It's hard to believe it's almost June already. My birthday's come and gone, and now I've been here for nearly a year. I remember saying goodbye to all my friends, relatives and acquaintances over the last couple weeks of May 2008, and saying hello to a new life on the east coast. More on that later, undoubtedly; I think I've worn out my welcome with the Muse this morning, not to mention I'm half awake.
Monday - 12:00 to 14:00 (2 hours)
Tuesday - 02:00 to 18:00 (8 hours)
Wednesday - 12:00 to 18:00 (14 hours)
Thursday - 04:00 to 08:00 (18 hours)
Friday - 10:00 to 16:00 (24 hours)
Saturday - 08:00 to 16:00 (32 hours)
Sunday - 08:00 to 16:00 (40 hours)
REVISED June 3
A six day week, but I get another three day weekend preceding it. Hopefully it'll be an eventful one!
Friday, May 29, 2009
Untitled
It started with a hand on my shoulder. It was one part being surprised and one part at the suddenness of the touch that made me jump a little before spinning to face her. As her face and soft smile came into the focus of my vision, I had a moment of doubt. I've been amassing those moments as of late, stacking them neatly into piles. I'm even anal retentive in my own head, organizing the doubts by when they occurred, what sparked them, or just for no reason at all. One of the piles represented the doubts that would become regrets very shortly, that would fester with guilt and pain and fear and angst once I unlocked my car door and climbed in. I stacked another metaphorical box on that metaphorical stack as I greeted the doctor.
I had been here before for an examination. I had signed every piece of paperwork they put in front of me, made every relevant decision, and taken every preparatory drug they'd prescribed. The doctor showed me to the operating room, a place I hadn't seen before. I flashed her a smile as she excused herself for her preparation, leaving me in the sterile room with no company save the buzzing of the florescent lighting. I stared at it for what seemed like eternity, keeping time with its occasional but regular flickering by tapping a foot absently. The stacks were growing higher.
Over the past few days, the changes were constant. My mood flickered like the bulb above me. Click, self-loathing. Click, tenuous pride. Click, anger. Click, a wish that it could all be over. I did wish it could all be over, I still do, but life is never that simple. Life never lets you get away unscathed, no matter which paths you take. It's the brambles or the bothersome insects, unless you'd like to go for the sheer drop. I had considered them all, even that one.
The anesthesiologist was one of the kindest men I've met, despite the difficult job he had applying the local anesthetic. I had wanted so badly to be put under general, but the staff said the inherent risks involved weren't worth it. I would keep my eyes focused like a laser on that buzzing light, and I imagined myself a stone. An unfeeling stone, a stone with no need for anesthesia or doubt or regret or hurt. I concentrated harder and continued to repeat in my mind this desire, squeezing my eyes closed and letting a tear slip slowly down my left cheek, tracing its path down the smooth, rocky edge, collecting dust on its way to the earth. I was a stone. I had to be a stone, now.
I opened my eyes, and I knew it was done. The doctor that had startled me earlier put her hand on my shoulder once again. On her aged features was the expression my mother had given me when I was eight and our pet cat was struck by a car. But she didn't say anything for a moment, and when that moment ended, all she did was inform me that the procedure was done. I appreciated her frankness and brevity.
They kept me in one of the clinic rooms for about an hour and a half after the procedure. This time the object I focused on was the blank television screen. I thought about the ways the light bounced off of the convex screen. I thought about how I felt six hours ago, how I'd feel six hours from now. For now, I couldn't stop the tears from sliding down my face, tracing the pre-carved paths of their predecessors.
I thought about those neat piles of doubt. By the time I arrived at home, my mind felt as if it had been ransacked, all those neat piles torn down carelessly, thoughts scattered and littered on the floors, everything out of order. For the first time today, I didn't care about the rationality of my neatness; I just wanted to torch it all, no matter the collateral damage. My apartment was empty, as I had left it. Of course, he was still gone. The only evidence that he had ever existed was the painting he'd made hanging crookedly on the wall. I'd normally level it out, make everything outwardly perfect before I moved on. Today I didn't.
Miraculously I found my bed by wading through the fog of regret that existed only in my perceptions. I fell on it. My eyes focused on the spinning fan above the bed, not bothering to follow its arcing, circular path. My mind was quiet now, and I was a stone.
I had been here before for an examination. I had signed every piece of paperwork they put in front of me, made every relevant decision, and taken every preparatory drug they'd prescribed. The doctor showed me to the operating room, a place I hadn't seen before. I flashed her a smile as she excused herself for her preparation, leaving me in the sterile room with no company save the buzzing of the florescent lighting. I stared at it for what seemed like eternity, keeping time with its occasional but regular flickering by tapping a foot absently. The stacks were growing higher.
