Sunday, November 28, 2010

The Clock Goes "Tick, Tock"


In both literature and in society, the stories of people being driven mad by the ticking of a clock are nothing short of numerous. This weekend, my mother asked for my assistance in finding a replacement clock for her mother (my grandmother), and her insistence on it being absent of any "tick" caused me to ponder. It seems people are annoyed by the sound of the mechanical repetitiveness of these machines and they can't help but constantly characterize it as "inescapable". Once again, it seems I fall outside the norms of our society as I embrace the other side of that coin. I actually enjoy the ticking of a clock.

That, right there, may throw some for a spin, but there is something about such a rhythmic repetition that feels peaceful to me. As I sit back and reflect on what exactly sparks such an attraction, I am first reminded of my fascination with functional mechanics. Sure, there are plenty of people that share this strong interest in the "way things work", but there are a few of us who have, often discreetly, absorbed it into to the very essence of our identity. For years, I felt it would be my true calling, and I pursued several semesters of university-level coursework in the Mechanical Engineering field. Though, due to lifestyle choices, I have parted ways from that venture, I still maintain a strong interest. As far as clocks are concerned, I remain in awe of how technology of such exactness could date back so many centuries. There is an almost unmatched level of precision causing these machines to not just synchronize within themselves but with millions across the planet. Every tick is a reminder and a testament to the work of thousands of craftsmen, united in a trade that allows people to unite at an exact time and location, even though the majority of them seem to spend their existence in the concentrated solitude of their labors. That tick is their Sistine Chapel, and it's an under-appreciated masterpiece that is often unnoticed in the lives of millions across centuries.

Then, somewhat thanks to a semester-long exploration of William Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury, I find myself attempting to examine the significance of time from my own perspective. That's what that ticking is, the passing of time, marked by the soothing tick of its motion. To a degree, I have adopted the mentality of Mr. Compson. Though his son, Quentin seemed obsessed with the inverse, Mr. Compson attempts to reassure him that time is the healer of wounds. I could talk about that amazing piece of literature for ages, but, for now, I'll just throw that little tidbit out there and continue. I feel soothed by the sounds of a clock as they are the auditory reminder that, no matter what good or ill transpires, time continues, unaffected. I can't think of a single person of whom that could be said. Time is the one thing that seems not to be affected by anything. Though it's coming from a theoretical place, it's beyond perseverance, and I think it's admirable. I embrace that tick because it reminds me that I am able to distance myself, measurably, from any harm in my past, that I am always moving forward, and that I am able to grow closer to the immeasurable opportunities in my future. 

Some may call me an odd duck (and, yes, I do even find some joy in their quack), but I have been known to sometimes sleep with an ticking clock close to my head. Some may feel it traps you into a constant awareness of time, unable to break free, I just can't help but find tranquility in the way the clock goes "tick, tock."

My Car Is My Baby


I would need quite a few hands to count all the times I've heard people refer to one their prized possessions as their "baby", and I can't say that I'm not guilty of it. I've definitely let those words slip more often than I would like to admit, but, when I refer to my car as such, I think it holds more ground. At this point in my life, my car is my largest responsibility (other than myself, of course). I do what I think is in its best interest, trying to make the best choices, and I'm proud of it. If that isn't already starting to sound like a child, let me try to explore that concept in a somewhat more detailed manner.

The first thing that pops into my head is what I was trying to capture in that first image (above). When my baby gets dirty, I give it a bath. I make sure to get all the food out of its teeth when I scrub all the bugs out of the grill and intake. I wash its feet when I scrub the rims. I even make sure it smells okay. When its all clean and presentable, I show it off to everyone from friends to strangers who see us cruising along. It reflects its daddy's personality and lifestyle, and I'm very proud of it. 


Sometimes, I get a feeling something is bothering my baby, but it can't talk. Usually, the gauges tell me it's just hungry and I fill it up with gas. Other times, the problem is more complicated, and I have to take it to a doctor to help me figure out what's wrong and maybe prescribe something to help make it feel better. It could be a simple sound or the way it moves, but I feel like a bad parent when things get to the point of such strong signals. I feel embarrassed, like a parent who may have unintentionally neglected some part of their baby's well-being. We get it up on the table (above), and the doctor starts to take a look. Meanwhile, I sit there and wait anxiously for the diagnosis. Usually, it just needs a little booster shot, and we top off or change all the fluids. It could also just be that my car is grumpy because it needs a diaper change, and we throw in some new filters. It could also be that my little baby feels it's losing its competitive edge against the other kids on the road, and we get it some nice new track shoes, tires if you will. When things are all said and done, we get it off the examination table, pay the bill, and we have a fun tendency to go out to eat after. Then, we go home and begin ignoring anything was ever wrong. We move on.


Another type of situation, that I tried to capture in the last image (above) , is when my baby gets physically injured. When it gets in a fight with another car or just a random object, and it shows signs of physical damage, my heart skips a beat. It's a tense moment because it feels like we are more than just connected. It's part of me, and we share our pain. When it gets hurt to that point, we go see a surgeon and get all patched up while we take a break from physical labor. I find some other means to get around while I wait patiently for my baby to heal. When I end up in the hospital, my loyal little car doesn't find someone else to care for it. It waits patiently at home, hoping for me to get better so we can get back on with our little lives. We are joined at the hip.


There are times, though, when my baby makes me so happy that my love just can't be held back. It can surprise me, and that's the great thing about kids. Yesterday, we fed it a full tank of gas in San Jose, and we didn't have to eat again until we got to the closest gas station to our house in Riverside. It was exactly 400 miles, and my excitement had been building since we passed the 350 mile mark. We had never gone over 360 miles without having to have a little snack, but I guess my baby is growing up. It's been practicing and we got all the way to 400 before the hunger light (fuel indicator shown above) lit up. I was ecstatic. I don't know how, but my baby had done something bigger and more amazing than I thought it could. I hadn't given it enough credit, and I'm not lying when I share that I immediately gave it a hug (around the steering wheel since that's the closest and most huggable part to me when I pull to a stop). It was almost primal, and I didn't expect it either. I couldn't hide my joy, and I definitely felt like a dork. I guess that happens to parents too.

So, my baby may be a little embarrassed of me sometimes, but I always want what's best for it. That's a new game we are both learning over the years. We get to make a few mistakes, and we have to work through them, but, as we look back, we focus on the positive, the fun. In the end, it says a lot about me, and I can't lie and say I don't talk about it more than some parents. It's always there for me, and I don't want to think about how sad I'll be when it has to move on, to a new owner or, worse, car heaven (the scrapyard). I don't want to start dealing with that right now, and I hope I never have to see it happen. It's a touch of Swedish rice, and some may judge us, but my car is my baby!

Friday, November 26, 2010

Rewards For Facing Your Fears


Today, after almost two months away from my old job and any social issues and concerns I might have had surrounding it, I found myself walking back through those doors, as a customer. When I arrived, more people than I could ever have expected to see had the place locked down, but that may have been due to my visit coinciding with Black Friday. It may be common to all small stores and pro shops with a solid base of repeat customers, but I cannot think of a single customer  who ever missed showing their face at the shop on Black Friday. That may have been due to the deals or due to having the day off to shop, but anyone even remotely involved in the hobby seemed to stop by. So, to put it simply, though I was overwhelmed by the large presence, I can't say I was completely surprised. Whether or not it was a pleasing presence is a query of which both sides I am still attempting to quantify. So, I figured I might as well continue that quantification in a textual manner, a blog post for the laymen who might choose to read this.

