The Village

I'm Not Entirely Sure That I Know What I'm Doing

2011-05-22T18:01:00.000-07:00

I just turned 42, and I'm working on quite the nifty speech about what that means to me and what the significance of Douglas Adams' infamous number is. At the moment, however, I'm being pulled in several different directions at once, and not in a good way. (In fairness, I must admit that I'm responsible for some of the "not good" pulling, but it's in an ironic attempt to save what little of my foreground sanity is left, so bear with me.)

It's kind of like a screwball comedy without the funny.

I love my life. I hate my job, but I have a kicking home life. Those were oddly reversed several years ago, and it felt a bit strange getting excited to go to work so that I could avoid the hell that was my home life.* On one hand, I like the idea of being back in the mainstream with everyone else who hates their jobs; on the other hand, though, I still find myself working for most of my waking hours, and therefore I'm having all that harder of a time enjoying the home life I'm now deeply in love with. To make matters worse, there are several things I'd like to do in my home life to develop myself personally -- which requires more time I already don't have. One of those, of course, is my writing.

Every so often I will daydream of a time not far off when I will be able to write a screenplay, sell it for enough money to quit my job for two years, spend THAT time writing even more, sell that stuff and buy myself another two or three years, and so on. It's a nifty dream. The problem is that I don't have enough time to get even the first screenplay done (I have three started, and four more as simply ideas; factor in the adage that "90% of what you write is crap," and time becomes an even hotter commodity). It takes me longer and longer these days to even get myself up to speed with my writing, and suddenly time is . . . well, "elusive" seems like an understatement, but I am thesaurus-free at the moment.

And my job DOES suck. It's causing me great stress, physical problems, and taking up entirely too much of those chambers of my brain that are meant for me. Hell, I'm even dreaming about being in the same situations, and my sleep has usually been reserved for creativity and weirdness as recreation. It's not even therapeutic anymore.

So instead of working on the screenplay that has been my joy for a little over a year, I am putting it aside and heading back to my number three script idea (number two isn't going to get anywhere with my head all screwed up, either, so it's off to number three). I'll try that for a while, wait for the school year to end, and then try to get my batteries recharged. Hopefully I'll come out on the other side a better person for the experience, and better prepared to compartmentalize the suck.

If you or someone you know is looking to produce (or even consider producing) a small film, a character-driven piece with little-to-no special effects, let me know. I'm working on it.

*If either of my kids are reading this, they know that this period of hell had nothing to do with them and should not read anything into it. I'm happy to elaborate if they need me to.

Reading in 2010

2011-04-12T14:20:00.000-07:00

Yeah, this is late. And incomplete. I'm just cleaning house on the blog right now, with the hope that I'll manage to get back into it.

Like I don't have enough to do with my time.

Books read in 2010: (* indicates Kindle-read)

Pirate Latitudes by Michael Crichton
I, Alex Cross by James Patterson
Under the Dome by Stephen King
Everything Matters by Ron Currie, Jr.*
Watchmen and Philosophy by Mark D. White (Ed)
Up in the Air by Walter Kirn
Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter* by Seth Grahame-Smith
Darkly Dreaming Dexter by Jeff Lindsay*

Dexter by Design by Jeff Lindsay*

Dearly Devoted Dexter by Jeff Lindsay*

Dexter in the Dark by Jeff Lindsay*

Dexter is Delicious by Jeff Lindsay*

Divine Misfortune by A. Lee Martinez*

Everything Matters by Ron Currie, Jr.*

The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson*

The Girl Who Played with Fire by Stieg Larsson*

The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet's Nest by Stieg Larsson*

Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins

Stuff by Mary Roach

The Book of General Ignorance by John Lloyd and John Mitchinson

Always Looking Up by Michael J. Fox

Stories Edited by Neil Gaiman and Al Sarrantonio

The Confession by John Grisham

Columbine by Dave Cullen

It's Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizzino

A Loyal Friend, Now Absent

2010-12-01T14:02:00.000-08:00

With sadness, we must convey the passing of our beloved dog, Belle.

Last night, after bringing Belle inside to warm up a bit, we noticed that she was limping pretty badly on one of her front legs. This was about ninety minutes after our daily walk, and she's lately been a little worn out after those, but never limping so severely. Also, given a combination of her age, her arthritis, and rugless hardwood floors (from which it would be difficult for any canine, long nails or no, to find traction) she was unsuccessful in even being able to stand up. As late as it was, and the vet's office being closed, we took Belle to a local animal hospital. (It should be noted that although she had to be carried into and out of the car, she seemed to enjoy the car ride; and, true to her typical behavior, she bypassed all the towels I laid out in the back seat and opted for the car's upholstery. Also, I also have no idea what was so fascinating under the passenger seat.)

The emergency vet confirmed that she was, in fact, limping badly; but we learned that this was not her biggest problem. We're not certain over what period of time (it could have been gradual or very recent), but Belle had developed what the doctor called a "significant mass" in the area of her spleen. Without doing extensive bloodwork and scans we could not know if the mass was benign or cancerous, though there were some indications that it was the latter. The options presented to us included scans and surgery, then analysis of the mass to determine if chemotherapy would be warranted. It would be major surgery, requiring recovery; it would have had no impact on her mobility problems; and there's no telling how long her life would have been prolonged (though it's safe to say the recovery would take some time). Dogs of Belle's breed, according to the vet, have a life expectancy of about twelve years; Belle was almost seventeen.

The thing about dogs (or any animal) is that although you get to learn certain signs and signals over time, there's no effective way for them to communicate how they're feeling. We're told that Belle's mass was probably causing her regular discomfort, especially given the size of the mass. We all know that major surgery late in life can be difficult from which to recover, and that full recovery, especially without a spleen, isn't a guarantee of anything. My wife, My son, and I were all there last night, listening to the doctor explain Belle's prognosis and going into detail about the options.

And, in the end, though the decision was difficult (far more difficult that I had expected, and I've been running this scenario over and over in my head for almost a year), we decided that we didn't want to put Belle through it. The idea of major surgery recovery and the possibility of chemotherapy really didn't seem like the kind of thing to put her through for the short period of time it would have extended her life. I don't know how much pain she was in on a daily basis, nor do I know how much of a "brave face" she put on for us (though, knowing Belle, I have my suspicions). We spent some time with her, we took pictures, we held her, and then the vet helped us see things through to the end. It was peaceful, she seemed content, and she passed with her head on my lap.

And we will miss her.

"Good girl. Go on, now; go chase squirrels. You've earned it. We love you. Good puppy."

Goodbye, Belle.

No One Invited REALITY To My Pity Party.

2010-09-21T10:44:00.000-07:00

For the last several months, I've had a dream. More of a fantasy, actually, because these last few days I've begun to see this dream shrivel a bit. My concern for my dream's welfare grows as reality, a cursed scourge, a pox rears its head and makes its presence known.

Let me back up a bit.

I have a dream. My dream is to quit a perfectly good job, one that carries with it decent hours, a healthy paycheck, and awesome benefits--to quit, and to get out of the business completely. It's a job I used to love, and I don't love it anymore. I don't even like it a little. I've been in the "industry" for almost twenty years, and I feel like I've had enough.

My dream is to write for a living. I have an idea for a novel, one or two ideas for television series, and several ideas for feature screenplays. I've almost finished the second draft of my first screenplay, a daunting task, a satisfying task, and, in my mind, my ticket outta here. The way it plays out in my head: I write the first screenplay, I sell it for enough money to cover me for a couple of years, and use that time to write and sell even more of them. I don't want to go all big-mansion, fast-car rock-star; I just want to make enough of a nest egg to write from the nest.

My dream includes a vignette in which I resign from my job. People are shocked. No one sees the logic. The staff is flummoxed, the boss is poleaxed. NO ONE saw it coming.

My dream is, of course, the dream of many. And because that dream is so sought after, the percentage of people who fulfill this dream shrinks as the number of people who seek this dream expands; and lately, I've been hit with a few thoughts in opposition to the dream: that the screenplay won't sell for enough to allow me to quit, that I may need to write several screenplays before trying to enter the market (meaning more time in the dreaded day job), or that the screenplay won't sell at all.

And, being who I am, the thoughts of reality--the realization that this mountain I'm attempting to climb looks much steeper up close--impacts my momentum to write during the hours and half-hours in which I can sneak in some writing. I'm not at some "What's the use?" exclamation . . . yet. And I'm trying to keep my momentum up, my writing [as] constant [as possible], and avoid thinking the "What if it doesn't work?" thoughts.

Until then, I will continue to spend 8 hours a day doing shit I don't really wanna do. I will maintain financial stability and I will pay the bills . . . until I can get the screenplays to take over that task.

What Am I Doing?

2010-09-09T10:35:00.000-07:00

I have reached a point in life I never thought I'd reach: I'm tired of my job. For years, I've enjoyed it, looked forward to it each morning, and tried to do it well. On occasion, I would hit a slump: too much to do, a big matter requiring lots of time, or something else -- temporary -- that would bring me down. This time, however, it feels like a significant portion of my give-a-shit has just shriveled up and died. I really don't care about it anymore.

There are bills to pay, however, so I trudge along. (Is this what all the corproate-cubicle people feel like all the time? How does Dilbert do it?)

Am I . . . Am I Depressed?

2010-04-14T09:49:00.000-07:00

Let me start by saying that I've never been a big believer in "diagnosed" states of mind. Things like ADHD and bipolar disorder have always been, to me, solely matters of body chemistry, not classified illnesses ot be documented and accommodated. (Then again, I'm one who thought that "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" was about psychotherapy--most people thought it was about religion.)

So it was something of a surprise to consider the possibility that I might be depressed in a body-chemistry-type of way. That is not to say that I've become a convert in perception of mental illness; in fact, I think my approach has, if anything, helped me to better understand what I may be going through. (I should also point out--to everyone, including the several people I know that work in the field of psychology--that my opinions are in no way meant to belittle, demean, or dismiss the study of psychology; for all I know, I'm unknowingly speaking their language. I haven't done enough research to fully understand what I'm talking about, and I admit that.)

So here's what I got to thinking about this morning: What is the recipe for a healthy human psyche? If my perspective is based on the idea of body chemistry, let's assume that such chemistry is affected by things both tanglible (such as diet and exercise) and intanglible (such as moods). The right items in the right combinations and amounts, as well as the avoidance of other items, result in a happy mind. I compare it to placing ingredients into my breadmaker: the right quantities of the the right things in the right order. (I'm rambling a bit, and I know that, and I'm sorry--I'm trying to get all these thoughts down while they still have enough consistency to be shaped.)

I think that my ingredients may be screwed up.

(a) My diet has always been kinda goofy, and although I don't think it plays a major role here, it's worth mentioning. I don't eat a lot at all--one meal a day, plus a little noshing--and now my mother has planted in my head the idea that my thyroid may be responsible (she's had trouble with hers). Diet as a small possibility, a thyroid gland as a possibility--that's two ingredients right there.

(b) I snore. I don't stop breathing or anything, but I snore. My brother suffers from it worse than I do; he did a sleep study and now uses one of those machines to keep him from snoring. According to him, he sleeps much better and more soundly. His doctor thinks that the lack of good sleep was making him depressed. Lack of good sleep would, therefore, be another ingredient.

(c) I'm dissatisfied with my job. More specifically, I no longer receive any satisfaction from my job. I used to work with and for people who were kind enough to not only provide me with constructive criticism, but also with praise, when warranted. I don't think I'm doing my job any differently, but I'm no longer receiving any praise from anyone around here. That's put me in a different frame of mind, somehow, and I'm counting that as another ingredient here.

(d) I'm finding little things going wrong: simple little things that were never problematic before now seem to slip my mind; I find myself misspelling words more often, inverting the order of the letters; and my speech has developed a weird repetitive stutter over the last year or two. None of these "symptoms" is severe, by any means; in fact, I'd be surprised if anyone noticed them much, if at all. But I know they're there.

I've got a doctor's appointment next week; I guess that's when my amateur opinion gets a professional consult.

It Looks Completely Different From The Inside.

2010-04-12T07:59:00.000-07:00

I may be going through something of a mid-life crisis.

You hear a lot about this (or I did, growing up): men who cross the forty or forty-five year old mark, find that they want totally different lives, and do completely irrational things as a result.

Let me be clear: I have NO desire whatsoever to leave my wife for some twenty year old; I'm not in the market for a fast, expensive, red sportscar; and the idea of a toupee or hair job of any kind makes me want to throw up. No, most of my problem right now, the source of my discontent, is professional. (There was a time, not so long ago, when I enjoyed my work. For a time, I enjoyed work more than I enjoyed my home life. Since then, however, my home life has improved dramatically and my work life has declined.)

I spent a good part of Spring Break (I'm in the education biz, remember) lounging about the house, spending time with my wife, and working on my novel/screenplay (more on that later). I've decided that I will someday make a truly excellent retired person, but in the meantime there are bills to pay, college tuitions to save for, and home improvement to be done.

My new fantasy daydream is to sell a novel/screenplay or two, build up enough to comfortably get by, and quit my job. (A close second to that is another daydream in which I merely walk in to work and quit my job with no plan B.) Of course, it's all labeled "fantasy" for a reason: Having no plan B, I wouldn't be able to support the household; there is no real "go-to" profession for people in my line of work, save returning to classroom teaching; and given the economy of late, returning to the classroom would put be back at the bottom of the seniority ladder, only to be kicked from that a year later (at best). At a time where many people my age are out of work--so many, in fact, that my eighteen year old son is having trouble finding a job--it's not right of me to complain. I have a job, and that's a lot more than many can say.

Nonetheless, I find myself wanting something more . . . fulfilling, professionally. And I keep coming back to the conclusion that--for now, at least--there's little to be done about it.

I am at the early part of "mid-life"; my situation is hardly a crisis--there are many things, most of them at home, that I enjoy immensely and consistently--and I can in no way label it as "problematic." If nothing else, I suppose, I am now like so many other people who aren't very happy in their jobs.

What do they do, I wonder?

I'm Sorry

2010-03-23T12:28:00.000-07:00

Although I have much to blog about, I've not made the time to do so. And while I'm on the topic of making time to do things, I want to apologize to my loving wife. Yesterday I was having a bad day, and instead of making the time to let it go and enjoy the late afternoon and evening, I chose to brood, let others share information with me that I didn't need, and spent time for others but very little for myself.

As a result, I'm fully convinced that I allowed my mood to infect those of others, and that was a bad thing. I will endeavor to avoid that kind of thing in the future.

Fare Thee Well, AOL

2010-03-03T05:16:00.000-08:00

I have been a monthly-fee-paying member of AOL for quite some time now: fourteen years, to be exact. Back in February of 1996, ISPs were few, wi-fi (let alone free wi-fi) was nonexistent, and e-mail accounts had to be paid for. (Cellular phones were the size of briefcases at this time, but that's another story for another time.)

I no longer pay for AOL.

Moving everything over to my new Gmail account was easier than I thought it would be, as was informing everyone of my new address. I had these nightmares about losing fourteen years worth of valuable information* and contact lists created over time . . . as it turns out, I had nothing to fear.

I'm reminded of the first in-car CD player I owned: it was one of the first generation players, and it skipped every time I drove over the slightest bump in the road. A friend of mine told me he would wait a few years for the technology to improve, then get one after all the bugs had been worked out. Free e-mail accounts were like that to me: I wasn't going to jump in on the ground floor, but wait until all the bugs had been worked out and the complaints died down (it didn't hurt that I also waited for Google to get into the game).

As I look through my monthly budget, I see items that are necessary expenses and some payments that reflect temporary situations (I should have my credit card problem in the endzone in 12-18 months), but only one has stood out as "unnecessary." Now that AOL is out of my life and off my computer**, life doesn't seem that much different.

Except, of course, that I'm saving an extra $25.00 per month.

* Valuable information, insomuch as it's information I thought was important to file away; but it's not so important that I felt the need to ignore it after it was filed away.

** There have been horror stories floating around about it being impossible to exorcise AOL from your life; I had to fill out one online form, and then wait until the end of the billing cycle, and it was done. No headache, no problem.

March? MARCH?!?What the Hell Happened to December?

2010-03-01T14:45:00.000-08:00

I love to blog. I love to write. I love to develop ideas and present them artistically. I just never get around to it.

I am making an effort to change this. There will be posts about time management (or a lack of it), about father-son bonding, and about writing skills. There will be questions about changing professions and about parenting, and there will be answers about marriage and family.

My children will hit milestones in the coming weeks, and I will reflect on the father I've been, the husband I am, and the person that I want to be.

My blog is coming out of hibernation a little late, but welcoming of 2010.

Books Read in 2009

2010-01-12T17:13:00.000-08:00

It's that time again--to recall my year in books. (Some of these were read on my Kindle, and they are denoted with an asterisk.)

Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson
Coraline by Neil Gaiman
Death With Interruptions by Jose Saramago
The Associate by John Grisham
Batman #686 by Neil Gaiman and Andy Kubert
Star Trek: Countdown #2 by Jones & Johnson
Fables 11: War and Pieces by Willingham, et al
Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson
Fables: 1001 Nights of Snowfall by Willingham, et al
Star Trek: Countdown #3 by Jones & Johnson
The Power of Less by Leo Babauta
Fool by Christopher Moore
Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell
On Writing by Stephen King
Starship Titanic by Terry Jones (Reread)
House and Philosophy Edited by W. Irwin & H Jacoby
The Firstborn Advantage by Dr. Kevin Leman
The Giver by Lois Lowry
Enemies & Allies by Kevin J. Anderson*
Maximum Ride: The Final Warning by James Patterson
In Pursuit of Elegance by Matthew E. May*
Star Wars and Philosophy by Kevin S. Decker & Jason T. Eberl
Click by Bill Tancer
My Man Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse*
Sum by David Eagleman*
Crazy Busy by Edward Hallowell
Spook Country by William Gibson
Reset by Kurt Andersen*
The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable by Nassim Nicholas Taleb* (DNF)
Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
1984 by George Orwell
Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins
Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher
The Road by Cormac McCarthy*
The League of the Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy*
Free by Chris Anderson*
Ford County by John Grisham

I can't recall, exactly, why I post this every year. Probably more for my edification than anything else. (I'm not trying to show off. Honest.)

I DID IT!!!

2009-12-01T05:30:00.000-08:00

I WROTE A NOVEL!!

50,000 words seemed like Mt. Everest a couple of weeks ago. I posted my word count on Facebook every day, and (more importantly) I wrote every single day. Some days were better than others, but each day got me closer to the goal.

Credit must certainly go to the folks over at NaNoWriMo. The idea is to write 50,000 words in the thirty days of November. There's no cash prize, no publication deal, no special accolades. Their method helps writers to set a deadline and meet it. They send out motivational e-mails. They help you track your progress. So many of us are lousy with deadlines--my life is filled with half-completed projects--so having this kind of support was critical in getting this far.

It's by no means complete; it's a first draft. There's a lot more to be written, there are things to be fixed, and I'm sure that others' comments after reading the manuscript will help me to develop it further. My next step, however, thanks to the advice found in On Writing by Stephen King, is to put the manuscript aside for a few weeks, let my writing batteries recharge, and then continue to develop it into a book I can shop around for publication. I hope to be at that point by June.

In the meantime, I can go back to blogging. Sorry I was gone so long.

A Cure for the Common Theft

2009-10-17T05:30:00.000-07:00

We can eliminate theft if we eliminate ownership; by definition, something that is not owned cannot be stolen. Moreover, I think we're already starting to move in the direction of "mass ownership."

Consider newspapers and magazines, the Internet, iTunes, and bicycles as examples. (Stay with me. It'll make sense.)

I can pay for an individual newspaper (or magazine), or I can subscribe to their services. With a subscription, I [typically] have access to more than just the newsstand issues and receive "member benefits." Newspapers today (yes, I'm looking at you, Internet) may soon have to abandon the price-per-issue system and go subscription only. Why? Because Internet-based newspapers and news services will lose their shirts if they continue to offer their services for free; a simple subscription fee, however, in exchange for complete access to a database of news is a typical explanation of where newspapers will be in ten years (if they're not there already). NOW, let's apply the subscription model to something we're more familiar with.

When a music lover purchases a song on iTunes, there are strings attached to prevent theft: you can only play the songs on authorized computers or devices, you can only make a limited number of "hard copies," and the file cannot [typically] be altered. WHAT IF iTunes moved to a "subscription-only" model? What if, for a monthly fee you had access to everything in the iTunes Library? If they were to make it sensibly priced and available to enough people, Apple would have a steady stream of income and the populus would have access to more music and movies than they could possibly watch in their lifetimes. (I know. It sounds like I'm describing cable or satellite TV.) What if we tried to apply this to something a bit more tangible?

