cross-posted from my facebook page (thanks alot Jared!)
1. My nerdiness knows no bounds. I’ve caught myself graphing (in my head) the ratio of chocolate coating to jelly center in various shapes of candy deciding which shape is optimum for chocolate lovers vs candy center lovers.
2. Waiting doesn’t bother me. I can sit for an hour somewhere and there’s always something going on in my head that keeps me occupied.
3. I don’t believe that spans of time breaks down friendships. I really enjoyed seeing people at my wedding reception I hadn’t seen in 15 or 20 years. The problem lies in that I worry that I’m bothering people if I contact them. I have a hard time thinking of things to do to get together and put off social things because I can’t think of a reason to call someone up. But when I do get together with old friends it’s like no time has passed at all.
4. I got into the Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Games with Dark Age of Camelot and spent about a third of my time on the game several years ago. I’ve tempered my addiction and now play Warhammer Online (I never really got into WOW) and have made several friendships with people I’ve never met in real life.
5. Related to #4… When Ixa died (IRL) it really hurt, despite the fact I never played in-game with him. The closest we ever got to even communicating is responding to each others posts in an online forum thread. He was really funny, though, and when he was suddenly gone it left a hole that I hadn’t known was going to be there. It often makes me think of the far-reaching effect of everything we do that touches people we barely even know.
6. The question “what if” plagues my waking thoughts. More often it’s the crazy creative “what if I replaced all these things with something slightly different and wierd” type thoughts that lead to more art projects or stories, but sometimes it’s the fear “what if I end up living under a bridge” -type extreme situation questions.
7. I’ve assimilated entirely too much pop-culture into my life. Hardly a conversation goes by that I don’t segue into some sort of “It’s like on Casablanca when…” type-statements. And it frequently involves “The Simpsons”.
8. “The Simpsons” lost me several years back. I don’t think I’ve seen a new episode in years. In fact, I didn’t see the movie until more than a year after it had been out on DVD. It’s kind of like on the Simpsons where Bart doesn’t get to see the itchy and scratchy movie till after he’s been made the chief justice on the Supreme Court.
9. I frequently do stuff that amuses me to no end, but if nobody catches it I don’t let people in on the joke.
10. I’ve read the entire (so far) Discworld series. Superficially that can be taken as light, easy reading, but there is a depth there that is as good as any serious literature. I don’t want them to end.
11.Apophenia
12. I’ve rated over 1600 movies on netflix. And since I don’t rate movies I’ve not seen (and even haven’t rated ones I’ve known I’ve seen, but can’t remember clearly) that means I’ve spent about a third of a year of my life watching films. And that doesn’t count ones I’ve seen more than once, or ones that I’ve not rated or netflix doesn’t have.
13. I find it funny that I work at the University in a specialized field and that I don’t have a degree, despite all my hours of schooling. I find it even funnier that I work with other people who are all smarter than me that don’t have degrees either. But despite it’s amusement I wish I’d finished at least one of the degrees I worked on.
14. I love math, but my intellect topped out at Calculus when I stopped being able to apply story problems to make the calculations make sense. I was the weird kid that loved story problems.
15. Spell checkers save my life. I can’t spell for anything.
16. I love The Daily Show and watch every episode. But I find it makes me somewhat more cynical that they can point out something completely ridiculous in what government or business is doing, but the only attention given to it is on a comedy show for laughs.
17. I miss being able to rock climb more than anything else in my past that I can think of.
18. I love helping out with the pottery classes, but interacting with the new college students boggles my mind. I mean, I remember being clueless at that age and doing the same stupid things to get acceptance from my peers, but really.
19. I don’t understand greed. I’d love to be out of debt and to be able to do something fun every now and then that is out of the ordinary, but I don’t understand the need for $15,000 umbrella stands or accumulating wealth in the billions.
20. I love crowds in which I can be anonymous –like concerts or fireworks. It’s the groups I’m supposed to be social in that freeze me up –like in church. Christmas Shopping crowds make me bonkers, however.
21. I’ve not bought a (non-dress) shirt for myself in several years. I live off the give-away t-shirts vendors give out at the Supercomputing Conferences. Hence, I look the nerd as well. I did have to buy a Hawaii baseball cap so I don’t end up wearing two pieces of nerd-ware. I am somewhat fashion conscious.
22. Despite my nerdsona, I can’t maintain a windows computer for anything. I’m constantly asking the windows guys at work what I should do for a particular problem. This despite keeping a webserver in my bedroom for over a decade. I’m not sure that Linux is that much easier than windows, I just perceive it as less petty niggling.
23. I’m no bandwagoner. I don’t have an iPhone or even an iPod, even though I think they’re cool, I didn’t play Magic the Gathering until it’s waning popularity, and I pretty much just got on the Facebook boat.
24. Despite my brother’s influence and a couple of bands like Beulah or Granddaddy, I pretty much listen to the same music as I did 15 or more years ago. This perplexes me, as I had an inordinate love of music.
25. I hate top XX lists. (this isn’t a ‘top’, it’s random, so it’s ok). The rage online these days seems to be “top 10 action movies” or “top 100 birdcalls”. You just can’t do it. Leave it alone. The best song ever, though is “For What it’s Worth” by Buffalo Springfield.
