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Yeah. I don't know what that means either. In lieu of an explanation click here
So, remember, if you need a text placeholder (fer instance, you want to post but you can't think of anything to say) you can go to lorem Ipsum and get some latin whatnot to keep the place warm for ya.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
bits and pixels to burn
Tonight, I proctor an MCB exam. In policing the room to discourage cheating inevitably I will offend a defensive but honest person.
Sitting the Killer laptop under a very strong heatlamp for several hours seems to have done the trick. It is up and running. *hoooray* (BBFK told me about a friend of ours who ran her cell phone through the dishwasher and got it to work again by throwing it in the oven! If only all of life problems had such clear solutions.)
According to www.technorati.com (as of this morning) the reanimated Zombie dog is the most-discussed news story. This they determine by the number of websites that link to a particular URL. It probably says more about who reads The Drudge Report and less about a universal interest in zombie dogs. *I feel like a hype lemming, an infodupe. Now sell me some of them diet pills I keep hearing about on the hifi! Want to transfer money to my bank account from yours in Angola? Great!*
MP turned 22 yesterday. G threw him a big party with mucho grillage, stiff margaritas, and a kiddie pool. I don't know why kids in their early 20's waste time feeling old. I didn't bother feeling old until I turned 29.
Maybe it correlates with how many stupid things you have done by what age - how much "living" you've done. If you do all the sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll, bad decisions, and foolish adventures early on ... you have a lot to look back on at an early age. These things become old hat and you begin to enjoy simpler things like waking up without a hangover next to someone you recognize. Or maybe it has to do with the number of your illusions that have been dashed by a reveal of the man behind the curtain.
Tweety is now using the bed as her personal upstairs litter box. And we ( My Guy, Kitty, and me) are sleeping on the futon. I am starting to think that free will is an illusion and that my life bends to the whim of my pets.
Sitting the Killer laptop under a very strong heatlamp for several hours seems to have done the trick. It is up and running. *hoooray* (BBFK told me about a friend of ours who ran her cell phone through the dishwasher and got it to work again by throwing it in the oven! If only all of life problems had such clear solutions.)
According to www.technorati.com (as of this morning) the reanimated Zombie dog is the most-discussed news story. This they determine by the number of websites that link to a particular URL. It probably says more about who reads The Drudge Report and less about a universal interest in zombie dogs. *I feel like a hype lemming, an infodupe. Now sell me some of them diet pills I keep hearing about on the hifi! Want to transfer money to my bank account from yours in Angola? Great!*
MP turned 22 yesterday. G threw him a big party with mucho grillage, stiff margaritas, and a kiddie pool. I don't know why kids in their early 20's waste time feeling old. I didn't bother feeling old until I turned 29.
Maybe it correlates with how many stupid things you have done by what age - how much "living" you've done. If you do all the sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll, bad decisions, and foolish adventures early on ... you have a lot to look back on at an early age. These things become old hat and you begin to enjoy simpler things like waking up without a hangover next to someone you recognize. Or maybe it has to do with the number of your illusions that have been dashed by a reveal of the man behind the curtain.
Tweety is now using the bed as her personal upstairs litter box. And we ( My Guy, Kitty, and me) are sleeping on the futon. I am starting to think that free will is an illusion and that my life bends to the whim of my pets.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
BAD KITTY!
Kitty is fascinated with water. She stands the edge of the tub and rubs against the shower curtain while you are showering. She loves to dip a paw into a glass or cup to play with whatever liquid in inside. And then she loves to knock it over and run from the spillage. This is has been the ruin of many a library book and today, My Guy's Laptop.
She knocked over a huge tumbler of water that was on the coffee table next to the laptop which was on and plugged in.
*BAD BAD KITTY!*
He says he gets the "Blue Screen of Death." He is letting it dry.
=(
I feel just terrible about this.
Knowing nothing, I wonder : if the water caused the machine to short (which it probably did, all over the place) what kind of damage did it do? Would it affect what was on the hard drive? Is anything salvageable? Is the machine fried?
There must be someone who can extract the contents of his hard drive (They do it on TV all the time!)
Has he just lost 2 weeks of work? (He backs up the contents of his laptop onto his desktop computer.)
And the Killer Laptop?
She knocked over a huge tumbler of water that was on the coffee table next to the laptop which was on and plugged in.
*BAD BAD KITTY!*
He says he gets the "Blue Screen of Death." He is letting it dry.
=(
I feel just terrible about this.
