A recognisable but not referenced often enough image is the U-shaped curve.

This applies to hero’s journeys, habit forming, and difficult projects. We start out all enthusiastic and energetic, heading down the curve with momentum. Next is the flat part in the middle, where things are hard and we want to quit. But it’s not over until we put in the hard yards, and then we see some successes, and the climb up the other side of the valley is tolerable because at least by then we can see progress and results.

The U-shaped curve is real. Keep at it!

The purpose of an engineering degree, or any degree with a technical focus, should be so the graduate can, and wants to, do the engineering, science, or technical work. The reasons for getting an engineering degree should not solely be to be a manager or CEO.

While I agree we need technical people to also be able to communicate and collaborate, and to lead, I also think we need our technical people to want to do the technical work. Engineers should want to design, build, maintain, solve problems, create new innovations, do technical things. Better yet, do all of those.

When I was in high school, back in the late 1980s in Calgary, Canada, there was a debate team. Or, I’m pretty sure there was. I wasn’t on it, and (regrettably) had no interest in being on it. (However, I did take a typing class, and I am forever grateful for that, because touch typing without looking is just excellent).

I regret not being exposed to formalised debating, because that is a skill so worth having. The ability to develop a coherent position based on a structure like “what, why, when, who” is central to communication. That’s the next excellence.

Journalling as an activity has a weird vibe around it (Dear Diary, anyone?). It conjures up images of teenage girls, world weary travellers, or, poets. Not that there’s anything wrong with any of those demographics, but journalling isn’t something associated with technical decision makers or engineers.

Whenever we need to make a point, whether through writing or conversation, there’s definitely something about writing it out, by hand, before the main event. The slowness of handwriting allows the brain to form deeper reasoning.

Maybe don’t call it journalling; call it decision-making, or thinking it through, or working it out. It works.

“The Art of Gathering” by Priya Parker is 280 pages about how we meet, and why it matters. I’m always impressed when a good writer can take something benign, like “meetings” and write coherently about how to do it better. Like Seinfeld being a show about nothing, it’s the nothing in our lives that can be most interesting.

How we meet, and why it matters, will become so much more important in the future. We’ll soon realise that talking and listening are once again pretty good ways to communicate. Like it was a hundred years ago, before, well, all this.

This isn’t the first time that jobs have been disrupted by technology. Calculators and computers of fifty years ago changed math and engineering. The digital camera changed photography.

I’m not completely “concerned” about AI being involved now in writing, because it’s a tool rather than a cheating device. Just like calculators and digital cameras: they changed how we got the output. But someone still had to put in the input.

That’s the thing: I have access to calculators and digital cameras, but I’m not an expert, while others are. Same with quality of AI output: the input context matters too.

I heard this recently, I can’t remember where, but it’s kind of stuck with me:

“Science” is a series of steps, taken by people, committed to being honest and being transparent about those steps, to check out a hypothesis.

Science should be a bit mysterious (it’s not easy), but also, others should be able to take the same steps to test the conclusion.

So, science might be a verb: it’s something you do. And those steps taken to do that science, others can replicate.

(Does anyone else from the 1980s, when you see or say “Science!”, think of Thomas Dolby?)

The book Antifragile, by Nassim Taleb, is a hard slog to read. It’s not terribly accessibly writing, which is a shame, because the concept of being antifragile is excellent.

The opposite of fragile (breakable) is not robust, but rather the uncommon word antifragile.

Robust and resilient mean getting back up after a knock, or withstanding hardships with fervour. This is important, but being antifragile is even better.

Antifragile is taking on the hardships and getting a little better from them. Like purposely taking a boat into a storm to test it, and yourself. Going to the gym. Doing hard things.

I’m not one for making predictions, but here we are: Reading will become the new black, so to speak.

Reading well, and synthesizing what is read, will become more important than writing. Because, as is becoming more and more apparent, the text on any screen could quite possibly be written by a chatbot.

Not that there is anything wrong with that. Well, there might be. Yes, there will be. But as our knowledge work evolves in this new reality, which might take years, the ability to read and summarise and understand: that will be the killer app for us humans.

Commitments with other people, without an end identified, are a problem for me.

I mean meetings, social gatherings, visits from family: these are wonderful and excellent and so important to connect and collaborate. But I’ve discovered that without an ending time understood, whether implicitly (the weekend ends or the pub closes) or explicitly (hard finish time for meetings), then I’m surprisingly, funnily, uncomfortable.

That insight helps me to manage my stress. I see it now: invitations to join never-ending committees, or projects without a goal, are not in my best interest.

Commitments to myself are different: those are lifelong habits.

In late 2019, I was “this close” to booking a long-distance train trip. Either from Adelaide to Darwin, or across the Nullabor. It would’ve been a solo trip, specifically for the amazing expanse of time and brain space. Then, 2020, and so of course it hasn’t been done (yet).