Over the past few days, the changes were constant. My mood flickered like the bulb above me. Click, self-loathing. Click, tenuous pride. Click, anger. Click, a wish that it could all be over. I did wish it could all be over, I still do, but life is never that simple. Life never lets you get away unscathed, no matter which paths you take. It's the brambles or the bothersome insects, unless you'd like to go for the sheer drop. I had considered them all, even that one.
The anesthesiologist was one of the kindest men I've met, despite the difficult job he had applying the local anesthetic. I had wanted so badly to be put under general, but the staff said the inherent risks involved weren't worth it. I would keep my eyes focused like a laser on that buzzing light, and I imagined myself a stone. An unfeeling stone, a stone with no need for anesthesia or doubt or regret or hurt. I concentrated harder and continued to repeat in my mind this desire, squeezing my eyes closed and letting a tear slip slowly down my left cheek, tracing its path down the smooth, rocky edge, collecting dust on its way to the earth. I was a stone. I had to be a stone, now.
I opened my eyes, and I knew it was done. The doctor that had startled me earlier put her hand on my shoulder once again. On her aged features was the expression my mother had given me when I was eight and our pet cat was struck by a car. But she didn't say anything for a moment, and when that moment ended, all she did was inform me that the procedure was done. I appreciated her frankness and brevity.
They kept me in one of the clinic rooms for about an hour and a half after the procedure. This time the object I focused on was the blank television screen. I thought about the ways the light bounced off of the convex screen. I thought about how I felt six hours ago, how I'd feel six hours from now. For now, I couldn't stop the tears from sliding down my face, tracing the pre-carved paths of their predecessors.
I thought about those neat piles of doubt. By the time I arrived at home, my mind felt as if it had been ransacked, all those neat piles torn down carelessly, thoughts scattered and littered on the floors, everything out of order. For the first time today, I didn't care about the rationality of my neatness; I just wanted to torch it all, no matter the collateral damage. My apartment was empty, as I had left it. Of course, he was still gone. The only evidence that he had ever existed was the painting he'd made hanging crookedly on the wall. I'd normally level it out, make everything outwardly perfect before I moved on. Today I didn't.
Miraculously I found my bed by wading through the fog of regret that existed only in my perceptions. I fell on it. My eyes focused on the spinning fan above the bed, not bothering to follow its arcing, circular path. My mind was quiet now, and I was a stone.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Summer Plans
So now that I've bought the tickets, I suppose it's official: I'll be heading out to the west coast in early July. I'm taking a week and a half-ish off and flying out to Seattle and LA to see two of my old college buddies.
The first leg will take me to the Seattle/Redmond area to stay with Dustin, a fellow I met in my second year of college and took most of my classes with from there on out. Currently he's employed at Microsoft working on program testing. I've never actually been to the Pacific Northwest, but I've always imagined that I'd like it. I do like the sun, but a place where it rains every day and stays in a relatively mild temperature range year round? Sounds good to me, at least for a little while. My friend Brittany lives in the Tacoma area, so I plan on going out for coffee (I don't drink it, but this is what normal people do, right?) and catching up while I'm in the area anyway.
On the seventh, I'll be plunked in the middle of LAX and hopefully Scott'll be around to give me a ride back to his house in Santa Monica. I've only been out California way once, on a long, long trip to the Sacramento and San Francisco areas when I was about thirteen. Driving from Minnesota to California was kind of a drag, but we did hit up a lot of things on the way - Mount Rushmore, Yellowstone, and Reno, NV. Thus far, I've done very little research on the things I can do in either place - any suggestions?
Things are looking up! I just realized this trip was just over a month away, so I figured I'd better start getting prepared (and buy tickets).
The first leg will take me to the Seattle/Redmond area to stay with Dustin, a fellow I met in my second year of college and took most of my classes with from there on out. Currently he's employed at Microsoft working on program testing. I've never actually been to the Pacific Northwest, but I've always imagined that I'd like it. I do like the sun, but a place where it rains every day and stays in a relatively mild temperature range year round? Sounds good to me, at least for a little while. My friend Brittany lives in the Tacoma area, so I plan on going out for coffee (I don't drink it, but this is what normal people do, right?) and catching up while I'm in the area anyway.
On the seventh, I'll be plunked in the middle of LAX and hopefully Scott'll be around to give me a ride back to his house in Santa Monica. I've only been out California way once, on a long, long trip to the Sacramento and San Francisco areas when I was about thirteen. Driving from Minnesota to California was kind of a drag, but we did hit up a lot of things on the way - Mount Rushmore, Yellowstone, and Reno, NV. Thus far, I've done very little research on the things I can do in either place - any suggestions?