Knowing nothing, I wonder : if the water caused the machine to short (which it probably did, all over the place) what kind of damage did it do? Would it affect what was on the hard drive? Is anything salvageable? Is the machine fried?
There must be someone who can extract the contents of his hard drive (They do it on TV all the time!)
Has he just lost 2 weeks of work? (He backs up the contents of his laptop onto his desktop computer.)
And the Killer Laptop?
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
new favorite word
Gank.
The usage that I have encountered is to steal: grab + yank = gank.
It's not a nice word, but it sounds great. Try it out.
Gank, gank, gank.
See?
When I was young my parents took me with them to a dinner party. The eldest daughter of the host decided that she was too cool to hang out with me. I sat in her room and entertained myself with her stuffed animals. The best one was a plush stuffed penguin which I ganked at the end of the night. After some negotiation, I was persuaded to release it to its rightful owner in exchange for a stuffed penguin of my own. (No meaningful life lessons were learned here.) My parents were very embarassed. Hers were very amused.
The usage that I have encountered is to steal: grab + yank = gank.
It's not a nice word, but it sounds great. Try it out.
Gank, gank, gank.
See?
When I was young my parents took me with them to a dinner party. The eldest daughter of the host decided that she was too cool to hang out with me. I sat in her room and entertained myself with her stuffed animals. The best one was a plush stuffed penguin which I ganked at the end of the night. After some negotiation, I was persuaded to release it to its rightful owner in exchange for a stuffed penguin of my own. (No meaningful life lessons were learned here.) My parents were very embarassed. Hers were very amused.
reanimation, zombie dogs, and Disney
(cross postage)
My Guy pointed out this article about researchers who have found a way to revive dogs that have been clinically dead (no heart beat, brain waves, or breathing) for 3 hours.
The work was done at the University of Pittsburgh School of Medicine Safar Center for Resuscitation Research.
Its founder and namesake seems to have been a pretty interesting guy - ( his life and his obituary)
Other work at the same institute have found a way to induce a hibernating state in mice.
Which leads to the obvious question, does this mean that we will someday get Walt Disney back? There are urban myths told that Walt Disney was put in the deep freeze when diagnosed with lung cancer. According to The Straight Dope this is not the case. Walt Disney died and was cremated. *RIP* But according to Cecil Adams other folks have banked on the cryonic dream and had themselves frozen. And perhaps it was not in vain.
It sounds like science fiction but who knows? Being able to revive people from strokes with little or no brain damage sounds like a great thing. But on speculating these kinds of projects out to their greatest reanimating potential I can't help but think that in the words of Kenny Rogers: "you've got to know when to hold 'em and know when to fold 'em."
My Guy pointed out this article about researchers who have found a way to revive dogs that have been clinically dead (no heart beat, brain waves, or breathing) for 3 hours.
The work was done at the University of Pittsburgh School of Medicine Safar Center for Resuscitation Research.
Its founder and namesake seems to have been a pretty interesting guy - ( his life and his obituary)
Other work at the same institute have found a way to induce a hibernating state in mice.
Which leads to the obvious question, does this mean that we will someday get Walt Disney back? There are urban myths told that Walt Disney was put in the deep freeze when diagnosed with lung cancer. According to The Straight Dope this is not the case. Walt Disney died and was cremated. *RIP* But according to Cecil Adams other folks have banked on the cryonic dream and had themselves frozen. And perhaps it was not in vain.
It sounds like science fiction but who knows? Being able to revive people from strokes with little or no brain damage sounds like a great thing. But on speculating these kinds of projects out to their greatest reanimating potential I can't help but think that in the words of Kenny Rogers: "you've got to know when to hold 'em and know when to fold 'em."
to the best of hidden intentions
in maximizing utility
one explores the space of every possibility
and perhaps the most effective means to the best ends are harsh.
if i do not know what is meant
if i cannot decrypt the intent
i will judge by the means
why consider intentions
that only after the fact are mentioned?
to some winning is enough of rarity
that how the game is played is everything.
one explores the space of every possibility
and perhaps the most effective means to the best ends are harsh.
if i do not know what is meant
if i cannot decrypt the intent
i will judge by the means
why consider intentions
that only after the fact are mentioned?
to some winning is enough of rarity
that how the game is played is everything.
hat check
So I was at the GAP and I saw this hat.