When I walked in, it seems I had to walk through somewhat of a wall of the people I would have preferred never to see again. They made up the "front line" of sorts, but my preference in reaction became evidently clear. I was not going to let them have any power in determining in guiding my actions, or at least not let them think so. So, when they greeted me, attempting to act as if no harm had been committed, I reacted in a reserved but nonchalant manner. I believe in giving everyone the benefit of the doubt, whether I choose to like them or not, and this instance would be no different. I allowed them to think that things had been swept under the rug and that I held no ill-feeling or ill-intent towards them. That is, mostly, a truthful statement. I honestly don't harbor any such feelings towards them, but that does not mean I would ever let them get close to me. Though they have been a major source of pain in my life, they taught me a few things, if unintentionally. Thanks to them, I have learned to pay a little more attention to how vulnerable I allow myself to be. That's saying two things, I guess. Though I have not chosen to block others out, I have made a choice to be more careful about who I chose to give that opportunity to get close to me, to get to know about my weaknesses and not just my strengths, the parts of my identity that, though sometimes embarrassing, make me who I am. The second part of that statement is that I have also chosen to rethink how quickly I attach the term "friend" to those in my life. I had to rethink what it meant and what qualifications it held. I guess you could call it selective and somewhat self-involved, but I've come to realize I would have felt a lot less emotional pain if I had more clearly outlined how much importance these people should have held to me. Though I will try to withhold specifics, I will try to share enough to convey my message. I basically had allowed myself to drop into a sadder place than I choose to call home because I felt I had been crossed and abandoned by some very dear friends, but, as I reflected on it, I started to think about what a true friend was and how they would have acted. Since I determined that the actions of these people did not fall within the bounds of how a friend would have reacted, I told myself that I should not have tried to squeeze them into that category. Once I made that decision, I started to feel a lot better about things. I realized that I had placed too much importance on their opinion and should have drawn more on people that showed more compassion towards me, or at least just given less credit to these people. Though they wanted to hug me and push things away now, their previous actions left me anxious, to say the least, and definitely reserved, but I like people to feel content with themselves and at peace, even if their actions have left me far from such a feeling.

After that, I walked in and was greeted, literally, with open arms by the crowd of customers in the store. I believe I can count seven gentlemen between the ages of thirty and fifty who went right in for a hug. Though they had always shown their appreciation for me, these men, who I believed to be somewhat old-fashioned in their machismo, had, to my knowledge, never shaken my hand. I come back after two months, on their side of the counter, and I get a hurricane of kind words and hugs. Though I was stressed to be there in the first place, I never felt more welcome. It was almost tough to get to the counter to take care of the one "item of business" that I had given myself as a motive to return to the old dojo, the old "home of the Sizzle" as I once called it.

So, I walked up to the counter, shook hands with the staff, only a couple of which I did not consider coworkers or close friends. The couple I did consider friends, however, almost seemed to light up, and I'm hoping that wasn't just wishful thinking on my part. A friend, who I will refer to as "The Machine", took over my position and seemed pleased to see me. Though he was busy, we exchanged a few words, spoke of some random shared interests and just did what friends do, talked about nothing, and that felt just right. I walked to the end of the counter and found a friend, who I will refer to as "Shrek", whose intentions became instantly clear. I was going to get a big bear hug, and I was ready for it. I wasn't ready for him to pick me up as he hugged me, but I can't say it didn't make me feel a bit loved. We all talked and hung out, squeezing in a few words between customers, with me doing my fair share of that interaction with customers, but after a while, it was time for me to buy the item for which I came and part ways. So, "The Machine" grabbed the Magpul Dynamic Shotgun DVD that just arrived and asked our old boss, "Catch-22", to ring up my transaction. That was a little tense at first as, though he seemed unequally kind towards me during my employment, he was somewhat feared, even by customers as being somewhat crude in interaction. We gave him the name "Catch-22" because you could be wrong no matter what your decision or action. That was the role of the employee in his eyes. Everyone had more than once fallen into the role of "fall guy" and been publicly ridiculed for it. To top it off, he carried that aggression over to unsuspecting and undeserving customers. I could go on for hours, but let's just say his style was "legendary" in the industry and community, but he was always strangely kind to me. Well, he seemed pleased to see me, we exchanged a few words about my current status and goals in life, and he gave me a solid discount on my purchase. Let's just say that my interaction with the staff who I consider almost family was somewhat mixed but mostly positive.

Though my interaction with friends both in the store and outside made my exit anything but timely, that was pretty much the conclusion of my visit as I parted towards another chosen destination, TAD Gear (link below). I definitely don't regret my return to the old stomping grounds. I did not want to remove this whole group of people from my life, and I didn't want to remove myself from being able to enjoy that store and that community. I eventually had to face my fear of returning, and it was, though somewhat stressful, definitely satisfying. I got a little shaky for a moment, but it was rewarding. I was able to almost entirely push the bad parts aside and was rewarded with a kind reception. To top it off, my material rewards were far from short. I was able to score myself a nice copy of a DVD some special person kept telling me about, and I was able to enjoy a nice trip to TAD Gear to both swap some banter with a good friend and pick up a couple choice items, and when  I got home, I was able to enjoy the tastiest of my rewards. I promptly filled my mouth with the sweetness that lies withing a delicious It's-It Ice Cream Sandwich, and I think I may have previously let it slip that I am definitely a big fan of those. For me, those seem to be the perfect rewards for facing your fears.

Links:
TAD Gear: Website

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Nostalgia


After a long drive back to my old stomping grounds (San Jose), I was nothing short of famished, and nothing felt like it would hit the spot more than a McRib. As the distance separating me from my destination shrank, the cravings grew stronger. It almost felt like there was a voice in my head telling me that I had to buy one, but that may have just been the commercials that kept coming over the radio. Neither the packed parking lot at the local McDonald's nor the fact that I would be eating alone could stop me. Even the lack of a drive-through wasn't enough. So, I pulled in, walked straight to the register and didn't even have to look up at the menu before telling the cashier that I just had to have a McRib meal. Even though it couldn't have been more than a couple minutes, the wait for that meal felt intense. The anticipation was building. Once I received the meal, I grabbed some ketchup, sat down, snapped a quick picture (that felt weird), and within minutes, the tray was bare, except for some dirty cardboard and destroyed ketchup containers. My hypothesis was correct. That definitely hit the spot.

Let me give the uninformed an abridged history lesson. The McRib was introduced in the early eighties, but was already destined to be removed from restaurants in the mid eighties. In the mid nineties, it was brought back. In 2005, McDonald's announced it would be removed for good and hosted it's first farewell tour for the sandwich. In 2006, they brought it back for a second farewell tour, and they have repeated that process (for about six weeks each time) each year since. As of right now, it is available (probably until mid December).

Now, I'm definitely not one to claim that the McRib is anything approaching fine dining, but there is something about it that makes me feel a little warm inside. I wouldn't make it my last meal, but every time McDonald's announces another limited-time offering of the McRib, I make sure to get one. It's probably the marketing, but McDonald's definitely has me getting the feeling that I'm hosting my own little homage to my younger years, bringing back memories of the past. It's like a throwback jersey. It makes us think about our past, and, as we all have a tendency to reminisce in a positive light, it's typically a pleasant experience. So, what better throwback to my past than to go to the local McDonald's I used to frequent far too often, on my drive back home for Thanksgiving, to spend the weekend in the home I spent so many years in, swapping stories with my loving family, and order a simple McRib with a side of fries. It felt like my own little "welcome home" celebration. Now, that's nostalgia.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Personal Preference





I am well aware of it that it's been over a week since I made any contribution to this blog, and that is not something with which I am pleased. As such, I am back on board, and I will attempt to get back to posting with more regularity. So, let me throw in a few words about some random direction my thoughts were taken by a simple battery purchase.