Things are looking up! I just realized this trip was just over a month away, so I figured I'd better start getting prepared (and buy tickets).
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Schedule for Week Ending 5/31
Let's get this over with, yo!
Monday - HOLIDAY (8 hours)
Tuesday - 12:30 to 17:30 (13 hours)
Wednesday - 8:00 to 17:00 (22 hours)
Thursday - 4:00 to 13:00 (31 hours)
Friday - 4:00 to 13:00 (40 hours)
UPDATED 5/27
Hooray. Three nine hours to make up for my laziness today. The weekend off, but there's stuff going on, so I can go if I need it for hour purposes.
Monday - HOLIDAY (8 hours)
Tuesday - 12:30 to 17:30 (13 hours)
Wednesday - 8:00 to 17:00 (22 hours)
Thursday - 4:00 to 13:00 (31 hours)
Friday - 4:00 to 13:00 (40 hours)
UPDATED 5/27
Hooray. Three nine hours to make up for my laziness today. The weekend off, but there's stuff going on, so I can go if I need it for hour purposes.
Hold the Lettuce
Apparently, my niece has acquired a kitten of her very own! I was told a few days back that my sister followed through in her plan to get a pet for her new home. She had told Sylvia a couple weeks ago that they were going to get a kitten, and asked her what exactly they should name it. Sylvia was absolutely insistent and certain on one name:
Lettuce.
She wouldn't budge over the two weeks that followed, answering every query on the new cat's name with the same moniker - Lettuce. And, so, on Friday, Lettuce arrived!
Remarkably, he looks almost identical to Emmy, one of the two household cats in my parents' home, when she was first brought to our house.
Separated at birth and by some miracle of cryogenics still a kitten? We may never know. Also, I post this whenever possible, since it's so incredibly cute:
Emmy's on the left, and Sophie's on the right. This may have been one of the first times they saw snow!
Lettuce.
She wouldn't budge over the two weeks that followed, answering every query on the new cat's name with the same moniker - Lettuce. And, so, on Friday, Lettuce arrived!
Remarkably, he looks almost identical to Emmy, one of the two household cats in my parents' home, when she was first brought to our house.
Separated at birth and by some miracle of cryogenics still a kitten? We may never know. Also, I post this whenever possible, since it's so incredibly cute:
Emmy's on the left, and Sophie's on the right. This may have been one of the first times they saw snow!
Last Call
So, happy belated Memorial Day, although it ended nearly three hours ago. I figured an exceptional day deserved at least a quick post.
Curtains rise on me getting up rather early, at least for me. I slept until about ten-thirty and was showered and out the door by noon-ish. My first quest of the day was to head to Wegman's and pick up some supplies to make meals. You see, as of my birthday (this past Friday), I've been telling myself that I need to set aside time for cooking and controlling my intake. I don't particularly need a diet, but avoiding things like cholesterol and fat can't hurt, and I want to try something a bit more vegetarian. It might be a bit more pricey, but it's worth it for my health.
I managed to find a nice collection of low fat and organic foods, including what became my lunch, a lovely primavera pasta with tofu cubes flavored a bit like steak. I'm honestly not all that familiar with tofu, and the texture was strange at first, but it was easy to make and wonderful.
While I was enjoying said lunch, I was invited to a Memorial Day barbecue by Nicole. Apparently a friend of hers that normally resides in Brooklyn, NY moved down to Philadelphia for the summer, and was throwing a little party for some of his friends and acquaintances. Nicole and I got there first, and after I met Matt and Becky, some others started arriving and they prepared the food. I showed off my Midwestern corn-huskin' skills and it was an overall enjoyable evening. Many of the attendees worked on something akin to "Computer Science freelancers," where they would hop from project to project doing work. Day faded to night, and we ended up staying until a little after ten. Tremendous thanks to Nicole for inviting me and Matt and Becky for having us!
The rest of the evening was both a nice cooldown from the party mindset and an incredibly engaging few hours of conversation, and a nice glimpse of what I don't know. I love knowing what it is I don't know, considering it's like opening a door into a room you've never seen before. Next comes the scrutinizing every inch of said room and gathering all the information it can provide. The best part? The room talks.
Curtains rise on me getting up rather early, at least for me. I slept until about ten-thirty and was showered and out the door by noon-ish. My first quest of the day was to head to Wegman's and pick up some supplies to make meals. You see, as of my birthday (this past Friday), I've been telling myself that I need to set aside time for cooking and controlling my intake. I don't particularly need a diet, but avoiding things like cholesterol and fat can't hurt, and I want to try something a bit more vegetarian. It might be a bit more pricey, but it's worth it for my health.