Which I immediately fell in love with and had to take home with me. Not only would it protect me from the sun,
I imagined that it would make me look like this:
not so much:
I was walking down the street wearing the hat and a guy on a bike stopped and wanted to recommend really good sunscreen to me. He assumed that I had some kind of horrible skin disorder. Why else would I be seen in public in a hat like that? My Guy laughs everytime I wear it. I think he's a little embarassed to be seen in public with the hat. I should put on the hat, big sunglasses, wrap my arms and legs in gauze, and walk like a mummy. =)
{Ms. Hepburn brought to you by: art.com}
Which I immediately fell in love with and had to take home with me. Not only would it protect me from the sun,
I imagined that it would make me look like this:
not so much:
I was walking down the street wearing the hat and a guy on a bike stopped and wanted to recommend really good sunscreen to me. He assumed that I had some kind of horrible skin disorder. Why else would I be seen in public in a hat like that? My Guy laughs everytime I wear it. I think he's a little embarassed to be seen in public with the hat. I should put on the hat, big sunglasses, wrap my arms and legs in gauze, and walk like a mummy. =)
{Ms. Hepburn brought to you by: art.com}
Monday, June 27, 2005
the truth about your education dollar
Some teachers are very good: knowledgeable, competent, caring, wise, creative, inspiring. Others hire the likes of me to write your exams at the last minute after a night of mushroom fajitas with extra sour cream and vodka drinks. I have until 2pm to write the kinds of questions that challenge the young minds and mold them into the doctors of tomorrow. That prove without a doubt that they understand why MacConkey Media is both differential and selective.
end of an affair
My love affair with the summer movie is over for this particular summer. My resume reads as follows:
Hitchhiker's Guide - really likeable.
Crash - decent.
Revenge of the Sith - painful.
Mr. and Mrs. Smith - passable, not as much on screen chemistry as the tabloids would have you believe. Vince Vaughn was a delightful.
Land of the Dead - decent.
Bewitched - very disappointing.
I have not been to the theater for a very long time. And when I entered the theater every preview was promised a world of adventure and delight. On actual investigation, no so much. And that Ben Folds song keeps running through my mind "Give me my money back, give me my money back, you bitch." I should have waited for the DVDs.
Hitchhiker's Guide - really likeable.
Crash - decent.
Revenge of the Sith - painful.
Mr. and Mrs. Smith - passable, not as much on screen chemistry as the tabloids would have you believe. Vince Vaughn was a delightful.
Land of the Dead - decent.
Bewitched - very disappointing.
I have not been to the theater for a very long time. And when I entered the theater every preview was promised a world of adventure and delight. On actual investigation, no so much. And that Ben Folds song keeps running through my mind "Give me my money back, give me my money back, you bitch." I should have waited for the DVDs.
Friday, June 24, 2005
cat vs cat update
13 days into our socialization project, Kitty and Tweety are still not getting along. Kitty has doubled in size preferring to eat Tweety's fatty delicious food to her own. So now Tweety gets fed on the desk while I feed Kitty in the Bathroom.
They hiss, chase, and scuffle. Tweety keeps to the higher ground when she can.
Kitty, who I have always considered to be the sweetest cat, a little Kitty Buddah, is in fact a fight-picking, trash-talking, mean little shit starter. I heard the sounds of a tussle the other day and ran out to find that Tweety has a long scratch on her nose and while Kitty insists that Tweety must have slipped off the desk and scraped her own nose, I think we all know who did it.
My chubby little baby has embraced the dark side. =(
Everyone assures me that with time it will all work out. I sure hope so.
They hiss, chase, and scuffle. Tweety keeps to the higher ground when she can.
Kitty, who I have always considered to be the sweetest cat, a little Kitty Buddah, is in fact a fight-picking, trash-talking, mean little shit starter. I heard the sounds of a tussle the other day and ran out to find that Tweety has a long scratch on her nose and while Kitty insists that Tweety must have slipped off the desk and scraped her own nose, I think we all know who did it.
My chubby little baby has embraced the dark side. =(
Everyone assures me that with time it will all work out. I sure hope so.
solar sails
pasadena star news article on the project
and
ecommerce times article on the outcome
My condolences to the Planetary Society and to the Russian Space Agency. I hope that you have plans underway to launch Kosmos 2 because we need dreamers and instigators who step outside what we know that we can do and attempt what we only imagine.
the planetary society website
and
ecommerce times article on the outcome
My condolences to the Planetary Society and to the Russian Space Agency. I hope that you have plans underway to launch Kosmos 2 because we need dreamers and instigators who step outside what we know that we can do and attempt what we only imagine.
the planetary society website
inexplicable wants.