Like most people, I usually don't truly grasp why I commit to certain actions and purchases, but I at least try to reflect on them from time to time. My trip to Costco a couple days ago was just one of those instances. As I recently started playing video games again (Call of Duty: Black Ops on XBOX 360 online with some friends, if it holds any relevance), I actually managed to completely deplete the batteries in my wireless controller. For anyone who fires up their console with even the most remote regularity, this would be nothing new, but, with regards to video games, I am well below the usage level defined as average. That's basically an eloquent way of saying that I rarely, if ever, even turn it on. I think that, since I moved to Riverside almost three months ago, I have only turned it on twice, to watch DVDs. That, however, is mostly beside the point with regards to this post. Basically, I had to go pick up some new batteries to keep me slapping those joysticks, and I went to Costco to pick up the biggest pack I could find. I ended up buying two packs of batteries (forty batteries in each pack).

Now, why did I come that specific decision? First, let me address the decision to buy batteries in the first place. I didn't have to go out and get common batteries as there are rechargeable packs available, but I chose not to go that route as I have always disliked having extra cables cluttering the space around my electronics. Since, up to this point, I have been able to maintain a low level of such cables, I chose to forgo that option. However, that still left me with the choice of going with Alkaline or rechargeable batteries. Once again, I had a non-functional concern with one option (I have a bad habit of misplacing or not charging rechargeable batteries). So, as I saw it, I had no option but to choose the Alkalines. Lastly, why did I buy so many? Well, that's a slightly more involved question, but the answer is still pretty simple. I dislike purchasing small amounts of consumables when I know I am going to, eventually, make use of a large quantity.  I prefer to chose the more efficient solution to any problem, and going to the store a few times would definitely be less efficient than going just once. That didn't mean I had to buy eighty batteries, but I left spending just over twenty dollars, and that felt reasonable as the cheapest rechargeable option would have left me spending just over thirty dollars.

In this scenario, I wasn't looking at cost, but it caused me to think about why we make certain decisions and how the outcomes can differ based on those choices. I would have thought that I would have chosen the most compact route that would have permanently solved my problem, but I definitely didn't. If I had, I would be the new owner of rechargeable battery pack and a couple extra cables attached to my console. When I take the time to dissect the situation, it just seems odd that I would choose the option that falls the furthest from being compact and environmentally responsible, but that doesn't alter my opinion towards my decision one bit. It seems we sometimes make decisions based on the seemingly random coin flips our minds make, and these decisions might not seem rational to those around us. In the end, they seem correct to us and make us happy. In this case, being the savage with a pile of batteries I have defeated (completely depleted) felt like the most satisfying option. Many would have gone in a different direction, but we have the ability to make our own unique choices. It's what makes us individuals, and we call it personal preference.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

What Kind Of Music Do You Listen To?



Anyone who has been on a date or gone out with new people is bound to have heard that more than once, but every time I hear it, it stirs up a couple recurring thoughts.

Now, I may be unique, but I can't help but wonder why an inquiry that is brought into so many conversations manifests such an ignorance for proper grammar. I don't claim any mastery of English grammar, but I attempt to remain as conformist as possible. If I use a phrase more than a few times, I start to examine it on a deeper level, but this doesn't even necessitate that. It ends with a preposition, and that has to be one of the simplest grammatical errors to correct. It leaves us with limitless options. Though the simplest way to fix it would be to ask "to what kind of music do you listen?", that doesn't feel proper or logical. I would much rather alter the sentence completely and ask "what is your favorite music genre?" because that feels much more appropriate. You could change it any number of ways, but that doesn't fix my main grievance with the use of that phrase. 

When someone throws that line out there, they are admitting that the conversation has come to a halt and that they have no idea how to fill the awkward pause. I can't think of an instance where it spawned a spectacular conversation, but people still use it. Why? It's just that they feel a need to say something, a need to keep the conversation fluid, but they feel that has to involve changing the topic. Like I said, anyone who has been on a date has, most likely, had to deal with it, but it just doesn't work. Luckily, if you get to know the person to any greater extent, that need subsides. It would no longer come up for at least the following three reasons. First, you would most likely know what type of music they prefer. Second, there wouldn't likely be an awkward pause to fill. Third, it is possible that any actual pause in conversation wouldn't warrant any drastic effort to fill (though similar, the last two reasons are, in fact, different) and that any silence might be acceptable.

I'm not saying anyone should feel guilty for feeling the need to ask such a question. We want people to like us. As such, we sometimes feel awkward, and we sometimes say or ask things that feel idiotic. That's life. I just wanted to pause and think about a simple phrase. It's a simple phrase, but it's one that causes me to cringe, just a little, every time it rumbles my ear drum. It's a phrase that causes me regret and irritation. I wonder how I could have let the conversation to drop to that level.

So, what kind of music do you listen to?

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Free Lunch


Most people have heard of the expression, "there is no such thing as a free lunch," but it seems that mentality has fallen out of fashion. I did a little searching (link below) and found out that it refers back to a common saloon practice from the turn of the 20th century. Basically, saloon owners would entice patrons to visit on the promise that they would receive a free lunch if they were to purchase at least one drink. Now, since this meal was usually worth more than the drink, it would have seemed illogical to refuse the offer. The owner was simply hedging his bet that they would purchase enough drinks to make it worth his while by forcing them to start on a path of drinking and putting that first bevvy in their hands. He was not only trying to guarantee their purchase of drinks then, but gain a little spot in their heart as the watering hole of choice. Hopefully, they would return in the evenings to purchase even more drinks. I'm not arguing that there is anything wrong with that offer, but this "free lunch" comes with the purchase of another item. In a sense, the meal isn't necessarily free, but part of a package. It doesn't matter how you break it down, in order to get that meal, some coin is going to have to change hands. That is the essence of how the expression, "there is no such thing as a free lunch," came to signify that things which appear free are, upon further exploration, not completely without cost. For all goods and services exchanged, somebody has to pay. Basically, you don't get anything for nothing.

The internet generation would beg to differ. The availability of information and services on the internet has led people to believe that pretty much anything can be obtained free of charge. With enough searching, people are pretty sure they must be able to find someway to get what they want for free. This mainly applies to non-material goods and services (information, media, communication), there are some ways to get some material goods as well (free sections on craigslist, contests, raffles, giveaways). Most of these methods, though somewhat grey in their legality (Wikipedia and other sources drawing from what people have read in other published, proprietary information), are commonly acceptable. Other products and services are free of charge with the attachment of advertisements (Google mail services and such) and are much more accepted. Then, there are the illegitimate piracy of copyrighted material (peer-to-peer networks and streaming services) which I can only classify as off-black. They are so close to being absolutely wrong that their purity, or lack thereof, is almost indistinguishable therefrom. Either way, they all have helped fuel a feeling of entitlement. We have grown to feel we deserve to have all of these things for free.

If that's the case, who should foot the bill? Somebody has to pay for these goods and services. If you think about it, even the information media that is thrown across endless networks onto your computer screen seems almost weightless and inconsequential. We don't associate a cost with it, but what about the costs of compiling it? What about the costs of transmitting it? You can't argue that it comes out of the bill from your internet service provider (ISP). That just covers their end of transmitting, and I don't believe any of it goes to the creators of that media. So, who does foot the bill? It comes down, mainly, to advertising and grants from large corporations and organizations. It seems we, unconsciously, expect them to foot the bill for a lot more than they should. If, all of a sudden, Google were to announce that they were no longer able to offer free e-mail services, people would, most likely, be up in arms, and not just for the inconvenience. At some level, we feel we deserve to get it for free, and we don't stop to give thanks. They don't have to provide these services, but we have grown to expect them to. I'm just using Google as an example, but it applies across the board. People expect more and more for free.

It's almost too perfect that Google, the company that is, in my opinion, the leader in providing services for free, provides free meals to their employees. How's that for disproving the idiom that "there is no such thing as a free lunch?" Sure, those people have to work there in exchange for it, but it's Google, once again, providing something extra at no extra charge, something for free. Your bill is going to look the same whether you take it or not. That's what you call a "free lunch".

