It’s All in the Wrist

Back in 1999, attending the Consumer Electronics Show in Las Vegas, I stumbled across a small booth at the back of the show from a Canadian company called Research in Motion. While they weren’t drawing much of a crowd, I was hugely intrigued by the product they had just launched, which they were calling a “Blackberry”. It looked like a Motorola two-way pager, but it didn’t send pages – instead, it let people send and receive email.

At that point, most people didn’t care much about – or even have – email on their desktop computers. And everyone I showed the Blackberry to, including the people in the tech and finance worlds I was working with at the time, told me that they would never, ever carry some sort of hand-held email device if they did.

But, even back then, even on a kludgy pager-sized Blackberry, it was clear to me that carrying your email in your pocket all day would completely change your relationship with that email.

Hop to 2012, and the [Pebble Digital Watch](http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/597507018/pebble-e-paper-watch-for-iphone-and-android?ref=email), a Kickstarter project [I blogged about backing last year](https://www.joshuanewman.com/2012/04/watch-this-2/). I received that Pebble about a month ago, I’ve been wearing it on my wrist ever since, and I can honestly say it’s no less of a revolution than that Blackberry.

The downside of the Blackberry, the thing I hadn’t foreseen at the time of my early purchase, was the degree to which those little screens would one day run our lives. If you want to despair about a *Blade Runner* dystopian future, head to any public place, look around, and notice that literally every single person – even, largely, people sitting together in groups – is engaged in their own separate world, entirely mediated by the little glowing screen in their hands.

It’s something I’m guilty of myself. Sure, most of the time, nothing of any import comes in via my phone in the middle of a meeting. But, every so often, something urgent actually does: an important question from Jess, an emergency at work. With that kind of intermittent reinforcement, pretty much every time I’m at coffee or lunch or dinner or drinks, I and the other people there all put our phones on the table, waiting for them to buzz with some update that perhaps plausibly might be important but almost certainly isn’t at all.

Hence the Pebble, which notifies me of calls or texts by buzzing my wrist, while my phone is tucked away in my bag or jacket pocket. That might not sound like a big difference – an interruption is an interruption – but, in fact, it’s a big one. Because I can’t actually respond to those calls or texts from the Pebble, I actually have to decide that responding is important and proactively get my phone out to do so, rather than just reflexively reacting to every ping and ding.

As Viktor Frankl pointed out, choice – as well as our growth and freedom – exists in the space between stimulus and response. The Pebble lets me engage with the stimulus – those texts and calls still roll in – but makes the space just big enough that I can more thoughtfully make the right choices about what, when and where warrants a response.

As I said, it doesn’t sound like much. But, in practice, on my actual wrist, it feels like meaningful progress.

The Devil Inside

Gemelli had terrible gas last night. Terrible. So when he started making meaningful eye contact with me and Jess, we knew what he wanted.

I put a coat and shoes on me, a leash on him, and we both headed downstairs. My plan was to have him poop quickly on a lap around the block, then head back in from the cold; Gem had other ideas.

After fighting it out at the corner for a few minutes – I wanted him to turn up West End Ave., he apparently wasn’t interested – I gave up and told him I’d just follow him.

So he ran across West End, dragging me towards Riverside Drive. I was pretty sure where he wanted to go: the [87th St dog run](http://www.yelp.com/biz/87th-street-dog-run-new-york) in Riverside Park, one of his favorite morning walk stomping grounds.

“I know you like the dog run,” I tried to tell to him, as he pulled me down 88th street, “but your friends won’t be there right now. They’re all at home. Nobody comes to the dog run at 10:30 at night.”

We reached the park, dark and empty, and headed down the winding path and long stairs to the run. As suspected, it was completely deserted.

Still, we went in, and I let Gemelli off leash. He sat down for a minute. Then he took off running, full speed, around the perimeter of the run, howling to the moon at the top of his lungs.

He’s normally a pretty quiet guy – doesn’t even bark all that much – so I wasn’t aware he *could* howl. But howl he did, lap after sprinted lap.