Ever hear of ZotWheels? The concept has been around forever--especially in Europe--and it's now coming to at least three UC campuses in the coming months. It's a bikeshare program: you pay the monthly fee, and you have access to any ZotBike parked near you. They're supposed to be for short, one way trips across campus (you even get a text message when your two hours--or whatever it may be--is up). Some companies do this with cars. Nobody owns the vehicles, but everyone has access.

And if nobody owns them, then no one can steal them. ("Ah," you say, "But what if someone who does not pay for access obtains access? Is that not stealing?" You're right. Let's zoom out even farther.)

I've always loved that aspect of "Star Trek" in which the acquisition of wealth is no longer the driving force of humanity--especially when you consider that the "replicator," the gizmo that makes everything from clothing to starship parts to chocolate sundaes, makes that kind of economy possible (I often wonder what it must have been like for the fictional guy that invented it: "With this device, I will bring the entire economy to a crumbling ruin!"). But what do people in that fictional universe do in order to obtain access to whatever they need, includng food, clothing, and shelter? They particpate in industry, or science, or something. "Star Trek" is like one big floating kibbutz, when you think about it. But could we do that? Could we tell people that when they go to work, instead of a paycheck they will receive access to groceries, a carshare program, a houseshare program, cable TV, and iTunes . . . and if they work for a year they'll receive access to a vacationshare program.

Could we become a collective economy, where everything is shared and therefore NOTHING is owned (or everything is owned by everyone)?

Am I describing a form of Communism? Of course I am (and I'd be foolish not to admit it). I think part of the reason that the concept gets such a bad rap is that people look at it as a kind of "all or nothing" way of life. I, on the other hand, see the possibility of gradations in the economic structure; I'm not the first, and I certainly won't be the last.

Why wouldn't any of this work? I can think of two reasons, and neither of them paint humans in a positive light. The first is that, as a society, we're greedy. We want stuff. We want to own things. For some reason we look more at possession and less at function when it comes to our cars and our music. Does it matter to us who owns the bike if we get to use it as though we owned it? To us, apparently, it does. The second reason is that we're competitive, and many believe that Communism, while a dynamite idea on paper, failed in Russia for exactly this reason. We don't feel good about ourselves unless we surpass our peers. It's not enough that we have what we want; we must have more than others, even in an "equal" society. It's Orwell's Animal Farm. Or, to quote Richard Pryor, as he tried to describe what's wrong with people: "People got this mindset, man, that goes, 'I got mine, f*ck you.' And it ain't right."

Anyway, I just got to thinking about how to reduce theft at the school I work at, and came to the conclusion that if everyone collectively owned everything, no one could steal anything. And it turned into this big, long blog post.

Geez, imagine what I may come up with tomorrow. :)

A More-Than-Inconvenient Truth

2009-10-10T20:30:00.000-07:00

WARNING: This particular blog post contains perspectives and opinions that no one wants to acknowledge. (It's also probably the first in an infrequent series on this topic.)

I consider myself environmentally-minded. I print documents as little as possible. I recycle, both at home and at work (in fact, my recycling bins in both locations are regularly fuller than my trash cans). I drive the cleanest car on the planet, which emits nothing but water from the tailpipe. I turn lights off when I'm not using them. My front lawn is artificial. I use recycled paper products. I firmly believe that if more people did this the planet would be better off.

There is, however, a sad truth to face: it's not going to make a lot of big-picture, long-term difference.

As any scientist or logical person will tell you, the environmental problems facing this planet have largely to do with consumption. The more we consume, the more waste we generate; the more waste we generate, the larger the pile of trash we must deal with. Recycling helps to minimize this waste (and I use the term "minimze" loosely, since most recycling efforts don't put a dent in said trash pile). Even with all the recycling and greening we attempt, the amount of waste is so large that it's difficult with which to contend. Even if we recycled the majority of our waste, the pile of trash would still be huge, and the reason for that is simple:

There are just too many people on the planet.

In the year 1900 the world population was a mere 1.6 billion people, up from 275 million in the year 1000 (it took nine hundred years for the population to multiply to six times its size). By 1990, it rose to 5.3 billion. The curve growing ever steeper, today's population is 6.8 billion. By 2050, the world population is estimated to grow to 9.4 billion. Even if we recycle in every facet of our lives, there's only so much breathable air and drinkable water the planet can provide at a given time; that level is called the planet's "carrying capacity" for humans . . . and for the Earth, scientists calculate that level at 13 to 15 billion (which we could, theoretically, hit by the end of this--or the next--century).

I will, however, continue recycling, driving my clean car, and turning off my lights--I mean, what else can I do?

Ironically, It Was a Book About Rare Occurrences

2009-10-08T14:06:00.000-07:00

I can't remember the last time I started a book and didn't finish it. Even if a book sucks, I'll plod through to the end (hoping it will make a sudden qualitative upturn, or else to be able to complain about the entire book when I'm done). In this case, though, I couldn't do it.

The risk you take when you read nonfiction: scientific processes may be explain in mind-numbing detail, historical happenings may include painful asides and irrelevant backstories, and opinionated essays sometimes rant for fifty pages to make a ten page argument. Sadly, the book I was reading did all of the above.

That's not to say that Nassim Nicholas Taleb's The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable isn't a good book. The premise--that there are certain things in this world that cannot be predicted at all--is a good one, and there are some great explanations, good points made about how we interpret indicators, and some very simple examples of why we really can't trust a lot of the predictions we tend to make. There are also, however, long-winded rants about philosophical theory, constant references to the author's personal upbringing and former career, and (coming in around the 66% mark--I was reading on the Kindle) a banal narrative about applying his theory to reality . . . one that seemed, when I put the book down, without end. All in all, this book was in deperate need of a red pen and should have been about half its length.

I feel just a little bit like a failure, having put the book down without finishing it. In a way, I feel like the book won. Which is a stupid way to think, really.

What have I learned from reading this book? I've learned two things: (1) we probably never could have predicted 9/11, only reacted in the aftermath, and anyone who had suggested (on 9/10 or before) that we make cockpit doors lockable and bulletproof would have been dismissed as over precautionary; (2) when I decide to put down a book and not finish it, I must not take it as a personal failure and just move on.

So I've picked up Aldous Huxley's Brave New World, and after that I'll read Orwell's 1984. It's been 20+ years since I've read either one, so they'll both seem new to me.

You Got A Younger Sibling?

2009-09-16T11:27:00.000-07:00

Give 'em a hug today.

This afternoon I'm attending a funeral for my 27-year-old cousin, the youngest of two siblings on that branch of my family tree. (He got frustrated, he got impulsive, and he did himself in.) My heart aches for his family, particularly for his older brother.

I'M an older brother, and I don't want to begin imagining what he must be going through. I will be seeing my brother today, and giving him a hug.

If you have a younger sibling, give 'em a hug.

Hello, "Kitty."

2009-09-14T06:30:00.000-07:00

So I bought a Kindle. I bought it about a month before they dropped the price sixty bucks, but I bought it. (Those who scrutinize my blog might notice that my reading list to the right now includes asterisks, indicating which books were Kindle-read.) I'm to the point now where I'm reading some titles on the Kindle and the "analog" versions of others.

I gotta say, I went back and forth on this purchase for a while. It wasn't that I didn't have an interest in the latest gadget . . . I did. And although SONY has it's own e-reader on the market (with upgrades coming out all the time), I'm confident that the Kindle isn't going anywhere (I did, however, wait until the second generation was available).

No, it was the idea of not being able to collect books that would go into my extensive and impressive home library that gave me pause. Another reason for my hesitancy was that I didn't want to be a part of that group that began the revolt against published books. And who was it that calmed my fears about all this?

Neil Gaiman, of course.

When my wife and I saw him in Santa Monica (at a reading of The Graveyard Book) he took pre-submitted questions for the Q & A. Mine, asking about the questionable survival of printed books in the digital age, was one of the first questions answered. Not only did he answer the question and calm my nerves--he said he enjoyed reading some books in print, and others on his own Kindle, and didn't worry about the downfall of the printing press in the least--but he backed it up with expert opinion. From who?

Douglas Adams, of course.

Gaiman and Adams were friends, and at one point he asked Adams about the survival of the printed book. Adams explained that:

"Books are sharks. There were sharks before dinosaurs and there are sharks now. And the reason that nothing has actually come along to replace the shark is, nothing is better at being a shark than a shark is. Nothing is better at being a book than a book is, given cost, given size, given what it takes to power it - mostly solar power! You can drop them without causing any major damage. And they're portable. And they're lightweight."

And so I bought a Kindle. I do, maybe, half my reading on it. And it's fine by me.

Oh, and my wife, who has a penchant for naming things, named my Kindle "Kitty." That forced me to change the voice reader on the device to female ("Kitty" is NOT a dude's name), and only later did I discover the second, lesser used definition of the word "kindle": a brood or litter, especially of kittens.

And Now For Something Completely Different . . .

2009-07-24T06:21:00.000-07:00

My wife and I finally made it back to the theater last week; it feels like forever since we've been, and we LOVE to go to the theater, be it local (Orange County Performing Arts Center) or further out (like the Ahmanson in Los Angeles or the Pantages in Hollywood). This time it was back to the Ahmanson--one of my personal favorites--for SPAMALOT.

I'd heard about it's Broadway run, and the Vegas run, and I really wanted to see it--so my wonderful wife bought us tickets. It was a LOT of fun. A few highlights:

--My son opted not to go, claiming he wasn't familiar enough with the source material to justify the cost of the ticket. The thing is, though, that you can easily enjoy this without knowing the movie that well, or at all. It might actually help not knowing the movie at all--you wouldn't be distracted by missing scenes or changes. In the end, you can know the movie or not and still enjoy this musical--so when it comes to Orange County in October my son is going whether he likes it or not. He'll thank me for it later.

--The musical also plays on some other well known Monty Python sketches. I identified three non-Holy-Grail references without even trying. There are probably more.

--One of the actors in the company--his name is Rick Holmes--is HYSTERICAL. He did some ad-libbing during the "Knights who say Ni" number, even referencing South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford's woes. Moreover--and this is what impressed me the most about him--not only did he play multiple characters in the musical, but he played several of the same characters that John Cleese played in the original (this may be the only positive aspect of knowing the source material well): Sir Lancelot, the French Taunter, and Tim the Enchanter. I could have watched him ad-lib the French Taunter all night.

--The female lead, Merle Dandridge, has an amazing pair of lungs. They're both pleasant to listen to and to look at. Her comedic timing is also excellent.

--Before the show I suspected I was missing out by not seeing this with Tim Curry in the lead (Broadway). Turns out I was wrong. John O'Hurley is a laugh riot as King Arthur.

--There's a restaurant about ten blocks from the Ahmanson--Roy's Hawaiian Fusion--that's pricey, but worth it. My wife and I did two appetizers, two entrees, and two rounds of drinks. They make a martini there--"The 1988"--that's now on my favorite-drink-list. The host asked if we wanted to use the free shuttle to the Ahmanson (I could have driven, but what the heck), which ended up being a limousine. That was cool.

We'll take my son (and my daughter, if she's gonna be around) to see SPAMALOT! when it comes to Orange County in October. I'm also interested in seeing Young Frankenstein in September 2010.

Man, I do love the theater--and I love being married to someone who enjoys it, too.

Neil Gaiman And I Have Something In Common!

2009-07-21T09:24:00.000-07:00

Among the many blogs I check on a daily (or near daily) basis is Neil Gaiman's online journal. He makes a point of responding to fan mail from time to time, and his July 12 post brought to light a similarity he and I share. His post is here, and I explain below.

It's worth mentioning here that I have a great admiration for Neil Gaiman (known as "Nerful" in our household, as that's how his signature appears on the autographed works we own), not only because he's a great writer that my wife introduced me to, but also because he seems so very down to earth for being such a well known person.

So his post is about reading stories aloud (and doing character voices), and it brings to my mind the time I spent reading some (but not all) of J.K Rowling's Harry Potter series to my kids. I didn't start reading to them until the third book in the series, and by then the first film had come out. If memory serves, I think I read books three, four, five, and maybe six. (I'm surprised I don't remember this better; I know I didn't read the last book to them, because I remember going to the local grocery store at midnight--there was a line there, too--then going home and reading until five or six in the morning. Come to think of it, we may have done that with the sixth book as well.)

Being a former public speaking major, I don't know how to read fiction without using multiple voices--even if they're only in my head. I make a point when reading of "casting" the book as I read, if for no other reason to keep the characters straight. One of the best audiobooks I ever heard--The Godfather--used a multivoice cast and completely blew me away. So when it came time to read to my kids, it became a reader's theater project for me (so much so that with one of the books, I had to read a chapter ahead every day so I knew what was coming; the downside is that I read the book twice in the same sitting, but the upside was that such "rehearsal" really nailed it). Another aspect of reading the book this way is discovering just how well Rowling wrote the characters: I didn't use that much inflection change between Ron and Harry, for example, but they speak differently than one another, so there wasn't that much need to change inflection.

Some voices became standards for me (and fun to do). Case in point: Richard Harris is and will always be Dumbledore. Even when Michael Gambon hit the screen in the role, I still read Dumbledore as Richard Harris (this was my daughter's favorite voice). Hagrid was a gruff voice, but I didn't try to do a Robbie Coltrane imitation. There were others, but it was just a matter of "playing the moment" with a lot of it.

This is as good a place as any to make this statement: I think that a serious casting error was made in the fourth and subsequent films. All due respect to Brendan Gleeson, who is a wonderful actor and has mad acting skills in both comedy and drama, but I had a much better pick for the role of Mad-Eye Moody, and one that would have adhered to Rowling's "Brits only" rule: Richard O'Brien. See, I was reading the character to my kids before any on-screen materialization, and when I saw the character's personality and actually read Mad-Eye's lines, all I could hear was Riff-Raff from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It would have been a great movie, and O'Brien would have brought a lot of dark-and-creepy to the series, which it needed (especially in "Order of the Phoenix"). I'm just sayin', reading in Riff-Raff's voice really made the Mad-Eye Moody character leap from the page.

My kids are seventeen and fifteen now, and while they're not to old to read to, schedules don't make that as possible as it once was. Still, there's the theater inside my head, which I still greatly enjoy--and if you've ever cast a book in your head, or read to your children with a variety of character voices, you know exactly what I mean.

Television Is Not A Right! . . . . Right?

2009-07-08T05:40:00.000-07:00

As I've stated before, this transition from analog to digital television was never going to work out perfectly. We tried it in February, and everyone complained that they weren't ready. We did it in June, regardless of who was ready, and now they're just dissatisfied with the result: those who still rely on analog signal, or those with converter boxes, complain of the signal strength problems we knew were going to occur.* My question is this: What do they want us to do about it?

There are people who get along fine without television. There are families that get along fine without it. Hell, there are countries that seem to function without three televisions in every home (not counting my now-defunct Sony Watchman, I have three in my house).

The only hole I can find in my logic here is this: television has become a the primary medium for delivering information, important emergency stuff included. Radio fell by the wayside a long time ago as a dominant medium, and newspapers are dying a steady-paced death. In order to remain a well-informed populace, I suppose we need to make sure that everyone has access to a TV signal. (President Obama made this point not long ago, and thank God it's the only point he's tried to make on the subject.) Then again, if we look at the weekly TV ratings, it's really just the crime dramas and half-hour sitcoms in the top ten--Southern California's ratings show "American Idol" and "So You Think You Can Dance" as the top shows, which just makes my "we don't need TV anymore" argument for me.

Should we worry about those who don't have TV anymore? Are they really missing all that much?

* You know who else really loses in the analog-to-digital switch? SETI. If you've ever seen the opening sequence from the movie Contact, you'll remember that the shot zooms away from Earth as we hear our broadcast history run in reverse, the signal finally dying away as we zoom back further than we've been broadcasting. If there are any little green men out there listening, they may get the idea that we've closed up shop.

Why Did That Feel Weird?

2009-07-06T05:21:00.000-07:00

Two years ago I went to my 20 year high school reunion (I posted about that here), and I remember walking away being glad that I went . . . but I didn't walk away with much else. People either looked exactly the same or completely unrecognizable. It was good to attend such a milestone--20 years, after all--but it's not like we still had a lot in common.

Last month I got together with about a dozen people from high school (a "mini-reunion" for a classmate who lives in the Bay area and wasn't in town for the reunion), and it was more of the same: lots of "what have you been doing since then," "what are you doing now," and quite a bit of storytelling of days past. It was nice to see them all, and it was nice to catch up. Most of us had connected on Facebook.

And just like the 20 year reunion, the whole thing felt kinda weird. In the end, I was having dinner with a dozen strangers.

I guess it wasn't that awkward, since it was easy to tell the old stories and get the old laughs, but it still felt odd to act ("act" may not be the right word) chummy with people I no longer see on a day-to-day basis. I think I'm much more comfortable with my present-day life than I am trying to connect, reconnect, or hold on to my past. Given how easy it was to sit and talk with my former schoolmates, I'd probably disagree with the adage "You can't go home again"--you can go home again, but it may not always be the home you remember it being.

If nothing else, the evening reminded me how much I've done and how far I've come in forty years . . . but that's a separate blog post I'm working on.

Helicopter!

2009-07-04T05:15:00.000-07:00

Somewhere in my past--maybe I was six or seven years old, maybe even less--I allegedly rode in a helicopter. I remember very little of it: my father sat between my brother and me in the back seat, and we just seemed to be swinging left and right (almost to the point of being sideways) the whole time. It was so long ago I don't really have any concrete recollection of it. Why am I telling this story?

Because my wife is awesome.

For my fortieth birthday, my wife, my son, and I went for a helicopter tour over the La Jolla and San Diego areas. For years I've been telling her how much I wanted to ride in a helicopter, and she was apparently listening. It was expensive, I'm sure, but TOTALLY worth it.

I got the front seat!

In a small R44, we hovered at the airport long enough to (a) get clearance to leave and (b) realize just how weird it feels to hover about ten feet off the ground. The bubble of the cockpit extends all the way to your feet, so you can literally look straight down. It's odd. Cool, but odd.

It was a LOT like floating.
And not very high up, either.
There's a courtship story that my wife and I don't get a lot of mileage from in casual conversation, though we relive it every once in a while: we were walking on a beach in Oceanside--talking, picking up shells (some with living things in them), enjoying the scenery--and in the middle of a conversation I stopped and watched a helicopter fly by. I was mesmerized by it, but it really (I think) just came off as childishly distracted. For a while after that, my wife would pause whenever a helicopter flew by--probably convinced that she was going to lose me for several seconds. I've since learned to tune them out. Mostly.

Play dead, Shamu! Good boy.

(Sea World.) (And Shamu's fine.)

There were two unexpected aspects of this trip. One was the motion sickness, which I only really felt during steep turns and banks (although the turning and banking was really cool, too). The other was just how low we were able to fly. In retrospect, and given the number of helicopters I've paid attention to from the ground, we probably weren't that low--but it sure seemed like it. We weren't allowed to fly over the baseball stadium (Homeland Security doesn't permit it when there's a game going on), but we did pass over the empty football stadium, and that was another example of how low we seemed. We could have landed there, it seemed. The maneuverability of a helicopter (over, say, a small plane) is what really makes the experience worth it, and what makes it seem much more like flying.

This is what a traffic reporter's desk looks like.

(And my best shot at postcard photography.)

At one point we passed over someone taking wedding pictures, and at another we passed over a reef with people on it. In each case, people looked up at us and waved. My wife made a point of waving back, and now makes a point to wave to helicopters as they pass overhead. One of the things I love about my wife is how she doesn't take the little things for granted--if she can make someone else happy with a simple gesture, she does so. She's kinda awesome that way.

Did I get a shot of a drug deal?
(My cool wife also got me the zoom
lens that makes shots like this possible.)

In the end (and in true "me" fashion) I accepted the folder of literature on helicopter flying lessons. After skimming it I still feel like it would be something VERY cool to do, but with an overall price tag between $11,000 and $25,000 to learn and get licensed I know it's probably not going to happen.

And it doesn't have to, really. I got to ride in a helicopter, and I get to cross that off my things-to-do-before-I-die list. And it's all thanks to my wonderful, wonderful wife.

Making Money Meaningful

2009-05-20T05:19:00.000-07:00

In the last eight months or so we've seen three major advertising promotions go south; and while I'm glad I don't have to spend good money and creativity on campaigns designed to get people to buy stuff they really don't need, I think there are two very important, very valuable lessons to be learned.

