Matt Hauger | On media & technology

Is it too late to switch to the Mac?

June 20, 2018

by Matt

apple

After a quarter-century using Windows, I’m finally getting a Macintosh.

Wait, does “Mac” even stand for “Macintosh” anymore? Or is “Mac” more like “KFC”—an abbreviation that eventually supplanted the original name? You’ll have to forgive my ignorance; my last Apple computer was the venerable Apple IIGS of the late 80s and early 90s. Since my early teen-aged years, I’ve computed exclusively on Windows PCs—everything from beige, bargain-bin boxes to high-end portable workstations. I’ve never owned a Mac.

Oh, over the years, I’ve occasionally lusted after the Mac’s build quality, thriving indie software community, and visually consistent interface. And yes, as an iPhone owner, I’ve often wished for a computer that played nicer with my smartphone. But despite the Mac’s attractiveness, switching always seemed financially or professionally impractical.

As my career has shifted into more creative fields, however, the Mac has become a more reasonable option. Among machines geared for creative power users, Macs still cost more—but not dramatically more, relative to comparable PCs. My new 15″ MacBook Pro should arrive within the next week or two.

In some ways, it’s an odd time to shift platforms. I’m swimming against the current; bloggers, podcasters, and creative professionals have grown increasingly frustrated with Apple’s stewardship of the Mac. Some have openly speculated whether the Mac will eventually be deprecated in favor of an iOS-flavored replacement.

So, before making the leap, I considered the risks in terms of both software and hardware:

Switching to Mac software: am I moving to a ghost town?

Depending on who you ask, the Mac ecosystem has either reached maturity—or it’s gone completely stagnant. Whatever your perspective, it’s hard to deny that Apple invests more engineering resources in iOS than macOS these days. Yes, the Mac still gets new OS features (e.g. Mojave’s welcome Dark Mode), but these updates are relatively minor compared to those introduced for Apple’s flagship product, the iPhone.

Third-party software development on the Mac has slowed, too. The Mac App Store may not be a ghost town, per se, but it’s not exactly a bustling metropolis, either.

As a new switcher, the Mac’s decline as a developer platform bums me out. But it’s not all bad news. Most big software houses (including Adobe and Microsoft itself) support Mac and Windows with equal gusto. And the Mac remains a better platform than Windows for indie-developed productivity apps and creative utilities. UIKit’s upcoming release on the Mac (slated for 2019) will likely widen this gap, as devs port over projects that were previously iOS-only.

One particular indie app is almost enough, all by itself, to make me switch to Mac. I’m talking about Omnifocus, the to-do tracker that maps most neatly onto the Getting Things Done productivity method. The app really is that critical to my workflow these days. I’m pumped that I’ll soon be able to use it without hacks or workarounds.

Switching to Mac hardware: did I miss the “golden era”?

The Mac’s software ecosystem may be languishing, but it’s Mac hardware that has Apple bloggers most alarmed. Longtime developers are openly criticizing Apple’s irregular Mac releases. Last year, lamenting the state of the Mac Pro, Sebastiaan de With wrote,

[Apple] let the Mac languish, with a lack of updates to the hardware making it increasingly difficult to use the Mac for demanding work. …. And year after year, without any word from Apple, the professional desktop Macs got older without updates. Four years passed. Four years. An eternity and a half in computers. Creatives started to leave. Most of my friends that are in 3D, film and other creative industries have switched to PCs. And more continue to leave.

The Mac laptops haven’t escaped criticism, either. Power users frequently deride the current Macbook Pros for their shallow, unreliable keyboards and irregular update cadence.

I share their worries. I’ve only typed on the new “butterfly ”keyboard style once or twice (in Apple retail stores), but I’m not a fan of its “clicky” (rather than “clacky”) feel. Plus, I find the Touch Bar (Apple’s little-loved touchscreen function row) distracting and somewhat pointless. Finally, I resent the fact that my “new” machine will have year-old internals. But I don’t have much of a choice—I need a machine now, not “whenever Apple gets around to refreshing its laptop lineup.”

Conclusion

Despite all the concerns and caveats, I’m excited. My very first computing experiences as a kid happened on Apple-designed machines. Adopting the Mac now, thirty-odd years later, feels like coming home.