At the end of his fifth or sixth pass, he ran to the dead center of the run, popped a squat, and made the biggest poop of his life.

Finished, he shook himself off, quietly walked over to me. I put his leash back on, and, in the dark, we silently and calmly walked back home.

Shoot Me

Spent yesterday helping Jess wrangle a last-chance photo shoot at the [Morgan Libary](http://www.themorgan.org/home.asp), as [Dobbin](http://www.dobbinclothing.com) counts down to releasing their Spring ’13 line:

DSC00962

“EMPLOYEES of Neverware, a small tech start-up company in Manhattan, agree that CrossFit reinforces workplace cooperation. “When we were spotting each other on squats, we literally had each other’s backs,” said Daniel Ryan, 22, a software developer and Princeton student who was an intern at the company last year.

Until recently, the Neverware team worked out three times a week at CrossFit NYC. The workouts took place around 3 p.m. — the hour when employees had begun to nod off — and offered a much-needed interruption in 12- to 15-hour workdays. Jonathan Hefter, 27, the C.E.O., said he expected his staff members, then all men, to participate.”

\-[“We’re One Big Team, So Run Those Stairs”, *The New York Times*](http://www.nytimes.com/2013/03/31/business/crossfit-offers-an-exercise-in-corporate-teamwork-too.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0)

Fixing Gmail

In the left sidebar of Gmail, click “create new label”:

Screen Shot 2013-03-28 at 12.35.53 PM

Name the label “Robots”, or something similar:

Screen Shot 2013-03-28 at 12.34.38 PM

Search for the word “unsubscribe”. Click the triangle at the right of the search box for search options, then click “Create filter with this search >>” at the bottom right of the pop-up:

Screen Shot 2013-03-29 at 12.03.22 PM

Select “Skip the Inbox (Archive It)” and “Apply the label” and choose the Robots label. Click “Create filter”:

Screen Shot 2013-03-28 at 12.35.14 PM

Voila.

Now, [Bacn](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bacn) ends up in the Robots folder, rather than clogging up your inbox.

With the wheat separated from the chaff, you can respond to real, inbox email on the fly (I heartily recommend the new [Mailbox app](http://www.mailboxapp.com), which Dropbox just acquired) while skimming through the other crap only once or twice a day.

Do this now, and thank me later, once you realize how much this little change improves your digital life.

Stached

Recently, I was tapped as the celebrity trainer for an upcoming issue of Seventeen magazine.

As that’s already slightly creepy, I figured I might as well go full out. For the requisite headshot, I grew a child-molester mustache:

joshnewman

Great success!

“At some point, you have to turn your attention from the advice of commentators whose main credential is success in providing advice, and actually steep yourself in the nuance of how people make remarkable things happen in your field.”
-[Cal Newport](http://calnewport.com/blog/2013/02/26/on-the-art-of-ambition/?utm_source=StartupDigest+Reading+List+%28best+articles+on+startup+life%29+%5BStartup+Digest%5D&utm_campaign=a1f2308f3f-StartupDigest_Reading_List_Mar1&utm_medium=email)

“We found in all of our research studies that the signature of mediocrity is not an unwillingness to change; the signature of mediocrity is chronic inconsistency.”
– Jim Collins, Great by Choice

Away In Virginia, I See a Mustard Field And Think Of You

because the blue hills are like the shoulder and slopes
of your back as you sleep. Often I slip a hand under
your body to anchor myself to this earth. The yellow
mustard rises from a waving sea of green.

I think of us driving narrow roads in France, under
a tunnel of sycamores, my hair blowing in the hot wind,
opera washing out of the radio, loud. We are feeding
each other cherries from a white paper sack.

And then we return to everyday life, where we fall
into bed exhausted, fall asleep while still reading,
forget the solid planes of the body in the country
of dreams. I miss your underwear, soft from a thousand
washings, the socks you still wear from a store
out of business thirty years. I love to smell your sweat
after mowing grass or hauling wood; I miss the weight
on your side of the bed.

\- “Away In Virginia, I See a Mustard Field And Think Of You” by Barbara Crooker

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