Last November is was Dr. Pepper, a company which pledged to give out free drinks if Guns N Roses finished its Chinese Democracy album by a certain date. They finished it, and Dr. Pepper almost finished themselves by trying to provide coupons online--customers crashed their servers all day long and became irate when they couldn't get their free Drs. Pepper. Back in February Denny's decided to give away free Grand Slam breakfasts (for reasons about which I was never entirely clear), resulting in around-the-block lines at thousands of restaurants--lines in which some patrons were content to wait in the rain for hours while others screamed like the impatient maniacs they are. Finally, KFC decided to introduce its new grilled chicken with Internet coupons and an "Oprah" tie-in; of course, the "valid" coupons were subject to mass photocopying and the flooded chain stores had to shut the entire promotion down by midday. (Writer's note: For what it's worth, I stopped eating at Denny's years ago, I eat at KFC occasionally, and I drink enough Dr. Pepper to keep them in business.)

There are those who read these stories, shake their heads, and say, "Well, you get what you pay for." As I re-read my blog post from earlier this week, it occurred to me that I left one other suggestion off the list: do away completely with all giveaways, coupons, and free deals. Quite frankly, it's all putting us in the wrong frame of mind. See, I read these giveaway disasters and say, "Well, pay for what you get."

I've never been a big fan of giveaways and coupons, and I genuinely believe that people should be adequately compensated for goods and services; at a very basic level, it's what keeps the economy going. I'm not even a big fan of receiving gifts on birthdays or at Christmastime, mostly because it's the same as getting something for nothing (I often tell people with regard to my birthday: "It happened a long time ago, and I didn't really do much but show up and complain a lot, so why shower me with gifts?"*). I've never had a problem with paying for the things that I get, or with turning away a "deal" that isn't fair.

The first lesson we learn from these failed promotions is that they have their drawbacks. In these cases, specifically, you've got bad publicity and some people walking away upset with these businesses. Clearly, backfires can occur.

The second and more important lesson is that people have come to believe that they deserve something for free; moreover, this whole "Do less, get more" mentality becomes more ingrained with each additional promotion or giveaway. Just look at how angry people get when the promotion ends, or dies, or takes too long, and you can see just how addicted they've become to getting something for nothing. The real problem, though, is how that mentality has spread to areas in which it has no place: welfare, sub-prime mortgages, and zero-down car leases to name a few. The whole system has consequently been thrown into imbalance, and the economic crisis now sitting before us is the result. WE'VE MADE IT TOO EASY TO BUY PURCHASE AND OBTAIN THINGS. It used to be more difficult; it used to be that you had to save up to purchase something you wanted. If you couldn't afford it, you had to wait--and if you wanted it, you had to pay for it. That seems all gone now. (Take, as examples, my quest for a Kindle, or my outside patio, or my hardwood stairwell: I could buy these things right now and just slap them on plastic--but I'm better off if I work hard, save up, and spend wisely, just like my mommy taught me.)

The imbalance is the issue here. If a couple of people get more for doing less, the scales don't change much; but if many people get something for nothing, the system begins to crash. "Every man for himself" doesn't do much for society as a whole, and I think there's more than one economic theorist that will back me up on this.

We are, after all, in this together, right?

* I was once told--though I've never found any evidence to back it up--that the Japanese do the birthday thing in reverse: the person celebrating the birthday gives gifts to close friends. Again, I've never been able to verify it, but it made a lot more sense to me. (I have found a great deal of information on Japanese gift-giving, the traditions involved, etc. It's fascinating stuff.)

Thinking Outside Disavowing The Box

2009-05-18T05:25:00.000-07:00

In a presentation I often give to students and educators about technology safety, I end with explaining that much of the technology we use today was born out of ideas in science fiction. "To see where technology is going next," I explain, "we often look to the movies for answers." (I could cite some examples here, but those who are both tech-savvy and movie buffs already know what I'm talking about. Those who aren't should just keep reading; you'll get my point.) And lately I've been wondering if movies portend the future of other things as well.

Specifically, I'm thinking of a movie that was released back in 1979: "Americathon" was a campy film, the type popular at the time, that I expect wasn't seen by many people--or, at the very least, wasn't widely remembered. The IMDB plot summary puts it best: In the not too distant future, the United States government is virtually bankrupt and in danger of being foreclosed on by a group of Native Americans, now owners of the massive Nike Corporation. A desperate President decides to make a last-ditch effort to save the country... by raising money with a telethon!

I remember part of the film's opening sequence: people wake up in the morning inside their cars--in which they are living--and walk or ride their bikes to work. All phones are pay phones. Since it's a comedy, their destitute nature is something they make the best of, as if they don't even remember when things were good.

I'm no economist--a point which should be made very clear right now--so any thoughts I have about our nation's dire financial situation are probably naive and half-informed. I'm a layman, after all; but perhaps what's needed here is a perspective so fresh that it doesn't come from the business or economic communities at all. Once we have an idea, then let the experts kick it around. The Economy is tricky, and something seemingly counterintuitive to me the more I think about it. It would make sense to say, "Save your money, quit spending so much," but then businesses don't thrive. We could say, "Extend credit to all and buy, buy, buy!" but we've seen what that kind of thinking did to the housing industry. Every time I try to come up with an idea, there's some economic precept that raises another problem. It's an intellectual game of Whack-A-Mole. Douglas Adams's detective Dirk Gently called it "the fundamental interconnectedness of all things."

So I've been thinking a lot lately about radical solutions for the troubled economy, partly out of a sense of national altruism and partly because (if I do come up with a solution) I'd like to hear talk-radio change the subject. I'm just an average guy with a family, a couple of mortgages, a couple of cars, very little savings, and a job in a profession that's about to have a major funding-ectomy whether the Governor gets his way or not. In short, I'm just like millions of other people out there.

I began work on my ideas not long after reading an editorial letter in the LA Times about the $700 billion plus stimulus package. The idea has since circled the Internet half a dozen times, but it basically goes like this: There are roughly 40 million people in U.S. over the age of 50; give each one a million dollars with three conditions: they must leave their jobs, buy a house (or pay off an existing one), and purchase a U.S.-made automobile. The whole idea, radical in nature (in that "it's-so-dumb-it-just-might-work" sort of way), revitalizes the banks, the housing industry, automakers, and employment rates. Of course, the only problem with the idea is that it's author did the math wrong and missed a zero; although he thought he had a $400 billion solution on his hands, it would actually cost a whopping, cost-prohibitive $40 trillion. However, I like the way this guy thinks.

So what are some other ideas? (And so we're clear, I'm, not claiming any of the following as original ideas. I'm quite certain that others have thought of these things before, and I'm not trying to take any credit for their intellectual property.)
1) I thought about a Universal Salary Cap. Every job in every industry gets categorized in a gradient scale, and each job at each level is capped at a certain salary. First, this eliminates the corporate bonuses that have offended us all over the last eighteen months. Second, after everyone's paid there's a leftover sum (I think it's called "profit," but it's been so long since anyone's seen one . . . ) that can go back into the business, making it successful or enabling it to expand and hire more workers. Third, it helps to prevent money-grubbing, do-as-little-for-as-much-as-possible types from taking the CEO's chair--certainly SOMEONE must fit that bill. Hell, the President of the United States makes $400,000 a year; I'm not saying other jobs are more important than his, but I'm sure your average high school teacher gets more done in a week than he does. I know the problem with this salary cap idea is how it gives the finger to a free-enterprise system, and I'm sure somewhere along the line I'm going to sound like I'm endorsing Socialist or even Communist ideas; this isn't my intention. I love living in a free country, and Democracy and Free Enterprise are great; but if you think we can't look like Russia in the late 1980's at some point, you haven't been paying enough attention. I'm just trying to come up with ideas.

2) Perhaps outsourcing certain industries to foreign competitors would give us time to work on other things. Since the auto industry is about to be pulled off life support anyway, why not let Honda, Toyota, Hyundai, and the others have it? We could use the workers, the resources, and the effort to develop a better domestic mass transit infrastructure. Think about it: what better way to kill the foreign auto competition by making the automobile obsolete in most metropolitan areas? More mass transit means fewer cars, less pollution, fewer injuries and deaths in automobiles. Once and for all, we would limit supply of foreign competition by reducing demand; it hasn't worked for the drug war, but it could work here. (The nay-sayers will complain that this will kill the insurance companies, car washes, auto component makers, and cripple the oil industry. I never said the idea was perfect, but at least they're not complaining that reducing accidents would hurt the medical profession.)

3) Let's re-think foreign investment: instead of combating it, let's embrace it. Is the world map ever really finished? Let's find a country that's got it going on and partner up. Let's take a page from the corporate playbook . . . it's merger time. This isn't a new idea; corporations have been doing it for decades. At the very least, we could consider a few countries with loads of capital and add a few stars to the flag (no one said there was a ceiling on the number of states we could have, right?) I know this sounds a lot like Manifest Destiny and world domination, but I'm thinking more about those KFC/Pizza Hut or KFC/Taco Bell locations: they're saving money by sharing space. (I know, they're all owned by the same corporation; they weren't always, though, and it helps with my "we need a roommate to share expenses" metaphor.) It sounds radical, but it would be a better alternative to, say, national foreclosure. If we don't do something, soon those eBay hoaxes about states being for sale won't be hoaxes.

If someone else has other ideas, I'm all ears. I really don't think the blueprint for America's rescue is going to come from the economic eggheads in Washington; I think the solution is going to come from some ten-year-old in the midwest who develops a sound economic stimulus model from World of Warcraft scenarios. It's gonna come from somewhere unexpected, and it's going to be a radical idea.

I just hope it works.

Today's Oxymoron: "New Origin Story"

2009-05-15T05:30:00.000-07:00

Probably the best thing about all the "Star Trek" reboot hoopla is that it's genuinely warranted. I saw the film last Saturday morning (and that's more about line avoidance, but there's something decadent about it, too) and would have been perfectly content turning around, walking back in, and seeing it a second time. (This may be a good film to see a second time in IMAX, a format I've not yet experienced.*) I'm not gonna go all spoiler-warning on you, but I do have three things to share: (1) since the Star Trek origin story has been referred to but never actually filmed anywhere, die-hard Trekkies** have no right to complain; (2) I wanted more Scotty (Simon Pegg stole every scene he was in); and (3) I really like the way this played out: the entire Star Trek universe has been rewound to the beginning, but will play out a different way.

What does it say about the movie business right now, though, that remakes have been shoved aside in favor of franchise reboots? These are good films, no question. "Star Trek" was outstanding. The new "Batman" stuff has been wonderful to see. I loved "Iron Man" as much as any other geek out there. It's getting really hard, though, to see the word movie anymore without seeing the implied business after it. Clearly, Hollywood is worried about the economy, too. I think we may be seeing a series of hail mary passes here, and it's got me a little worried about the future of good, original movie content.

And we were doing so well, too. Independent films were an excellent avenue for small, creative filmmakers; now, they're almost the norm, with large studios handling the distribution so often that we can hardly tell the difference anymore. Between the reboots, which are trying to lure new viewers as well as the dedicated fans (the pre-paid audience***, if you will), and the Judd-Apatow-Seth-Rogen-esqe over-the-line-type-of-humor films that seem to frequent the cineplex of late, studios are telegraphing their blows: "We're going where they money is guaranteed." Some of these films are good, and some aren't. That's not my concern here. It just seems that creativity and variety need to wait in the other room until Mommy and Daddy are done making some money.

Which, I guess, explains why I don't go to the movies as much anymore.

* I know, I know: "You've never seen an IMAX film? What kind of geek are you, anyway?"

** They're trekkies. I don't care what they want to call themselves anymore. This is what they started as and this is what they'll remain in my mind. Anyone who prefers trekker just seems ashamed of it, to me.

*** I'm just as guilty: when I heard about the new Trek film, I decided to see it on spec. I'm part of that pre-paid audience, and I admit that. But are the studios so desperate to avoid low box office that they must arrange the audience first, THEN make the film? A third-world leader once saw citizens running through the streets in support or opposition of something and said, "There go my people; I must find out where they are going so i can lead them." It feels a lot like that.

Forty -- And Feeling It

2009-05-13T11:00:00.000-07:00

I went to the chiropractor yesterday--it's been a while--and he asked me what my problem was. "I'm turning forty tomorrow, and my body is starting to fall apart," I didn't say. "I can no longer stand up or sit down without some sort of popping noise," I didn't add. "I sometimes feel like my poor diet and lack of exercise are finally taking their toll," I didn't conclude.

"My shoulder hurts," I replied.

The pain radiated through my right shoulder, neck, and upper arm for a week before I finally called for an appointment. It turns out that my right rhomboid muscle, to whom I was politely introduced yesterday*, is in full-blown spasm mode. Twenty minutes of twisting, prodding, tweaking, and vibrating later, I was told that it might still hurt for a day or two. As I type this, it's nice to know that he's right about that, at least. It hurts less, though.

I realize that "The Big 4-0" is supposed to be this big milestone. We went over that (and no, I have no nipple-piercing appointment scheduled). I accepted with grace years ago that some facts and givens in my life will either be forgotten or disappear altogether. I'm not as bothered by this as people might suspect; my near-future plans include staying in the here and now.

Over the last month or so, however, I've been gently slapped in the face with my age in a completely different way. Recently, my mother wound up in the hospital with a blood pressure spike. She's had to be careful of such things since her thyroid gave her problems (which was soon after summarily fired and evicted--"Sorry, pal, but yer just not doin' yer job") and her breast cancer recovery. The solution--a mere adjustment of her medication--was simple, but spending the day in the hospital with her (something that she will forever maintain is thoroughly unnecessary) helped to ring the bell of reminder that we're all a little longer in the tooth than we'd like to admit. (My mom, of course, ~~relishes~~ laments the fact that she's old enough to be the mother of someone who is now forty. I don't get any "old man" comments from her.)

Last weekend, my brother was admitted to the hospital with a cardiac problem (it's important to note here that he's two years younger than I). His heart just kept stopping, then restarting anywhere from five to fifteen seconds later. Even with the placement of the pacemaker--one of few gadgets I have no interest in--he's still experiencing episodes and awaits further adjustment to his implant. Meanwhile, I've come to two conclusions. The first is that problems such as his can happen to anyone at any time; and although I'm in pretty good health, I know that at 40 the medical checklist gets a little longer, the diet and exercise priorities rise (inversely proportional to desire, of course), and a little more attention must be paid to such things. The second conclusion is that I'm perfectly content to continue walking into the hospital as a visitor.

As far as this birthday goes, I've already been run through the spanking machine several times: my mother made her annual early-morning phone call, my wife hid two cards in my briefcase, my daughter and her friends called from school to sing to me, my work mailbox is full of cards and candy, and my Facebook page is overflowing with well-wishes from every aspect of my life, old and new . . . .

. . . a life that's pretty full, now that I think about it. So this what forty looks/feels like, huh? Not bad . . . .

* I often find it amusing that there are so many parts and functions of our bodies of which we do not know or to which we pay no attention until they become problems. I will also never get used to having the chiropractor force loud cracks and pops out of my body in the name of "adjustment."

So Much To Do, So Little Funding.

2009-05-02T18:02:00.000-07:00

Things are probably better for me financially than they've ever been. I credit a lot of that to my wife, whose support (and her own fiscally sound behavior) have allowed me to curb my spending without leaving the family in want or need of something.

Still, there are things I want to do--particularly to my home and yard--and there isn't really a budget for any of it. My situation will improve slightly in the next 70 days or so (it seems that driving a hydrogen fuel cell vehicle opens up certain rebate possibilities), and it'll improve again in September (4% raise!), but home projects aren't the only thing I've got going on finance-wise. Summer's comin'.

I'll be spending some time with my kids, and they'll want to do something fun (cha-ching); some of my former colleagues are talking about going back out to Vegas again as soon as school gets out (cha-ching); and there are two trips pending to Northern California over the course of the summer (cha-ching). Back at home, I'm looking at paving stones for two patio areas (and possibly a third), some sort of water feature in the patio area, lighting fixtures for the dining room and stairway, laminate flooring for the stairway, and three fruit trees.

Using my funds wisely--without compromising quality--hasn't always been my strong suit, but I'm getting better at it (thanks to the wife). Still, I wish it weren't something I had to put so much thought into.

Dear Mom . . .

2009-04-20T11:32:00.001-07:00

I honestly don't remember a lot about what I was like as a late teenager. I should, I guess, but I don't--and it's not because those years were bad, it's just that a lot has happened since then and the details are now hazy at best. But if you had to endure anything like what I'm enduring now, this should make some sort of sense.

I'm not sure what your sense of my responsibility level was at the time, but I imagine it couldn't been all that high. What I'm quickly starting to realize is that, at any age, the demonstration of maturity goes a lot further than the proclamation of maturity. I expect that there were many times where I merely made the assertion that I was mature enough to handle something; even worse, there were probably times that I merely assumed my maturity made me responsible, and I assumed that you agreed. It never occurred to me that you might want--or feel better with--proof.

I also know that the true test of my maturity and responsibility usually involved me falling flat on my face, no matter how much you didn't want to see that happen. I'm sure the last thing in the world you wanted to see was me, spreading my wings to take flight for the first time, falling like a brick to the pavement below. I don't want to see that either, but that's one of the risks of parenthood I'm discovering. I should have provided you with (at least a little) more confidence in my ability to fly; I shouldn't have just assumed you trusted me.

I guess what I'm saying is this: being on the other side of this equation, I understand a lot more what your side was like. It wasn't easy, and although there was no eartly way for me to know it at the time, I wish I HAD known. But things turned out alright in the end.

Which is something I can aspire to, I suppose.

I Mean, I Should Do Something, Right?

2009-04-08T12:55:00.000-07:00

Thankfully, many people have stopped making turning forty sound like some really big deal. It'll happen to me next month, and I'm really quite comfortable with it. It is a milestone, however, and I've been thinking about how to mark it.

Now, I suppose I really don't have to do anything. The proverbial "mid-life crisis" is now somewhat passe, and you don't see a whole lot of the behavior as you did in years past (or,maybe you do and I'm just too old to notice it anymore). It seems to me, however, that turning forty used to drive people (men) to do things to regain their youth; whereas these days, I think we've come to the conclusion that forty really still is pretty young, so no youth needs to be grasped at. Still, I'm thinking I should do something.*

I thought about getting a second tattoo. I've had it in mind for a while (in fact, I've been putting it off for a couple of years now, though I couldn't tell you why). It's not something that marks my fortieth birthday, it's more of a nod to my children . . . and maybe it's still not the right time to give them that particular nod (that's a matter for another blog post).

I've shaved off my moustache and beard for Spring Break, but I don't think I can go with that. First, it was the only hair I had on my head and without it I look pretty naked--almost mannequin-like. Second, after I did it my wife said I looked 12; looking younger isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it's not the goal here. Third, it's taking ME the longest to get used to it, and I'm not liking that very much.

At one point I considered getting my nipple pierced. Strange as it sounds, though, I just don't think I've got the nipples for it. I researched it at one point and found that it might not actually work on me. (Besides, the idea of a nipple ring is just as good; at work, in some regular conversation, try to off-handedly throw in a "yeah, but it interferes with my nipple ring" and then move on. It's fun.)

I've spoken a couple of times about getting my ear pierced again.** I'm thinking of just a small silver hoop that unobtrusively cradles the earlobe. It wouldn't be anything gaudy, but it would unintentionally complete a pirate resemblance (bald head, goatee, and an earring). I've been asked several questions on this topic: "What reasons are there for doing it?" "Why do you feel you need that?" "Have you considered what they'll think at work, or how it might be percieved professionally?" And, of course, the other side spoke up as well: "Can you think of a reason not to get your ear pierced?" So I'm not sure about this, either. I don't have compelling reasons for or against it, really, so maybe that's not the move, either.

So aside from the normal trappings of a birthday (cards, well wishes, "Yes, you still have to go to work today"), this one may pass just as quietly as others have.

* There won't be any huge party for my fortieth, that much I know. Being the Douglas Adams fan that I am, I'm waiting for my forty-second birthday to throw that particular bash.

** Does the first time even count? It was the summer after my junior year in high school, and I think I kept the little gold stud in there for only 12 or 14 hours. It just wasn't "me." It may still not be me; I don't know.

Writer's Block? Feels Like The Whole Neighborhood . . .

2009-03-22T11:32:00.001-07:00

So I'm now starting to wonder if I've got the chops to pull off this writing thing.

I've got a couple of stories in my head. Three are short stories (and how short stories get published anymore is a mystery to me), one's an autobiography (which, for a while, people told me I HAD to write), and two are novels. I've chosen one to start writing . . . and whenever I sit down to write (and that's not frequently; I've got a job and a family, a house that needs work, etc.), I've hit enormous brick walls the likes of which I never thought I'd encounter. The last couple of times I've sat myself down with the intention of doing some work on my novel, my ideas do not come out in any fluid way--or, more accurately, they come out too fluid, like cookie dough that's all runny and won't take shape. And nothing makes you want to get up and walk away more than spilling runny mental cookie batter all over your keyboard.