Updates:
The finish on my XBOX 360 was, after a few years, abused to say the least. Add to that the new release of Kinect fueling the fire of the XBOX world, and I couldn't find better reason to take it apart and repaint it. I've nicknamed it "The Hive," and this is what it looks like now.

Also, in order to give a little company to the "Naturally Sweet" Munny I completed a week or so ago, I painted this Marshall figure (indicative of its marshmallow shape). I nicknamed him "Strawberry Fields," and, yes, he can break dance.


Links:
The Phrase Finder (UK): Article

Friday, November 12, 2010

Keeping Up Appearances


Today has to be the least productive day of the last year of my life. I sat around most of the day and didn't even shower until around 4:30pm. That may seem like a typical day off for some people, but I usually can't start my day without getting a shower right when I wake up. I just can't seem to feel comfortable about myself until I have showered, brushed my teeth, shaved and changed into some clean clothes, and, though I think it's mainly a force of habit, I think it has greater significance and relevance.

It says something about the social importance we place on appearance. I am constantly reminded that a large portion of the value we assign to people around us, especially strangers, is based on their external appearance. We use it to judge them on every level. We try to make guesses to categorize people and put them into neat little boxes so we can act and react to them in a manner we find suitable. Today, out of a weird internal decision structure, I neglected to shave (as I felt it was too late in the day and would cause issues with shaving tomorrow (not enough growth to shave comfortably, but enough that, if neglected, would not prove appropriate later in the day)). That may not seem to relevant, but the fact that I felt uncomfortable about my appearance (all other aspects were identical to any other day) made me think about how much value is placed on appearance. Though it may not affect our functions and actions, it seems to speak to our internal commitment to proper self-maintenance, and, as such, affects the actions and reactions of those around us. I can't think of anyone who thinks someone going into a bank who is freshly groomed and sporting a suit wouldn't get treated differently than someone showing up with tattered jeans, a shaggy beard and worn out shoes. Even walking down the street, I know that person would get treated differently. Though many of us try to act like we don't judge people based on their appearance, we do. We may not say it out loud, but we feel it. So, in the end, looking a bit off can affect your ability to go about your daily functions. Some of that is our fault, but I'm not arguing it should change. Today, I chose not to shave, and even I felt like I deserved less respect, and it just gave me something to think about. 

I think I'll cut it there because I am still intent on finishing my day much as it began, leisurely, and a long, thought-out post would conflict with that. So much for keeping up appearances...

Thursday, November 11, 2010

The Cost Of Money


A couple days ago, my typical stroll through the blogs which I find to be of interest led me to an article containing a few facts and figures regarding the journey a dollar bill takes (link below). It may have something to do with it coming up twice in a few short minutes, but I can't seem to get it out of my head. 

Sure,some of the line items feel rather inconsequential, but a there remain a select few that I just cant quite shake. Basically, I have come to realize that it costs 6.4 cents to produce a dollar bill, that there are approximately four billion dollar bills in circulation and that this the strain of use limits them to a standard lifespan of 21 months. Those numbers may seem meaningless, but let me explain why they should matter. 

If you think about it, some rough math would bring you to realize that having singles (or one-dollar bills) costs the country about $146 million a year ($4 billion in singles x (12 months/21months) x $0.064/dollar to be replaced). Even though that doesn't bring into account the larger-denomination bills (which are more costly to produce but less common and have a longer lifespan), it's still a massive chunk of change. 

What all of this has led me to understand is that everything costs money. Even money itself costs money, and a lot of it. Just the fact of having singles cost each person in the country an average of about fifty cents a year.  It almost makes me feel guilty to use cash instead of my debit card, not guilty enough to stop though. It's somewhat sickening to realize how much money is attached to everything in our lives. Even without a gold standard, money is expensive. Every time one of us exchanges, or even just ruffles up, a dollar bill, we are putting a little wear on it, bringing it closer to it's final resting place, causing it to need to be replaced, and, thus, costing ourselves money. It may be small in comparison to giving up that dollar at that moment, and we may not directly have to pay that cost, but who else is going to foot that bill? I'm not arguing abandoning paper money as I see some technological drawbacks to that system, but it just made me think. I mean, we are creatures of habit, and I don't see myself giving up using singles (please hold the gentleman's club comments).

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Reading the Manual


Few of us ever take the time to even just thumb through the manuals of the complex products we bring into our homes, and the logic behind that decision (or lack thereof) is quite simple. Though they attempt to explain the myriad of functions packed into these devices, they are quiet intimidating. They have grown into encyclopedia-sized texts that dwarf the item itself. For instance, even the abridged manuals for our cell phones are at least twice as big as the actual phone. Add to that how complexly they are worded and how resistant we are to appearing weak, and there is no way you would expect them to be read. That last part counts double for men. I mean, if we are resistant to stop and ask for directions when travelling to unfamiliar destinations, why would we ever consider asking a piece of paper for help in operating a simple television? We assume, in time, we will figure it all out and prove our metal. 

I can't lie and say I don't fall into that attitude. I navigate the menus, and, through a proven system of trial-and-error, I eventually make it work. Well, sometimes, I discover a function that I didn't even know the device had, and it makes me wish I had taken the time to read the manual. I would have felt incompetent at the time, but I would have enjoyed that function that much longer. Yesterday was just one of those times. I was scrolling through the menus to reset the clock on my TV and found something labeled "USB Media". That piqued my interest. Could my TV truly be capable of playing files stored on a thumb drive? Could they have packed that much computing power into a TV that is less than half an inch deep? There was only one way to find out, and you can bet it didn't involve reading the manual. So, I loaded up a few videos onto a thumb drive, found the USB slot on the back of my TV, and attempted to watch them. Success! The TV played the files with no issue, and the video quality was superb. I was excited about having this new knowledge, but how had I gone so long without noticing it? I mean, I have had this TV for almost a year, and, considering how much I put into it and how technologically advanced it appeared to be, I couldn't believe I hadn't even considered looking through the functions. I was excited and pleased, but, at the same time, I also felt slightly ashamed. I had accepted the macho mentality of ignoring manuals, and it had failed me.

What did I realize? 

I realized two things. First, I realized that I should take more time to analyze and explore the gadgets I buy. I'm not saying that I intend to read the manual. That's an emergency measure. What I'm saying is that, in the future, I will at least research (online or with a salesperson) or extensively explore and test the products I purchase. Second, I learned that manufacturers have to cram more and more functions, more than any one person could ever need, into smaller and smaller gadgets just to make it enticing. We are a little spoiled, and, if it's not pushing the envelope and the newest and most powerful product, what would make us want it more than what we already have? I'm definitely not saying they should stop this trend. I'm a huge fan of technology, and I enjoy getting to live in a world that is so quick to advance and make it seem as if there is no technological frontier. It's like what I think of the galaxy. We keep thinking there can't be much else out there, but someone dares to push out a little further, and we have to adjust. The presumed boundary gets pushed further away, and we start to doubt there is even a boundary. Kudos, inventors! Please keep it coming. 

Now, I'm going to enjoy some of their technological handy-work and watch another episode of "The Walking Dead".

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

There's An App For That!


It's been a while since I spent any noticeable leisure time away from my computer, the mothership of my technological world, but, this afternoon, I did just that. I relocated to the living room for a few hours. Now, that doesn't mean I removed myself from the world of electronics, far from it, but it did take me away from my main communication outlet. I didn't realize how much I have come to take this thing for granted. I still had television, video games, and, I thought, a powerful phone, but I felt limited. I mean, my computer allows me to communicate in more ways than I can count (e-mail, social networks, blogs, instant messenger, etc.), view and edit media (images, videos, animations, music, etc.), peruse the internet, enjoy a touch of gaming, and perform the many office-related tasks I don't even notice (microsoft office (word, excel, powerpoint, etc.)). I was pretty sure I wouldn't even notice being limited to just a phone, but, seeing my glorious little iPhone lag between actions caused me to realize both how much we rely on our little communication gadgets and how much these gadgets have acted against their originally proposed purpose.

