7th, 2009

As I re-watched fragments of Benjamin Button recently (a movie that I’m not particularly fond of, I’m afraid), I recalled a scene in which a particular incident was shown to be preceded by a series of events that took place that ultimately led to it. If at least one of these events had not happened, the narrator argued, the incident could have been avoided. This got me thinking about causes and what it really means to call something a “cause” of some event (more narrowly, how one assigns “blame” to things, or gives credit to things).

As we can easily predict, there is often no single cause of an event. WARNING: spoilers abound! Even though the driver, who struck Daisy, seems like he was the cause, if many other things hadn’t happened, Daisy would have been fine; shouldn’t those other things also be considered causes? How far back do we go? How do we attribute causality–it seems to us, viscerally, that some factors were more instrumental to the incident than others, but how do we quantify that? (For example, the invention of the automobile was among the causes but was it as significant as the fact that the driver didn’t pay attention to what was in front of him?).

This is a difficult question and so let’s start small. The universe is massive, with so much happening in such short periods of time that it’s easy to get confused. Let’s simplify the question as much as we can (it’s still going to be pretty complicated so bear with me).

I’m going to assume that the universe consists of a series of discrete decisions that lead to some event. The decisions are binary (and let’s assume that the choices are 0 and 1–whatever these numbers may stand for. For example, 0 may mean “forget the jacket” and 1 may mean “take the jacket”) and could stand for anything that has two distinct outcomes, so I’m using a broad definition of the word “decision” here. We will try to come up with some framework that allows us to talk about these decisions–for example, determine which decisions contributed to the event more than others. First, some caveats:

  • We will not deal with intent, that is, we will not be interested in what a particular decision intended to achieve and instead look at what it ended up achieving. This means we’ll be looking at cause in a way which may be different from the way the law looks at cause.
  • We will deal with decisions which are not biased in any way, i.e. behind each decision there is an agent who is either picking 0 or 1, and is not subject to chance. Hence, a “decision” to rain in Sahara is not a valid one since it’s not particularly likely to rain in Sahara.
  • We can model decisions which are biased, or decisions which are not binary, as a sequence of binary decisions, so we can proceed without loss of generality (I never thought I’d use this phrase again…)
  • We’ll assume that all decisions are discrete, that we can determine the consequence of every decision and that we have captured them all

Moreover, in order to talk about causality at all, we have to define equivalence of decisions and events properly. We’ll be dealing with parallel universes (i.e. universes in which a particular decision had been made differently) and, strictly speaking, events across universes are never the same (because the universe is slightly different if a decision is made differently, even if it seems that a particular event was not at all affected). We will identify an equivalence class of events (and equivalence classes of decisions) — buckets, where we put many similar events and treat them as the same, as the event.

For example, consider the event “Daisy breaks her leg as a result of a car accident”. If, in a parallel universe, some decisions are made differently, and Daisy breaks her other leg, the event is now different, but we still care about it (for all intents and purposes, she’s broken a leg). So we’ll put the two events in the same equivalence class. Similarly, the driver’s decision to not pay attention should be treated as the same decision regardless of the decision to forget the jacket, so we need equivalence classes of decisions.

Let’s work with an example. Consider three decisions d1, d2, d3, that led to some event E. We can represent this as a tree of decisions:

The Partial Decision Tree

The Partial Decision Tree

The graph represents the current universe — the three decisions were made, and the event E happened. Now let’s introduce parallel universes — let’s determine what would have happened if either of the decisions had been made differently. Suppose that if d3 was 0, E could still have happened if two other decisions d4 and d5 were 1. If d2 was 0, there is no way for E to happen. If d1 was 0, E could happen if d3 was 1 and a new decision d6 was 1.