I have no idea what to do next.

I do, however, have two things in mind. The first is to apply some goal-setting skills (learned in the book I just finished, The Power of Less by Leo Babauta) and see if I can't do this successfully in more incremental steps. This might prove to solve only part of my problem; I think one of the other problems I'm having is getting the story itself to take its proper shape. I've got plenty of devices, quite a few characters, and a basic plot . . . what I don't seem to be generating is a narrative that anyone outside my head would understand, nor am I creating anything that seems as good or enjoyable as the stuff I've been reading from established authors. Many people have told me that they like my writing, but I don't see what they're seeing, so I'm having a difficult time reproducing that which I cannot identify. The other day I thought that seeking help from professionals might be, if nothing else, encouraging. To that end, I might check my home library for Stephen King's On Writing. I have no idea if that will help, but it couldn't hurt.

In the end, everything is going to encourage me to write, keep writing, and write some more. Some of it's going to be crap--some writers suggest that most of it will be crap--but that as I get through it the whole thing will eventually take shape and I'll find my rhythm.

I'm trying not to get discouraged. I think the goal setting will help. I hope it will, anyway.

Rite of Passage, 0; Economy, 1

2009-03-20T12:00:00.000-07:00

My seventeen-year-old son is still looking for his first job.

Because I haven't been following him around constantly in full-blown "Mother Hen" mode, I don't know to what degree he's seriously looking; I know that he IS fillng out and turning in applications, and I know that the home phone has not been ringing as a result. (I also know that he was, at one point, showing up to these places in torn jeans with his skateboard in his hands; I have since warned him off this particular visual.)

Is it possible that in these declining economic times so many people are struggling for employment that all the ex-CEOs out there have taken my son's burger-flipping job? I've purposely stayed out, for the most part, of this job hunt; at one point I printed a few things up I found online, if for no other reason than to encourage him to look in multiple places (I want to be helpful and supportive, on one hand; on the other hand, he won't be able to DO the job himself if he can't FIND the job himself, right?). Everything turns out to be a bust, and the entire household feels his frustration.

(And I think things have changed since I was a teen. Way back in the day, I would call or stop in and check on the status of my application, and they would actually tell me the status; when my son checks on the status of HIS applications, the response is, "I dunno--you want to fill out another one?")

He wants to have a job. He wants to earn money for his own car. He wants a new, slightly higher level of independence. I want him to have all of that. Can you call someone a victim of unemployment if he hasn't yet found his first job?

Of Course, By The Time I Decide They'll Have Sold Out Again

2009-03-02T14:04:00.000-08:00

I am a lover of books. I am an avid reader. I have a library. (Yes, I have a library. I have an entire room of my house lined with wooden shelves filled with books. There are places to sit and books to read.) I cannot imagine a world without books, and I was worried that the Kindle was going to ruin the literary world. It would, I feared, do to books what the iPod did to the CD. I was worried that in five years' time I wouldn't be able to find books anymore. I thought that the Kindle was a bad thing.

Now, I want one.

When my wife and I went to see Neil Gaiman on his The Graveyard Book tour, the Q & A session included my question: Do you think that reading--and the printed book--will suffer as more and more people do their reading on the Internet? His answer was wonderful (I'm quickly learning that Gaiman is part author, part guru). He quoted Douglas Adams (probably the coolest thing he could have done to answer my question): There is nothing else in the world like a shark; in thousands of years there have always been sharks and there will always be sharks; and because only hsarks do what sharks do they will never be replaced by anything. He also reminded me (and everyone in the auditorium) that the Kindle and printed books are not mutually exclusive; he said that he likes printed books, and he likes his Kindle, and he does not fear the end of literature on paper.

And that was enough for me. I've not only calmed down, I've started to consider what books I would feel ok about reading on the Kindle 2 and what books I would want to read from the printed copy. This is irrational, I know: I'm trying to figure out how to fit the Kindle into my life before I even start setting aside the money for one.

It's still an "if" for me, but I'm not afraid anymore. Thank you, Mr. Gaiman.

This. Is. The. Coolest. Car. Ever.

2009-02-26T05:20:00.000-08:00

After I posted these photos on my Facebook page, I kept getting the same comment over and over: "I want to go for a ride in it." Yes, you do; and I'm more than happy to take anyone for a spin.

For those who haven't been following along, this is the Honda FCX Clarity, the latest innovation in fuel cell technology for automobiles. It's the greenest car around right now, right down to the interior (which is made of corn-based biofabric). Moreover, it's a luxury car, not an econo-box: this thing has so many bells and whistles I sometimes can't believe I'm driving it. Voice-activated everything (GPS, climate control, radio, cell phone link--all of it through voice commands). The GPS feature is amazing. XM satellite radio. Bluetooth "through the speakers" technology. Dual climate control. Seat heaters. Seat coolers. A hard-disk drive to rip CDs straight into the car's memory (like on-board iTunes). A jack to plug in my iPod and control it from the dashboard. I've even got a rear-mounted camera to assist with backing up. AND two other features I didn't even know existed! One is the Collision Mitigation Braking System (CMBS), which uses the forward-mounted radar (no lie--radar) to automatically apply the brakes if something is too close to the car at too high a speed. Someone cut me off on the freeway last week, and this thing started to beep at me, flash lights, and brake. The other is the Adaptive Cruise Control (ACC), which uses the same radar to maintain a driver-specified distance between me and the car in front of me. I tried it, and the car spent time getting radar lock on cars in front of me while braking and accelerating ON ITS OWN. Weirdest driving experience ever, but very cool. (The radar, by the way, is the Honda logo on the front grill.)
The EPA numbers on this car suggest an in-town 77 mpg and a highway 67 mpg (if you consider a gallon of gasoline to be equal to a kilogram of hydrogen, which seems to be the industry standard, then the mpg numbers are directly comparative). Honda boasts a 270 mile range on a single 4 kg tank, but I'm topping out at about 200 miles per tank right now--which is still impressive when you consider I'm not using a drop of gas to do it. I'm sure there's a way to drive this thing so economically that I could get 270 out of a tank (and I'm finding out that other FCX Clarity drivers play this little game, too); I'm determined to get 240 out of it before the lease is up.

In my "spare" time, I've been surfing some of the websites that review the car; I've been paying specific attention to the comments sections to see what "ordinary people" have been saying. I can respond to some of those comments here (I'm not going to actually post to the comments sections of these sites, which have a distinct "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" air about them). First, no, Honda is not just leasing these things to celebrities--I'm proof of that. Second, most experts will tell you that the Hindenburg disaster had more to do with its canvas skin being treated with the chemical equivalent of rocket fuel and less to do with being a balloon filled with flammable gas (moreover, I'm quite convinced that hydrogen containment technology is much better than it was in 1937). In any event, my car doesn't burn the hydrogen, anyway; it just combines it with oxygen to make electricity and water, which is how the Apollo moon missions were powered. (Sidebar: whenever anyone asks me about the "Hindenburg" factor, I ask them to repeat themselves and then reply, "Oh, 'Hindenburg'; I thought you said 'Exxon-Valdez'." That usually shuts them up.) Third, no, I haven't tried drinking my car's exhaust--but I will be getting around to that little experiment. And for those who have nothing better to do than scrutinize the photos: yes, the trickle of water seen in the driveway came from my exhaust pipe when I moved the car--my car is so organic that it actually pees.

The remaining two "hot" topics that people seem to be focusing on are better left for future blog posts, since I probably have quite a lot more to say--and learn--about them. One topic debates the "greeness" of hydrogen; that is, suggests that the isolation of pure hydrogen is a just-as-damaging process that negates any of the benefits of zero emissions (this one is usually suggested by those who think that the electric plug-ins are the future, not fuel cells). The other asks about the hydrogen infrastructure--the lack of filling stations needed to make fuel cell cars viable. I have thoughts on these topics, and I'll eventually get to them.

Right now, however, I think I'll go for another ride. :)

At What Point Do We Concede Defeat?

2009-02-24T05:28:00.000-08:00

Mine isn't going to be the most popular opinion regarding the nationwide transition from analog to digital TV, but it's going to be the most practical and hassle free:

Anyone who wants to watch TV will need either cable or satellite. Period.

This is what happened back in the day with 8-track tapes. It happened to Beta video. Leaded gasoline. Eventually, it'll happen with gasoline-powered cars and snail mail. Something better comes along, and it phases something else out. Completely. (Better for who? The majority, I suppose. Supply and demand are symbiotic, but demand tends to have the upper hand.)

Nothing makes this point better, I assure you, than this whole analog-to-digital thing. They'd been planning for this to happen on February 17 for almost a decade. A decade. Hundreds of thousands of people couldn't get converter box coupons; then again, those weren't even offered until the tail end of this ten-year plan. I guess the higher-ups thought more people would be on the cable/satellite TV bandwagon by now. (The big digital switch has been pushed back to June. More on that in a minute.)

And it's not like these converter boxes that everyone is clamoring for are doing very well, anyway. Many TV stations shut off their analog towers as planned last week, and those with converter boxes couldn't get a decent signal--in most cases it was either pixellated or it didn't come in at all--which isn't a surprise. Why? The long answer includes a lot of detailed explanations of signal wavelengths, terrains, and limited ranges (the same answer tells you why you lose AM radio when you go into a tunnel). The short answer is this: the digital signal is information heavy, which is why it has to be sent via digital cable or satellite; if it could be sent through the air, they'd be doing it already. It can't be done, not even with $40 off the price of a converter box. It's the ultimate exercise in futility.

What does the delay to June 2009 tell us? It tells us one of three things. Maybe it means that someone came up with this converter-with-a-coupon idea WAAAAY too close to the deadline (if you buy the idea that the converter boxes will save us--which I don't--then the postponement makes sense); or it tells us that the technology isn't ready for the conversion yet, that they can't provide the aerial signal on their own timeline (and it's the government and the broadcasting industry we're talking about here, so who's surprised?); or it could tell us that we are all hell-bent on prolonging the inevitable.

Yes, we're addicted. In this, the "Information Age," we are addicted to the mediums which provide us with that information. And those who control the feed--our "dealers"--are only going to provide it through cable and satellite. Government approved, quality merchandise. When June comes, there will still be those who aren't ready to make the switch. There will ALWAYS be those who won't be ready. When push finally comes to shove, cable providers will win; they'll have the extra burden of making sure they can deliver their product to everyone, but they'll win. (Sidebar: Up until now, cable tv hasn't been considered a "utility" proper, but it's teetered on the edge; in this, the 21st Century, and most certainly after analog goes dark for good, cable tv will be considered a utility just like water and electricity. It will be a utility in both the colloquial and literal senses.)

If you're still relying on broadcast channels (and you're reading this on the Internet so, let's face it, you're not), you need to do one of two things: either contact your local satellite of cable provider and get hooked up, or detox from TV altogether. And let's face it: you're not going to go without the feed.

Of course, there's a larger irony here that everyone's ignoring: any forward-thinking media executive will tell you that the Internet's going to take over our media needs in the years to come. Right now, broadcast customers are on the low end of the spectrum; twenty years from now, cable subscribers will be on the low end of the spectrum and everyone else will be getting their shows on the web. Consider that networks are trying to lower costs by replacing expensive dramas with more talk shows (see "Jay Leno"), then take a quick look at Hulu.com. The Internet has all but killed the CD for music, it's quickly killing newspapers, and it's trying to put your local library on the Kindle.

My grandchildren won't even know what a television set is.

An Absence of Anxiety

2009-02-22T16:19:00.000-08:00

Well, it's official: my son is a licensed driver (as evidenced by the victory cupcakes his stepmother made to mark the occasion). On test day, he was nervous despite the fact that we spent the previous Saturday driving the streets around that DMV location.* We got there early so we could scope out the situation, see who the examiners were, etc., . . . all the things you usually do to combat nervousness but end up increasing it. We sat in the parking lot long enough to see a couple of people go through the process, and once my son realized that the examinee two spots ahead of him--who had problems parking the car, problems with "gizmo" control, and problems with the English language--passed the test, he relaxed almost to the point of taking a nap.

Almost. His turn came quickly after that, and 14 minutes later, it was over.

As the dad, I'm supposed to be scared about this. I'm supposed to be nervous and anxious and worried. Let's review, however, the path my son and I have traveled on this: there was day after day in the parking lot, learning to operate a stick shift (which even he will admit seems like six years, not six months, ago); there was the paperwork and studying for the written test to obtain his permit; there was the $1000 I plunked down for the exhaustive driving school, which included learning to control skids (during which he was surprised to find that he had the most experience behind the wheel of all the students, some of whom were using their parents' trucks and SUVs with almost no road experience); and we had the hours and hours of on-the-road practice with me in the passenger seat of my own car.

Let's be honest: I trust my son. If I'm worried or scared at this point, I have bigger problems than his driving ability. Besides, he still asks to use the car each and every time. I'm going to trust him until he gives me reason not to.

*Of course, we scouted out all the wrong streets; I watched him drive off with the examiner going the opposite direction. So much for recon.

The "D" Word

2009-01-31T05:49:00.000-08:00

This week, here in Southern California, a man killed his wife, his five children, and himself. At the time I'm writing this post, the only information they have (other than the crime scene) is a note the guy faxed to a local TV station. His claim: despondency over his employment situation.

Depending on what news channel/website you follow, this country has eliminated over 600,000 jobs in the last few months. Businesses with 40+ years behind them are closing up shop. Shopping malls are becoming ghost towns. Schools are feeling the crunch. Programs for the impoverished are losing the ability to service a growing impoverished population. Banks are being eaten up by other banks. (Sidebar: is it considered a "monopoly" if you're simply the only one left in business?)

Some news stories claim that we're in the bad part of a recession. Others claim that we've been in a recession a lot longer than we've been willing to admit. What stops us, I wonder, from calling the current financial situation in America a Depression? I'm no expert, so I don't know what the textbook definition is (and Google has been less than helpful). I do know that the "Great Depression" had to do with the maldistribution of wealth among the classes, an imbalance between the rise of prices and the rise of wages, some sketchy stock market speculation, and other things.

I recall learning about the 1920s in school, but most of my memory is based on old photos of people in food lines and unemployment lines, looking sad and helpless. I don't know what such a thing would look like in the 21st Century, but today, people are losing jobs, the stock market's in sad shape, and people are now killing themselves and their families out of desperation.

So, why isn't this a "Depression?"

Shredding, Recycling, & Discarding The Past

2009-01-29T05:29:00.000-08:00

Over the course of the last few weekends I've had to make room in my garage for the new addition to my transportation family (not to mention some stuff coming over from my wife's condo). As a result, I've had to go through boxes in the garage--the cemetery of days past--and discard stuff that's truly unnecessary.

Placing that title on ANY of my belongings was NOT as difficult as I thought it would be. I applied the same rule I've heard for cleaning out closets: if you haven't worn it in the last six months, it should go. Of course, there was a lot in these boxes I hadn't seen in a very long time, and one or two of these boxes, given the childhood memories they contain, may never get tossed out. I started with the boxes filled with work-related files (the easiest to deem "unnecessary," since they all pertained to a school at which I no longer work). As I got to more personal boxes, however, the items became more sentimental.

The "six month" rule is all well and good; but there's more at work here, I think. See, I'm turning 40 soon; and while that's never been a problem for me, I also recognize that I'm at a marked point in this journey through the Universe, one where what's ahead of me is much more important than what's behind me. And as I looked at bits and pieces of my past strewn all about the garage floor, I was reminded of a quote my wife sometimes signs her e-mails with:

How can the future be molded with hands full of baggage labeled What Was and What Could've Been? Where can you go with all that stuff,and how much fun will you have with it when you get there? Leave those bags behind,and hope they stay lost before you get to your next destination.
All right, take a few souvenirs if you must, but just nice stuff. No junk.
~ Michael Rawls

Throwing things out got a lot easier after that.

There was also a box of old trophies from my collegiate Speech & Debate days (many of them were fire damaged). At one point, long ago, I was going to make sure each was properly marked and engraved and cover the wall with my successes; instead I merely unwrapped them all and stacked them on my workbench before bidding them farewell. At one point, my son asked me, "Are those all your trophies and plaques? Wow; you were really good." He was in awe. Of me. So now I'm thinking maybe I should hang on to those. Maybe do the engrave-them-and-hang-them-in-the-garage thing after all.

And so about six boxes have gone so far, with another ten slated for review and removal. All in all, I made room for the new car AND some of my wife's stuff, and there's room for more. There are also more boxes to go through: fire damaged film equipment, my kids' old school projects, and more old paperwork for the shredder. Little by little, it seems, I'm shaving away the unnecessary past so that I can relish in the vibrant present. The next 40 years are gonna be sweet.

A Bit Of CLARITY In My Life . . .

2009-01-28T05:31:00.000-08:00

Check out my new ride!

What you see is the 2008 Honda FCX Clarity, a hydrogen fuel cell vehicle. This isn't the econo-box that was Honda's first generation; this is a full luxury version . . . this thing has ALL the bells and whistles of any luxury car on the market, but runs on ZERO gasoline. And the only thing that comes out of the tailpipe is water (I have the first car in the world designed to pee). The car of the future is here, my friends, and it's wrapped around me whenever I drive.

I'm sure that, over time, I'll be posting a lot about the new car, including photos (to be honest, I have to make sure I don't post anything proprietary, per Honda's wishes). For now, I'm going to post the answers to the four most frequent questions I've had in the last week:

1) How did you get one of these? (Usually asked, "How did YOU get one of these?") Honda's trying to put 200 of these on the road over the next three years (mine, I'm told, is one of the first ten--Jaime Lee Curtis has one, so I'm in a pretty nifty club), and their website asks interested people who live near one of the fueling stations to sign up. I did. Frankly, it's one of those things that you fill out and you know they're never gonna call--but they did. I've been speaking with them since November, and we got everything worked out. Despite what certain reviewers are saying, they're not just handing these things over to celebrities; they are, however, screening the potential lessees pretty carefully. Anyway, my answer to this question is, "I raised my hand, and they called on me."

2) Is it hard to drive? Is it hard to refuel? In both cases, no. I've never had a luxury car before, so I'm going from a stripped-down 2000 Hyundai hatchback to this. Driving a hydrogen fuel cell vehicle--basically, an electric car--means becoming accustomed to the acceleration, the gauges, and the mechanics of starting the car, but it's not all that different. I think that's the point, actually: to make the cars cleaner without changing the way we drive them. As far as refueling the car is concerned, it's actually easier to fuel with hydrogen than it is with gasoline. Once you know what you're doing (a simple 30 minutes of training), and once you've done it a few times, it becomes . . . well, kinda boring, actually. But that's better than needing a 50-page manual each time.

3) Is it expensive? Um . . . yes. Yes it is. Here's the thing, though: with the $600 per month lease, I'm getting all maintenance AND the comprehensive and collision insurance included (I just need to pay for the liability insurance and the hydrogen). That being the case, it's not really all that different from leasing any other big-ticket luxury car. On top of that, I get to drive around in a "limited edition" kind of car, and I'm not polluting anything while I do it. As far as the hydrogen itself is concerned, you have to learn the math of driving all over again (what with the new fuel type, the conversion of numbers isn't always easy--or possible). Let's put it this way: it costs me the same to fill this car's tank as it did to fill my last car's tank. So again, there's not a whole lot of change here.

4) Are you going to let your son drive it? Look, my almost-17-year-old son doesn't even have his license yet, and doesn't take the test until next week. I love my son, I trust my son, and I'm glad I sent my son to an expensive driving school--but unless there's a federal bailout package specifically for my liability policy, I don't see him driving it anytime soon (one of the guys from Honda--I'm looking at you, Tim--suggested that I let him take the test in my Clarity, for crying out loud). Actually, my son doesn't have his eye so much on my new car as he does my OLD car. He has dreams of co-opting that one. We'll see.

If I get questions, I'll answer them (if I'm allowed to, of course). In the meantime, if you need me, I'll be in my car.

People of Then, Meet the Me of Today

2009-01-27T05:11:00.000-08:00

So I spend a lot of time on Facebook. Yes, I know, social networking over the Internet can become an addiction. I'll own up to it: I'm somewhat addicted. Once upon a time I would stop at my computer several times a day, quickly checking my personal e-mail and my work e-mail. My work e-mail has been nudged off the list by my Facebook page.

The thing is, Facebook has given me an opportunity to not only communicate with people I currently know, but also with people I haven't spoken to in ages. It's really easy to find all your old high school friends (it's viral, actually: find one, and he or she is connected to three others, who are also connected to a few, . . . ). The best part is this: constant communication isn't necessary. Each person posts something here and there, and I just check the postings. It's like a big, personalized news feed. And I'm addicted.