I managed to find a nice collection of low fat and organic foods, including what became my lunch, a lovely primavera pasta with tofu cubes flavored a bit like steak. I'm honestly not all that familiar with tofu, and the texture was strange at first, but it was easy to make and wonderful.
While I was enjoying said lunch, I was invited to a Memorial Day barbecue by Nicole. Apparently a friend of hers that normally resides in Brooklyn, NY moved down to Philadelphia for the summer, and was throwing a little party for some of his friends and acquaintances. Nicole and I got there first, and after I met Matt and Becky, some others started arriving and they prepared the food. I showed off my Midwestern corn-huskin' skills and it was an overall enjoyable evening. Many of the attendees worked on something akin to "Computer Science freelancers," where they would hop from project to project doing work. Day faded to night, and we ended up staying until a little after ten. Tremendous thanks to Nicole for inviting me and Matt and Becky for having us!
The rest of the evening was both a nice cooldown from the party mindset and an incredibly engaging few hours of conversation, and a nice glimpse of what I don't know. I love knowing what it is I don't know, considering it's like opening a door into a room you've never seen before. Next comes the scrutinizing every inch of said room and gathering all the information it can provide. The best part? The room talks.
Friday, May 22, 2009
GENTLEMEN
Knowing me, I already linked this to 90% of the people I know, but just in case. In the long series of TF2 "Meet the..." videos, this one has to be my favorite. It just shows exactly how much character is in the game, and how gorgeous it really looks. Of course, the characters aren't animated like they are in the video, but the game more or less looks exactly like it does in the video.
Also, this:
Also, this:
Thursday, May 21, 2009
More Apartment Pictures
I spent this afternoon driving around with the windows down and blasting LCD Soundsystem. To motivate myself to clean up a little around here I got some more decorations and rearranged some things. Going with my whole shutterbug motif as of late, here's a bunch.
Some coasters I found. They're made from recycled PCB boards. Just nerdy enough!
TV show DVDs in the endtable
More DVDs, games, Blu Rays; I think the colors look pretty nice
More sleeves for the sleeve wall. Added the three on the right.
Audrey Hepburn <3
Some coasters I found. They're made from recycled PCB boards. Just nerdy enough!
TV show DVDs in the endtable
More DVDs, games, Blu Rays; I think the colors look pretty nice
More sleeves for the sleeve wall. Added the three on the right.
Audrey Hepburn <3Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Schedule for Week Ending 5/24
Hey wait, it's already Wednesday. Crap.
Monday - 12:00 to 24:00 (12 hours)
Tuesday - 15:30 to 24:00 (20.5 hours)
Wednesday - 00:00 to 04:00 and 15:30 to 24:00 (33 hours)
Thursday - NOTHING BAHAHAHAHAHA
Friday - 00:00 to 08:00 (41 hours)
Weekend off-o. I'll have to shave an hour from Wednesday night to keep to my forty hours. Hooray.
Monday - 12:00 to 24:00 (12 hours)
Tuesday - 15:30 to 24:00 (20.5 hours)
Wednesday - 00:00 to 04:00 and 15:30 to 24:00 (33 hours)
Thursday - NOTHING BAHAHAHAHAHA
Friday - 00:00 to 08:00 (41 hours)
Weekend off-o. I'll have to shave an hour from Wednesday night to keep to my forty hours. Hooray.
Moving On Up
To the lead role. I guess. What does this mean exactly? I'm not entirely clear, but it means I go to a lot more meetings, have less weird hours (but perhaps more flux in said weirdness), and do everything myself. Sounds pretty good to me, actually; not having to check with somebody when I change something within a certain scope, having free reign of all the metrics I keep, getting all the e-mails and schedule requests, ooo-la-la.
It's more visibility, as I mentioned earlier, and I'm happy to have it. If I do a good job at it, it could very well spell my promotion to a higher seniority level. Thankfully, the vast majority of the people I work with like me (at least they're not openly hostile) and get along fine with me; I get plenty of praise, which is a nice ego boost. My mentors deserve a good bit of adulation, too, considering Brian taught me everything I know, GM's always there to answer tricky technical questions, and Martin knows more than god about the system.
In short, I'm happy with my job! It sucks to have to work forty hours a week, but it's a good forty hours when I keep busy. Wheeeeeeeee.
It's more visibility, as I mentioned earlier, and I'm happy to have it. If I do a good job at it, it could very well spell my promotion to a higher seniority level. Thankfully, the vast majority of the people I work with like me (at least they're not openly hostile) and get along fine with me; I get plenty of praise, which is a nice ego boost. My mentors deserve a good bit of adulation, too, considering Brian taught me everything I know, GM's always there to answer tricky technical questions, and Martin knows more than god about the system.