This is, of course, arbitrary — in the real world it may be difficult if not impossible to reason about what would have happened. But there again, I never made any claims about the practicality of this framework…

Note that in our example above decision d3 is reused: it appears in the parallel universe as well as in the actual one. This is fine — a decision may appear in many universes (especially if decisions are unlikely to influence one another, for example, because they happen far away from each other). This is also why we need equivalence classes of decisions (so that we can talk about similar decisions rather than treating every decision as a unique one). Those “reused” decisions will be tricky to analyze: on one hand, they are the same decision, so we could talk about it in the abstract, regardless of what our universe looks like (i.e. regardless of what decisions have actually been made); on the other hand, by the time a decision needs to be made, other branches of the tree (that may include the same decision!) can be pruned. We’ll solve this problem shortly.

We can complete the decision tree:

A Full Decision Tree

A Full Decision Tree

Now we can look at all combinations of different decisions and see if E occurred or not (x means “any value”):


1 2 3 4 5 6   E?  # distinct combinations
0 x 0 x x x   0   16
0 x 1 x x 0   0   8
0 x 1 x x 1   1   8
1 0 x x x x   0   16
1 1 0 0 x x   0   4
1 1 0 1 0 x   0   2
1 1 0 1 1 x   1   2
1 1 1 x x x   1   8


For example, if d1 was 0, d3 was 1 and d6 was 1, the event happened regardless of the values of the other three decisions (and there are 8 such combinations).

Now we can compare the decisions and see which one caused E the most. For each decision, determine for how many combinations E happened, and for how many it didn’t (if a decision didn’t matter for the outcome, for example d2 in the case when d1 is 0, we can exclude the scenario from our calculations). The difference between these two numbers is the extent to which that decision caused E. For example, if d1=0, E is caused in 8 out of 32 combinations. If d1=1, E is caused in 10 out of 32 combinations. So regardless of d1, E is caused in at least 8 out of 32 combinations (so that much wasn’t caused by d1). However, the remainder — 2 out of 32 combinations — were caused directly by d1 so the causality of d1 is 2/32 = 1/16.

Similarly we can compute the causality for the other decisions:

  • d2: if equal to 0, causes E in 0 combinations; if equal to 1, causes E in 10 out of 16 combinations. So its causality is 5/8
  • d4: causes 0 if equal to 0; 2 out of 4 if equal to 1. Its causality is 1/2
  • d5: causes 0 if equal to 0; and all (2 out of 2) if equal to 1. Its causality is 1
  • d6: causes 0 if equal to 0; and all if equal to 1. Its causality is 1

Let’s now look at the tricky case — d3. It appears in two branches of the tree. The answer to how much it caused E will depend on how much the agent making the decision knows about the decisions made up until now (specifically, d1 and possibly d2). In other words, if the agent knows which branch of the tree he is in, he’s causing E to a different degree than if he had no such information.

  • If the agent has no information, we need to look at all combinations. If d3 is equal to 0, E is caused in 2 combinations out of 24; if it’s equal to 1, in 16 out of 24. Its causality is 7/12
  • If the agent has perfect information, we need to consider which branch of the tree he’s in.
    • If he’s in the right branch of the tree: if the decision is equal to 1, E is always caused. Otherwise, E is caused in 1 out of 4 combinations. The causality is 3/4.
    • If he’s in the left branch of the tree: if the decision is equal to 1, E is caused in 1 out of 2 combinations. Otherwise, it’s never caused. The causality is 1/2.

    Hence d5 and d6 cause E the most (which makes sense: since they are at the bottom of the graph, they have full control over whether E happens or not). d1 causes E the least. However, it’s not always true that the higher up the tree a decision is, the less it contributes to the event: d2 contributes more than d3 (with no information).

My idea of a Top Job

Monday, October 5th, 2009

Most of us want to do meaningful work; we want it to be impactful and we want a lot of responsibility. And, in fact, as we get older, we tend to acquire more responsibility and move from a position that doesn’t really matter for anything to a position that matters a great deal. That got me thinking about jobs in the abstract, what it really means for work to be impactful or meaningful, how companies should pay their employees, and–perhaps in a kind of a gedankenexperiment–what a job would look like if we took this progression to an extreme.