I think the best part of the Facebook format (I barely check my MySpace anymore) is that, like high school, it's nice just to know that those people are there. I don't need to send e-mail after e-mail to each one of them. On occasion, the contact will be more personal and I get to catch up with my old friends. We've aged, and our lives have changed, and I'm sure that there are people whom I once knew who won't speak to me anymore, but it's nice to be the "now" me with my "then" friends and my "now" friends.

So, y'know, it's not a bad addiction.

A Year of Reading: 2008

2009-01-07T05:04:00.000-08:00

Since 2009 has begun, it's time to retire my 2008 reading list. Here's what I read last year:

Born Standing Up by Steve Martin
Double Cross by James Patterson
Things I Overheard While Talking to Myself by Alan Alda
I Am Legend by Richard Matheson
Mister B. Gone by Clive Barker
The Appeal by John Grisham
Schulz and Peanuts: A Biography by David Michaelis
Cell by Stephen King
I Am The Messenger by Markus Zusak
Blindness by Jose Saramago
The Final Solution by Michael Chabon
A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter M. Miller, Jr.
The Rule of Four by Ian Caldwell & Dustin Thomason
Foreskin's Lament by Shalom Auslander
Little Brother by Cory Doctorow
The Dumbest Generation by Mark Bauerlein
The Fourth Bear by Jasper Fforde
The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch
In Me Own Words: The Autobiography of Bigfoot by Graham Roumieu
A Whole New Mind by Daniel Pink
Feed by M. T. Anderson
Thunderstruck by Erik Larson
The Somnambulist by Jonathan Barnes
Lost in a Good Book by Jasper Fforde
Fables 10: The Good Prince by Willingham & Buckingham, et al
Anathem by Neal Stephenson
The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman
Seeing by Jose Saramago
Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon
Cross Country by James Patterson
Maximum Ride: Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports by James Patterson

There's a lot on my mind for 2009's reading list. It may not be as long a list this year because I'm looking at some longer books (Stephenson's Cryptonomicon and Rand's Atlas Shrugged, both of which are huge). I'm also looking forward to Grisham's new one in January and Christopher Moore's latest in February, and I've got some Neil Gaiman and Michael Chabon titles to catch up on. I'd also like to write more in '09, which will mean less reading.

A Holiday Lament

2009-01-05T13:49:00.000-08:00

The Holiday season has come and gone, and I can't shake the feeling that I really screwed it up this year; not necessarily for other people, but for myself (and, by extension, for other people).

I have very fond memories of Christmas as a child. My parents, who I now, as a bread-winning adult, realize were poor, spoiled my brother and me terribly. Opening gifts took almost two hours ("scheduled," as it were, so that each opening had a full audience) and took up the entire living room--which again, as an adult, now seems very small. The gifts were also handed out in such a manner that they built up in scale to a wonderful crescendo, starting with the candy-filled stockings and ending with the "big bang" gift at the end . . . which, back then, was not always some battery-operated gizmo (since many of them had not yet been invented). The house was well decorated not long after Thanksgiving, complete with multi-colored lights on the Christmas tree* scattered around the handmade ornaments (most made by my mother, but ALL the ornaments were handmade).

Then there were the cookies. My stay-at-home mother made them every year, and it took her about two weeks to do it. Why two weeks? Because my mother is awesome, that's why. Using about two dozen different recipies, she made cookies for what seemed like forever. We once tried counting the actual number of cookies made one year, and stopped not long after 10,000. She had a plate of cookies for each of the neighbors, for each of my friends' families, for the mailman, for the UPS guy, and for two HUGE plates on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. (She stopped after my father died, and the neighborhood has never been the same.)

That was the other thing I remember. My father's side of the family would get together both on Christmas Eve AND Christmas Day (at my grandparents' house). Eventually, the Christmas Eve thing got to be too much and was permanently suspended. Christmas Day, however, was an all day event with almost thirty people (including kids) sitting around one huge and one small table. It made the Norman Rockwell painting look like a card game.

As time passed, bits of the family grew up, or moved away, or both. Some of the partiarchs passed away, as did a matriarch, and we kind of splintered apart.

Several years later I converted to Judaism. I don't regret that decision, but it did take away greatly from my holiday experience. Hannukah isn't one of the "big" Jewish holidays, so we kind of give ourselves the shaft around Christmastime. It wasn't as severe a transition for my kids, who were too young at the time to develop enough of a traditional Christmas experience to miss. It was a big shift for me, though, and I did miss the yuletide atmosphere. (I still listened to Christmas music, however, because there are some things of which you just don't let go).

Jump forward to many years later of lighting menorahs and eating fried food (yep, that's about it, really), and the holidays lack the luster of yesteryear. But now I'm out of orthodox practice, married to a non-Jew, and feeling the pain of an absent Christmas. This year (our first as a married couple), we kind of experimented with a hybrid holiday. Being overwhelmed with home repair plans, change of work venue, financial issues, a teenage son, and other things, I kind of let the holidays get away from me this year. I didn't have my shopping done as early as I usually do, was not as extravagant or personal with my gift-giving as I was in the past, and didn't really "feel it" as I've tried to. And looking back to last month, I regret it. I should have done better. I would have liked to do better. Although I'm Jewish, I miss Christmas. I wasn't always Jewish, and now part of my family is not. Christmas must return, not just for my family, but for my own peace of mind and edification.

And so next year I will plan better (both temporally and financially), I will strive to make the holidays something of an event, and do it right. I'd like to enjoy the holidays as I have in the past. It's true that you "can't go home again," and that Christmas will never be for me like it was when I was a kid. Times change, sure, but they don't evaporate. My Christmas memories must change, and more must be made. Next year, this blog post will be different. Just you watch.

*The tree I grew up with was artificial, and I believe it now resides at my brother's house. Christmas changed a lot after my father died in December of 1982. We were always told that the artificial tree was necessary because my father was allergic and broke into hives. After his passing, it was too painful to put the tree up the following year. After that, new carpet was the excuse for not getting a real tree. After my brother and I had moved out, the tree moved with him. I'm now convinced that my mom was just too much of an OCD neatnik to deal with watering and stray needles. After having my own real tree for several years, I completely sympathize.

Why Your Car Is Pissing Me Off

2008-12-12T06:14:00.000-08:00

There was a very short narrative I read in high school that came back into mind the other day. (I don't remember the title; I could look it up, but it's not that important.) In this narrative, the planet Earth is viewed by first-time visiting aliens and they are describing the life forms here: round, metallic, and fast. It's the cars. They're describing the cars.

In other parts of the country, cars are merely functional; in still others, they're altogether unecessary; here in Southern California, your car helps to define you as a person. People would rather drive their cars (than carpool or use public transportation) because those cars make a statement.

Last month we voted here on what was called Proposition 1A. It was a public transportation bill that would increase light rail construction. It wasn't all that great of a bill, and it won't really accomplish a whole lot. I voted for it, though, because I feel that something must be done. My vote was more in favor of public transportationas an idea than it was for this specific proposal. If we have more public transportation, perhaps we'll get more people out of their cars.

Of course, the Catch-22 is that unless people stop identifying with their cars, we won't get any more (or better) public transportation. (Anybody remember the PeopleMover at Disneyland? There's a system being used in Virginia--and being proposed in areas in and around New York--just like that. Check this link for it.)

The pollution will not decrease, the highways will not decongest, and the oil prices will continue to matter to us (no matter how low they go) until WE decide to do something. Until we decide to make progress as a collective group, I'm gonna have to go and find some solution of my own.

The Definition of Christmas

2008-12-09T10:08:00.000-08:00

During this holiday season, when the economy is an issue, I'm behind on my gift shopping, and really have no idea what to get people this year anyway, it's nice to be reminded of what's truly important.

And if this video clip from CNN.com doesn't do it for you -- particularly the end of the video -- I don't know what will.

I promise to get my shopping done, and to give thoughtfully -- I don't think I'll be able to compete with that, though.

Technology Is Making My Life Better!

2008-12-08T05:21:00.000-08:00

Among the wedding gifts from this summer were a blender and a breadmaker. I am in heaven.

For the last several weeks I've been making my own white bread (and attempting wheat bread). I now make my own pizza dough, and for Thanksgiving I brought the Parmesan-Garlic Rolls. I'm looking at a half dozen other recipies for flavored breads and doughs. My life will be filled with tasty carbs from now on!

The blender is more complicated than I thought (the recipies, not the operation). I've had to learn the finer differences between cubed and crushed ice, what vanilla extract actually does to a potion, yogurt-to-juice ratios, and the half-life of beaten egg whites. The egg white thing paid off, though--I found a recipe for the old Orange Julius drinks I used to get at the mall. Delicious!

My wife is now starting to use the new stand mixer as well, so soon my life will be filled with cookies!

Yep . . . there's some technology I can get behind.

It's the Effort That Counts.

2008-12-06T05:42:00.000-08:00

I didn't get to 50,000 words. I didn't even get close. But at least I tried.

Last month was National Novel Writing Month -- NaNoWriMo to those in the know (you can find their website here). I've got three novels and six or seven short stories just dying to get out of me, and they've been stuck in the dark recesses of my mind for quite a while now. I'd love to post the 5,000 or so words I did complete, but that total spans two completely different titles, one of them sucks in its current form, and I'd like to keep both out of the public domain until I can get them finished and published. I'm not trying to be defeatist or unrealistic when I say this, but I know that getting this personal goal accomplished is going to take some time. Years, most likely. Which is fine, really--I'm closer to realizing this goal right now than I ever have before: I've got a more relaxed professional life, an incredibly supportive wife, and the drive to keep at this, if only a few words at a time.

Next November, though, watch out: I'm gonna pull it off next time.

Voices of . . . . What?

2008-11-30T10:30:00.000-08:00

Whatever happened to having a sense of vision? Some of the people I've encountered over the last week have seemed more to be the voices of doubt, not the voices of reason or vision.

I have a unique opportunity coming up, automotive in nature (it's stil not a sure thing yet, so I can't say much), that will be groundbreaking by mildly expensive. When I explain the basics of the plan-in-the-making, people should be as excited as I was when the opportunity came up. Instead, all I'm getting is grief over the cost of this venture. And, sadly, it's now making me doubt whether the whole idea is worth it. (As much as I want to go through with this whole deal, I'm not looking forward to showing people an amazing piece of technology only to hear, over and over again, "You're paying WHAT?")

*Sigh*

Vision, people. Have some vision.

Now Hear This . . .

2008-11-29T08:06:00.000-08:00

Parenting is difficult. The parts that you expect to be difficult don't really seem all that hard, because the parts you expect to be easy are damn near impossible. Parenting can be rewarding and fun some of the time, but it can be painful and complicated when you don't want it or expect it to be.

That is all.

I Earned My IT Merit Badge!

2008-11-25T10:03:00.000-08:00

This morning I fell victim to one of countless Internet viruses (while searching for, of all things, theater tickets). And, of course, I had my browser's homepage hijacked, I had system tray icons setting off all kinds of bells and whistles . . . so I tried to fix it by searching for and deleting anything related to the virus.

As it turns out, those things wedge themselves into places pretty good. With a nod to all professional IT techs, there are a LOT of little spaces for viruses and their applications to hide.

A lot of the bulletin boards tell of people who dealt with the problem for eight hours with no result, some who are still dealing with the problem days later, and other who said "Screw this, I'm going to the Apple Store." Me, I was determined to kill this thing dead. So after failing to solve the problem with my limited search-and-destroy skills, I hunted down the proper removal tool, ran it in Safe Mode, cleaned the registry, and reset Internet Explorer 7. At that point I had everything but the homepage hijack taken care of, so I reinstalled Internet Explorer 7, reconfigured that, and tried again.

Success.

I didn't get in to work until about 10am, though. They think I was dealing with a "mild utility problem" at home. If they ask, play along--but the merit badge is MINE.

So I've Made A Doctor's Appointment . . .

2008-11-14T05:00:00.000-08:00

Anyway, I'm going in December 5th.

"Nerful Things" *

2008-11-13T05:07:00.000-08:00

I'm sure the economy and my Fall schedule have a lot to do with it, but I've been kicking myself lately for not getting to the theater more often. There's also not a lot out there that interests me, so that's problematic, too.

Last month, though, my wife discovered quite the treat: Neil Gaiman (of Sandman fame) was touring for his latest, The Graveyard Book (it's a take on Kipling's work, but with the kid raised in a Graveyard instead of a Jungle). At most appearances, an author may read a few pages, then spend hours signing books for people. This time around, however, Gaiman wanted to make the evening more meaningful . . . and it worked. Instead of sitting there signing most of the night, he used each stop on his tour to read a chapter of the new book, and filmed each one. The "video tour" is available online, and if you listen you can hear me laughing around the middle of chapter seven.

That's because I was in Santa Monica that evening. Stood in line (near the front of it) for two hours and everything. During the Q & A, done with index cards while we were in line, Mr. Gaiman was kind enough to answer my question (about whether the Internet is killing off the concept of reading) by using a quote from his dear friend Douglas Adams. It couldn't have been more cool.

And, I got my hands on autographed copies of Coraline and The Graveyard Book. I gotta get to more book signings (Christopher Moore has a new one coming out in February--Fool--so hopefully he'll be in town then).

* My apologies to Stephen King for playing with one of his titles, but Neil Gaiman's signature looks a lot like the word "Nerful." It's now become my and my wife's pet name for Gaiman . . . meant, of course, with all due respect.

Fewer Wisdom Teeth--MORE Wisdom??

2008-11-12T05:19:00.000-08:00

One of the things I like most about being a parent is the oppotunity to be pleasantly surprised. My son pulled that off last week, and it felt really good--I felt very proud to be his father.

Last Friday, my son got his wisdom teeth out. All four of them were removed, two of them severely impacted (for the uninitiated, "impacted" means "sideways"). His upper teeth came out without incident; in fact, the oral surgeon was nice enough to clean most of the blood off before letting us keep them.* The bottom two, however, were extracted with the "shatter-them-into-a-thousand-pieces-and-vacuum-them-out" method.

Ouch.

What was to follow included three different medications (antibiotic, anti-inflammatory, and the ever popular Vicodin), a regimented schedule of ice pack use, soft/liquid nourishment, uncomfortable swelling, and very little talking. So, naturally, he had three friends over as soon as he got home, then hopped a plane to his mother's house for the four-day Veterans' Day weekend.

Thing is, he pulled it off. I thought he'd need nagging, coaching, coaxing, and yelling to keep up with his meds, use the ice pack (20 minutes on, 20 off, for at least the first day and a half), and be a grouch the whole time because he was hungry.** He was really good about everything, and needed no prompting from me. I was astonished, then impressed. He was even doing some of the things that I wasn't going to bother with. Sometimes he can be a real adult about these things, and that's something I don't see often enough, I guess, to keep in mind all the time; I hope that this level of maturity translates into everything in his life that's important.

I'll be honest: for a while now I've been worrying that my son might not be able to make it on his own when the time comes. This weekend gave me hope; I got a glimpse of just how capable he is when he needs to be. I guess I just have to be careful not to use it against him, figure out what I've been doing right, and do more of that.

In any event, I'm a pretty proud father this week.

*Anyone know how to make a voodoo necklace? We've got a couple of teeth here . . .

**Why did I think this? Getting him to feed his snake or clean his room usually takes an act of God and a court order, that's why.

Influence Lost, But Not Forgotten

2008-11-11T05:18:00.000-08:00

The other day I was looking over the "Coming Soon" list over at Barnes & Noble, trying to figure out my reading schedule for the next couple of months (several of my favorite authors have something coming out between now and February). Of course, I always wonder why I haven't seen anything lately from certain authors, particularly Tom Clancy and Michael Crichton. Then I went over to CNN.com and saw the news that Michael Crichton had lost a battle with cancer and died at the age of 66.

I didn't even know he was sick.

I've always enjoyed Crichton's books for two reasons: his approach meant to simultaneously educate and entertain, and one of his books has a very sentimental meaning for me.

Look at any of these books he's written and you'll notice something strange . . . it's hard to tell the difference between the fiction and the nonfiction titles. The reason for this is simple: the guy always did his homework. Seriously--how many authors have you read that include multi-page, multi-subject bibliographies at the end of fiction works? Some of his novels rely on his medical school training, while others have forced him--and by extension, us--to learn all sorts of new things. Crichton is not only one of my literary influences, but one of my world-outlook idols as well. He, like Disney, sought to both educate and entertain. He was careful to include accurate detail.

A little over three years ago I had the opportunity to go out with a woman who, like me, loved reading. I had just finished reading Crichton's Timeline not long before, had really enjoyed it, and recommended it to her. I sort of used the book as a pretense for going out with her, and it's sort of been one of those items that we look back on fondly as a piece of the "us" puzzle. (I married her this summer.) I regret that I never got the chance to thank Mr. Crichton personally.

If you've never read any of his work, pick up a title and give it a try. If you've read some of Crichton's stuff, try to find a book of his you haven't read yet--that's what I'm going to do. Sadly, he won't be on any of the "Coming Soon" lists anymore; so we should take advantage of everything he left here for us.

Michael Crichton -- 1942-2008

Congratulations, President Obama

2008-11-10T05:08:00.000-08:00

Lots of people--including my friends--have already blogged about the outcome of this year's election. I've waited until days later, because I was interested in seeing whether or not he would live up to the hype of the last two years' worth of campaigning.

Fortunately, it looks like he will.

First--and I say this not only as a citizen but as a former public speaking teacher--I loved his victory speech (and I'd like to find out exactly who wrote it). His cadence and his vocal expression bubble over with honesty and sincerity. His message was exactly what this nation needed: we have come this far, we have seen so much . . . what else can we do? His appeal to the conservative side of life was also a great move, and I believe that it, too, was honest. Obama is, for all intents and purposes, the first president of the 21st Century. Moreover, he sounds and acts like it, and I don't think this country has been any more prepared--or hungry--for a leader who will look at everything that's been bent wrong, stuck in the mud, or halted altogether and question the logic behind it all. Barack Obama comes at a time when America needs him the most.

Secondly, he has so far succeeded in his follow through. In his first week as President-Elect he is already talking about the things he can do now, what he can do come January 21st, and how those specific tasks are going to impact us. What this country has needed is someone who pays attention to all the different fronts at once, has a clear idea about what to do on each front, and surrounds himself with people who either think like he does or who can help him to think better. Check out Fareed Zakaria's take on Obama being the next FDR (HERE)--all the pieces are in place, both domestic and foreign. So far, Obama's our guy. (I only wish he'd been elected by a bigger margin. The other thing I think this country has needed for a long time is a landslide victory in a presidential race.)

Finally, I think he's got a decent sense of humor. I've seen him use it a couple of times on the campaign trail, and when he wants to be, he can be funny (in a nerdy, look-how-I-can-take-myself-too-seriously-for-a-laugh kind of way).

Politically speaking, I'm looking forward to the future of this country. I haven't been able to say that for a long time, but I can say it now. A lot of us can say it now.

Yes we can.

Famous Face, Famous Poem, Correct Day.

2008-10-31T07:52:00.000-07:00

When I was a teacher (137 years ago), I treated each of my classes on Halloween to reading--by me--of Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven. Being a speech teacher, I really got into the interpretation and hammed it up a little. The students loved it, though.

So it brought a smile to my face when I ran across this yesterday.

(I think I did a more dramatic job, but whatever.)

Happy Halloween!

Are You . . . Jew?

2008-10-21T09:13:00.000-07:00

God either knows exactly what he's doing, or he's got an outstanding sense of humor. I haven't decided which. (But He's God, so it's probably both.)

The High Holy Days of Judaism coincide with the beginning of the school year, so I don't give them all the attention that I should; I can admit that. Moreover, I've been struggling with my Jewish identity (well, maybe not struggling, but it weighs on me a little bit) since I left orthodoxy. In a former life I would have taken multiple days off from work, spent most of them in shul or at meals with community members, followed through afterward with Sukkot, and partied like mad on Simchas Torah. These days, I give the holidays a brief nod and go back to my regular routine.

So last week a student approached me (one who has been debating the school's no-hat policy with me every so often; they aren't allowed to wear hats, but I wear mine when it's cold in the morning--bald men have to, really) and asked me if I was Jewish. Her exact words were "Are you . . . Jew? or Mormon, or something?" I affirmed that I was, indeed, Jewish, and she responded with, "Well, then you're supposed to wear a hat, right?"

Right. I'm supposed to keep my head covered all the time, I didn't say.

And so, using a twelve-year-old Hispanic girl with no real concept of Orthodox Judaism, Torah, or Talmud, God yet again reminded me not to dismiss Him completely. Especially since the entire exchange happened on, of all days, Yom Kippur.

