The Good Life... a weblog about life, technology, and the Opera web browser

Downloadable Music vs. CDs

Today, Steve Jobs posted a note on the Apple Inc. web site about iTunes and Digital Rights Management (DRM, AKA anti-piracy). You should go read it, as it's quite good. It's OK, I'll wait. Done? Good. According to Jobs, about 10% of the music sold in 2006 is downloadable, DRM-protected, and purchased online. The remaining 90% is sold DRM-free on compact discs.

In his note, Jobs talks about the restrictions the music industry imposes on Apple, such as strict requirements that any breaches in DRM security must be fixed within a matter of weeks. DRM must be bulletproof, according to the music industry. The majority of downloadable music sold online has always been protected by DRM, so the music industry finally has a medium where they control how music is shared. Unfortunately for them, a non-DRM'd format is already the de facto standard. Since the mid-90s, MP3s have been available for download via newsgroups, web sites, and P2P networks. It's no wonder that DRM'd music has met so much resistance.

iTunes and Norway

If you haven't heard, the Norwegian Consumer Ombudsman has ruled that the iTunes' DRM violates Norwegian consumer protection laws because it prevents consumers from using their music on digital music players other than the iPod. Most people outside of Norway don't know how many consumer protections are in place in Norway. It's actually quite nice being a consumer in Norway, compared to the United States. For instance, most non-disposable consumer electronics in the US have something like a ninety day warranty on defects in the manufacturing process. In some cases, it's one year. Norwegian law requires a minimum five year warranty on these products (if I'm not mistaken, Norwegians please correct me).

One of the things I really liked about Norway is that it was obvious that big companies hadn't stripped away the rights of individuals. The iTunes case is the same sort of situation. Many people argue that Apple is no more responsible for making sure their songs are compatible with their competitors' MP3 players than printer manufacturers are responsible for making sure their printer cartridges are interoperable. However, they're missing the point. The Ombudsman seems to be saying that purchasing music is more than just buying a certain file format. It's buying the right to listen to the music as you see fit.

DRM and Me

I applaud Steve Jobs' willingness to remove all DRM restrictions from music on iTunes as soon as the music studios allow it and I hope this redirects the Norwegian Ombudsman to the real culprits here: the music industry. To this day, I haven't purchased any DRM'd music or copy-protected CDs and I have no intention of doing so. I'd really like to buy some DRM-free and music industry sanctioned downloadable music, though. Please Universal, Sony BMG, Warner and EMI, make it happen.

Instead of sandwiches (two pieces of bread with stuff in-between), Norwegians typically eat single slices of bread with meat, cheese, vegetables, and/or spread of some sort. As I made my afternoon snack today, it occurred to me why this is: Norwegians don't like pre-sliced bread. In fact, Norwegians I've spoken to have turned their noses up at the very concept of sliced bread. I don't know the basis for this detestation, but I think it has a direct impact on eating habits. While pre-sliced bread is available here, there's a far greater focus on unsliced bread. Pre-sliced bread wasn't always available in the US, so I do wonder if single-slice-sandwiches used to be the norm there, too.

When home-slicing bread, it's tricky to make slices as thin as a machine. Two slices of home-sliced bread are quite thick and hard to fit in your mouth at once. Thus, the Norwegian tendancy to only eat a single piece of bread at a time. In a way, it's an interesting study of evolution: the failure of pre-sliced bread dictated a different default sandwich style. Back in college, I remember being encouraged to travel abroad because it would broaden my understanding of the world. I like to think I've achieved just that with this epiphany today.

One of the perks of living in Norway is learning Norwegian (go figure). While I don't claim to speak fluently, I have learned a fair amount. These are a few phrases that have stuck out so far because of their pure brillance, quirkiness, or fun. I've tried to provide a rough pronunciation, too.[1]

et øyeblikk

Pronunciation: et oy-blek

A moment; literally, "an eye blink"

In English, we'd say "one moment/second/minute". The Norwegian way is much more elegant, yet just as meaningful.

takk for sist

Pronunciation: tuck for sist

Something akin to "nice to see you again"; literally, "thanks for last time"

There's no direct translation for this in English. It expresses happiness at seeing a friend again and reminds them that you had a good time with them last time you were together.

en rosin i pølsen

Pronunciation: en row-seen e pull-san

A surprise in something already great; literally, "a raisin in the sausage"

Norwegians like sausages and apparently raisins in sausages are (or used to be) just short of a delicacy here. So, a sausage is already great on its own, but add in raisins and they're even better.

ha det (bra)

Pronunciation: ha da (bra)

Good bye; literally, "have it (well)"

Most of the time, you just say "ha det", which translates to "have it". Similar to "see you" in that it isn't a complete sentence, but it's used so often that the meaning is understood.

koselig

Pronunciation: koose-lee

Comfortable, cozy

This is used especially to describe the inviting atmosphere of a house during the winter. A "koselig" home usually has a fire, plenty of candles, yummy smells, and good friends.