I’m just hoping the house doesn’t come down around me. ■

Podcasting on the run (literally)

June 9, 2018

by Matt

The unscratched itch (why I meditate)

March 26, 2018

by Matt

health

Every morning before dawn, I roll out of bed, stumble through the dark to our living room, and plop myself down in front of a massive light box. This suitcase-shaped panel blasts 10,000 lux of faux sunlight directly into my face. “Light therapy” serves as a sort of reality check, realigning my body clock to an earlier sunrise than we enjoy here at our northern latitude.

To stave off boredom during these half-hour light box sessions, I practice mindfulness meditation. These two practices, meditation and light therapy, are similar, in my mind. Just as bright light realigns my body clock to a healthier rhythm, meditation realigns my thought life to healthier patterns, too: from anxiety-driven obsessions to the steady rhythm of my breath.

Context: prayer as listening

I came late to the mindfulness party. In the evangelical tradition of my childhood, prayer was more about talking than listening. Every day, during my “devotions” (Christianese for bible-reading and prayer), I followed a familiar script: recite a list of God’s best qualities, confess where I screwed up, thank God for the good stuff in my life, and, finally, ask God for what I wanted—or what I felt I should want.

By the time I hit college, this daily prayer regimen had grown tiresome. I would often spend hours a day talking at God, churning through a long list of required topics. I came to dread that time, spent locked my dorm’s study room. The burden grew so heavy that I stopped praying altogether, save for hurried recitations before meals.

Fortunately, I eventually met faith-minded mentors who approached their spiritual practices less rigidly, more humbly, and more thoughtfully. They demonstrated how “quiet time” is better spent being quiet—i.e. shutting my mouth and stilling my mind—than babbling on and on.

Adopting the practice

Along these lines, seven or eight years ago, a close friend introduced me to mindfulness meditation and shared how it helped tame his anxiety. As he framed it, the practice was simple: just focus on your breath. When your mind wanders, return your attention gently to the breath. Repeat.

At first, I was suspicious. It seemed almost too simple—like some sort of trick. Eventually, though, my curiosity won out. I gave meditation a try, and, before long, I was hooked.

Reflections & results

What makes meditation “sticky” for me? In short, meditation provides a reliable way of short-circuiting anxious thought cycles.

Here’s what I mean: I occasionally find myself haunted by uncertainty. I wonder whether I said something dumb in a past conversation (“Did I offend her?”). Or I worry that my haircut looks stupid (“Is my head weirdly shaped?”). Or I fret about my health (“Does that bad test result portend a medical disaster?”). I retread the same mental territory over and over again, trying to think my way out of the problem. That never helps; instead, rumination makes me more anxious than when I started. It’s like scratching an itchy rash; in the end, the sensation only gets worse.

In meditation, I resist the temptation to scratch that mental itch. Instead of ruminating on an unanswerable question, I focus on something else instead: my breath. The sounds in the room. The physical manifestation of anxiety itself. Anything but that troubling question. As many times as it pops up, I acknowledge it, but don’t pursue, gently returning to my focus object instead.

In this way, meditation is “practicing the turn”: rehearsing the shift from unhelpful thoughts to steadier sensations. In my morning session, I repeat that cognitive move, again and again—so that I can perform it later that day and and derail circular trains of thought in “real life.”

There are signs that it’s working. I’ve noticed at least two encouraging improvements that I attribute to my meditation practice: first, I’m more aware of my own emotional state. It’s a subtle change, but I often find myself thinking, “Man, I’m really anxious” (or tired, or hungry, etc.). Somehow, the simple act of acknowledging those feelings loosens their grip and makes it easier to act charitably, in spite of them.

A second hopeful development? I no longer dread my morning “quiet times”; I actually look forward to visiting the meditation pillow. That was rarely the case when I dedicated that time to talk-heavy prayer.

Getting started with meditation

If you’re interesting in trying mindfulness meditation, I would highly recommend checking out an app called Headspace. The program was designed by a former Buddhist monk and provides an entertaining, novice-friendly introduction to the technique. The full program requires an incredibly expensive subscription, but the first ten sessions are free—and that might be enough to get the hang of things.