Bad Car-ma

2008-10-20T15:24:00.000-07:00

A week or two ago, it was not a good day to be a car in our household. It's difficult enough with my 16-year-old wanting to drive everywhere, but it's even harder when we have rental cars circulating through the garage.

My car began overheating (it took someone noticing my engine fan running while the car was parked for me to pay any attention to it), and so I had to have some work done to it. It's eight and a half years old, with 115,000 miles on it. The repairs cost me roughly 25% of what I paid for it in 2000, but it's the only car I've got. The rental I used to get to and from work (I'd have taken my bike, but 9 miles each way in the rain with a raging head cold is too stupid even for ME to try) was a humongous pick-up truck. In addition to feeling like I was driving and aircraft carrier down the 405, I could feel myself polluting the atmosphere with each mile. (For those who speak auto: I thought it was the water pump, but it turns out the thermostat was stuck closed. While they were in there I had them change the timing belt and a few other services.)

Before I could even get my rental car back to the lot, my wife had a minor bumper incident with an SUV in a parking lot. Nothing to write home about collision-wise, but as you might expect the SUV won this round. They drove off with a bit of red plastic embedded in the bumper, but my wife ended up with a broken tail light and a broken bumper. (I could have done the tail light myself, but the bumper would require alignment, paint, etc. Too much for my novice skills.) Going through insurance-related collision repair centers and such, it took a little longer than mine did.

Now, both cars are safely back at home and in good working condition. Yay.

Avast, Mateys!

2008-09-19T05:11:00.000-07:00

'Tis "Talk Like a Pirate" Day! This be a day many of me shipmates celebrate, and a tradition among those of ye who would call yerselves "pirate" and not "lubber" but this one day of the year.

Be ye not knowin' the tale of this here day? Best be knowin' yer pirate lore . . .

'Cause it be known across the seven seas that on this day pirates be just about everywhere.

Shiver me timbers, are ye not yet feelin' the spirits of Davy Jones and Blackbeard among ye? Perhaps ye be needin' a closer look . . .

Wedding and Honeymoon

2008-09-18T05:49:00.000-07:00

Yes--as the last couple of blog posts clearly demonstrate, I'm back.

For those who have asked, the wedding was wonderful. It was not at all a stressful day (the boat had to wait about seven minutes for the arrival of the cake, but it arrived), there were many friends and family members on hand to share the boat cruise with us, and we were even the victims of piracy! Five of my wife's former students came alongside in their own boat holding huge hommade signs for us. The crowd loved it, and both the charter manager AND our photographer said the same thing: "I've never seen this happen before." Of course, my wife's reaction was, like mine, one of pure joy. "Do you want cake?!" she called from the bow of the ship; and sure enough, they pulled alongside for pastry delivery.

We honeymooned in Santa Barbara for almost a week. It was relaxing, it was romantic, and I understand now why real estate isn't a booming business in that area--if I owned property out there, I wouldn't sell it, either. I could totally see myself living in that area at some point. (For those of you who travel: if you ever have the chance to stay at the Simpson House Inn Bed & Breakfast in Santa Barbara, I highly recommend it.)

Great wedding, great honeymoon--Happiness is mine!!

A "Walks Into a Bar" Joke That's Actually Funny!

2008-09-17T05:00:00.000-07:00

At long last, I have found a new favorite joke:

A gorilla walks into a bar and, to the amazement of the bartender, orders a martini.

When the bartender gives the gorilla the martini, he’s further surprised to see that the ape is holding a $20 bill.

The bartender takes the $20; then he decides to see just how smart the gorilla is, so he hands the gorilla on $1 change.

The gorilla quietly sips the martini until the bartender breaks the silence.

“We don’t get too many apes in here,” he says.

The gorilla replies, “At $19 a drink, I’m not surprised.”

Some Have Asked, Some Already Knew

2008-09-16T05:02:00.000-07:00

I was recently asked about my blog. Someone wanted to know the significance of the title, "The Village." Given one of AMC's current filming projects, it seems more relevant than ever to provide the answer.

Anyone with a working knowledge of 1960's science fiction knows of "The Prisoner," a British miniseries starring Patrick McGoohan as "Number Six," a former secret agent who, after resigning, is kidnapped and whisked away to a secret location, which seems to run independent of everything, from which there is no escape, and which truly is a society unto itself. This location, where people have no names--only numbers--is called "The Village." Viewers of the TV show learned at the end that it was filmed at the Portmeirion resort in Wales. (Each episode includes a "Number Two, a societal supervisor of sorts, played by a different actor in each episode; one actor, a brilliant Leo McKern, reprised the role for the finale after doing the second or third episode.)

The "remake" of this miniseries is filming right now in Africa. It's gonna be a bit updated, it's gonna be a little retro, and early reports from those in the know say the scripts are pretty good. [A lot of people have been waiting a very long time for this; it was going to be a movie at one point, then it was going to be a TV movie, but it's now a miniseries.] Number Six will be played by James Caviezel, which could be hit or miss; Number Two, however, will be played by Ian McKellen. (And the angels sang.)

Anyway, in the original miniseries, Number Six refuses to "settle" in the Village, repeatedly speaking out in favor of his individuality and non-conformity to society. The storylines actually have a lot of cat-and-mouse to them, though I must admit a passion for the pilot episode: it's not easy to do the exposition on this series, but it seems to work out. In some episodes, Number Six is bent on escape; in others, he tries to help people in need. The entire thing is an allegory, and as it goes on (and eventually and surrealistically ends) it become more and more difficult to translate.

And that's what my blog is named after--a society in which I express my individuality, whether I'm free to or not.

Europe Does Not Suck [Us All Up] After All

2008-09-15T05:02:00.000-07:00

Although they haven't started using it to smash protons or slice cheese or play solitaire or anything, the good folks over at CERN have started up the Large Hadron Collider in Europe. No one got sucked into anything, space/time didn't rip open, and clocks didn't start suddenly moving backward. We made it.

There are some really cool photos of the LHC on the web. (You can tell that these particular photos were taken after construction was completed, because there's no styrofoam pieces or packing popcorn anywhere.) Hopefully this technology will uncover the secrets of quarks, gluons, and other subatomic particles that will one day make you iPod even smaller.

[Footnote: Whenever I hear about the HRC I always think of this, and then I wanna bust out my DVDs and watch more.]

Boooooooooooooooooooooop!

2008-08-06T04:00:00.000-07:00

This blog is off-line for another week or so. The honeymoon will last forever, but the vacation will last a few more days.

Ding, Dong, Ding, Dong Wedding Bells Are Ringing!

2008-08-03T10:30:00.000-07:00

Thanks to blog-post-scheduling, this post is date/time stamped at the approximate moment my fiancee and I will be exchanging wedding vows on the deck of a yacht in the Newport Beach harbor with 60 or so of our family and friends.

So if you don't hear from me for the next week or so, I plead honeymoon.

Brake! BRAAAAAKE!!

2008-07-31T20:42:00.000-07:00

My son got his learner's permit today. I got him signed up with a local driving school. His trip up north to visit his mom screws up the order a little, but he has so far completed the four classroom sessions, a one-hour permit validation lesson, and a few hours in a parking lot with me (more to get him accustomed to a stick-shift). He still has a two-day, behind-the-wheel skills seminar to complete; the school likes to do that before the permit test, but it's not required.

He took the 46 question test at the DMV today, and missed only three. Given the practice tests he's been taking, he scored best on the actual test. (Why can't he do this at school? I think to myself.) By the way, if any of you with kids have this event coming up, make an appointment at the DMV; the non-appointment line went around the building, but we walked right up to the counter.

So now I get to do the whole get-him-insured, teach-him-to-drive, get-my-car-repaired-every-so-often, worry-my-head-off thing. And somewhere, off in the distance, I can hear my mother.

Laughing. Her. Ass. Off.

P.S.: I left my computer for a few minutes while blogging. I came back and found this typed on my screen:

thank you for helping me with all of my driving stuff
--your son

Which is kinda cool.

Two Cool Things From Comic-Con

2008-07-30T20:40:00.000-07:00

No, I didn't go to the festival in San Diego. Instead, I am one of those who follow it online. Not the same as being there, but there's still a lot of great stuff to be seen.

Two things I thought were especially cool:

1) They're going to do a sequel to "TRON," one of the best movies of my childhood AND a milestone in sci-fi films. Disney sprung a trailer on the crowd--complete with Jeff Bridges, who seems connected to the project--and it looks great. It's been up and down on the Internet (copyright and all that), but THIS SITE seems to find it wherever it pops up. (If you see a version with audience reaction, you get some idea of my own.)

2) I'm equally excited to see that "WATCHMEN" has a trailer, and I was even more jazzed to see the LOBBY POSTERS for this one. The graphic novel was a landmark in the comic book genre, and many were worried that it couldn't be made into a good film. All indicators, however, suggest otherwise.

Like so many others, I patiently wait for these things to become reality. (Or whatever passes for reality amongst us geeks.)

A Shout-Out to the Corn Belt

2008-07-14T08:50:00.000-07:00

I have this little map off to the right of my blog--it indicates where my blog readers are. (I decided to use ClustrMaps. Another popular one is MapLoco, which has the added benefit of listing the specific locations; it resets daily, though. My ClustrMap is cumulative, so after a while it will look like certain continents have the plague.)

The red dots on the map get bigger with the number of visits; I understand that. Each dot represents a geographical area, not a person; I understand that, too. Here's what I don't get: how did I get such a following in the midwest? On both my personal and my professional blog, I have this big, honkin' red dot in the middle of the U.S. Weird. Cool, but weird.

Hello, Midwestern United States!

UPDATE: If you check the comment on this post, you'll discover two things. The first is that I don't actually have a fan base in the midwest; the default location for the map program is the middle of the country. The second is that the ClustrMaps people are obviously paying attention to the blogs using their program. Thanks to CJ for clearing up the confusion in record time.

I Got A New Roomie!

2008-07-10T08:46:00.000-07:00

As we get closer and closer to our wedding date, my fiancee and I have noticed a lot that has yet to be done. Mark one more item off the list, though--we now live together. (There's still some stuff to move over, but all the essentials are here.)

With only about 23 days left before wedded bliss begins (there's already plenty of engaged bliss), we're doing pretty well. I'm sure the transition has been harder on her than on me--I'm not moving, I'm just [happily] making room--and will be a little tough until the rest of her stuff trickles in. All her clothes, all her necessities, and some of her furniture are here . . . it's cool, actually. (It's worth noting here that my son has taken pretty well to this too. She didn't initially think so, but his dick-like behavior of late has been more about his tour through summer school and not at all about her moving in.)

So one more big item off the list of stuff to do. Another couple of weeks and we'll have everything checked off--including happily ever after.

$45 Happened in Vegas--And what Happens in Vegas . . .

2008-06-26T05:17:00.000-07:00

I meant to post about this right after I got back on Sunday, but I've been riding on such a high I never got around to it. Sorry.

My Vegas trip was a BLAST! I had so much fun that . . . well . . . I suspect my "fun" meter has been recalibrated. After years of taking my kids back and forth to the airport (trips to and from their mom's house) I finally got to get on a plane! The wedding was very cool, though the MGM Grand has a very strict schedule, apparently, so it felt a little rushed. With most of the down time, we went back and forth between the MGM Grand and New York, New York (which, I think, is where I'd like to stay the next time we go there). The gambling was OK: I pulled $100 on a slot machine, which made up for most of what I lost at Blackjack, and I learned how to play Pai Gow Poker. Before, it seemed really complicated--it still seems complicated, but I like my buddy's take on the game: you're playing for the push, and the object of the game, according to his wisdom, is to lose at an infinitesimally slow rate while drinking for free. For him, it worked; for his wife, who turned $25 into just under $400 in about 90 minutes, it didn't; for me, the action was fast and not in my favor. (After getting home, I found an online version of Pai Gow Poker; each time I play, it takes me almost no time at all to lose $300, so, . . . not my game.) Friday night we went over to Mandalay Bay and hung out in a club called "Eye Candy" (oddly named, for there was little). We drank, we danced, and a good time was had by all.

I haven't had a whole lot of friends as an adult. I've had colleagues, who have also been friends, but they're all teachers and the "boss" thing occasionally gets in the way. Now that I'm being transferred to another school site, they're now my friends--and it was really cool to hang out with friends. It'll take some getting used to, but it's a challenge I'm looking forward to.

I was speaking to one of the teachers who went on the trip (she and I really get along--we have a secret handshake and everything), and she not only told me about the cool stuff I missed Sunday night (most of them stayed until Monday, dammit), but she agreed with me that we should make an annual event of this. Seriously--what could be more cool than to spend the first weekend of every summer vacation in Vegas?

And with friends!

George Carlin is Stuck on the Roof . . .

2008-06-24T05:15:00.000-07:00

We don't think of "philosopher" as a contemporary profession, but contemporary society does have philosophers--and we just lost a great one.

"When someone is impatient and says,
'I haven't got all day,' I always wonder,
How can that be? How can you not have all day?"
Long ago, I had George Carlin's "A Place for My Stuff" album (on cassette) and damn near wore the thing out. I was only, like, twelve at the time, but I loved Carlin's work from that moment on--as many did--and made a point of listening to and watching as much of his work as possible. Alas, my collection of Carlin--which was by no means comprehensive or complete--has fallen into obscurity, but my love for his work has not abated at all.

"I have as much authority as the Pope, I just
don't have as many people who believe it."
Carlin crossed over from "comedian" to "philosopher" early on in his career, and he influenced a lot of other comedians. What made his appeal so great and so funny? There's a statement someone once made about magicians: good magicians do tricks on stage; great magicians do the same tricks six inches from your face. I think the Carlin's appeal worked the same way: he didn't just tell jokes, he merely described things that we all do to demonstrate just how idiotic we all look.

"Some national parks have long waiting lists for camping reservations.
When you have to wait a year to sleep next to a tree, something is wrong."
Although he seemed to get a bit grouchy in his later years (as if, after spending all those years trying to open our eyes, he finally realized it wasn't gonna happen and just gave up on us), I will always be a fan of the earlier George Carlin, the one who wanted me to wake up and realize what was going on. I think he had a genuine message for people, and that may be why so many people will say so many good things about him for so long.

While my condolences go out to his family, I prefer to celebrate his existence rather than mourn his death. We were lucky to have had him at all.

"Frisbeetarianism is the belief that when
you die, your soul goes up on the roof and gets stuck."

Leeeeeeavin', on a Jet Plane . . .

2008-06-17T21:50:00.000-07:00

I'm going to Las Vegas this weekend for a wedding at the MGM Grand. Two of our English teachers are getting hitched, and since I don't really get to vacation that often, my fiancee and I are going. (I'm hoping to do a little gambling this time, though they're not high hopes--my future missus isn't really into it, and I'm not wild about going off and doing my own thing. The last two times I was in Vegas I didn't do any at all, and I lived, so no big deal, really.) Since it's so close to the end of the school year--our flight leaves about four hours after teacher check-out--we're flying this time around. And with ticket prices being what they are during the fuel crunch, we spent a lot of our money on the airfare. So where will we stay for those two nights?

That's right.

A Hypothetical: One From An Unexpected Perspective

2008-06-13T21:31:00.000-07:00

While scanning the top stories at CNN.com last night, I came across a story I would ordinarily pass over--but instead, I gave it a look. And in doing so, I presented myself with a fascinating question--one that could have serious repercussions if the answer played itself out.

ExxonMobil is selling all of its gas stations--all the ones that are corporate-owned, anyway. That means they'll all be privately owned. What sparks the intrigue, as I see it, is their reason for selling them off: even at $4 a gallon, it's not proftable enough a venture. So it begs the question: if gas prices continue to soar, and the gasoline business becomes less and less profitable, AND both the corporate and private owners of gas stations make similar decisions . . . see where I'm going with this?

What if so many people get out of the business that gasoline is no longer readily available? It's a slippery-slope argument, to be sure. But have we really considered the supply-side pain of oil prices? The gasoline business isn't a public utility thing, it's a for-profit thing. If the profit disappears, and sellers decide to get out, what happens to the consumers? I may be alone, but I've always thought that if Big Oil ever falls it would be due to shrinking demand (carpooling, public transportation, airlines cutting flights due to rising fuel costs, hybrids and alternate fuel vehicles reducing demand, etc.). I never considered the possibility that gas stations would give up before they became obsolete.

Honda is testing a new alternative fuel vehicle called the FCX Clarity. It's a "fuel cell" powered vehicle, which means it's the hydrogen car we've all been hearing about. Honda is ready to test them, and is offering leases to people who (a) have driving habits that match the car's capability and range, and (b) live within a certain distance of the few fueling depots that currently exist. I live in one of those zip codes, and signed up. (I was even sent the questionnaire for consideration. I haven't heard anything yet.) I have no idea if I'll be selected, but if I am, this whole gasoline business thing will be moot for me.

I'll have no reason to care.

I Fought The Bike, And The Bike Won

2008-06-12T21:56:00.000-07:00

Some of you have been reading my blog posts, the ones that talk about the bike I want to buy and how I waver back and forth about the cost and such, and say to the screen, "Just buy the damn bike already."

Fine. I did. I bought the damn bike.

It's probably more bike than I need--a $900 road bike, and considered a "middle-end" bike at that--but it's nice, and I won't need to upgrade anytime soon. The seat's a bit uncomfortable, so I'm either going to need a padded seat or a padded butt. (They have those bike pants with the gel pads in the seat, but I don't think I'm ready for that kind of embarassment. When the bruises become visible and unbearable, maybe--MAYBE--I'll change my mind.)

I tried it out one Saturday by riding to work--10 miles or so, round trip. I hadn't been at this biking thing for a while, so I didn't really know how far I'd get (I was, however, highly motivated--I actually had to be at work for a while that day). I made it, and with the exception of one hill (which I conquered pretty well in low gear--this bike has about six or seven hundred of them) it was an easy ride. So I made a decision--I was going to bike to work as often as possible, and for as long as possible.*

For four days now, I've been biking to work, changing clothes there, and then changing and biking home. I'm forced to leave some clothes and shoes at the office, which is a little strange, but the biking has done wonders for my legs**, wonders for my self-esteem, and has probably helped out with my gas budget some. I've even encountered wildlife along the bike path--rabbits tend to cross my path, there are hundreds of birds' nests on the freeway overpass, I saw a squirrel yesterday, and I encountered a coyote this morning (got within three feet of the sucker). Yeah, this biking thing is cool.

Fifty cents more a gallon, and we'll all be doing it, I suspect.

*I'm being transferred to a new job site in the Fall, and it's too far away to use the bike. I'm not sure when I'll get my biking in, at that point, especially if I become addicted to this.

**The ride takes me 25 minutes each way. On day four, it still took 25 minutes, but it felt longer. I'm well on my way to legs of steel--or jello, depending.

I Never Doubted It For A Moment

2008-05-25T13:37:00.000-07:00

I went to see the new Indiana Jones movie yesterday, and I loved it. I know that the majority of Internet reviews have ranged between "mixed" and "bad," but I think the expectations and hype set the bar WAY too high. If people are going to compare "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull" to the other summer blockbusters like "Iron Man" or "The Dark Knight," they're going about it the wrong way. If anything, the new Indy movie should only be compared to the other Indy movies. Spielberg has had control of the franchise since he and George Lucas developed it, and if it's got their seal of approval, I'm fine with it.

Steven Spielberg and the World, both actual size.

Indy IV was bound to be different, anyway. Everyone is older, for one; and while some might claim this takes away from the action, I respectfully disagree--I think that seeing these actors do a lot of this at their ages only adds to the excitement and confirms the claims that Indy's still got it. I'm glad there were nods to Sean Connery and Denholm Elliott, and I'm similarly glad that Jon Rhys-Davies wasn't included (in "Raiders" Sala was a serious part of the team; in "Last Crusade," however, he was a corny buffoon, and if you add that to his sellout performance at the Indy ride at Disneyland, so much the better that he's out).

"No, Steven, I won't come back--just use a photo of me in this stupid hat."

Yes, I thought the pace of the film was great. I think the action sequences were true to the entire franchise (the atomic blast sequence was exactly that-- a blast). Yes, I had a small problem with the "X-Files" nature of the storyline, but I got over it pretty quickly. I wasn't a big fan of Ray Winstone's character, but that's more because I thought we were pretty character-rich as it was . . . bringing in half a bad guy just took time away from the exposition, which I thought the film could have used a bit more of to bring us along on the journey (rather than bring us up to speed as we went along). I was VERY excited to see the return of Karen Allen, as she brought so much to the first film (although she wasn't as full of piss-and-vinegar as she was in "Raiders," but again, age wasn't a masked factor here). Marion Ravenwood's the best of the Indy women, in my opinion. There's no need to bring other characters back if you've got her.