I don't know why this lyric would pop into my head but it has.
"All I want is a room somewhere,
Far away from the cold night air.
With one enormous chair,
Aow, wouldn't it be loverly?
Lots of choc'lates for me to eat,
Lots of coal makin' lots of 'eat.
Warm face, warm 'ands, warm feet,
Aow, wouldn't it be loverly?"
-Alan Jay Lerner and Frederic Loewe
I wish I had an enormous overstuffed armchair in a overly air conditioned room. With a really big Coke Icee and a bowl of cashews within reach. And a totally engrossing 800 page summer read.
"All I want is a room somewhere,
Far away from the cold night air.
With one enormous chair,
Aow, wouldn't it be loverly?
Lots of choc'lates for me to eat,
Lots of coal makin' lots of 'eat.
Warm face, warm 'ands, warm feet,
Aow, wouldn't it be loverly?"
-Alan Jay Lerner and Frederic Loewe
I wish I had an enormous overstuffed armchair in a overly air conditioned room. With a really big Coke Icee and a bowl of cashews within reach. And a totally engrossing 800 page summer read.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
California Dreamin' pt.4
The reception was here:
They have two big fancy silver samovar lookin' things. One with fresh brewed iced tea and one with fresh squeezed lemonade both complimentary.
The reception had a live band. One of those wedding bands that can play anything oldies, swing, jazz, lite rock, rock, blues, but have clear easy listening tendencies. At one point the stepmother of the groom shouted out a request for "Somewhere Out There" and without missing a beat they broke right into it. Sadly there was no chicken dance, no electric slide, no hokey pokey, and most disappointing for me - no Sir-Mix-a-lot. But this was an immense relief of everyone who comports themselves with any level of dignity.
Chatting with the other wedding guests was cool. I sat next to PC's cousin J who is just starting grad school in neuroscience. We geeked out big time. I met B and D. They are retired in Palm Springs and are an impressive and lively pair. They have travelled all over the world. They volunteered with the Red Cross for years, traveling to disasters all over the world to offer assistance. They were in New York to deal with 9/11. They are now looking for a new project because they feel that the Red Cross needs to get more young people involved, new blood not just new blood donors.
The whole thing wound down pretty early to a group of say 7 people who sat and talked while drinking the last of the champagne.
It is the first wedding in a while that I have attended and really enjoyed. I am ashamed to admit this because it reflects the fact that I am a bittter stereotypical unmarried woman in her 30's. That sometimes I am self-centered and can't shake my self-involvement enough to focus on being happy for others. It's great seeing my friends get married. I am always genuinely happy that they have found someone to love and share their lives with. It's a big deal and very much a cause for celebration. But there is something about a wedding that is different from other social occasions. That is excessively couply. It's just not as much fun without some kind of social anchor - be it a quasi-date, a posse of friends, or a proper date. I tend to clam up in these kinds of social situations. But I go. I will make every effort to be in attendance. Because it is beautiful to see two people make a committment to each other to share a life. And the ritual, the ceremony, the chicken dance, the bouquet toss - there is something comforting and beautiful about it. Even as the girl who usually gets seated at the "Random social outcast" table, cause that table is as much a part of the wedding experience as anything else. ;D
And because a wedding is happy, beautiful, and hopeful - full of possibility and the future, like that line from the Simon and Garfunkle song:
"Let us be lovers we'll marry our fortunes together..."
They have two big fancy silver samovar lookin' things. One with fresh brewed iced tea and one with fresh squeezed lemonade both complimentary.
The reception had a live band. One of those wedding bands that can play anything oldies, swing, jazz, lite rock, rock, blues, but have clear easy listening tendencies. At one point the stepmother of the groom shouted out a request for "Somewhere Out There" and without missing a beat they broke right into it. Sadly there was no chicken dance, no electric slide, no hokey pokey, and most disappointing for me - no Sir-Mix-a-lot. But this was an immense relief of everyone who comports themselves with any level of dignity.
Chatting with the other wedding guests was cool. I sat next to PC's cousin J who is just starting grad school in neuroscience. We geeked out big time. I met B and D. They are retired in Palm Springs and are an impressive and lively pair. They have travelled all over the world. They volunteered with the Red Cross for years, traveling to disasters all over the world to offer assistance. They were in New York to deal with 9/11. They are now looking for a new project because they feel that the Red Cross needs to get more young people involved, new blood not just new blood donors.
The whole thing wound down pretty early to a group of say 7 people who sat and talked while drinking the last of the champagne.