Once you’ve established your practice and feel comfortable meditating with less guidance, consider transitioning to an app like Insight Timer. It provides an intuitive interface for scheduling chimes to mark your meditation stages. ■

Imagining the Apple Watch Series 4

February 26, 2018

by Matt

apple

Every year since the Apple Watch’s debut, a new hardware version has been released. The OG Watch dropped in 2015, the Series 1 and 2 hit in 2016, and the Series 3 was released this past fall. Should this pattern hold, the Apple Watch Series 4 will show up later this year.

What hardware improvements could we hope for in the Series 4? Here are the changes I would like to see:

Better heart rate sensor

The Apple Watch may well have the best wrist-based heart rate sensor in the industry. But it’s not good enough. On runs, my Watch often fails to register my pulse at all. Once it does, it’s comically incorrect—either 30 BPM too high or “half off,” as if it’s missing every other heartbeat. I’d almost rather not have a heartrate reading at all than one I can’t trust for adjusting my effort level.

Now, we may be running up against physics here. Like all other wrist-based heart trackers, the Watch uses an optical sensor; green LEDs illuminate the blood flowing through your wrist. Apparently, that’s not a particularly reliable way to measure heart rate.¹

But if it’s possible to either a) improve the optical heart rate tech or b) adopt some other, more reliable technology, I’d love to see Apple do it. Right now, I bring both the Apple Watch and my chest strap on runs. That’s annoying.

Always-on screen

It’s right there on the tin. The Apple “Watch” is a “watch”—i.e., a wrist-worn device for telling the time. But compared to every other “dumb” watch on the market, the Watch does worse at performing this basic task.

The Apple Watch manages its power aggressively, switching off the screen after a few seconds of inactivity. If you steal a glance at the device without raising your wrist—say, while you’re typing or reading or eating or driving—you’re greeted by a black, blank screen. If you do flip your wrist, the Watch often fails to register this movement and stays dark.

Given the Series 3’s stellar battery life, I’d like to see Apple loosen the power management reins a bit, in favor of an always-available clock. Just light up enough pixels to show the current time. The Series 4 could still hide its complications (weather, Activity rings, sports scores, etc.) until I raised my wrist; fade them in when you’re sure I’m watching. But at all other moments of the day, show the time in dimly-lit, grayish digits, glanceable from any angle.

Thinner body

The Watch has always seemed a bit chunky, and it’s actually been getting chunkier with each successive generation. It’s time to reverse that trend. My ideal Apple Watch would be about 25% thinner than the Series 3 and would feel less like a nerd-alert badge on my wrist. That may not be possible this year, but I’ll be irked if the Watch gets thicker again.

Slimmer bezels

Because the Apple Watch cleverly blends its bezels with its OLED screen, it’s easy to miss just how wide those bezels are. In the era of “edge-to-edge” phone displays, I’d like to see that tech trickle down to Apple’s wearable devices. Push those corners out just a bit with the next hardware revision.

Longshots: glucose monitor and temperature sensing

Finally, two less-likely hopes for an Apple Watch Series 4:

Last year, Apple was rumored to be developing a blood sugar sensor that worked without piercing your skin. This would be a godsend for diabetics, but it could also help non-diabetics get a better handle on healthy eating. I’d be less likely to down a Coke if I could see exactly how high it spikes my glucose levels.
Finally, temperature sensors could be fun. What if the Series 4 Watch could detect your body temperature and the ambient air temperature? There are algorithmic challenges here, of course; your wrist’s temperature may not reflect your core heat, and body heat would throw off ambient readings. But maybe Apple could correct for these problems. Imagine a Watch that could detect a fever before other symptoms arise. Or a Watch that could confirm, once and for all, that your favorite restaurant sets its thermostat three degrees too cold. ■

My chest strap heart rate monitor works far better than the Watch, but it has the unfair advantage of sitting literally an inch or two from my heart—from that location, it can detect the electric impulse generated by my ticker itself. ↩

Imagining the future of AI photography

November 27, 2017

by Matt

tech

Portrait mode and corollary features (e.g. portrait lighting) are halting first steps towards a true AI-augmented camera. Here’s a fanciful look at our smartphone future:

It’s April 4, 2027, and Julie is making good progress. For the seventh time that day, she clambers up the squeaky attic ladder and crouch-steps her way to a tall pile of cardboard boxes. She squints at the next box in the stack, just making out her mother’s scrawl: “FAMILY PHOTOS.” It slides easily across the dusty floorboards, and Julie descends the ladder, flopping the box from step to step above her.