Many would argue that we are at somewhat of a peak in a communication revolution, but, though I agree on a technological level, I would argue the inverse.

If one were to research the term "communication revolution", it would, most likely find articles referring to the advancements of the nineteenth century that bridged communication gaps in implausible manners. There was the postal system which facilitated the transmission of written and physical materials across great distances in an organized manner. There was the telegraph which used a network of wires to transmit electronic messages across continents in a manner quicker than any transportation means. There was the phonograph which allowed the duplication of sounds (music) in locations far from the original performance. There was the proliferation of advanced newspaper presses that allowed the sharing of information across vast outlets in a manner to be enjoyed at different times of availability (when someone had the time to read). Lastly, there were photography and motion pictures which allowed the duplication of visual events for those not able to attend the time and location of their origin.

Looking back, these technologies feel dated and ineffective, but they draw on a different society. They allowed a sense of togetherness across great distances that physical means could not imagine to bridge. They made the company of loved ones feel less distant (family and friends stationed or residing oversees for instance). They made performances transmissible to our homes and to communities that could not attend them. They distributed them for the present enjoyment and preserved them for future reference. They closed the gaps of distance.

Since then, we have made more advances than many of us realize, such an abundance that there are enough to ignore. We find ourselves, however, attached to a select few, a core group. Though we find ourselves attached to computers for their processing power and entertainment, there are others I would rather discuss. What I want to talk about is the misuse of the numerous communication channels we have created. We find ourselves with the abilities of emailing, texting, tweeting, messaging or calling those with whom we care to associate instead of feeling the necessity to connect with physical proximity. Now, I'm not speaking in a suggestive manner. I'm referring to simply being in the same place at the same time. We feel that these communication channels create a sense of closeness, but I am arguing that they push us apart. We find ourselves in a little bubble of our screens, feeling like we are connected, and, in a sense, we are, but take away that little device, and we are alone. We used to have to go out, hang out, see movies, get coffee, go to the movies, or even just watch television at a friends house to feel like we were connected. Now, we unconsciously feel as if we are connected when we are in our own room, chatting with those we know. I know I am more guilty of this than some, but I think that needs to change. These communication advances we all cherish have pushed us over a peak in a mountain of proximity and true communication and sent us on a nasty slide down the other side. They can and do allow us to communicate in more practical ways than we once could, ways that only a bold few were able to imagine, but these methods have been misused. We complacently take them for granted, in place of the true contact and breaking of bread with those around us.

So, let's go back to using these tools only when they promote true connections and are simply filling a communication void. Let's not use them to replace but merely to enhance that which, without them, we could and should already have.  Let's go back to textual communication only when their is no substitute (you can still get out a pen and write a letter though). Let's ditch the tweet. Let's swap texting and e-mail for a real conversation. Let's trade the phone for a face-to-face. Let's go back to the times of family meals, sitting around the den, and sharing a beer with friends. Let's go back to the time of the telegram. It may sound insane, but if you are with me on the last one, there's an app for that (link below)!

As a side note, the image above is of iPhone App Coasters, and they are available for sale (link below).

Links:
App Coasters: Store
Telegram Service: Service

Monday, November 8, 2010

Artistic Statements


On October 28, Scott Campbell opened the doors of his much-anticipated solo exhibition at the Vice Gallery in Mexico City. Opening night was sold-out, and many thought that would be a major point of achievement under his belt and the end of the story, but the events that later unfolded would prove otherwise. In an email, he recounted his side of the story to Olivier Zahm of Purple Fashion Magazine. Having some concerns with regards to the management and execution of the show, he attempted to voice them and propose some changes to the gallery owner, but those words were not taken seriously. You could attribute it to his recent progression to fine art from the somewhat more volatile and aggressive New York City tattoo community, but he  took what action he thought would feel best and most clearly transmit his message. He took his works into the street in front of the gallery and turned them to ash. According to Campbell, "it felt amazing".

Though I can't decide whether I think it falls into the category of maintaining artistic integrity or that of publicity stunts, I do favor the former, and, in either case, it attests to the beauty of artistic statements. When artists do what feels best, seemingly regardless of cost and consequence, it draws admiration. I cannot help but respect him for not allowing those who pay his bills to overpower and dictate his artistic direction. Whether it was or wasn't a publicity stunt, it definitely fired up the presses. However, since, on top of Campbell appearing to remain self-managed, I cannot think of any reason the gallery owners would want to be seen as disrespectful to their artists and lose a popular show in its first week, I'd have to favor putting this in the category of artistic statements and preservation of integrity and vision.

Other than reiterating the story, expressing my approval of his actions and feeding him what little more attention I can, I don't have much else to say. As such, let me cut it here and provide links (below) to Purple Boutique and Slam X Hype, the sources of my information.

Links:
Purple Boutique: Scott Campbell E-Mail
Slam X Hype: Story

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Bias


As a fuel to keep the fire of removing fast food from the mainstream, many point to the phenomenon of the McDonald's hamburger. Apparently, if left unattended, a regular McDonald's hamburger (image above) will not decompose, or rot, in the manner we have grown to expect. We expect that such an item would start to mold and stink and wither away in a disgusting manner. Even after years of open-air exposure, the McDonald's hamburger does not tend to exhibit any of these visual or olfactory traits. People who love to hate fast food and consider it to be the keystone of an unhealthy society use this to jump to the conclusion that the unusually high amount of preservatives and salt found in these burgers keeps them stable and prevents them from rotting. Since that would go to show that these preservatives and salt have an abnormal effect on the burgers and that such an effect cannot be positive, they argue that this should promote avoiding fast food burgers.

Though not one to center every meal around fast food, I believe it has its place in a healthy diet and a healthy society, and people being so adamantly anti-fast food has always caused me a slight bit of anguish (might as well be a little dramatic). Sadly, it seems the first side publicized of every story is the most likely to be accepted, people have embraced the unusually high amount of preservatives and salt to be the explanation for this discovered and rediscovered phenomenon. It always takes a lot more work to prove the other side, and that couldn't be more true in this case. People on the anti-McDonald's side simply observed that the burgers seemed not to be decomposing and hypothesized that it had to be because they had an unhealthy amount of preservatives and salt. That's only two steps (observation and hypothesis) out of the seven steps of the scientific method (four if you credit that thinking fast food burgers are unhealthy is qualifies as identifying a problem and that the hypothesis is a conclusion as well). To disprove it, someone would most likely have to go through all seven steps (including designing, undertaking and analyzing an experiment) as well as work hard to distribute that information to people who had already accepted the other side. I, for one, know first-hand what the latter part feels like, but that's for another post (maybe). I never saw the decomposition as a reason to avoid the burgers, but I was disappointed in how widely it was accepted. I thought that was the end of it and that nobody would or could disprove the other side.

Well, someone finally decided to undertake just such a venture. J. Kenji Lopez, from The Food Lab (link below), chose to do so out of a hate for "bad science", as she puts it. Though I could go over the details from Serious Eats (link below) and possibly bore you to tears, I'll just summarize the results (sorry for the spoiler). She compared the weights, moisture and mold of several different meat and bun combinations (fast food, homemade and mixed) over time. She even compared them to larger (quarter pound) variants. It turns out that, while larger burgers show signs of decay, the smaller burgers (both homemade and fast food) do, in fact, decompose, but they do not show visible signs of mold because the small size, relative to the great surface area, allow moisture to evaporate quite quickly. Since the moisture dissipates quickly and since the burger meat is pretty sterile to begin with, it seems the mold does not have the opportunity to take root and thrive. This concept that mold does not prosper where there is no humidity is nothing new, and she is apt to compare it to beef jerky.