[1] Pronunciation is very dependent on the area of Norway you live. For instance, in Oslo, "d"s at the end of words are often silent. Also, since I'm giving a rough approximation in English, it depends on how you pronounce things in English.

Today is the 100th anniversary of Norway's indepen­dence from Sweden in 1905 and the signing of the Norweigan Consti­tution in 1814. It's celebrated yearly with two parades in most cities and towns throughout Norway, one for children and one for students graduating from high school (Russ). Through a Christian group we're part of here, Rebekah and I had prime placement in front of the Royal Palace. We even waved to the Queen!

We spent most of our morning in front of the Palace watching the parades go by. While they were nice, it got a bit repetitive after a while. One can only watch so many marching bands and children waving flags. There was a spirited attempt at The Village Peoples' YMCA, but that was probably the highlight of the parade music. At 1pm, we went to Domkirke, a large church downtown, for a traditional May 17th service. Afterward, we went to my co-workers', Lynn and Lars Thomas, apartment for lunch with some other co-workers. It was a long, fun day. As my sister Jen would say, The dogs are barking (my feet hurt).

One of the most interesting parts of the May 17th festivities is Russ, seniors graduating from high school. From around May 1st to May 17th, they celebrate the end of their primary school education with over two weeks of mischief. Part of the tradition is the Russ bus, a bus purchased by students as their transportation. The busses are decorated, filled with speakers, and travel the city waking poor slumbering souls at all hours of the night.

Another cultural gem is the traditional Norwegian costume, the bunad. These costumes are normally only worn for special occasions, such as weddings, funerals, christenings, and, of course, Constitution Day. Each county in Norway has its own style and colors, adding a bit more life to the May 17th parades.

I've been wanting to be a part of the May 17th celebration since I first came to Norway two years ago and today didn't disappoint. One of the best things about living in a foreign country is learning the culture from the inside. And today I got one more cultural notch on my belt. Check out some pictures from our day in our image gallery.

From this day forth, I declare that all bathroom doors must be created with clear external indication of their (un)locked status. Gone is the day where you'll have to jiggle the handle to see if the door is locked, knowing full well that you hate it when people do that while you're trying to finish your business. Forgotten is the day that you stood outside a closed bathroom door for five minutes waiting for someone to emerge just to have someone else more assertive than you try the door and go right into the empty lavatory. You, Mr. Bathroom Door Maker, can make this dream of knowing the (un)locked status of every bathroom door the moment it's encountered come true.

Airplane manufacturers figured this out long ago. Why hasn't everyone else? If there's one reason that I enjoy going on airplanes, it's because I always know if a bathroom is in use or not. Some airplanes even have overhead indicators that inform the entire cabin if someone is using the facilities. It's a truly excellent system.

Please bathroom door manufacturers of the world, answer my cry and let me know if someone is using the loo!

The invasion is nearly over. The woods rustle in the wind, happy to hear themselves again. Defeated, we locked ourselves inside for a month, nearly able to forget about the persistent hum outside. We reemerge now, sweeping aside the carcasses and marveling at nature's shimmering cicada wing collages left in storm drains after evening rain storms. In a couple of weeks, they'll be a distant memory, only jumping to our attention as we rest our hand on a tree next to a long-abandoned husk.

It was like an alien occupation, the bewildering hum of our new neighbors so easily forgotten in the comfort of our homes. Walk outside and it assaults your ears and fills you with dread. Will they be stuck to my car again? Are they going to dive-bomb me? Is there one crawling up my back?

To commemorate this momentous occasion, I've posted some pictures in my gallery. And for a real thrill, don't miss Celia Finsel's images. If you want to know more about them or have a listen, head over to the UMMZ Periodical Cicada Page.

Bugs and I usually get along fairly well. We have an understanding: if I find them in my house, I calmly help them find their way out. If they find me in their house, they help me find my way out. As far as I can tell, it works.