With a heavy sigh, she sets the box down on a dining room chair. Her kitchen scissors make quick work of the duct tape; Julie glances inside—and winces. No neat stacks, no carefully-curated photo albums. Instead, the box is full to the brim with loose snapshots, unlabeled and unsorted. Just a few years back, organizing these photos would have taken an entire weekend.

Fortunately for Julie, times have changed. She works quickly, plucking photos from the box and tossing them into a messy grid on the table. Within a few minutes, she has strewn hundreds of memories across the oak panels. They’re arranged in no particular order; Julie spots a baby photo of her grandmother from the 40s, adjacent to a faded Kodak print of Aunt Susie driving in the mid–70s. The very next snapshot in the row is a Polaroid from Christmas 1991; her little brother triumphantly lifts a brand-new video game console package above his head.

With a nostalgic smile, Julie whips out her smartphone and opens the photo enhancement app that makes this spring cleaning possible. The real work begins; she waves the device over the table, lazily panning its viewfinder across the rows and columns of snapshots.

As she does, the camera does its magic. Each individual photograph is extracted, cropped, and saved to its own file. The process is nearly instant; after just a minute or two of haphazard scanning, the app beeps and confirms that it’s captured all the data it needs. Julie sweeps the impromptu collage into a waiting trash cash.

It’s almost hard to believe how much she trusts the phone to capture these photos. Once, she would have been horrified to throw away such precious memories. Now, in a single day, she has filled a half-dozen garbage bags with old snapshots.

As she breaks down the empty cardboard box, the phone app (and the cloud service that powers it) does its own tidying up. First, it leverages machine learning to automatically recognize every object in every photo: that’s a baby beneath a maple tree in late fall. That’s a 1976 AMC Hornet. That’s a Sega Genesis.

With that context in hand, the service can clean up the photos. First, the easy stuff: wiping away physical scratches. Removing decades’ worth of discoloration and fade. Filling in missing, damaged details using robust healing algorithms. The AMC logo on the Hornet’s hood, obliterated by a coffee stain on the photo, is now recreated from a library of vintage car logos. A gouge in the leaves gets repaired too; maple leaves have a distinctive shape, and the app generates a few more to fill the hole. The Sega Genesis, motion-blurred in the boy’s excitement, is sharpened using actual product photography.

The restoration isn’t limited to inanimate objects, though. The app knows that it’s Aunt Susie who’s sitting behind the wheel of the Hornet, even though she’s obscured by glare on the windshield and some lens flare. Using Susie’s existing visual profile, the tool sharpens her face and glasses and fills in the blown-out highlights with data from other images.

The service automatically assigns metadata to each image, too. Every calendar, clock, Christmas tree, or party hat in the background helps the service narrow down the image date. Less obvious visual clues can help, too; the app might recognize that ’76 Hornet from previous scans and assign the photo of Susie to the same era. Even the girl’s tight perm could help to date the photo; given enough data, the app might know exactly when she adopted—and abandoned—that distinctive look. In the same way, visual cues could help pin down each photo’s location, too.

As Julie sets the last of the trash bags by the curb, she feels a twinge of bittersweet guilt. The garbage truck is on its way; soon, the original photos will be gone for good.

But based on experience, she’s confident enough in the restoral to let them go. The digitized shots are far more portable, more flexible, and more interesting than the paper copies ever were. She can make edits that would otherwise have been impossible—like tweaking the exposure level or even the location and brightness of the original scene’s light sources. Or altering the camera’s focal length, decades after the shot was taken; the app’s AI has used the source image to extrapolate exactly where each object sits in three-dimensional space.

Finally, Julie can even perform that “Zoom… enhance” magic promised by science fiction movies for decades. As she steps back into the kitchen, she grabs her tablet and plops down at the counter. Time to take a closer look at Aunt Susie’s unbelievable 70s curls. ■

Portrait Lighting effects on steroids
AI-powered photo enhancement is already happening.

My favorite Black Friday tradition? Complaining about Black Friday.

November 24, 2017

by Matt

culture

It’s Black Friday—the highest of high American holidays.

For years, I puzzled about the traditions that have built up around the start of the holiday shopping season. “Who in their right mind,” I wondered, “would willingly wake before dawn to stand outside in sub-freezing temperatures, on the off chance that they might score a slight discount on a terrible TV set?”