It is the first wedding in a while that I have attended and really enjoyed. I am ashamed to admit this because it reflects the fact that I am a bittter stereotypical unmarried woman in her 30's. That sometimes I am self-centered and can't shake my self-involvement enough to focus on being happy for others. It's great seeing my friends get married. I am always genuinely happy that they have found someone to love and share their lives with. It's a big deal and very much a cause for celebration. But there is something about a wedding that is different from other social occasions. That is excessively couply. It's just not as much fun without some kind of social anchor - be it a quasi-date, a posse of friends, or a proper date. I tend to clam up in these kinds of social situations. But I go. I will make every effort to be in attendance. Because it is beautiful to see two people make a committment to each other to share a life. And the ritual, the ceremony, the chicken dance, the bouquet toss - there is something comforting and beautiful about it. Even as the girl who usually gets seated at the "Random social outcast" table, cause that table is as much a part of the wedding experience as anything else. ;D
And because a wedding is happy, beautiful, and hopeful - full of possibility and the future, like that line from the Simon and Garfunkle song:
"Let us be lovers we'll marry our fortunes together..."
California Dreamin' pt.3
So the next day was the wedding. A small wedding, traditional, readings Corinthians, Genesis, vows, very nice homily, beautiful bride.
It was at:
And here she is:
The best man sang, beautifully.
Allow me to present PC and FC:
I remember having a conversation with PC long ago in which he said that he wanted his wedding to be a solemn and happy occasion.
And it was.
It was at:
And here she is:
The best man sang, beautifully.
Allow me to present PC and FC:
I remember having a conversation with PC long ago in which he said that he wanted his wedding to be a solemn and happy occasion.
And it was.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
California Dreamin' pt.2
Palm Springs is this weird mix of old and new. With spanking new yuppie in stucco buildings adhering to strict design guidelines a block away from buildings that must have been very swanky in the 50's that have not survived the years so well. Gated communities with access to excellent golf courses. And dingy motels that have weekly rates.
I was tempted, but I did not stay here:
I stayed here:
Definitely not the Ritz. And the Ice machine that my room was supposed to be right upstairs from was broken. =(
Still, my room had one of those big mirrors that makes you look skinnier than you really are which made dancing along to the VH1 top 20 countdown much more enjoyable. As I attempted to learn some new dance moves from Shakira and Gwen Stefani.
The rehearsal dinner was a fabulous fusion cuisine buffet affair which has me dreaming about coconut chicken on skewers with mango salsa. And it turns out that ripe blackberries are the perfect fruit for chocolate fondue. The chef was this burly guy who gave cooking advice to everyone there. The bride and groom were very relaxed. They actually seemed to be enjoying themselves.
I met FC (the bride) for the first time ever and PC as happy as I can ever remember seeing him. It was a scene from "PC, this is your life" as I met his friends from high school, college, MBA, and working years. We all talked about the various travel adventures that PC has told us about and reminisced. PC did not have a bachelor party so to make up for this some of us took him out to the Village Pub. Which was 10% sailors, 70% young people with tatoos and tiny outfits, 20% old foggies like us. It was a very tame night. We teased him about some of the women that he had been smitten with. Sound of Music Barbie. That's all I'm saying on that subject. PC's friend BF regaled us with many a story of sex and scandal on Capital Hill. It was at that point that I remembered that I was surrounded by staunch Republicans and would be for the rest of the weekend.
I was tempted, but I did not stay here:
I stayed here:
Definitely not the Ritz. And the Ice machine that my room was supposed to be right upstairs from was broken. =(
Still, my room had one of those big mirrors that makes you look skinnier than you really are which made dancing along to the VH1 top 20 countdown much more enjoyable. As I attempted to learn some new dance moves from Shakira and Gwen Stefani.
The rehearsal dinner was a fabulous fusion cuisine buffet affair which has me dreaming about coconut chicken on skewers with mango salsa. And it turns out that ripe blackberries are the perfect fruit for chocolate fondue. The chef was this burly guy who gave cooking advice to everyone there. The bride and groom were very relaxed. They actually seemed to be enjoying themselves.
I met FC (the bride) for the first time ever and PC as happy as I can ever remember seeing him. It was a scene from "PC, this is your life" as I met his friends from high school, college, MBA, and working years. We all talked about the various travel adventures that PC has told us about and reminisced. PC did not have a bachelor party so to make up for this some of us took him out to the Village Pub. Which was 10% sailors, 70% young people with tatoos and tiny outfits, 20% old foggies like us. It was a very tame night. We teased him about some of the women that he had been smitten with. Sound of Music Barbie. That's all I'm saying on that subject. PC's friend BF regaled us with many a story of sex and scandal on Capital Hill. It was at that point that I remembered that I was surrounded by staunch Republicans and would be for the rest of the weekend.