I let the dog out this evening and was mildly perturbed when she proceeded to run around the yard happy as a clam and completely ignoring my rather reasonable requests for her to come inside. As I approached a bush she appeared utterly fascinated with, I noticed that the bush was rustling. Our bushes are usually pretty good about not rustling (they get a bit disorderly in the wind, but that's a separate matter). Thus, I instinctively knew something was amiss.

Alas, it's the height of the Brood X periodical cicada mania. The bushes, trees, and ground were teeming with 'em! My normal peaceful relations with insects was on the verge of collapse, so I retreated inside for a healthy dose of the heebie-jeebies. I'm sure those I tortured seventeen years ago with cicada husks (namely, my sister) feel I'm getting what was coming to me. For hours, I felt like they were crawling all over me. And I just know I'm going to hear that rustling as I try to go to sleep tonight.

Hopefully we'll be able to come to an understanding before they come again in another seventeen years.

On Wednesday evenings, I head over to the University of Oslo for a Christian Union (CU) meeting. CU is a lot like InterVarsity Christian Fellowship, a group I was part of in college. My first week there, students from eleven countries attended the meeting (including another American from Montana).

This past Wednesday, an Iranian man talked to us about some of his friends and family. He read in the newspaper that one of his friends was being accused of terrorism. As he was talking about this, he kept looking directly at me, completely ignoring the other twenty some-odd people in the room. I tend to think I'm a good listener, so maybe he was just appreciating my attention. But part of me wonders if he was talking to me because I was clearly an American and his friend was arrested by Americans. After the meeting, one of the leaders apologized for it, as she'd noticed it too and she didn't want me to be bothered by it.

I think people in the US often have different opinions of our political leaders than the rest of the world because we see them from a different perspective. Most Americans are more concerned about domestic policy issues (taxes, health care, and education, to name a view), while the rest of the world cares about a president's international policy. It's perfectly reasonable on both group's account, as each is more concerned about policy that affects them most.

Most Americans are more nationally-minded, anyway. I, for instance, thought until very recently that Switzerland was part of Scandinavia. And I have a hard time remembering where all fifty states are, let alone countries on other continents. On the flip-side, very few Norwegians know where my home state is. It goes both ways.

Being a representative of the US (which I instantly become since I'm American) can be such a hard thing because the country is so large and the people so diverse. Some foreigners expect me to understand everything and sometimes I want it to be enough just to say, I know the US might look like some international bully, but it's my home and I like it there.

One of the CU leaders grew up in Jerusalem. She went to Bethlehem College and regularly dealt with being shot at or almost arrested. It's not something I can even come to close to beginning to understand, but for her, it's home. Maybe that's what being American is: you can't understand it unless you've grown up there. Whatever the case, it's my home and I like it there.

Who would have thought? Believe it or not, it happened today; a 4.5 on the Richter scale, to boot. Shortly before 4pm, I was sitting on my bed, taking a quick break from work. I was petting one of my cats (Tessie) and the pot holding my bamboo plant started rattling against the marble top of my night stand. The bed shook ever-so-slightly underneath me. Our house is situated somewhat in the flight path for Baltimore-Washington International airport, so we sometimes have planes or helicopters that'll shake the house a bit, so I didn't think much about it. It continued for about ten seconds before I stood up and unconsciously walked to the door way to stand against the door frame. My cat was sitting up, looking every which way, obviously disturbed by something.

As quickly as it started, the rattling stopped. I couldn't decide if it had been an earthquake or not. Years and years ago, I remember feeling an earthquake in this area, so I knew it was a possibility. I sat down and quickly checked WashingtonPost.com for any confirmation, but found none. A quick Google search for earthquake turned up the USGS Earthquake Hazards Program, which gives maps of recent quakes and other pertinent information. However, I couldn't find anything there. I searched around a bit more, found nothing, and figured I was just imagining it.

A few minutes later, a friend from school came online and asked myself and someone in Virginia, did y'all just have a small earthquake?

You felt that too?!? I thought I was nuts, I responded.

Further searches at the USGS turned up information about the quake. WTOPnews.com was first with the story. The WashingtonPost.com quickly got their own story online. Reports of the quake flooded in to the USGS from all over the region. The Virginia Tech Seismological Observatory shows seismograph data.

It's not really a big deal, I'm just glad I'm not nuts.

While Leslie is fighting to get Hoopla.com back, she's taken up residence at Harpold.com. Expect nothing but excellent creative writing and graphic design from Leslie. Enjoy.