And so I scoffed at the plebian masses, standing in line for the right to be the first to sprint into their local Wal-Mart. I shook my head sagely when the local news aired videos of shoppers trampling and berating each other to get their hands on the latest disposable toy. I rued the erosion of a family-oriented holiday and derided retailers who opened their doors on Thanksgiving evening.

Looking back, I relished my own Black Friday tradition: complaining about Black Friday.

Alas, I gave up my right to sneer at early holiday shoppers a few years ago—when I became one of them.

Back in 2013, at the height of the iPad’s popularity, Target announced a killer Black Friday deal: $20 off, plus a $100 gift card. I had been hankering to join the “post-PC revolution” this seemed like the perfect opportunity.

But to snag the discount, I would need to show up, in person, at the local Target outlet at 6 PM on Thanksgiving itself. With some embarrassment, I explained to my wife that I would be slipping out to shop. (Fortunately for me, she was more amused than annoyed.)

The shopping sojourn went as planned. I bought the tablet without incident; no sprinting or elbows required. I even sort of enjoyed the cultural experience—chatting up other people in the line as we waited for the doors to fling open. Power-walking through the store to the electronics department. Clutching my hard-won prize on the victory walk back to the car. Most of all, I felt a strange kinship for my fellow shoppers, who like me saw fit to celebrate the Day of Gratitude by buying more stuff.

As the Black Friday fever subsided, though, I found that I had lost more than I gained. I never really found a good use for the iPad itself. (For me, tablets have always fallen “into the cracks” between devices: worse for portable usage than a phone and worse for “real work” than a laptop.) In the ensuing months, I couldn’t really justify going to such lengths to secure a device I barely ever used.

The lost money and squandered family time are bad enough. But I have a more poignant regret about my participation in Black Friday mania: I lost any credibility as a couch critic of America’s bizarre shopping celebration. How can I sneer at the “mindless hordes” gathering outside the nearest Best Buy when I’m one of them? ■

The AppleCare gamble

November 23, 2017

by Matt

apple

The release of the $1,000 iPhone X has renewed a tech nerd debate: is AppleCare+, Apple’s extended warranty and accident protection service, worth the price?

The iPhone X’s sky-high repair costs change the calculus somewhat. Shatter the screen of your X (sans AppleCare), and you’re out $279. Break anything else, and Apple will charge you $549(!) to replace the phone entirely. That sticker-shock price may scare some consumers into dropping another $199 for AppleCare.

Numbers that high make me nervous, too. Still, I’ve never sprung for AppleCare+. Here are some reasons I’ve been stingy:

I’ve never broken a phone. In seven years of iPhone ownership across five different devices (iPhone 4, 5, 6, 7, and X), I’ve never actually damaged a phone (beyond a scratch or two). My screens haven’t shattered, and the phones with glass backs haven’t busted. That perfect track record makes me cocky.
I’m obsessive about cocooning my devices. When I order a new phone, I order a sturdy case and a screen protector to go with it. My iPhones literally go straight from their original packaging into a case, and they don’t come out unless I’m cleaning the device or preparing to sell it. Of course, cases can’t prevent all damage, but so far I’ve been lucky. Even some significant drops haven’t noticeably damaged my ensconced handsets.
Those AppleCare coverage charges add up over the years. If I had bought AppleCare for each iPhone I’ve owned, I would have spent something like $555 in about seven years—with no actual benefit beyond peace of mind. Given this savings, I feel pretty comfortable “self-insuring” my devices; I’ll keep doing it as long as my out-of-pocket repair costs (currently $0) remain lower than than what I would pay adding AppleCare.
My credit card makes AppleCare somewhat redundant. My Chase Freedom card offers an extra year of extended warranty protection for anything I buy. That perk eliminates one clear benefit of the AppleCare plan and further diminishes its potential value.
Annual iPhone upgraders enjoy perpetual warranty coverage, anyways. By the time the iPhone X’s one-year warranty expires, there’s a good chance I will have sold it and upgraded to a newer device (with its own year-long warranty). So AppleCare’s extended warranty offers no real benefit.
AppleCare is less attractive for those who live far from an Apple retail outlet. For many Apple customers, it’s reassuring to know that there’s a bleached-wood-and-frosted-glass palace nearby—a place to have your busted phone serviced, often in a single day. But those who live in the sticks (like me) face a week-long wait, a back-and-forth with Apple via the package couriers. In other words, phone repairs are a pain, whether I buy AppleCare or not.