In short, I'm happy with my job! It sucks to have to work forty hours a week, but it's a good forty hours when I keep busy. Wheeeeeeeee.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Some Underwater Stuff
They were talking about weird underwater stuff on Ron and Fez today, so I decided to post the awesome videos they mentioned.
The first one is amazing to me. Dolphins make art!
The first one is amazing to me. Dolphins make art!
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Schedule for Week Ending 5/17
Time to get this over with! Roar.
Monday - 10:30 to 16:30 (6 hours)
Tuesday - 15:00 to 24:00 (15 hours)
Wednesday - 00:00 to 04:00 (19 hours)
Thursday - 17:30 to 24:00 (25.5 hours)
Friday - 00:00 to 04:00 (29.5 hours)
Saturday - 21:30 to 24:00 (32 hours)
Sunday - 00:00 to 08:00 (40 hours)
Lovely. Hopefully I can reach escape velocity at some point and rocket out of the Jersey atmosphere and into Philadelphia's waiting arms. In more ways than one.
Monday - 10:30 to 16:30 (6 hours)
Tuesday - 15:00 to 24:00 (15 hours)
Wednesday - 00:00 to 04:00 (19 hours)
Thursday - 17:30 to 24:00 (25.5 hours)
Friday - 00:00 to 04:00 (29.5 hours)
Saturday - 21:30 to 24:00 (32 hours)
Sunday - 00:00 to 08:00 (40 hours)
Lovely. Hopefully I can reach escape velocity at some point and rocket out of the Jersey atmosphere and into Philadelphia's waiting arms. In more ways than one.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Weather
It's been raining and storming here for about a week. There are good and bad things about this, but I'm sitting back and making a point to enjoy it.
When You Were Young
You sit there in your heartache
Waiting on some beautiful boy
To save you from your old ways
You play forgiveness
Watch it now, here he comes
Eloquence
Being eloquent was never something I would have thought would be difficult. It's just like any other thing - if you want it enough it can happen, like learning to play the guitar or tame a lion. It's just effort and nothing more, nothing less. Natural talent is something that I've never actually believed existed; the world is a mixture of efforts with just a tiny smattering of aptitude.
But it's easy to be eloquent, and it's easy to not be eloquent. Oftentimes these two states of being are juxtaposed by the intentions, with your more severe efforts to be proper and smooth ending in the most utter failures. I would speak about the other direction, but that's not nearly as important in a society like ours. Someone trying to lack seriousness or poise or tact is generally not going to end up looking elegant by accident. I say generally, though, because I'm sure it's happened.
Eloquence is especially important in matters of courting, and it was never more important to me in one such situation. Her name doesn't particularly matter, but it was a strange one, so I might as well say it; she was Jewel. A suggestive name from proud parents, it seemed, and probably expressive of what most parents think of their new, pink, unblemished spawn. Fiery red hair also made the suggestion that her parents may have taken one glance at the newly birthed creature and thought "ruby."
Jewel was one of the most proper humans I have associated with in all my days. In all my four decades, I'd never before met a woman who had actually been to finishing school. From my cinematic experiences (I had worked in a drive-in theater in my youth, screening film after film for those who would watch, and those who didn't watch but showed up anyway), I had briefly been introduced to the concept by a dusty film featuring Ginger Rogers. Regardless, Jewel had a knack for always keeping her spine straight and her arms neatly at her sides as if balancing a fragile vase atop her head. When I approached her to ask for a date, elegance was an absolute necessity. I had saved my best denim jeans and button-up shirt for that day, even though the jeans were dusty and the shirt was wrinkled. I stood up as straight as my back would allow. Stammering and stumbling, I could feel my heart beating in the soles of my feet, my face heating up as I muttered the invitation. Hearing the answer was even more jarring than asking the question.
She and I dated for some time, but as anything, our interaction was fleeting. Whether by the choice of both those of a couple, a single one or the other, or neither, everything passes with time. Our love was not extinguished by either of our choice, the flame slowly deprived of oxygen until it could struggle no more. She was self-conscious about the wig she wore when we were wed, thought it didn't quite do her former fiery red hair justice. I agreed, but shared the sentiment that it was good enough as long as she was beneath it.
Seven months later, Jewel and I both knew time was short. She refused to rot in a hospital bed for any longer. She died in our bed on a Friday morning, a light rain pattering on the roof. It was seventy-two degrees on June 2, 1977. I was the only one there when she passed; we both told each other that our love was all we had, we weren't lying, aside from the usual and generally unimportant material things.
Life gives and it takes away. Of nothing else am I more certain.