I realized at some point that in a well-functioning company, decisions are much better indicators of responsibility and impact than actions (there are a few exceptions to this, where a person’s (say, a master artisan’s) skills are so unique that they are worth vast amounts of money). Decisions have a much more far-reaching implications than actions because in a well-functioning company, actions can be delegated or outsourced; and there is a large number of people who have similar skills.

Hence, I like to evaluate the meaningfulness of work by treating it as a series of decisions and assessing the impact of each decision. Everyone makes decisions in their work. A graphic designer decides what color the cover of a book should be. A computer programmer decides which pattern to use in his/her piece of code. CEOs decide who to hire for the top management echelon of the company. Naturally, the impact of their decisions varies: if a computer programmer makes a decision to use a particular pattern, he or she may make it slightly more difficult to alter the program in the future. This one can, theoretically, translate to some amount of money that the company could save (or waste). Similarly, if a CEO makes a decision to hire a particular person, that may have far-reaching implications (which could also be, albeit rarely if ever is practical to be, assessed in monetary terms). You can compare the impact of these decisions–and thus define the responsibility a particular employee has.

Taking this to the logical extreme, I imagine a person sitting in an oversize leather chair, in the middle of a mildly dark room. That person doesn’t talk to anyone, doesn’t have to go anywhere. Every few hours somebody enters the room with a piece of paper and passes the paper to that person. That person reads what’s written on the piece of paper and either nods or shakes his head. The messenger leaves. That’s all that this person does all day.

While it may seem like a scene from some kind of movie (in fact, many movies do play with this concept), it makes sense to me. We can reduce decisions to a series of binary decisions, requiring nothing but a nod of one’s head. We can eliminate all actions from that person’s responsibilities because all actions have been delegated many, many levels below. The person doesn’t need to attend any meetings: the employees one level below do what’s necessary (which may include having plenty of meetings) to distill the work that’s required to a small set of binary decisions. In fact, if you think hard, you’ll probably see that a lot of decisions that you made or see other people make at work can be characterized very concisely; one fundamental decision leads to a series of smaller decisions (which there are many of, but which are easier to make so our Top Guy wouldn’t ever be bothered by them). In fact, many CEOs do something like this today, but their jobs are still not pure exercises in decision-making: they have to attend meetings, write emails, talk to people.

We can see how this Top Guy’s job involves more responsibility than anyone else’s. Even more: his job involves more responsibility that everyone else’s jobs lumped together. His decisions percolate to the bottom of the company, affecting, ultimately, all employees. The fact that a decision was escalated to him means that it was deemed important enough such that nobody below him could make that decision, even when cooperating with others.

What a sweet job to have.

The narrative compression of music

Monday, October 5th, 2009

I hinted at this already, but I think music (and art in general) has a remarkable power to convey a large amount of information, either through personalized or cultural context. I find this narrative compression of music fascinating, because of how powerful and ubiquitous yet simple it is.

What sparked it all for me was a Moby concert I went to recently. One of the songs he played was the first song he ever performed in public. The song was decent, but what I was thinking when I heard it was “what is Moby thinking of right now? What is he feeling? What is he going through?” To his fans, it was an enjoyable piece, perhaps an important one because it was such an early one. But to him, it probably brought back the memories of years leading up to the performance, spent being defeated by music, having to play music, not wanting to play music, wanting to play music, liking to play music, experimenting with music, making music; the feelings of anxiety and excitement that mixed with sweat on the night of the performance; and the subsequent career that unfolded slowly, gradually. This song may have compressed his entire career to Moby. This is much more than one can ever express in words.

To be fair, other sources of information, such as words, can be incredibly powerful as well. Some quintessential examples of this are works by Karl Marx and many ancient philosophers. In fact, the former altered the fabric of the human world for almost a century–that’s an unparalleled feat!