California Dreamin' pt.1
Sadly, the important pictures from my trip are hopelessly blurry and the silly pictures of stuff like the curb and my feet are fine. My hands are not steady enough for the amount of time needed to get the picture right. Must get a proper digital camera...
Okay, so I got up at 3am and drove to Indianapolis
to fly to Los Angeles and drive to Palm Springs for PC's wedding.
Yahoomaps did not do me so well this time. The exit numbers on many a highway have changed! And the maps you get are zoomed in too far or zoomed out too far to be of much help if you get lost.
ATA would not let me use the self-service kiosk to get my boarding pass. They claimed that there was another person with my name on the flight and they needed to take my driver's license and check in the back to see that things were kosher. I keep asking myself what I did to become special. But on the flight back I was no longer special. *shrug*
It occured to me on my flight that I do not know what to do in case of an earthquake. This thought is compounded with news of earthquake activity in the area in the previous week. I wish knew what we were flying over 'cause I don't know where this is:
or what this is:
My Guy and I just saw the movie "Crash" the ensemble LA movie about race and traffic. It was decent with a good soundtrack. But as a result I was terrified of driving in LA: the accidents, the traffic, the LAPD. So the guy at the rental agency was able to snow me into getting tons of insurance and other ridiculous pricey package features. It sounds great when they offer you an upgrade (for safety) but it means that you will pay a lot more for gas ($42 to fill the tank compared to my usual $22 here).
Driving on the highway is LA is strange. Nobody can speed because there's too many cars and someone is always puttering in the fast lane at 50 or 60 mph. There's a lot of people tailgating. The tailgaters offer an added complication as traffic speeds and slows for no apparent reason. No one uses their blinker because the element of surprise is so valuable when you are trying to change lanes. Highways merge and divide and with each change in the road there is traffic. The last traffic jam of the drive was a three fire engine, four ambulance, moving people on stretchers very bad accident.
When you get far enough from LA you can finally speed (speed limit's 70). And as you enter Palm Springs you realize that you are in the desert.
There are signs warning of rock slides and:
There were windmills everywhere! Acres and acres of them on mountains and by the highway on the one side of town. Very cool!
Okay, so I got up at 3am and drove to Indianapolis
to fly to Los Angeles and drive to Palm Springs for PC's wedding.
Yahoomaps did not do me so well this time. The exit numbers on many a highway have changed! And the maps you get are zoomed in too far or zoomed out too far to be of much help if you get lost.
ATA would not let me use the self-service kiosk to get my boarding pass. They claimed that there was another person with my name on the flight and they needed to take my driver's license and check in the back to see that things were kosher. I keep asking myself what I did to become special. But on the flight back I was no longer special. *shrug*
It occured to me on my flight that I do not know what to do in case of an earthquake. This thought is compounded with news of earthquake activity in the area in the previous week. I wish knew what we were flying over 'cause I don't know where this is:
or what this is:
My Guy and I just saw the movie "Crash" the ensemble LA movie about race and traffic. It was decent with a good soundtrack. But as a result I was terrified of driving in LA: the accidents, the traffic, the LAPD. So the guy at the rental agency was able to snow me into getting tons of insurance and other ridiculous pricey package features. It sounds great when they offer you an upgrade (for safety) but it means that you will pay a lot more for gas ($42 to fill the tank compared to my usual $22 here).
Driving on the highway is LA is strange. Nobody can speed because there's too many cars and someone is always puttering in the fast lane at 50 or 60 mph. There's a lot of people tailgating. The tailgaters offer an added complication as traffic speeds and slows for no apparent reason. No one uses their blinker because the element of surprise is so valuable when you are trying to change lanes. Highways merge and divide and with each change in the road there is traffic. The last traffic jam of the drive was a three fire engine, four ambulance, moving people on stretchers very bad accident.
When you get far enough from LA you can finally speed (speed limit's 70). And as you enter Palm Springs you realize that you are in the desert.
There are signs warning of rock slides and:
There were windmills everywhere! Acres and acres of them on mountains and by the highway on the one side of town. Very cool!