But it's easy to be eloquent, and it's easy to not be eloquent. Oftentimes these two states of being are juxtaposed by the intentions, with your more severe efforts to be proper and smooth ending in the most utter failures. I would speak about the other direction, but that's not nearly as important in a society like ours. Someone trying to lack seriousness or poise or tact is generally not going to end up looking elegant by accident. I say generally, though, because I'm sure it's happened.
Eloquence is especially important in matters of courting, and it was never more important to me in one such situation. Her name doesn't particularly matter, but it was a strange one, so I might as well say it; she was Jewel. A suggestive name from proud parents, it seemed, and probably expressive of what most parents think of their new, pink, unblemished spawn. Fiery red hair also made the suggestion that her parents may have taken one glance at the newly birthed creature and thought "ruby."
Jewel was one of the most proper humans I have associated with in all my days. In all my four decades, I'd never before met a woman who had actually been to finishing school. From my cinematic experiences (I had worked in a drive-in theater in my youth, screening film after film for those who would watch, and those who didn't watch but showed up anyway), I had briefly been introduced to the concept by a dusty film featuring Ginger Rogers. Regardless, Jewel had a knack for always keeping her spine straight and her arms neatly at her sides as if balancing a fragile vase atop her head. When I approached her to ask for a date, elegance was an absolute necessity. I had saved my best denim jeans and button-up shirt for that day, even though the jeans were dusty and the shirt was wrinkled. I stood up as straight as my back would allow. Stammering and stumbling, I could feel my heart beating in the soles of my feet, my face heating up as I muttered the invitation. Hearing the answer was even more jarring than asking the question.
She and I dated for some time, but as anything, our interaction was fleeting. Whether by the choice of both those of a couple, a single one or the other, or neither, everything passes with time. Our love was not extinguished by either of our choice, the flame slowly deprived of oxygen until it could struggle no more. She was self-conscious about the wig she wore when we were wed, thought it didn't quite do her former fiery red hair justice. I agreed, but shared the sentiment that it was good enough as long as she was beneath it.
Seven months later, Jewel and I both knew time was short. She refused to rot in a hospital bed for any longer. She died in our bed on a Friday morning, a light rain pattering on the roof. It was seventy-two degrees on June 2, 1977. I was the only one there when she passed; we both told each other that our love was all we had, we weren't lying, aside from the usual and generally unimportant material things.
Life gives and it takes away. Of nothing else am I more certain.
New Reading Opportunities
Earlier this evening I decided to go book shopping, particularly for a novel that's been advertised in several forms to me, both as a personal recommendation and on favorites lists. It's by Miranda July and is called No One Belongs Here More Than You. From what I can gather from reading its back and what's been described to me, it's a gathering of stories that give a unique and refreshingly new take on the insignificant and the unexplored. Do I know what it's about? I haven't a clue - but I'm certain I'll enjoy it.
While I was at the bookstore, I figured I'd check on the book I had the store order some six weeks ago, and to my surprise they had received it and it was on the shelf for purchase. Hooray! This book is a collection of e-mails correspondences between an atheistic naturalist and a devout Christian historian. It's titled Is Believe in God Good, Bad, or Irrelevant? and features Preston Jones - the latter; a professor at John Brown University, a Christian school - and Greg Graffin - the former; lead singer of Bad Religion, holder of a PhD in evolutionary biology and committed scientist. I've gotten about a third of the way through it and the interactions between the two are as phenomenal as the topic at hand. Though occasionally they will be harsh about the others' beliefs, they never outright attack each other and are very cordial. In the first sixty pages both Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins are mentioned, though. In fact, during his PhD studies, Graffin managed to interview Mister Dawkins, a holder of a very similar evolutionary biology degree.
Anyhow, I'll be fantastically entertained in the next few days through my long evenings at work. It's really difficult to resist swapping between the books - perhaps I'll have to go through each concurrently.
While I was at the bookstore, I figured I'd check on the book I had the store order some six weeks ago, and to my surprise they had received it and it was on the shelf for purchase. Hooray! This book is a collection of e-mails correspondences between an atheistic naturalist and a devout Christian historian. It's titled Is Believe in God Good, Bad, or Irrelevant? and features Preston Jones - the latter; a professor at John Brown University, a Christian school - and Greg Graffin - the former; lead singer of Bad Religion, holder of a PhD in evolutionary biology and committed scientist. I've gotten about a third of the way through it and the interactions between the two are as phenomenal as the topic at hand. Though occasionally they will be harsh about the others' beliefs, they never outright attack each other and are very cordial. In the first sixty pages both Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins are mentioned, though. In fact, during his PhD studies, Graffin managed to interview Mister Dawkins, a holder of a very similar evolutionary biology degree.