What’s fascinating about this narrative compression is that music (and other media) have the bandwidth to fit everyone’s narrative. Good Vibrations may (and probably do) mean to me something totally different from what they it means to you. It’s incredible that three and a half minutes of (even low quality) audio can contain so much context.

In fact, an interesting idea would be to try to compare actual information content of various media and their perceived information content (as perceived by all humans, from a variety of perspectives). It’s of course impossible to gauge how much context fits in a song (especially that while a song may mean a lot of things for many people, it only has complex meaning to relatively few people; also, of course, without the memory of the actual events, music is not that useful), but there again, that’s what thought experiments are for…

A list of stuff you can make

Saturday, October 3rd, 2009

I like to stumble upon posts describing how to make something. These “projects” vary from fairly simple to rather time-consuming, but all of them are very satisfying. Below is a list of such projects I found online:

New Year’s Resolutions

Friday, October 2nd, 2009

Speaking of resolutions, New Year is amongst the worst times to make resolutions:

  • Making resolutions starting on a holiday is dumb–you are likely to deviate from your regular schedule anyway (for example, celebrate with your friends) which increases the chance of breaking your resolution on Day 1. And if you do, you’re likely to get beat up about it and give up altogether
  • Making resolutions a day after a holiday is dumb–you are likely to be hungover on January 1, and just overall unmotivated
  • Making resolutions in the middle of winter is dumb. There are many things you can’t do in the winter. Many people make New Year’s resolutions to get in shape, or lose some weight, but forget that the main motivator (let’s face it, people are vain)–to look better–can’t really be taken advantage of until the middle of spring. It’s too far from January 1
  • The chances are, you have given yourself something like an hour, or less, to come up with your resolutions (you probably started thinking about your resolutions at 11:47pm on December 31st). You have not internalized them, let alone connected them to some higher goal. You don’t have a plan. You don’t know what stands in the way to achieve your goals

Life Hack #22: Frequent resolutions

Thursday, October 1st, 2009

I love making resolutions. I’ve found them to be a great way to get motivated, especially after I’ve failed to deliver on some other promise I made to myself. For example, I’d promise myself I’d stop eating junk food. I’d do pretty well for a couple of weeks, and then a familiar story happens (I’m sure something similar happened to you if you’ve made some resolutions): I have to stay late at work, or I end up celebrating something with my friends, and I end up eating a bunch of junk food. Worse (because junk food is just so good and because I’ve already failed), I continue eating junk food.

I found the best way to get out of this hole to be saying to myself, “OK, tomorrow, I am restarting my life. I’ll eat healthy food, and also go running every other day.” I stop thinking about what had happened and start looking into the future — hell yeah, I’ll be able to stick to my new resolution! I’ll be strong–it can only get better from now.

It is, at the end of the day, just a game I play with myself–but there again, if I didn’t need to play games with myself, I wouldn’t be failing on my resolutions. There are some caveats that I’ve realized over time.

  • Don’t wait for an arbitrary time to start a resolution. No point waiting for Monday morning (or, worse, the beginning of a new month!) — tomorrow is as good a day as any. In fact, why not start right now? I like to write the time at which I made the resolution on a white board in my room to remind me of how much time has passed without me breaking a promise.
  • Be careful not to make the ease with which you make resolutions become an excuse for breaking promises. I’ve noticed that I’ve made my resolutions more frequent through waiting much less, not through breaking my promises faster.
  • Don’t be too ambitious–small promises work best, especially if you extend them over time. If you promise yourself something unachievable, you’re likely to break it sooner (and, what’s worse, you’re also likely to dip deeper–for example, break all the promises you’ve made so far at once)
  • What you do between breaking a promise and making a new one matters–I used to stuff myself silly with junk food before making a resolution not to eat it “because it’s the last time in a long time I’ll be having it”. As a result, I ended up eating more junk food over time than before making these resolutions. This is also another reason why you may want to decrease the amount of time between breaking a promise and making another one.