In the end, I’m betting on my own ability to prevent iPhone catastrophes. As long as I don’t bust my phone more than once every few years, that gamble will continue to pay off. ■

Tracking health data for its own sake

November 22, 2017

by Matt

health

For the past few months, I’ve been using my Apple Watch to track my sleep. AutoSleep uses the device’s internal accelerometer to measure both sleep quality and total sleep time.

The app is surprisingly accurate, and it’s fun to peek at my sleep stats each morning. But I don’t actually do much with that data. The numbers don’t factor directly into my bedtime decisions or sleep habits.

But that doesn’t necessarily mean that my sleep tracking efforts are fruitless. There’s something powerful about knowing where I stand—particularly when it comes to health.

Take food tracking as a example. For the past year or so, I’ve input my consumed food via an app called Lose It. I don’t really adhere to a strict daily limit, but knowing how gluttonous I’ve been earlier in the day is often just enough motivation to resist dessert. Conversely, when I don’t record my meals, I tend to overeat.

Weighing myself each morning has proven similarly useful. Again, I don’t have strict weight loss targets; I simply record my poundage day after day using Vekt for the Apple Watch. This habit populates the Apple Health database with a running tally, giving me a general idea of which direction my weight is trending.

That knowledge leads to better food choices—almost automatically. If my weight drifts too high, I find myself gravitating to healthier options—fruit instead of sweets, salads instead of sandwiches, water rather than Coke. Conversely, when I’m hovering near my ideal weight, I’ll reward myself with an extra treat or two.

All that to say, even if my sleep stats seem inconsequential, I’m going to continue wearing my Apple Watch to bed. I’m hoping that a peripheral awareness of my sleep habits may (subliminally) lead to better sleep decisions. Maybe I’ll skip that Netflix binge in favor of an early bedtime. ■

Being okay with being terrible

November 21, 2017

by Matt

Fixing Portrait mode’s grossness

November 20, 2017

by Matt

apple / tech

A few weeks ago, I bought an iPhone X. I love its face-unlock authentication and its gorgeously tall screen, but its dual-lens camera is easily my favorite feature. The iPhone X is the best camera I’ve every owned, and it’s not even really a competition. I’ve never had an SLR and my last point-and-shoot was from the early days of digital photography.

In fact, the iPhone X camera is so good (or, rather, “good enough”) that it’s hard to imagine I’ll ever consider buying a standalone camera again.

That’s not to say there isn’t plenty of room for improvement. In particular, I find “portrait mode” (the fake bokeh blur effect) alternately intoxicating and maddening. In many cases, it does a great job isolating my photo’s foreground subject. But when it fails, it fails hard. As many others have pointed out, hair poses a serious challenge to its algorithm, as do non-contiguous background areas (e.g. a piece of the background visible through the crook of your subject’s arm) and ambiguous edges.

Could Apple fix these sorts of hiccups in software? This is my first dance with Portrait mode, so I can’t say whether the feature has improved since its first release last year. But I have at least some hope that edge detection will improve and fill in some of the gaps (pun intended).

Even if the algorithms improve, I’d like to see some way to touch up these problematic Portrait mode depth maps. There are already several interesting apps that let me see the underlying depth channel. Slør paints it as a black-and-white alpha channel; Focos lets me spin the depth layers around like I’m in some sort of sci-fi flick (“Rotate. Zoom. Enhance.”).

But neither of those apps—nor any others that I’ve heard of—let you actually fix the depth sensing errors that creep into Portrait mode photos. Take those non-continugous background areas I mentioned earlier. Given a decent channel-editing interface, it would be relatively simple to paint a foreground area back into the background, where it belongs.

It’s possible that Apple’s developer-facing APIs won’t allow depth changes to be written back into a fully editable Portrait mode photo. If not, that’s a shame and ought to be corrected. In the meantime, though, I’d love to see an app handle depth edits “in-house”, then export a flattened photo (with the proper blur baked in) back to the camera roll.

Hopefully that sort of functionality arrives soon. Portrait mode is a blast, but it’s hard to feel too enthusiastic when it produces such glaring flaws. ■