Anyhow, I'll be fantastically entertained in the next few days through my long evenings at work. It's really difficult to resist swapping between the books - perhaps I'll have to go through each concurrently.
What's Missing?
This is a question I ponder a lot, with varying degrees of satisfaction with said pondering and its conclusions. There are some events in life where change is an inexorable and unavoidable part of life. There are some concepts, people, places, and things in life that lead inevitably to a perceivable hole in one's psyche. It's similar to the feeling you experience when you fear or realize you've left something important at home while jet-setting on a vacation. That indescribable "something missing" conception.
It's peculiar in life that it's almost impossible to predict the exact size of the imprint these people, places and things have within our hearts and minds. Something you never thought you would miss looms large when it's gone - obviously it's not a foreign concept to us, with idioms like "you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone" being well known in our society. Sometimes the things you thought would never evaporate, things that you use as the foundation for building your skyscraper, are suddenly gone.
This blog allows me to explore feelings and concepts important to me, but the former has always been severely lacking. I've been wondering why more and more lately, why writer's block halts my ability to make regular posts when before I had no such difficulties. Have I lost my muse in the past few months?
I don't think so. I came to the conclusion that something is indeed missing, but it's not a person or place; it's the concept of conflict. Writing to oneself in a journal offers no exceptional conflict, no back-and-forth dialogue save whatever internal debates one can have. And maybe this is the heart of the problem - I find very little conflict in my life, and my inner thoughts have generally reflected this. I doubt myself far too rarely in my own head. Internal conflict, I will posit, is important - more than once I have created conflict where it does not actually exist to fulfill some kind of internal necessity. It's the same with people who are particularly judgmental of others, where the boundaries of "like" and "dislike" shift like oil in water. I have no problem with people like this, for the most part, save for my inability to understand the alienation they must feel by despising something one day and then loving it the next.
But I digress! Conflict should be more a natural part of life than something manufactured. I will strive to further challenge myself, my conceptions, and my senses. When someone says something I agree with, I will simply say so; there is little point in playing an advocate for a baseless devil.
It's peculiar in life that it's almost impossible to predict the exact size of the imprint these people, places and things have within our hearts and minds. Something you never thought you would miss looms large when it's gone - obviously it's not a foreign concept to us, with idioms like "you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone" being well known in our society. Sometimes the things you thought would never evaporate, things that you use as the foundation for building your skyscraper, are suddenly gone.
This blog allows me to explore feelings and concepts important to me, but the former has always been severely lacking. I've been wondering why more and more lately, why writer's block halts my ability to make regular posts when before I had no such difficulties. Have I lost my muse in the past few months?
I don't think so. I came to the conclusion that something is indeed missing, but it's not a person or place; it's the concept of conflict. Writing to oneself in a journal offers no exceptional conflict, no back-and-forth dialogue save whatever internal debates one can have. And maybe this is the heart of the problem - I find very little conflict in my life, and my inner thoughts have generally reflected this. I doubt myself far too rarely in my own head. Internal conflict, I will posit, is important - more than once I have created conflict where it does not actually exist to fulfill some kind of internal necessity. It's the same with people who are particularly judgmental of others, where the boundaries of "like" and "dislike" shift like oil in water. I have no problem with people like this, for the most part, save for my inability to understand the alienation they must feel by despising something one day and then loving it the next.
But I digress! Conflict should be more a natural part of life than something manufactured. I will strive to further challenge myself, my conceptions, and my senses. When someone says something I agree with, I will simply say so; there is little point in playing an advocate for a baseless devil.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Men Who Stare at Goats, The
So this is interesting. I was listening to a bit of Coast to Coast AM the other night and their guest was Stephen Root, best known for his portrayals of Milton in Office Space and Jimmy James on Newsradio. He mentioned a new project he was working on with the likes of Kevin Spacey and George Clooney called The Men Who Stare at Goats. Isn't that the best title ever?
Anyway, the film is based on a five-year-old book that delves into attempts by the United States military in waging psychological warfare. These range from the more-or-less conventional - such as playing loud music to disarm and "break" targets in hostage situations - to full-blown "psychic" operations. Interestingly enough, the latter wasn't always considered hokey and fake. The Soviet Union is especially well known for its psychic research during the Cold War, especially on topics like remote viewing, the gleaning of secrets by "seeing" objects or documents via extrasensory means.