Neither she nor I wish this to prove that the burgers are healthy. She wants to disprove bad science. I, on the other hand, wanted to point out how quickly a misinterpretation, if properly (or improperly) disseminated, can tilt the public perception and opinion. People do not tend to explore everything in a scientific manner, and it seems that biased information, if received first, especially through common trusted and mainstream channels (media and word-of-mouth), can overpower a proper and objective interpretation. It's tough to look at both sides of a story when someone we trust feeds us one side and so adamantly backs it. Though it may be difficult, and it has been advised more times than I can count, I really do think everyone should try to take in both sides of a story before making a decision.

So, on that note, McRib anyone?

Link:
The Food Lab: Facebook
Serious Eats: Website

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Kinecting With Technology


On Thursday (November 4th), Microsoft dropped it's new Kinect technology into the retail marketplace and, thus, into the hands of waiting consumers. Now, I definitely consider my involvement and participation in the video game arena to be far below the norm with regards to those in my age bracket, but this ground-breaking technology piqued my interest. Basically, do I want it? Well, let me examine the idea.

First, from a technological standpoint, this new product is definitely on the leading edge. Gaming technology manufacturers have been striving, since before the times of the original Nintendo, to bridge the communication gap between the user and the hardware. Personally, I can't think of a single instance when a company has attempted to improve, or revolutionize, a console without attempting to improve, or recreate, the controller. That quest seems centered around an urge to allow the user freedom to detach themselves from the working components of console itself. Where did we begin? How far have we come? Let's see.

Now, please excuse any errors in the following timeline as this is still an informal dissection of the topic.

At first, or at least the beginning of video games as I see them, there were pinball machines where the user had to use physical force (minor) to move the components and game parts (ball).

Then, there were systems such as the sit-down, electronic models (or tabletop models) still found in some diners and restaurants where the user was still in physical contact with the system itself. The real progression, in this case, was that the user was starting to use physical buttons to generate electrical signals to control objects and motion in a virtual world.

Systems then progressed to the level of wired controllers, such as the Atari, where, though physically tethered to the console itself, users were given a slight bit of freedom with regards to their physical location. In my opinion, this is truly the jumping-off point. It allowed an outlet for multi-player gaming experiences since allowing the controller to be separate from the console would, in theory, create the opportunity to attach a second controller. You didn't, necessarily, have to contain the brains of the system in each controller, and computing power had progressed. So, why not have two players interacting in one game? Programmers pondered the concept for years, and the amount of testing must have been unthinkable. Developers were putting it all on the line, and there had to be mountains of failures, but then, there was Pong! I don't think you can drop that name anywhere in the industrialized world and expect to find someone needing an explanation.

Pong may have seemed revolutionary, but the race had just begun, and developed were well aware of that. Though adding more controls and functions, manufacturers continued this focused progression through attempting to remove the wire, or tether, itself from the experience. At first, companies offered this wireless technology as an option, or after-market accessory, but they quickly progressed towards offering it as the primary, and included, means of interaction with the console. For instance, most Playstation 2 and XBOX consoles were introduced with wired controllers, but you couldn't find an avid gamer who hadn't at least experimented with an after-market, wireless controller. Eventually, new systems such as the Playstation 3 and XBOX 360 began to package new consoles with their own wireless controllers. It had become the norm.

Very recently, Nintendo offered the Wii consoles, where the controller used its sensitivity to motion as a means of allowing the user to control the game with merely their movements, but it did not remove the ability to use physical buttons still found on the controller. Gaming experts thought such a concept was ridiculous and wouldn't be accepted, but they were proven wrong. This new idea was not only accepted and widely purchased, but it brought a video games into new markets. For instance, the elderly were often considered as being impossible and unthinkable to rope in, but this new technology, which many thought might flop, even dragged them into the gaming arena. It seems Nintendo, once again, took a gamble, and Sony was not going to be left in their wake. Seeing Nintendo's success, Sony did not forgo an opportunity to expand their market and was quick produce a similar option for their systems. But where was Microsoft?

Microsoft had been completely absent from this new market until, on Thursday, they introduced this new Kinect technology. It is, to say the least, avant-garde. They have chosen to forgo the motion-sensitive controllers, or even controllers in general, and rely on detecting the movements of the user through a unique camera system. I mean, Sony did offer such a controller system as part of a couple games a few years back, but Microsoft has wrapped their whole system and team around it while, of course, revolutionizing the technology itself. They have truly made it their own, and the system can even recognize and separate individuals using facial-recognition software. Since the system attempts to fully place the user in the game, it can accept both physical/motion commands and auditory/spoken cues. It can even recognize when a specific person enters the field of view and personalize its experience to them. It's almost like a dog greeting its owner upon their return. Sure, the dog might recognize and greet everyone, but there is a difference in the way it reacts to its owner. The Kinect system can treat an individual, or individuals, as its master and take various actions when they enter. It can bring up their avatar, bring up a menu or even take them to their Netflix. So, in itself, this system is definitely in a league of its own.

Now, even though I think that, on a technological level, Microsoft's introduction of this technology is definitely advanced, admirable and commendable, I can't say how I feel about the validity of the concept itself. It will, most likely, capture the interest of those who are drawn to the pleasures of the Wii console, but most gamers I know tend to rely on games for a different type of entertainment. Most of them seem to fall into the stereotype many of us associate with the gaming community. They grab their controller to relax on the couch and merely move their hands to make great moves on the screen. They, to a degree, consciously choose this option over more physically active ones. Now, this is ripping the controller from their hands and forcing them to move around. That may be fun at times, but hardcore gamers probably wont be quick to adopt it, especially when trying not to wake their neighbors at 1:30am by jumping up and down to spike a volleyball. I really don't believe that is something they want, and I think it may be moving a little too drastically. I think Microsoft understands that as well as I don't think they have completely removed the controller as an option.

In the end, since we live in a society of consumerists where it's cool to have the newest in expensive toys, I think this will probably fly off the shelves. I just know that, though I am often far too quick to fall into that materialistic consumer role, this is not pushing me towards swiping my plastic at the local Best Buy.



Now, in order to bring a little humor to this somewhat boring examination of Kinect (I still don't know if I should call it "Kinect", "XBOX Kinect" or "The Kinect"), let me share this little story.

Within 24 hours of Kinect hitting the market, Phil Villarreal, an author and a critic, had already managed to break his flat-screen TV. Wait, wasn't that a reported problem with the Wii? Wouldn't removing the controller remove this risk? Well, enjoying the first day of this new product's release, Phil was playing a volleyball game into the early hours of the morning. At around 1:30am, while playing beneath a ceiling fan with a hanging chain for a switch, he aggressively went for a virtual spike. Apparently, he spiked the chain into the screen of the TV and managed to create that beautiful shooting star pattern on the right side of the screen. It seems that, even without a controller, someone has already managed to destroy their TV through such an active play style.

I know that may be a little mean to laugh at others' plight and I strive to avoid it, but some good has to come from every situation, and, in this case, that good is the rest of the world getting a good laugh.

Links:
Microsoft Kinect: Website
Phil Villarreal Story: Website

Friday, November 5, 2010

Attempt At Brevity

I'm going to try to keep today's post concise in order to challenge myself. I have a tendency, through intricate wording, to elaborate my thoughts, argumentations and explanations beyond what some may find to be suitable and productive. As it might bore some people away from exploring what I dispense, this complex diction ends up detracting from the productivity of my posts. So, in an effort to improve myself through challenging myself to stretch my comfort level, I have decided to limit my post, leaving out tidbits that I would much prefer to divulge.