Trains are a good place for thinking. Moving scenery, the gentle rock and hum, no decisions to be made about the route.

Today I rode the suburban trains for awhile around midday, for the unencumbered thinking time. I’m in such a better place when I make time for deep thinking time.

A good engineer, with ethics and professionalism dialled in, will have a good mix of hubris and humility.

Hubris is having the confidence to have a viewpoint, decision or judgement, to the point of taking a stand even when it might cause trouble. Hubris is standing firm, particularly when it is right to stand firm.

But in the face of that hubris, is the need to show humility as well. An engineer who stands firm even when the information has changed isn’t showing humility, that’s just being stubborn. Humility allows you to confidently say, “let me think about this again”.

Forgetting is a skill, as much as remembering is. If we never forgot anything, our brains would become overloaded. This applies to mere mortals of average memory skills. Remembering the combination to our high school locker isn’t much use now.

The brain is a fascinating thing. What we pay attention to, we tend to remember, though we do forget important things.

So the ability to forget the right things is a skill. I marvel at my ability to remember the lyrics to countless 80s pop songs, but had to look up the formula for calculating the volume of a cylinder.

Everything old is new again, right? It’s a new year, sure, but the calendar is just a human construct that helps us communicate. Otherwise, how else would a person know when to celebrate the ‘new’? Happy new year!

I’m back for another year of 100 words a day. This is year five of 100WAD, though obviously I’m not posting “every” day. Never Saturdays, sometimes inconsistent. But it’s become a habit that I can’t quite quit.

One hundred words, exactly, most days, about something I’ve thought of on that day. Go ahead and count em, if you are pedantic like that.

The word hiatus is apt: I’ve been on one from my 100-words-a-day.

And the hiatus will continue, for another week or so. The word hiatus means “a pause or break in continuity in a sequence or activity”, and that fits.

I found an article titled “why a hiatus is good for you”. It extols the benefits of taking a break, and having different priorities. I can see that: shake it up a little by stopping a habit for a while.

Anyway, I know when the 100 words are 100 too many.

Like every other break I’ve taken, I’ll be back.

This one is from my friend and colleague, Ted Metcalfe (who is not on LinkedIn). Ted has a significant influence on my thinking around engineering, judgement, ethics, and how we learn from (infrastructure/engineering) failure.

He made this astute observation, which needs more exploration, about the role of memory:

“Even after reading many books about how we think and make decisions, I still wonder why people make mistakes, but increasingly it seems that memory plays a big part.

Some people are better than others at choosing, storing, and recalling previous experiences; allowing them to demonstrate better mindfulness and judgement under pressure.”

Being in the middle of the Gen-X cohort (1965-1980), I observe the generational and demographic impact of the Boomers and the Millennials with some interest.

Like it or not, the smaller size of Gen-X means we’ve sailed through our 40s into our 50s without much impact on society.

The front end of the millennials cohort (1981-1995) are now in their 40s, probably with children and a mortgage. This inevitably has an impact on values, views, and priorities. And they are moving into management and directorships, with all the associated responsibility (and ageing) attributes. Millennials are not the ‘young ones’ anymore.

It makes sense when you think about it: ceiling height influences our thinking.

It’s a proven response: low ceilings invoke detailed, problem-solving item specific thinking. High ceilings have a ‘cathedral’ effect and cause us to think bigger and more creatively.

Certainly, ceilings have gotten higher over the last 40 years. I remember the old-style airports, which were almost like a concrete bunker in some cases. Modern airports make you think to the sky.

Neither is wrong, they just have their place to consider for your work/life. High ceilings promote wide-ranging creative thoughts, and low ceilings aid with focus and details.

I’m not much into woo-woo stuff (don’t ask me about chakras. I did read a little, listened a little, and then moved on. Interesting, but…woo-woo).

Differentiating between ego and soul isn’t woo-woo, though some might see it that way.

Our egos are well understood: they swell with success, and pout when distressed.

But consider the soul, too. Our soul is not impressed by success, but rather feeds on joy, and comfort. Egos wants reward over and over, nothing less. The soul thrives on wonder.

It’s Elizabeth Gilbert’s writing that got me seeing the difference. Ok, maybe a little woo-woo, sometimes.

Those of us in the engineering field often face the question ‘what does an engineer do exactly’? The answer is “it depends”. And anyway, engineering is undergoing a great morphing right now; the traditional disciplines like civil and mechanical are ever-blurring.

An interesting truth is that the general public rarely ‘hires an engineer’. In comparison, the general public hires accountants, lawyers, dentists, surgeons. So, we kind of know what those professions do, because we deal with them in our own lives. Not so much with engineers, individuals don’t hire engineers. And yet, what engineers do affects everything in our lives.