Monday, June 20, 2005
radio props
I just got back from PC's wedding in Palm Springs, CA. More on this and pictures to come. There was a lot of driving on this trip. Which means lots of radio scanning. I just wanted to give a shout out to KUCR 88.3FM the University of California, Riverside Station for bringing personality, musical diversity, and awesomeness to their corner of the universe.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Blogger's Block and the BHAG
I keep starting posts that get saved as drafts and never posted. This is my third try. Getting stuck on your own blog? How ridiculous. My mind has been a blank, my fingers have been still, no words. Blogger's block? Paul Simon (the songwriter) says that there is never a time when you have nothing to say, there are merely moments when you are afraid to say it. It is the fear that you have to overcome when you are blocked. Alternatively, you are not ready. That is why you are blocked. Your words are not done cooking. How does one overcome acts of self-censorship? Is it time to send a postcard to postsecret?
On further reflection I wonder if it is that I cannot hold a thought in my head long enough to articulate it. {even to myself, in my head.} Things flit by me barely registering in my peripheral vision. When I was a kid I could concentrate very hard on one thing for long periods of time. I turned my attention to one thing and the whole world melted away. Alas, those days are gone. I hear that the adult attention span is about 15-20 minutes. For me it's about 8. It is unlikely that I can reach my BHAG*(Big Hairy Ass Goal) if I can only concentrate on it for such short bursts of time. Maybe I killed too many brain cells this past weekend and the rewiring in my head is taking a while. I swear to you that I used to be smarter.
*the BHAG I went to KW (now KG)'s wedding. And there I met WA who told me that turning 30 was the best thing that ever happened to him. He had accomplished things. He was clearly not a kid anymore so people took him seriously. He felt that he could focus in on his BHAG (Big Hairy Ass Goal) and know that he possessed the skills necessary to attain it. Plus when he got up and looked in the mirror he could say to himself: "Hey! I look pretty good for a man in his 30's." {Other male friends of mine (the late bloomers, not the jocks) seem to feel similarly. They feel that their teens and twenties were spent at the mercy and whim of the girls they knew but they were finally coming into their own. They had more confidence, more money, more character, and felt that the world was their oyster. As a woman of the same age, I kick myself for not recognizing and taking advantage of that asymmetry of youth. I was so concerned with gender equality and being respected for the content of my character that I did not "leverage" the 15 years of my rosy glowing youth.}
I vacillate from having too many BHAGs to having none at all. JD laughs at me because so far my ridiculous projected life plan over the next couple of years looks like this:
1. finish writing and then defend my thesis
2. alter all of my t-shirts (and some other clothes) to actually fit me
3. record an album with the charming fellas at postcard productions
4. book two or three low key shows to play in town before leaving
5. start a non-profit foundation that funds projects that combine innovation and sustainable living with a particular slant towards applying innovation to improved and sustainable living in developing nations. Because it is not that all the world's problems are insurmountable it is that we require greater imagination and courage in facing them.
6. find gainful employment at home.
7. move home and read an intensive course of philosophy with my dad for 6 months to a year while so employed
8. do 6 months of volunteer work abroad with either an archaeological dig or an endangered species conservancy project.
9. Start a syndicated radio talk show project devoted to science. Sort of a popularization of Nature News with a blend of new breakthroughs, the strange and bizarre, witty banter, science education and "how things work."
10. open a very small store called the poet's corner that sells only poetry.
11. open a philosophy store next door that sells philosophy books and has a staff of philosophy graduates willing to sit with you for an hourly rate to discuss your existential crises, challenge your current world view, and help you better understand your place in the universe.
12. find an actual respectable and reasonable way to live, love, and work.
13. write a book.
14. have a kid
Yeah. And I have blue prints for a unicorn ranch. I know. Clearly, I need to shed my foolery and focus in on item 1. and item 12. in 8 minute increments.
On further reflection I wonder if it is that I cannot hold a thought in my head long enough to articulate it. {even to myself, in my head.} Things flit by me barely registering in my peripheral vision. When I was a kid I could concentrate very hard on one thing for long periods of time. I turned my attention to one thing and the whole world melted away. Alas, those days are gone. I hear that the adult attention span is about 15-20 minutes. For me it's about 8. It is unlikely that I can reach my BHAG*(Big Hairy Ass Goal) if I can only concentrate on it for such short bursts of time. Maybe I killed too many brain cells this past weekend and the rewiring in my head is taking a while. I swear to you that I used to be smarter.