That leads me to a idea I wish to present. Anyone who is familiar with Destorm's YouTube videos and channel (link below) knows that he calls for viewers to challenge him with regards to his future contributions. For instance, people have requested that he tell a story using the names of every color of Crayola, that he write and sing a song using only random sounds he recorded, and that he sing a song entirely in reverse that, when reversed, would sound correct. As he likes to challenge his artistic abilities, he indulges these challenges and constantly requests more. Now, I don't know if enough people even read this for it to work, but I'm open to making some of my posts available to fulfill challenges or requests. For instance, someone could request that I write a post about a specific color, flowers, or something with which I'm not extremely familiar or comfortable. Someone could challenge me to reference three specific people in one coherent post (as occurred randomly in yesterday's post). I think it would be a great way to challenge myself to stretch the boundaries of my comfort zone, would allow the few people who currently take the time to look at my blog a chance interact with and direct its author, and would help steer me towards topics of interest to explore.

As I am trying to keep this post short, I will try to leave it at that and hope that people will have some suggestions of challenges for me.

Soon, I might discuss my feelings with regards to Microsoft's new Kinect technology or a common over-reliance on technological information channels. Those are just a couple current event topics from the Gizmodo site that caused me to think today, and let's just consider those as possible "coming attractions".

Links:
Destorm: Website

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Responsibility


Today, I jetted over to Los Angeles to check out the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) and to hit a few choice shops. It seems that every area of Los Angeles I choose to visit has dedicated all of it's sidewalks to metered parking spaces, and I have no problem with that. I think it's fantastic for a city to both profit from the transportation and accommodation of tourists as well as limit the duration of those visits and stops. The profit part is self-explanatory, but the limitation is key in that it allows more people to visit popular and attractive areas by guiding those before them towards setting a time table. These measures don't directly force people to vacate an area, but the inconvenience and cost of refilling the meter causes people to notice these gaps and possibly consider them appropriate or suitable times to move along to another location. We may find it to be an inconvenience, and it can be, but, in an attempt to try and see the light in most every situation, I give credit to such cities for being seizing such opportunity in such an entrepreneurial manner. That money does, in time, cycle back towards helping the public (in concept), and, in my opinion, that's definitely a morally correct measure.

Sometimes, people choose to forgo those meters and test their luck. Among other reasons, I can credit these actions to disapproval of the concept or practice (sticking it to the man), thrill-seeking (risk of being caught) or simply carelessness (an unintentional lapse in awareness (not noticing the presence of a meter or just forgetting to refill the meter when the time elapses)). Today, after making five stops at retail locations within two miles and within twenty minutes, I made one final stop. Upon parking, I arranged a couple items in the car (glasses and phone), pocketed some change for the meter, used a wet wipe on both my hands and the steering wheel (something felt sticky), and got out of the car (after looking for traffic, of course, mom). The meter was at the front of the car, but I walked around the rear, and, as that happened to line up directly with the front door of the shop, I walked right in (not stopping at the meter). After less than two minutes in the store, I silently questioned (asked myself, if you will) whether I had inserted change into the meter, and, as I was unsure, I hurried outside to check. I was too late. I was greeted by a city worker ticketing my illegally parked car. He seemed ready for the mercy plea, but I was not about to extend one. I expressed remorse, made it clear that I was wrong, and manifested that I understood the repercussions. He said that I seemed like a genuine individual and that he would love to negate the ticket but that it was too late (already entered my information). That was a refreshing thought. He said that he would hurry (seemingly to inconvenience me the least), but I told him not to worry and that I had time. I was upset to have to add a parking violation to my list of responsibilities, but I was not necessarily upset with anyone. I actually felt pretty peaceful considering the circumstances. It seems that, after feeding four meters within a twenty minute period, I allowed my awareness to lapse and had, to a degree, grown careless with my actions. I blamed myself, but was not upset.

I was refreshed by another reminder that, when respect is shared between individuals in a stressful situation, it can actually remove most, if not all, of the negativity. Maya Angelou wrote that "if you don't like something, change it" but that "if you can't change it, change your attitude," and, as an honest nudge towards a happy and peaceful life, it rings true. I accepted that I couldn't change whether I would get a ticket, and, as such, I chose to, in a sense, change my attitude. I chose to adopt a different attitude than that expect of me, and it turned what could have been a disagreeable and unpleasant twist in my day into a learning experience. I could have been a jerk, but, trying to better myself and my actions, I chose to be pleasant and conversational in light of it all.. I think this positive reaction positively changed both his and my day.

I don't know if I would classify the direction in which I am attempting to guide my actions and reactions should be classified as a push towards optimism. I don't believe "optimism" is the most fitting term, but, then again, I think "acceptance" is too negative. I think I'm just trying to push myself towards acting, reacting and thinking in ways that will make me happy as well as those around me happy (which seems to, even in itself, help make me happy in return (perfect circle)).

I don't know what has led me to feeling so positive this evening (in light of a couple of today's events), but I think, if I read what I have just written, it would definitely show. I don't consider myself noble, and I know this post might seem to attempt to guide readers to think of me that way, but that is not my wish. I am trying to take the noblest routes in every situation to try to correct the flaws I find in myself. I see a lot of flaws in both myself and society, and, as Ghandi said, "you must be the change you wish to see in the world". So, since I have so much time for reflection, I'll try.

Wow, Ghandi quotation and everything. I must be feeling pretty darn good. I don't want people to congratulate me or pat me on the back. I am, in my opinion, typically average in actions and morality, but, because I don't think I act correctly, I'm trying to make efforts to change that. We'll see. Maybe, someday, I'll be a real boy!

Seriously, if someone asked me to try to drop quotations from Maya Angelou, Ghandi and Pinocchio in one post, I wouldn't have thought it possible, and I would have been wrong.

I think this pompous, snobbish, conceited and vain little post is over! I would forgo posting it for self-preservation, but that would negate the purpose and freedom of having this blog. So, I threw it out there, and I take full responsibility.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

The Grass Is Always Greener


I made this little Munny yesterday and named him "Naturally Sweet," and, somehow, he managed to lead me to a nice, short subject for a blog post. While talking to a close friend today (whose name I will leave out for anonymity), I felt like sending him a picture of my little completed project. It guided us towards a quick back-and-forth about our current situations. He works for a software company and rarely has time for such projects while I, currently, have nothing but said time on my hands. He remarked that I seemed to be developing quite an interest in customizing these little figures (a very accurate statement), and that he would love to take the time to pursue his own interests but that he had too many responsibilities. I joked that, at this juncture, my main responsibility (other than pursuit of scholastic enrollment), is ensuring that I am enjoying my much needed break. He noted that he would gladly trade places, and, though I don't have any inclination or desire to switch places or situations with anyone, I discouraged that thought by saying that my situation isn't that desirable (for once, discouragement feels like a noble motive). It led us to both realize that, as we age (though we are still young), we develop an true understanding of seemingly meaningless sayings. In this case, the saying that almost simultaneously came to mind was that "the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence."

It seems that, no matter how close we may find ourselves to where we once aspired to find ourselves, as humans, we are never quite satisfied. We can never accept the status quo as any sort of summit, and we constantly search for some way that it could improve. Usually, that involves developing envy towards one aspect of someone else's life. We never stop to think about the entirety of the situation that could result from a realization of that desire. We never stop to put ourselves entirely in the other person's shoes. We simply express how we wish we could have that, wish we could be like that, or wish we could feel that. It seems that the grass in our own yard, as the saying would imply, is never quite as green as that of our neighbors, the saying's approximation of those close to us. Since green is the approximation of the desired cosmetic quality of grass, we view their greener yard as better than our own, and we desire to have their yard. We never stop to think that, possibly, they have a disastrous infestation of insects or a faulty foundation to their home. We just choose to focus on the one thing of theirs we desire and assert that we would love to call that our own.