"One movie, Steven? I only get to be in one movie?"

Since we associate Indiana Jones, his wardrobe, his antics, and his approach to life with the late 1930s (in accordance with the serial cliffhangers out of which his character was born), it does take a few minutes to move into the 1950s--the late 1950s, at that. To see Indy run around in a circa-1957 household is a little weird. After his radiation wash-down, however, he seems a little bit more of a later-model Indy, speaking to army officials and being referred to as a colonel (which gives us yet another glimpse of what's been going on since "Last Crusade").

For the record: Shia LeBoeuf did an outstanding job, right up to the end of the film. I know that early reports were panning him up, down, and sideways, but the conversations Mutt Williams had with Indy over the course of the film (pre-"He's your son") really helped to explain the character better. Here's where I'm torn: if there had been more to the Mutt-learned-under-Professor-Ox-just-like-Indy-learned-under-Abner-Ravenwood backstory, it would have helped--but this couldn't be a three-hour movie, and what we got did the job of explaining things just fine.

"I don't know, George . . . thirty years from now, you think anyone will care?"

Did it set things up for another movie, or a spinoff with Mutt in the lead? I don't know . . . and I don't care. I'm not looking for a future, necessarily. I think that it wouldn't be the worst idea to end the whole Indy thing here and move on to other things. Sucking a franchise dry never ends well. It was, however, very nice to see Indy in action one more time.

I'm still not crazy about the title, though.

Nostalgia and What's Left of the Pier

2008-05-19T18:07:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, while my bride-to-be attended the first stop on her bridal shower tour, I got to go on a little excursion: I had lunch at the Redondo Beach Pier. Years ago, I used to ride my bike from my home in Gardena to the pier--round trip, about 20 miles; but we used to ride up and down the strand as well--and this was back before a good chunk of the Pier burned down. Going back (with my son, my brother, and his two sons) brought back a lot of memories. The good kind. The kind that make you stand and smile, even if the air around you smells like fish and seawater.

Nothing's ever completely as you remember it. The video arcade is gone (aren't they all?), the Fun Factory (a midway of sorts, with rides and games) has become much less vibrant, parts of the beach are no longer accessible, and many of the small businesses have become more . . . commercialized. The street performers aren't there anymore, but most of the fishermen, including the ones who live in the boat slips by the fish markets, are. The markets still have tanks and tanks of crabs and lobsters--all live, all really cool--and a couple of the smaller food places are still there.

When I was in high school, our Humanities class actually did a project right on the beach next to the Pier (we had to create relics for a mock archeological dig, then "bury" them, then dig up another group's project and interpret it--we actually hung ours from the Pier itself). While doing that project, a year before the Pier fire, a couple of joggers went by--one of whom I recognized: Tom Sullivan, the blind entertainer. There's a marathon named for him in that area every year. (I met him several years ago at a book signing event.)

All in all, it was enough to provoke two feelings in me: one, I really enjoyed my teenage years (sure, I had some of the typical teenage angst issues everyone goes through, but I'm pushing forty and I can see past that); two, I could really enjoy living in a beach town (spending a lot of my youth in Redondo, Manhattan, and Hermosa Beaches, I thought it then, too). Even better, I got to show my sixteen year old son around one of my old haunts. I know he'll have his own memories and his own nostalgia--at least, I hope he will--but it was nice to share some of my memories with him.

Really good memories.

Birthdays, Bicycles, and Fire

2008-05-18T21:08:00.000-07:00

If anyone is making a list of this planet's dumbest things, I have one to add: earlier this month, the Olympic Torch, on its way to Beijing, went to the top of Mount Everest. If someone wants to explain to me why anyone thought it was a good idea to take fire to a place on Earth with the lowest oxygen supply, I'm all ears. (In fact, if anyone wants to explain why the Chinese Space Agency spent all kinds of money developing the torches and fuel to keep the thing lit up there I'll listen to that, too.)

I turned 39 last week. A cool birthday: lots of good wishes, lots of people guessing my age wrong, and some cool gifts (including the camera I wanted--thank you, wonderful fiancee). And, of course, a quick mental review of the last 39 years. Quite the highlight reel, and one particular memory came to mind because of the Olympic Torch story.

In the summer of 1984 I found out that the Olympic Torch relay would come within three miles of my house on a Saturday. Being the geek that I am, I got up early, got on my bike, and decided to follow it while it went through my neighborhood. Specifically, I was going to catch up with it at Redondo Beach Boulevard and Gramercy and follow it up RBB to Hawthorne Blvd. It would take all of 45 minutes, tops, and I'd be home before my mom even woke up.

Four hours later, my bike and I were in the Rose Garden outside the L.A. Memorial Coliseum.

It was the coolest ride. When I caught up to the torch, the four or five of us on bikes had to ride behind the police escort, but as the miles went on the number of bikers multiplied (as did the crowds along the streets), and as we left the City of Hawthorne we found ourselves behind the torch's support van and in front of the police cars--we were a part of the parade! Once the torch passed, people were still waving . . . at us! The party broke up once the torch-runner entered the Coliseum's tunnel (the opening ceremonies still wouldn't be for a day or two), and I found myself far from home, very late, and without a clear plan for getting home. I knew where the Coliseum was in relation to my house, but an exact route was beyond my ninth grade knowledge of the city. I found a pay phone, called my mom (not the most pleasant conversation, naturally, but I expected worse), and then began my ride home. (Had I paid any attention to the streets we used to get there, I could have simply retraced my steps. Failing that, it was an hour before I could--and I'm not kidding here--use the sun to make sure I was going the right way.) Around 4pm, I got home. Mom came off red alert, and I had a really cool day.*

As if the Universe is trying to tell me something, I got a mailer the other day--my local bike shop is having a sale next week, with bikes up to 50% off. Since my son now uses what was once my bike, I find myself in need of my own. As I've posted before, I have plenty of things to pay for--the kid's driving lessons, a wedding, a plethora of home imporvement projects--but I'm thinking about it now. After all, how often do I get a 50% off opportunity for something that can give you such cool experiences and memories?

*I've heard my brother tell this story three times, and each time he's had it wrong. If you've ever heard him tell it, let me clear up a few things: I did not get a ride home from my mother (she was WAY too pissed), she DID know where I was going that morning, and I did NOT get home at 11pm.

My Eyes Are Bigger Than My Checkbook

2008-05-05T22:24:00.001-07:00

Fixing a flat bicycle tire is easy. I did it last night, and it took me longer to find a gas station with a working air pump than it did to actually change the inner tube. Picking up the new inner tube at the bike shop was the tough part.

The REALLY tough part.

My son uses what we call "my" bike to go to school each day. One day, his was broken, and in a pinch I let him use mine--and he's used it ever since. I don't really get to ride it much anymore; not because he's used it, but my schedule doesn't allow for it. I've wanted to let him have this bike and get a new one, but I haven't really done any looking around, shopping research, or anything like that. While I was at the bike shop getting the inner tube, I had a quick look around. There were some nice bikes--and decently priced, as bikes go, but still on the expensive side for me. (I did make the mistake of quickly testing the repaired tire out in the street, and it made me want a new one even more. In my youth, I rode my bike a lot. It did wonders for my health and leg muscles, but it also did a lot for my peace of mind. Sixty to one hundred miles a week can do that.)

But I've got a house to fix up, a wedding coming up, a kid who's about to start driving soon, and a car that's beginning to show signs of serious wear.

A new bike can wait.

A Flash of Parenting

2008-05-02T20:36:00.000-07:00

This week I was reminded that I am a parent. I did not receive this message in a heart-to-heart with my son, or from a bad report card grade, or from the boy's mother. This was not a reminder that came upon me gently--this one hit me like a brick to the side of the head.

My son, not even a month into his sixteenth year, experienced a medical problem while at school on Wednesday. Being an administrator at a high school, I know how such matters are supposed to be handled (which is probably why it wasn't handled that way). Although I am the primary contact for my son, the school chose instead to call his mother . . . who lives over 500 miles away. She called me, I called the school, and got into the car. My son was experiencing severe abdominal pain. As I broke only the speed laws I was aware of, then walked (briskly, and faster than the nurse, whom I left in the dust) to his classroom, I thought of two possibilities: appendicitis, or hernia (he has a tendency to overdo it in weight training). I got to the classroom as he was being loaded into the ambulance, and had enough time for only two things--to ask where the pain was (the left side, so the appendix was fine), and to hear him plead through tear streaked eyes, "Help me." The brick hit its mark, and I began to truly feel like a parent . . . utterly and completely helpless.

I beat the ambulance to the emergency room, and once he arrived he did something that hasn't happened in a long time: he reached out for my hand. Again, the brick reminded me that although in my professional life I control quite a bit, and in my personal life I control quite a bit, at this moment I controlled nothing. All I could do was hold his hand.

Many people asked about the pain, and his answers were pretty curt and unrevealing (when in severe pain, he's something of a dick--but he did apologize to the doctor later without my prompting . . . take that, brick). I learned enough from this exchange to know that the pain was too severe for hernia; and although I can't tell anything from looking at a blood sample, his urine looked a little dark for me.

Yep. A kidney stone.

Four Advil, three Tylenol with Codeine, and 36 hours later he peed out one tenth of a grain of sand, which tells me that the thing dissolved while he was managing the pain. Several people--including the ER doctor--tell me that the pain of kidney stones is worse than childbirth, so I don't fault him for his demeanor. I'm just glad he's okay.

He has this theory about his visits to the emergency room. They've occurred at the following ages: 2, 4, 8, and 16. Each visit occurs when his age equals his age at his last visit multiplied by two. If he's right, he won't be back until he's 32.

And if he's wrong, I will be there to hold his hand.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes!

2008-04-19T18:08:00.000-07:00

The next several months of my life will see many changes and transitions . . . some of them by choice, some not, and some simply by way of the calendar.

It was announced at work this week that I will be transferred from my current school to another in the district. It's not a position that's in sync with my personal career goals, so I may take a peek at other positions out there; either way, my work life will be very different.

My fiancee will be moving into my house in June (when it will truly become more of a "home"), and we'll be married in August. Sadly, we'll no longer be working at the same school site; happily, we'll be together for the rest of our lives.

And my son just turned 16, which means that we'll begin the cycles of driving lessons (once the grades improve), more social activities, and a job. God, I'm getting old.

Between friends and family, I know I'll have the support to get through everything. Here's hoping I'll have the strength.

Maybe I'll Feel Better After the Election

2008-04-19T18:02:00.000-07:00

Did my taxes. Seems I've been relying on some deductions in my lifestyle that have . . . expired (alimony, child care, and the like) in the last year or two. As a result, for the first time in quite a while, I owed Federal. I owed Federal a LOT. (Just about broke even on State, though, but got a little back.)

Next year, I'll be married, live in a two-income household, and possibly have a different job. Deductions may be even harder to find, however, and so I believe that next year will be the first year that I send my taxes out to be done.

. . . and World Peace, and a Pony, and . . .

2008-03-30T22:20:00.000-07:00

It's not often people ask me what I want for my birthday. I think it's because over the years I haven't been very good at answering the question. (I mean, let's face it: I'm just not the kind of guy to ask people to give me stuff on the anniversary of an event I had very little to do with. I just showed up and complained a lot.) Nonetheless, I'm being asked the question again--my birthday is in May--and being a person uncomfortable about having a fuss made over me I'm once again having problems answering. I've thought about it a bit, and all I really want is stuff people couldn't give me anyway, like "time" or "the ability to" or other such wishes. I figure if I have to come up with a list, I need to come up with things that I would use for my own enjoyment, and that I might be able to build the selfishness to purchase for myself. So I came up with a few things. Here goes:

The Canon Powershot SD1000 Digital Camera. I LOVE my Canon SLR digital camera, make no mistake. And I love taking pictures. A lot. My problem, however, is that my SLR is a little big to be carrying around all the time. We all have those moments when we say, "Man, I wish I had my camera." I have those moments all the time, especially since I have two blogs, two webpages, and two kids. This camera does everything I need it to, would complement (not replace) my SLR, and is compact enough to carry with me everywhere (allegedly, it's only slightly larger than a pack of Trident gum).
Things to help me write my book. I'm experimenting with a few methods--writing some things in longhand, typing others at the computer, . . . I toyed with the idea of reciting it into a digital voice recorder and transcribing later, since some of my best ideas come out of my mouth while I'm driving and stuff . . . so this is on my list. Nice looking, leather-bound journals (I saw nice ones at Barnes & Noble the other day) would help me write. Lemonade helps me write, too, for some reason, so consider that to be on the list as well.
iTunes Gift Cards. I've been dying to load my iPod with more 80s music, and I've got my eye on quite a bit. I'll get to it eventually, but if people are looking for gift ideas, why not? (Gift cards might seem to some like a cheesy cop-out as far as gifts are concerned, but I've never heard anyone complain about a gift that allows you to shop for yourself.) What's more, you can't ever get enough of these.

The Old Standbys. Hey, people who know me are aware of what I do in my spare time (or, more accurately, what I'd like to do with it).

Like I said, I'm really not very good at this "What do you want for your birthday?" thing. Me, I'm usually pretty good with where I'm at. I've got a great family, wonderful friends, and I'm in a comfortable place in life right now. Just having a 39th birthday, . . . well, that's a big gift in and of itself.

Crowns in My Purse I Have, . . . *

2008-03-29T18:39:00.000-07:00

I'm not one of those people who falls over himself trying to be patriotic, but when the opportunity presents itself I'm all for doing what I can for my country. To that end, I've been trying these last several weeks to do something that's good for our country's economy--heaven knows we need to do something. The problem, however, is that I'm trying to save money at the government level, not my own . . . and no one else seems to want to do that. Let me show you:

The dollar coin--whether we're talking about the new presidential series, the Sacagawea coin, or the Susan B. Anthony dollar--has, quite simply, no downside. Here are the three reasons why I encourage everyone to use the dollar coins:

The cost to produce a dollar bill is 3.8 cents, and each bill lasts about a year and a half; production cost for the dollar coin is about 8 cents, and it lasts about 30 years. You can do the math any way you want, but we're looking at a cost savings of $120 to $180 million annually.

Coins are harder to counterfeit than paper bills. When you think of all the time, materials, and manpower that goes into investigating counterfeit currency--not to mention all that goes into checking for counterfeit cash at the retail level--then the coin creates even more cost savings.

Instead of complaining (as some seem to be doing) that the coins are "inconvenient" at the $1 level, people might realize that this is a prime opportunity for the marketing firms in this country. By making the dollar coin mainstream we open up a whole new market in coin purses and holders and belt clips and whatever else we may need to MAKE these coins easier to use. They can sell us all kinds of things to make the dollar coin easy to use. Yay, economy.

So you see, I'm trying to do my part. At this point, it means going to the bank every week or so and turning in my dollar bills for coins, and using them. More people need to do this. It's simple, and it'll work.

* From Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew. See? Dollar coins have worked before . . .

The Gift She Didn't Know She Gave

2008-03-06T22:59:00.000-08:00

Different things have different meaning to people, so there are rare occasions when someone gets rid of something and has NO IDEA just how meaningful it is to the person who ends up with it. That happened in my office this morning and, fortunately for me, I was on the receiving end.

My fiancee walked into my office and gave me an opened box of candy. "I don't need these," she said, "so you take them." People do this all the time, get rid of something that they don't want joining them on a scale at some point. No big deal. The world keeps spinning.

For me, though, it stopped for about three minutes while I once again got my nostalgia fix. She could have handed me a box of any one of dozens of candies--but she gave me Jujubes. These were my father's favorite candy. These little multicolored lumps will be forever burned into my memory in a small, 1/2 cup sized Tupperware container on the endtable next to my father's reading chair. He was the only person I ever knew who ate them regularly (hey, they're fat free), and I've only ever really associated them with him. If I asked nicely, I even got a few.

. . . like gems in a treasure chest of long ago.

Now I have a whole box--well, half a box. I ate some.

What Wedding Invitation Graphic Are You?

2008-02-26T20:14:00.000-08:00

My fiancee and I spent some time today with the wedding invitation person, and after dancing around cost issues and such, we finally decided upon something that wasn't as expensive as it could have been, was a little more expensive than we wanted it to be, and was exactly what we wanted.

At one point, we were looking over samples looking for a graphic to offset the type. (There are a LOT of leaves, seashells, and flowers in there.) Being a minimalist, I was looking for a simple, nondescript shape--something like the airholes in a violin. (I had actually created a little logo for all my handouts back when I was teaching. It never caught on, but I liked the idea of a "corporate logo" on my work.) Later in the evening, I thought of something really cool from an 80s movie that might have worked.

Something I noticed about John Hughes films (back in the greatest decade that ever was) was in the marketing campaigns--specifically, the movie posters. I don't know if Hughes himself had anything to do with it, but three of his movies--three of my favorites--had little stylized logos. "The Breakfast Club", for example:

"TBC," for the title of the movie. What its meaning or purpose is I don't know; it didn;t appear in the movie's titles or anything. It was just a symbol, a "movie rune," if you will. There's one on the poster for "Ferris Bueller's Day Off", as well:
(The logo in the corner is, again, the acronym for the title.) I wish that one was more clear, but you get the idea. I can't seem to find a hi-res photo of the movie poster for "Some Kind of Wonderful" anywhere, but if you ever come across one look here:

The acronym logo again. Like I said, it's just a little symbolic accent. And it's just such an accent that made me think of John Hughes movies while I was looking for a graphic for the wedding invitations. One other Hughes film* had one, this time much more prominent in the poster:

Man, Woman, Birth, Death, Infinity. (But the little swirl we chose for the invitations looks good, too.)

* This symbolic line is from the ad campaign for "She's Having A Baby"--my fiancee isn't, so don't read anything into it.

Thinking Outside The Ballot Box

2008-02-26T20:06:00.000-08:00

Want to end terrorism? Have a strong stance on gun control? Believe that one man can make a difference? We may have a solution . . .

Yippee Kay Yay, America!

Literary Liftoff!

2008-02-25T23:20:00.000-08:00

After putting my son to bed tonight, I sat down and started writing. I actually started writing. I've been warned off treating this like some sort of pivitol moment in human history (even though it feels like exactly that), so I'll be brief. It's only four and a half handwritten pages--I'm doing this old school for now--but it's the biggest step I've taken yet. It's going the way I want it to, the flow of the story, I mean. Some of the actual writing is crap, and it doesn't really read like me, but I can go back and edit that later. For now, I'm going to keep going, little by little, until I have the flow of the story down pat. I'll go back and fix the language later.

But it's started, so I'm happy.

This Is Your Brain At 7000 RPM . . .

2008-02-23T22:28:00.000-08:00

I had this weird thing happen tonight, and it was mentally exhausting. I've been trying to get started on this book I want to write--a fiction piece--and I just haven't found the time to go through the process (which is to write and write and write and whittle thousands of words of crap into a coherent paragraph, then do it all over again). It's a task I keep dancing around but never seem to land on.

Tonight my brain used its down time to land on a completely different idea. I didn't give it much serious consideration until, about five minutes later, I had a brilliant setup for another book. For years now, people close to me (who have heard stories of the weird path that has been my life for almost 40 years) have suggested that I write my autobiography. Me, I don't think it's nearly interesting enough to sustain a reader's interest--though to be fair, I suppose a lot of that would depend on how it was written. Over the following 30 minutes, I developed the idea to the point where it had successfully jumped three hurdles: it would act as an autobiography, it would be written in first person (something I've been struggling with about the other book), and it would be presented as a fiction piece. It got to the point where I was writing it out loud with no end in sight. In the end, I had to seriously change gears, get something to eat, and turn on the TV in an attempt to shut my brain up. Creative overload can sometimes be a bad thing--it felt bad, anyway--but the results were nice.

So now I've got this decision to make: do I (a) shelve this for later and stick to my first novel idea, (b) shelve my original brainchild and try my hand at this, or (c) keep dancing around both ideas and never get a word down on paper?

Ugh.

Roses are Red, So Are All The Rocks . . .

2008-02-22T22:16:00.000-08:00

Want to do it right? Turn Valentine's Day into a week-long vacation and leave the state.

My fiancee and I did exactly that last week: we took the week-long school vacation and went to Sedona, Arizona (thanks to a gift from her aunt--use of her timeshare). It's the first major vacation we've taken together, it's the first vacation I've had in a very long time, and it was a vacation without either of the kids.*

Sedona is something of a tourist trap, but it's peaceful. Lots of restaurants, LOTS of art galleries, and some of the most beautiful red landscape I've ever seen. We spent time reading, catching up on season three of "Slings & Arrows," and going for little five-mile hikes. (I had planned to do some writing as well, but I couldn't get into the mindset for it--again.) It was a wonderful vacation, the first of what I hope will be many. You'll pardon me if I bring out a minature version of my slideshow.