*the BHAG I went to KW (now KG)'s wedding. And there I met WA who told me that turning 30 was the best thing that ever happened to him. He had accomplished things. He was clearly not a kid anymore so people took him seriously. He felt that he could focus in on his BHAG (Big Hairy Ass Goal) and know that he possessed the skills necessary to attain it. Plus when he got up and looked in the mirror he could say to himself: "Hey! I look pretty good for a man in his 30's." {Other male friends of mine (the late bloomers, not the jocks) seem to feel similarly. They feel that their teens and twenties were spent at the mercy and whim of the girls they knew but they were finally coming into their own. They had more confidence, more money, more character, and felt that the world was their oyster. As a woman of the same age, I kick myself for not recognizing and taking advantage of that asymmetry of youth. I was so concerned with gender equality and being respected for the content of my character that I did not "leverage" the 15 years of my rosy glowing youth.}
I vacillate from having too many BHAGs to having none at all. JD laughs at me because so far my ridiculous projected life plan over the next couple of years looks like this:
1. finish writing and then defend my thesis
2. alter all of my t-shirts (and some other clothes) to actually fit me
3. record an album with the charming fellas at postcard productions
4. book two or three low key shows to play in town before leaving
5. start a non-profit foundation that funds projects that combine innovation and sustainable living with a particular slant towards applying innovation to improved and sustainable living in developing nations. Because it is not that all the world's problems are insurmountable it is that we require greater imagination and courage in facing them.
6. find gainful employment at home.
7. move home and read an intensive course of philosophy with my dad for 6 months to a year while so employed
8. do 6 months of volunteer work abroad with either an archaeological dig or an endangered species conservancy project.
9. Start a syndicated radio talk show project devoted to science. Sort of a popularization of Nature News with a blend of new breakthroughs, the strange and bizarre, witty banter, science education and "how things work."
10. open a very small store called the poet's corner that sells only poetry.
11. open a philosophy store next door that sells philosophy books and has a staff of philosophy graduates willing to sit with you for an hourly rate to discuss your existential crises, challenge your current world view, and help you better understand your place in the universe.
12. find an actual respectable and reasonable way to live, love, and work.
13. write a book.
14. have a kid
Yeah. And I have blue prints for a unicorn ranch. I know. Clearly, I need to shed my foolery and focus in on item 1. and item 12. in 8 minute increments.
Monday, June 13, 2005
babel fish, the beta version?
I have been clicking to the "Next Blog" on blogger lately. I come across sites that are in other languages that offer a google translation of their text. I tried it out on my own words. I took:
"No bloodshed. No ear loss. They even have an occasional moment in which they stop staring at each other and seem to relax a little bit."
Which after google translates it from english to french to english to spanish to english comes back as:
"No bath of the blood. No loss of the ear. They even have awhile occasional he, where they stop watching mutually and they look like small to facilitate."
Okay, I took the time to mangle it. Could be worse. But I do wish I could actually read the Blog de Magda cuz it looks cool.
Magda:
Cuando se habla o se escucha hablar de sexo o de relaciones sexuales se da por asentado que hay erotismo; de igual forma, entramos a una página con desnudos y creemos que es una "página erótica".
Google:
When it is spoken or it is listened to speak of sex or of sexual relations one occurs by based that eroticism are; similarly, we entered a page with naked and think that it is a "erótica page"
My best guess:
When one speaks of, or listens to talk of sex or sexual relations ... (uh, something like: eroticism is unavoidable) ... in same way that one opens a page to nudes and thinks that it is a page of erotica.
Must learn some languages....
"No bloodshed. No ear loss. They even have an occasional moment in which they stop staring at each other and seem to relax a little bit."
Which after google translates it from english to french to english to spanish to english comes back as:
"No bath of the blood. No loss of the ear. They even have awhile occasional he, where they stop watching mutually and they look like small to facilitate."
Okay, I took the time to mangle it. Could be worse. But I do wish I could actually read the Blog de Magda cuz it looks cool.
Magda:
Cuando se habla o se escucha hablar de sexo o de relaciones sexuales se da por asentado que hay erotismo; de igual forma, entramos a una página con desnudos y creemos que es una "página erótica".
Google:
When it is spoken or it is listened to speak of sex or of sexual relations one occurs by based that eroticism are; similarly, we entered a page with naked and think that it is a "erótica page"
My best guess:
When one speaks of, or listens to talk of sex or sexual relations ... (uh, something like: eroticism is unavoidable) ... in same way that one opens a page to nudes and thinks that it is a page of erotica.
Must learn some languages....
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