Now, it may appear as placing myself on a pedestal and attempting to fulfill the noblest position of which I can think, but truly, I attempt to avoid craving that which others have. I may find it desirable, and there are many things to which I aspire, but I am truly content with my state of being. I face some hardships, and there are many things I wouldn't mind being able to add to my life, but, overall, I find my life very satisfying. I try to always keep that in mind, but I still chose to write this as a simple reflection on a topic which, today, I find to be of relevance.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Infestation


This afternoon, I went outside to apply a quick coat of spray paint to a little project I'm working on, and, as I walked back in, TheGeorgeF brought the swarm of wasps that were buzzing about the kitchen to my attention. It seems that, in the short time I left the sliding glass door open, about eight wasps had made a swift entry. So, we quickly closed the door and took what action we could. I still had a small mask (similar to those worn by any sane person who might be doing a little light sanding or painting), and I felt that was protection enough. TheGeorgeF grabbed a heavy winter jacket (even though it was 90 degrees outside) and wrapped his face with another t-shirt. We each grabbed one of the industrial-sized (1.33 gallon) containers of indoor/outdoor pesticide we have in the kitchen, and, after a short countdown for synchronization, unleashed a hurricane of insecticide (I don't know if the terms "insecticide" and "pesticide" are interchangeable, but that's irrelevant at the moment).  In a matter of seconds, we managed to take out a couple that were part of the congregation in the window above the sink. As that seemed to be where they had chosen to take their last stand, we worked the trigger of those spray nozzles as rapidly as we could. In all of about two minutes, we had taken care of all eight of the wasps we were able to track down in the kitchen. So, we looked through the sliding glass door at the rest of them (it felt like there was a whole battalion out there), and we tried to figure out why they had, all of a sudden, taken such a great interest in our doorway. As we looked up, the reason for this insanity (trying to get too close to our cherished breakfast nook) became evident. It seems that, about five inches from the doorway, they were building a new nest. We knew this could not be allowed to progress any further and that we had to be the ones to stop it. So, in a tactical decision to avoid allowing more wasps into that doorway, we chose to exit through the garage (at the other end of the house) and come around to mount our assault on the mothership construction crew. When we got there, there was no shortage of drones, but we were not discouraged. In unison, we brought back those quick trigger fingers and unleashed another storm of insecticide directly on the nest. This did not please them in the least, but that would not shield them from the destruction they had brought upon themselves. After a brief time, my container ran out of juice, and I was forced to chuck it to the side (I did not realize how quickly I dismounted from that trigger until, upon the dust settling, I saw it laying on it's side with the nozzle about a foot away), and we proceeded to attack. TheGeorgeF transitioned to the hose, his secondary weapon if you will, and I took over the controls of his bottle of insecticide. We scoured the back area of the yard until we felt we had done what we could to hold back their advance. We knew that we were not armed to eradicate them completely, but we felt confident that we had limited their advance to a sufficient extent to grant us some peace and safety until we could acquire some more powerful control measures.

Now, all of that was exciting to say the least, and it reminds me how we, as humans, have a tendency to take over any populated area (populated with other people, animals or insects), call it ours, expect them to leave, and feel insulted and attacked should they ever show themselves. That would be a great lead-in to a paper on the politics on invasion and colonization (foreign lands, Columbus, the whole shebang), but that's not what I'm about to do (it's just a blog, and I'm trying to limit the amount of written political content no matter how present it might prove in my thoughts and examination). I just felt like telling a quick story about something that happened to me today and post it up for some light reading and post to fulfill my felt necessity to post every day. I would have taken some pictures for documentation and proliferation of the tale (an image of the bottle of Home Defense Max laying on the ground would have felt like the perfect fit), but there was no time. Our priorities were elsewhere, and I must simply attach an image of a wasp from Bugaboo Pest (link below) as a sort of graphic to preface the tale.

In other business, TheGeorgeF and I have recently become aware of some past damage to our front door (image below) that puzzles us to say the least. Though it was patched over (poorly), it's evident that something impacted (or pierced) the door from the exterior, and we can only guess what that might have been. Being quick to imagine the most interesting and exciting possibility, we think it looks like a gun shot (don't worry, mom, this neighborhood is insanely safe), but it's in a very odd place on the door (right near the edge). Would that explain why our rooms became so conveniently available? Man, that would be a conversation piece. In the end, we have no idea what truly caused it, but it's fun to find a story to every little part of your life and home (much as the wasps), and I'll leave it at that and open, of course, to comments.





Links:
Bugaboo Pest: Website

Monday, November 1, 2010

S.O.S.


Somebody save this man! His boat is sinking! Wait. Doesn't he look a little too peaceful considering he is stuck on a sinking boat?

While perusing recent posts on the Gizmodo site, I was struck by this image and had to read the attached story. It turned out to be another fine specimen of someone dabbling in the art of deception. How could a man stuck on a sinking ship be an example of deception? Could he have placed himself there after the ship had already started sinking for a simple photo opportunity? Could the ship be permanently fixed in that position by being either stuck in sand in shallow water or mounted to some underwater structure for display? That would seem logical due to the angle of the paint line above the water, but that is not the case. This boat (or artwork) is called "Love, Love", and it has been cut in half and modified with a new keel and motor. As such, it remains a perfectly "functional and safe leisurely object". Julien Berthier created this boat as somewhat of an artistic experiment, and it may not seem very suitable for aquatic leisure, but he has navigated the waterways to many ports around the European continent. I don't have much to say about it other than that I find it extremely interesting. I cannot make a solid decision as to whether I believe form followed function in this case or if it was the inverse. I don't think it really makes much difference in how captivating I find it. I don't believe it would be the most practical or comfortable means of aquatic transportation. I assume the interest the public shows with his art at every opportunity would quickly make up for the discomfort. I, for one, couldn't resist engaging this artist in a discussion of his art and further explore his other works upon coming across this. It's his variation on word-of-mouth, and it's one instance where I am not upset to have been deceived. In the interest of proliferating works of art and ingenuity, let me insert a few more images from his website (link below) which detail it's mobility through showing it in different settings.

Here it is navigating some open water.



Here it is in an open air display to offer viewing angles and proximity not possible in open water.


Lastly, here it is docked in a harbor.


Though that last picture seems to be a pretty generalized rendition of a port or harbor, something about the color of the water, the viewing angle and the construction of the docks seemed far too familiar. So, I watched the video (link below) to confirm my suspicions, and I was correct. It turns out that both the video and this image (as well as possibly others) were shot in the waters of Granville, France (a small fishing town on the coast of Normandy that I keep close to my heart). Our family has spent many summers and vacations walking those streets and swimming in those waters. To top it off, while watching the video not only does the boat idle about the waters of the small bay where I first learned to sail, but there are evidently sailing courses in the background where I can imagine young children undertaking the instruction of a sailing school that brought me so many amazing summer experiences. Now, I wouldn't usually consider posting something that has already been covered as suitable material for a post, but after adding that to the familiarity of the artist's prenom (French word for first name), I just had to share it (and, of course, I give my own take on it as opposed to regurgitation, but it just hit too close to home for me to ignore it). Much like the boat in the pictures, I felt that this story was screaming "S.O.S."

Links:
Julien Berthier: Website
Video: Video

Updates:
Last night (10/31/10), I completed this small rendition of Winnie the Pooh for my big brother (per request). His name is Bubbie the Pooh (not very original, but the base figure is called a "Bub"), and I mailed him out this afternoon. I hope my brother will enjoy having him at least half as much as I enjoyed the insanely simple process of creating him (I know that I merely painted him, but it definitely changed him from a blank state, and, as such, I feel that "creating" is the most fitting term). I got a lot of enjoyment from experimenting with the new paints, and I am pretty pleased with the results (both the quality of paint and the depiction of such an adorable cartoon character from our childhood). I think that's enough talk about such a simple piece, and, as before, I will try to provide somewhat of a wrap-around pictorial representation.