This is Bell Rock. Obviously, it looks like a bell--but the round parts on each side quickly earned it the nickname "Muffin Mountain" from my fiancee and me. We walked around it on one of our hikes, shot a lot of pictures, and got our shoes dusty. Should anyone in the Arizona State Park Service ask, our initials are not written on this rock--that was done by two people with the same initials as us. Honest.

Courthouse Butte sits next to Bell Rock, and we actually walked around both of them on that first hike. (My fiancee got very tired of me referring to this as Ming's Palace, even though it looked like a very forbidding evil fortress.) You probably can't tell from the photo, but this thing is huge. And beautiful.

There's a chapel here--the Chapel of the Holy Cross--that's built right into the rock formation. Not a big place, but very elegant and serene. (No, this isn't a postcard--I took this picture.)

In the rock formation right behind the chapel is a bit that look's like an eagle's head. Nature has its way of being cool.

We also visited the nearby town of Jerome, which is an old mining town. Quite a few shops, lots of old buildings, and a "ghost town" which is really little more than a junkyard with an admission fee. The best part of that excursion, to be honest, was the Douglas House, a mansion of yesteryear converted into a museum of the town's mining history. (I like museums.) The relics of the town were fascinating, and I learned some stuff about rocks.

5.09 grams/centimeter³ -- The Bornite Density.

The art galleries were really eclectic and diverse. This gallery had all kinds of sculpture, including the Shiny Horse. Another had all kinds of stuff made of glass, some of which reminded us a lot of Chihuly's work.

All this natural beauty . . . and this dude's taking my picture. Go figure.

It was a great vacation: peace and quiet, no work (no Internet at all, in fact, for a full week), some beautiful country, and a beautiful companion. I could get used to traveling after we get married.

* My fifteen-year-old son stayed with his best friend and their family, with tons and tons of my gratitude. He seemed to keep everything together, checked on the house, kept the dog and the snake alive and happy, and managed to sneak away once to visit his she's-not-being-called-that-but-she-is-the girlfriend--certainly the subject of some future blog post.

I Feel For The Inauguration Planners

2008-02-14T21:53:00.000-08:00

And the Wedding plans continue . . .

We did our Engagement "Photo Shoot" and got the pictures back (proofs via an online gallery). The photographer we're using--Luminaire Images--is truly remarkable. My fiancee and I are two people who don't think we look all that good in photos, so we were pleasantly surprised to see how good they came out. We'll be using one shot for wallet-sized invitation inserts, another for a display photo at the wedding, and another for an 11x14 canvas print (we had the option to use the display photo as a "sign the matte around the picture" thing, but I think we're going to use a traditional guestbook instead). So, photographer: check.

Now we're dealing with invitations, which is really more or a headache than I thought it would be. Style-wise, we're somewhat limited by budget. Budget-wise, we're just limited. The most recent estimate came in at almost $10.00 per invitation (we need something like 50), and made us take a very serious look at Evite. We looked online at some of the order-on-the-Internet stuff, and saw some nice invitation styles, but nothing that made us drool all over the keyboard. So, invitations: pending.

Missing: The Kid I've Been Raising

2008-02-10T21:48:00.000-08:00

Once the new school semester started, my son went missing. Since the beginning of February I've instead been living with a kid who is no longer flunking History (he received a B on his first big test of the Spring semester), who is doing better in Math (one of the only few As on the first test), and is paying more attention to note-taking and the like (for now, anyway). This new young man is eating less than the last one did, by almost half. And this new kid seems to be spending more time with friends (male and female) and less with his TV.

So if you happen to know the whereabouts of his room's previous tenant, well . . . just make sure someone takes good care of him. I'm gonna hang on to this new kid for as long as possible.

Patient Presents with Wayfarers and Black Eyeliner

2008-02-05T23:28:00.000-08:00

I've had a truly weird experience this evening.

It wasn't an easy day at work, and I've got a "thing" going on between me and my son (my fiancee is involved as well) that isn't going so well, either. After everything quieted down, I spent some time unwinding on the computer. This includes the weekly download of free songs on iTunes. I also peruse the available music, though I don't have the funds to purchase everything I want (why can't students give iTunes cards at Christmas instead of Starbucks cards?).

And it's usually the 80s songs I look at. It's the music I grew up with, the music that represents the fond memories I have of my childhood. No matter what I went through back then--and some of it was pretty bad--I've always looked back with a strong fondness for those times. Working with students, I've come to two conclusions: (a) many of these kids don't know how good they have it, being young; (b) I look back knowing full well how good I had it, and how fun it was. There was a time when I believed that going to heaven meant spending eternity reliving my junior high school years; I don't believe that anymore, since doing so would mean going without my kids, my fiancee, and all the good things that have come since then. If anything, my hope is that heaven is an amalgam of all these things.

But tonight was weird. I found three 80s songs by different artists, each of which were staples on the radio, constants at school dances and house parties, and which more or less defined that decade for me. (They, with other songs, are, quite simply, the soundtrack of my teenhood.) I listened to these three songs (the preview bits, anyway) and they carried with them memories of the past. Images, people, conversations, fashions, and experiences began to wash over me at a pace over which I had no control, forcing themselves into my consciousness. It affected me physically. For several minutes, I was actually nauseous. The memories were that strong.

It is possible, apparently, to overdose on nostalgia.

Percy Lives!

2008-02-04T22:08:00.000-08:00

In my life, the "things" usually only break for me. My iPod crashed during a software upload, and I couldn't get it started again. ("Hold down the Select and Menu buttons at the same time," various websites said. Nothing.) So my son and I go to the "Genius Bar" at the Apple Store, and while we're waiting for the next available PhD in Music Player Mechanics, we see various things on the plasma screens on the wall, including the Select/Menu button trick. My son asked me if I'd tried that, and I explained that it didn't do anything for me. "See?" I asked, and demonstrated by holding down the two buttons.

At which point, naturally, Percy wakes up.

I explained everything to the Genius (a very cool guy named Steve), and he explained that software hiccups aren't unusual, but aren't frequent or fatal. He went ahead and restored the iPod anyway, just to be safe. I took it home, synced it to my iTunes, and all is right with the world.*

*There is still something of a little glitch--when the iPod goes unplayed for five minutes it emits this terrible (but not terribly loud) white noise. I'm not going to make a big deal of it, since it's really not that big of a deal.

NOT The First Time I've Been Kicked Out Of A Bar, However

2008-01-30T20:19:00.000-08:00

My latest saga is a bit drawn out. I'm gonna hit the highlights here (I can always address details based on comments) and you'll get the gist of what I'm going through.

My iPod got stolen. I was at work on a Saturday and someone boosted it from the dock on my desk. The feeling of violation was bad enough (one friend of mine compared it to "stealing the jewel from the eye of the holy statue from the middle of the temple," which I thought was cool), but I liked my little digital-bundle-of-80s-goodness. That, and the iPods went through another overhaul--you can't get the 30-gig classic anymore, and I don't have enough music--let alone data on my entire computer, to fill an 80-gig iPod.

So I went out and got an 80-gig iPod classic. Easy enough. The Apple Store even e-mails your receipt. I hooked it up, loaded everything, and was back to normal. (I don't take it to work anymore, though.) All was going fine with "Percy" (my fiancee named him--I don't know why, exactly, but she did, and it's cute)--then it was Apple that screwed me.

Every so often Apple updates its software and asks you to install the updates. I've read Internet horror stories about how these updates threaten your digital life, but I've never really had a problem with them (I won't do them every time, but I'll do the major ones). So my new iPod already had a software update available. I dowloaded it, and I installed it. Then Percy had to disconnect and reconnect for the changes to take effect (it was supposed to take about 20 seconds). Percy disconnected.

And that's the last we've heard of Percy. Percy's been in a coma since late last night. I did a bit of eResearch and discovered that if you hold two of the buttons down long enough, the thing resets and wakes back up, so I hooked him back into the computer and held the buttons down, as instructed. I got this:

I'm still following Apple's advice (what choice do I have, really?) and I took Percy in to the Apple Store for a checkup (and a cure). They have a service desk called the "Genius Bar"--the most pretentious name in the history of the world, as far as I'm concerned, for a service desk comprised of twelve-year-old computer geeks--and Apple's website said that I should go there since the iPod was still under warranty (after four days, it damn well better be). AND THEY TURNED ME AWAY because I didn't have an appointment. (And I thought the name was pretentious.) Seven stools, three "geniuses" and only two customers, but I needed an appointment.

Percy's going back in on Friday afternoon. I'll keep you posted.

Let There Be Wattage!

2008-01-28T22:10:00.000-08:00

I've lived in this house for ten years now, and I'm convinced that it was built after electricity was discovered but before it became popular.

This house has plenty of outlets, and switches on the walls, . . . but the switches control some of the outlets, and there's NO OVERHEAD LIGHTING in any of the major rooms (bedrooms, living room, dining room). I grew up in a house where the light was in the center of the ceiling, not on a stand halfway across a dark room; but I've lived with that, and adapted to it, and everything was fine.

Then I tried to make toast.

Electrical wiring is every bit as complicated as the schematic drawings make it look. There are several circuits throughout the house, and certain things are wired to certain circuits. Presumably some thought goes into what should be on the same circuit so that no one circuit has to carry too big a load and trip the breaker. WARNING: if your microwave is running, and plugged into the same circuit as the toaster, the entire house will die when one or the other machine finishes its cycle. After doing this for a while, I finally broke down and called an electrician.

Now anyone who reads this blog knows that I'm not an idiot when it comes to do-it-yourself remodeling. I've learned quite a bit, and learn more each time I do something. The only thing I won't do myself, however, is electricity because the risks are too high. Screw up painting, and it looks like crap; screw up carpentry, and things might break; screw up plumbing, and it's an expensive mess; but screw up electricity, and you die. So I don't do electrical. (I'd like to thank the fine four-man team from Archilectric for coming out for eleven straight hours in one day to get the whole job done in a single shot.)

I now have wiring set up for ceiling fans in the bedrooms (I'll go shopping for them this weekend), I have recessed lighting in the living room and library (on dimmers!), and I have switches connected to ceiling fixtures and all the outlets are constant.

And the microwave is on its own circuit now, so toast is back on the menu.

Eyebrows: The Final Frontier

2008-01-26T17:35:00.001-08:00

I didn't start shaving my head because I was getting grey hair, but I have some. Over time I've watched my hair turn grey in my beard, on my head, on my chest, and even in my nose (slightly gross, but true).

Today I found some in my eyebrows, the only place left that had no grey hair. Will there ever come a day, I wonder, when I wake up and don't recognize my face?

SPLAT!

2008-01-15T21:25:00.000-08:00

Surprisingly, paintballs don't make the sound you think they would.

When it comes to my children, my life is governed by the laws of diametric opposition: one is a girl, the other a boy; one is olive-skinned, the other is fair; one lives in Northern California, the other in Southern California; one gets high marks in school, the other is . . . very witty. This year for the holidays, my daughter's big gift was a trip to a major musical production; my son, on the other hand, got a paintball gun and the supplies that go with it (much of it, of course, was protective wear). And so, just as I took her to the theater, I went with him to Camp Pendleton's paintball park. I, who have never fired a gun in my life that actually shoots anything (laser tag, apparently, doesn't prepare you for this), spent the day paintballing with teenagers and off-duty Marines.

Some observations: compressed air can shoot a little ball of paint pretty far; aim is irrelevant when you're using a rented paintball gun; shooting a twelve-year-old in the face was surprisingly therapeutic; it helps to have some sort of military mindset for group attack, but you lack the sophisticated communication devices so you're reduced to yelling; I have a renewed awe for combat soldiers, simply because it's harder than you'd think to reload a gun on a battlefield; paintballs aren't filled with latex paint, but with some watery, gooey paint that breaks down into a sticky mess; raising your hands in the air does mean that you're out, but it doesn't mean they'll stop shooting at you; paintballs are expensive, and you go through them pretty quickly; trendy protective gear can make any nerd look like a badass; and finally, I need to join a gym or something to get in better shape.

In the end, I walked away without serious injury. I was shot in the hand a few times, but I couldn't feel it because I had already scraped it up pretty badly (I tried to run--too fast, it turned out--to a bunker and ended up falling on my face, knee, and hand). I got shot once in the chest (no bruise), once in the back (a serious bruise), and once right between the eyes. Thank God for the goggles, although a piece of shattered paintball casing managed to fly in the air vent and scratch my nose. What I didn't count on was how out of shape I was: for three days now, my thighs have burned with a pain I haven't known in a long time. I was prepared to get shot, but it never occured to me that I would be running around all day long (I looked somewhat foolish on the stairs at home). I'm not old (my son will not allow me anymore to call myself "old"), but I'm clearly not 25 anymore.

No, "SPLAT!" isn't the sound a paintball makes. It makes the sound of sons and fathers laughing together; it sounds like friends and family experiencing new things together; it is the sound of memories being made.

Frighteningly--and Literally--Close To Home

2008-01-07T20:49:00.000-08:00

If the movie's based on a book, and I like the movie, chances are I'll read the book. Such was the case with I Am Legend, Richard Matheson's novel about a lone survivor of a plague that turns everyone else into vampires. I don't know if the recent film, starring Will Smith, has made the novel popular again, but I was surprised to learn the other things the author's written. That "Twilight Zone" episode where William Shatner freaks out on the plane? He wrote that. Spielberg's first movie, "Duel"? That's his. The "Star Trek" episode where Kirk gets split into good and evil halves? Matheson. "Jaws 3D", too. The list goes on an on. He's a major influence in horror and sci-fi writing, it turns out. So I'm reading the book.

And I'm completely freaked out for reasons OTHER than vampires.

The film, if you've seen it, is about an army doctor who survives this big plague and is alone in a now-desolate New York City, trying to find a cure for a virus he helped create. The book, however, is about some ordinary schmo who is trying to figure out the virus (if it even is one) while trying to survive from the attacks of his now-undead friends and neighbors. And the book, unlike the movie, doesn't take place in New York City.

This book takes place in my hometown.

I grew up in Gardena, California, a little-known, drive-through-it-in-five-minutes suburb of Los Angeles. The house that the main character lives in is half a mile from the house I grew up in (and where my mother still lives). Growing up, I had two friends who lived on that very street. Matheson refers to streets and neighborhoods I'm familiar with, which helps me connect with the book even more.

And I LOVE connecting to books.

2008 -- A Year of Great Improvement

2008-01-01T15:31:00.000-08:00

I'm not the kind of person that makes resolutions for the new year. My life--lately, anyway--has been all about making incremental, positive changes. Thinking about the year ahead, as most people tend to do in early January, has brought several things to mind. In the final analysis, I'm not making resolutions, per se, but I am strengthening my resolve to do certain tasks with more follow-through (something I've been criticized for by many people in the past decade). I'm blogging about this more for my own benefit than that of my readership, but what blog isn't, really?

Here's what some of 2008 will look like for me:

--We're going to get this wedding planned without any of that get-it-done-at-the-last-minute stuff I've become so good at. There's a set list of things to accomplish, and there's no reason why it can't get planned ahead of time.

--I'm going to fix up this house. It took me over a year to simply finish plastering and painting the ceiling in the living room, and I'll be kicking myself for a very long time about my procrastination (I got it done in two days, by the way). I'll do a little each week--it won't seem like much at the time, but it will be steadily done, not done in small bursts in between long periods of inaction.

--I'm going to get my book written the same way. on Christmas Eve my fiancee and I had very productive conversation about the ten pages I'd completed not long ago, and we've decided that the book should take a different path. The story will, in my opinion, be harder to structure; it will be easier to tell, however, and therefore the writing should come easier. Fondue restaurants are really cool, by the way.

--Professionally, I'm not sure what will happen. Something has to happen, though, because I'm in something of a professional rut right now (and not because I'm on Winter Break). I need to keep this job for several more years--at my current school, or somewhere else--more for financial reasons than anything else. As far as fulfillment goes, however, I fear I may have peaked . . . or perhaps I've become too frustrated with the current system to become innovative . . . in any event, I've got to figure out what's missing and fix it.

--Finally, there's my family. I'm going to call my mother more often (again with the procrastination problem--I've made this statement before), and I'm going to welcome my fiancee (in August, my wife) into the house. There are no problems there, and it's an adjustment I'm not only looking forward to but I'm thinking will be good for me in several ways. Then there's my son, for whom the coming year will bring grade improvement, the whole driving thing, and (hopefully) gainful employment as soon as child labor laws will allow. Challenges all, but ones I hope to work with him on rather than fight with him about.

For the schedule-related stuff, I'd like to thank the kind people at HassleMe, who will be sending me reminder e-mails; for my house renovation, I know that Home Depot won't let me down; for the motivation stuff, my fiancee is my rock, my muse, and (occasionally) the cattle prod I so desperately need. As for my son, well . . . he can and will rise to the occasion, and I will lead by example.

Bring on 2008.

WICKED!

2007-12-31T15:25:00.000-08:00

My kids receive several holiday presents from me each year, and in the tradition of my family the last present is always a big finale. This year, however, the "finale gift" for my daughter had to come first (scheduling required that, this year), and only a few hours after she got off the plane. She's read the book, Wicked, and fell in love with the hoopla that surrounds it, the music, even the color scheme. But no daughter of mine was going to have a thing for it without seeing the musical itself, so we got back from the airport, changed clothes, and headed to the Pantages Theater in Hollywood.

This was her first trip to a musical, or a large stage production of any sort. That, in and of itself, was special for me (and, hopefully, for her). I've become quite a fan of going to musicals and plays in the last few years, and my hope is to include my kids in some of these excursions (but not all of them--I don't want to pierce the bubble of magic such outings have become for my fiancee and me). It's my duty, I'm sure, to pass on a love of the arts to my children. In fact, I made a point of taking my daughter to the front of the theater before the show started to give her a close-up look at the stage, the set, and the orchestra booth. (In an age where so much is technology-driven, I wanted her to see that the music is, in fact, played live at these events.)

She had a wonderful time--we both did, and in retrospect I believe that part of this gift was the time we spent together. Again, something I'd like to do more. As the kids get older, there are more and more things that we can do together as adults, and I'm very much looking forward to that.

Note To Son: Spielberg Does It Differently

2007-12-19T22:58:00.000-08:00

My son had a video project due for his weightlifting class today.* His group didn't really put it off, but they had some technical problems that could have easily been avoided (dead camera batteries, bad scheduling timing--that kind of thing). Long story short, the three of them were filming in my garage at 6:30 this morning, one full hour before the project was due. (They even had a groupie looking on--the girl my son once had an interest in some time ago--remember her? She showed up and was just hanging around, watching.) By 7:00 my son was at his computer, downloading clips and cutting the movie together. Thank God he spent part of last night getting the sound clips and most of the title graphics done. He started burning at 7:20, and fifteen minutes later we were in the car. He was 20 minutes late to school; I was 45 minutes late to work, the project got turned in, and it wasn't half bad (pretty good, actually, for a kid who's only been tooling around with Windows Moviemaker for a week or so.

I didn't get on his case about it--we've all been there, I guess. As long as he doesn't make a habit of this sort of thing (and perhaps learns how to avoid certain such problems in the future), I don't see the need to browbeat him. In fact, he handled the pressure pretty well, all things considered.

*Although I work in education, and like the idea of a video project, the concept baffles me. Sure, we live in a technological society, but not all households have video cameras or video editing savvy, so making a video project a requirement seems a little cruel to me, in a way. Making a video project a requirement in a weightlifting class, that's a whole other bucket of weird.

Haunted By Time . . .

2007-12-16T22:40:00.000-08:00

Among the many weird things that happen to me, looking at the clock is often one of them. No matter where I am, or what I'm doing, I always seem to look at a digital clock when the time is exactly 10:40. It doesn't matter if it's AM or PM--I'll manage to look, see it, and feel a sense of remembrance and, at the same time, a cold shiver. 10:40 seems to haunt me (not in an entirely bad way). Think about it for a moment: what forces in the universe have to be working to get me, several times a week, to see that particular minute? It only happens twice a day, it only happens fourteen times a week--and I manage to catch about half of that.

When my father died (25 years ago today), I was only thirteen years old. I was bitter about it--the reasons aren't important--and it took me years to finally accept the situation for what it was and move on. He had been ill for about two years, and he spent roughly eight months at UCLA Medical Center. The last thing he said (well, spelled out) to me was "I am very proud of you." Although I didn't realize at the time that these were his final words to me, I have recalled them often. I can remember with great clarity the period of his illness as well as the years prior. I can remember UCLA Medical Center and its layout (at the time) in great detail, and I can close my eyes and picture his hospital room. His room number?

1040. Weird.