Also of note is HAARP, the United States Air Force's High Frequency Active Aurora Research Station. The station is essentially a large Alaska transceiver that is used to research the ionosphere in various forms - measurements cannot be taken easily in the ionosphere, as the thickness of the air there is insufficient for a balloon, but the drag makes orbit at these altitudes impossible. The array can also generate frequencies falling into the VLF and ELF range by using a pseudo-transmission antennae created by the use of auroral electrojet. In observation of these frequencies, rumor has it that strange effects have been induced into subjects. Some posit that it could be possible to manipulate or disrupt certain human mental faculties (messing with emotions, fight or flight response, etc.) using ELF (sub 20Hz) broadcasts.
Regardless, all this remains pseudoscience for now - an interesting read at the most. Among all the forms of warfare and interrogation, psychological manipulation is one of the most frightening thanks to its ability to disrupt what we think and feel internally rather than being a secondary effect from some sort of physical torture. Though having psychokinetic powers like Sylar from the Heroes series would be pretty fun. And who knows what's to come in the future? Such things could certainly be replicated with some kind of chip implant that could read your mind coupled with some sort of magnetic field to manipulate objects with. Hell, I still think it's incredible that surgeons can wear gloves that control robots when operating:
In 2001, Doctor Jacques Marescaux performed a gallbladder operation on a patient over six thousand miles away via this type of telepresence. The technology, in the future, could perform surgeries unassisted by a human thanks to gobs of data gathered through thousands of operations. This could make previously costly surgeries plummet in price and make wait times virtually nonexistant. Oh, the future never looked so bright!
Anyway, the film is based on a five-year-old book that delves into attempts by the United States military in waging psychological warfare. These range from the more-or-less conventional - such as playing loud music to disarm and "break" targets in hostage situations - to full-blown "psychic" operations. Interestingly enough, the latter wasn't always considered hokey and fake. The Soviet Union is especially well known for its psychic research during the Cold War, especially on topics like remote viewing, the gleaning of secrets by "seeing" objects or documents via extrasensory means.
Also of note is HAARP, the United States Air Force's High Frequency Active Aurora Research Station. The station is essentially a large Alaska transceiver that is used to research the ionosphere in various forms - measurements cannot be taken easily in the ionosphere, as the thickness of the air there is insufficient for a balloon, but the drag makes orbit at these altitudes impossible. The array can also generate frequencies falling into the VLF and ELF range by using a pseudo-transmission antennae created by the use of auroral electrojet. In observation of these frequencies, rumor has it that strange effects have been induced into subjects. Some posit that it could be possible to manipulate or disrupt certain human mental faculties (messing with emotions, fight or flight response, etc.) using ELF (sub 20Hz) broadcasts.
Regardless, all this remains pseudoscience for now - an interesting read at the most. Among all the forms of warfare and interrogation, psychological manipulation is one of the most frightening thanks to its ability to disrupt what we think and feel internally rather than being a secondary effect from some sort of physical torture. Though having psychokinetic powers like Sylar from the Heroes series would be pretty fun. And who knows what's to come in the future? Such things could certainly be replicated with some kind of chip implant that could read your mind coupled with some sort of magnetic field to manipulate objects with. Hell, I still think it's incredible that surgeons can wear gloves that control robots when operating:
In 2001, Doctor Jacques Marescaux performed a gallbladder operation on a patient over six thousand miles away via this type of telepresence. The technology, in the future, could perform surgeries unassisted by a human thanks to gobs of data gathered through thousands of operations. This could make previously costly surgeries plummet in price and make wait times virtually nonexistant. Oh, the future never looked so bright!
Friday, May 1, 2009
Schedule for Week Ending 5/10
Forgot all about doing the schedule post last week - oops! There wasn't a whole lot to say except I came and went when I felt like it, since there was really nothing to do (surprise surprise). Anyway:
Monday - 15:18 to 00:18 (9 hours)
Tuesday - OFF
Wednesday - 23:36 to 05:00 (14.4 hours)
Thursday - 00:00 to 04:00 (18.4 hours)
Friday - 00:00 to 04:00 (22.4 hours)
Saturday - 00:00 to 04:00 and 15:24 to 24:00 (35 hours)
Sunday - 00:00 to 04:00 and 15:30 to 24:00 (47.5 hours)
REVISED 5/06
Twelve, four, four, four, four, twelve, eight. Not so bad.
Monday - 15:18 to 00:18 (9 hours)
Tuesday - OFF
Wednesday - 23:36 to 05:00 (14.4 hours)
Thursday - 00:00 to 04:00 (18.4 hours)
Friday - 00:00 to 04:00 (22.4 hours)
Saturday - 00:00 to 04:00 and 15:24 to 24:00 (35 hours)
Sunday - 00:00 to 04:00 and 15:30 to 24:00 (47.5 hours)
REVISED 5/06
Twelve, four, four, four, four, twelve, eight. Not so bad.
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