The camera adds 10 years

I have recently been made aware of a cool feature in Google Maps, called Street View. The basic idea is simple. When you are searching some maps, you can optionally see what it would be like to view it from the perspective of a pedestrian on the street. This virtual view is great when you are going to be visiting a new city and would like to just explore from the comfort of your recliner, or when you are just feeling nosy.

I think the Street View feature is pretty cool. Unfortunately, Aaron and Christine Boring (yes, that is their real name) from Pittsburgh were enormously distressed to find their personal dwelling in plain sight of any virtual passer-by. In fact, they are suing Google for $25,000 in damages and "mental suffering" that ensued from the release of the photos of their property (photo source: www.techcrunch.com). I am not a real estate professional, but I would venture to say that Google is not the reason their property has diminished in value. A bit of landscaping wouldn't hurt.

The Borings claim that Google showed a "grossly reckless invasion of their privacy" by disregarding a "Private Road" sign. This calls to mind the adage "the camera adds 20 pounds..." but in this case apparently it subtracts $25,000 from your property value. Give me a break.

It is hard to believe any claim of mental anguish this would have caused the Borings. Presumably the Borings are quite private people, judging from the clearly posted signs, for whom all this unwelcome publicity must be causing them great anguish. Why would they invite this sort of ridicule? More importantly, how was it brought to their attention that their property as viewed from Street View looked, well, unsightly? Were people randomly looking on Street View as part of some national scavenger hunt? Perhaps a more likely explanation is that vintage car collectors spend countless hours scouring our virtual front yards in search of that elusive carburetor for a 1962 Chevy Impala.

Geek.

People who know me will attest that I am an self-avowed geek. I am not embarrassed by this observation any more than I would be about saying I have brown hair. I am a geek. I possess a love for learning, especially in the field of science, and intellectual pursuits that is simultaneously challenging and amusing. I try to adopt an attitude of "I don't care what other people think, I find this stuff interesting" and if others think I am weird for it, then so be it. This is not to say that I am an elitist. Far from it -- I just don't care what others think of me.

One of my favorite things to do after work is to go down to the pub for a pint of Guinness. It is an opportunity to relax, mingle and talk with someone besides myself. Eventually, the conversation will lead to the "so, what do you do?" sort of question in my direction. I then stammer, stutter, and try to best describe what I do in 50 sentences or less, and usually make myself look like a complete idiot in the process. My addled response is not a reflection on my job, you see. I am fortunate - very fortunate - to be gainfully employed at a job that I absolutely love, and find ripe with challenges to which I can ply some intellectual rigor. But I find it difficult to describe what I do for a living to someone who is not in the same profession. This loss of words usually leads me to declare myself to be a nuclear psychologist, or pharyngeal phlebotomist, or somethings equally improbable, eliciting the usual "oh.. that sounds interesting" sort of reply. Once on an airplane ride from San Jose to Minneapolis, I responded with I am a rocket scientist, when asked by the stately older gentlemen sitting next to me. Much to my surprise and dismay, he was a bona fide rocket scientist and took delight in the serendipity which brought us together for the next 4 hours. As luck would have it, he was a Professor of Aeronautics at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) and System Engineer at NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center. No shit. [gulp] After 10 minutes of explaining that I really wasn't a rocket scientist, we had a good laugh and talked for the next two hours about Markov queueing models and their application to space communication systems. There was a remarkable number of similarities between his work and research and mine, so it turned out to be very pleasant after all.

Why go through all the trouble? Here's why. When I do tell people what I do, I am very excited and enthusiastic about it -- that's just how I am. I discovered that this fervor is uncommon, in so much as most people don't share my enthusiasm for their jobs. What usually ensues is a discussion about how they really dislike their job, and if they had only finished college, or chose another career, etc... things would be different. This usually leaves them feeling like garbage and wanting to guzzle another pint of Guinness. It makes me profoundly unhappy to see other people beat themselves up. You see, I really don't care what others think of me -- but, I do care what others think of themselves. I am not a lottery winner, but I am really lucky, and if my good fortune makes others feel like crap, then I'd just as soon keep quiet.