Random nerdy joy
I got this helmet tonight. It’s not really better than the one I had, but it has an attached monocle! Sometimes my nerdyness brings me such small perls* of joy.
Oh, and if you’re interested (heh-heh) in my current stats for Elath, WH has a nifty up-to-the-minute database so you can see what I’m dressed like Elath or Kto or even Nava
If looks could kill
But he’ll just want to go back out in ten minutes.
Circuit City Brings out the Beast in You
I’ve got a little to say about the nature of the closeout vultures. My wife’s boss had her take his laptop in to circuit city the day before they announced they were closing. Last night we had to go pick it up or risk losing it, so we went over and I’ve never seen the store so full of shoppers. We managed to get a junior lackey to take a look at what we wanted despite being told that the razordog (or whatever their geek-patrollish service was) counter was closed and they couldn’t help us. The kid spent 10 minutes asking for a manager on a walkie-talkie so they could open the cabinet and give us the laptop. The whole time customers would storm up to the counter and almost push us aside while they demanded things like DVI cables or spare RAM. The kid would look at us apologetically and try to help these angry jackals, who became further outraged upon finding out there were only VGA cables left. The kid tried to be helpful in pointing out local competitors who would probably have what the guy wanted, but they became angrier and walked off even as the kid was still attempting to help. I saw ample evidence that civility had not entirely vanished from this tribe as attributed to the flare of recognition they’d jumped in ahead of us being served. But always the spark of shame was quickly doused under a wave of some sort of cutthroat villany or larcenous hunger. My wife said I ought to go look for a wii as we waited, but I did not want the devil of liquidation to garner my soul. We retrieved the laptop and beat a hasty retreat as fast as could be arranged.
As a final punctuation to the evening we were approached by a young woman as we were entering the parking lot asking if we could spare some money for a room. Normally I’m inclined to at least seek for some sign that the person is in need, but she seemed well-fed and groomed. There have been news stories following people who own homes begging at the sides of the road in the area. People who have their hand out who, aren’t particularly in dire straits. I was a little surprised at how quickly I associated this person with those that make it hard to assist the ones truly in need. I made an instantaneous judgement that, this particular Circuit City wasn’t really in a locale that would lend itself to panhandling… unless maybe vultures prey on each other. So I said we didn’t have anything to spare (which is true) and passed on by. But it made me feel a little bad, and somewhat angry at the way things are that you can’t just take people at face value. The woman, with no visible reaction to being passed by just turned back towards the door, picking out her next mark.
I began to wonder throughout the rest of the evening whether my experience within Circuit City had increased my jadedness value (a statistic i’ve been contemplating much lately) enough to significantly alter my perception of the situation, or at very least, my response. I do believe civility begets civility, although I don’t see myself reacting uncivilly, just maybe more brisquely than otherwise. I’ve given rides to strangers late at night who gave me a good enough excuse to pile them in my car and drive them a couple miles. I have brought water or sodas to people who seemed in need and asked. And, on occasion, I’ve sometimes given money, although I prefer to give my money to organizations that are better suited to see it goes where needed. Maybe I am becoming less trusting, or perhaps it was just the events of the night.
days go passing by
So the Aloha from Austin entry was supposed to lead to the Howdy from Hawaii one, but it never materialized. I’ve been thinking a lot, and the time on the cruise gave me ample fodder and opportunity for pages and pages… and yet nothing gets down. I guess it’s because mostly nothing has really grabbed me by the collar and shook me till I had to get it out.
I can’t sleep. For the first (extended) time since my wedding I find myself back with the racing thoughts that keep me up. Debbie gets me up early, or at least earlier than is my habit. We do the car park ballet in the mornings so Kayla can get off to school. After that, I’m pretty much up and at the email between the spurts of preparing for the day I go through till I’m out the door about 9:00 or 9:30. Today was a good one. At 7:30 I found a hit in the morning logs from work that showed a university ip address probing my machine. I confirmed it through several machines that were open to the world and one that refused because it is closed. I composed a short notice to the Institutional Security Office (ISO) and said we’d been probed and gave the originating ip address. As an afterthought I did a host translation on the name and it showed it came through the ip space run by ISO itself. Here’s where my laziness kicks in. I figure it’s got to be some sort of test, but as I’ve gone through the trouble of composing the email after verifying the threat I feel it would be wasted if I just chucked it, so I sent it. I found out from Guy later that Joe had sent a notice out that we were going to be probed as a test from ISO. I don’t remember seeing that email, maybe it got block-deleted as we got off the cruise. I did get a nice note back from jonzy (link redacted) telling me it was ok, and that my prompt attention would be duly noted.
Anyway, up early and not sleeping till well after midnight kind of has me on the rocks. The cruise was very nice. It used to be that whenever I got like this, I’d head for the ocean. There’s something about just sitting and watching all that water that draws out whatever is ailing me, and being on a ship in the middle of it was even better. Probably dropping everything else in the world for two weeks helped, also. I read a really good book which gave me lots to think about while I just sat on the tail of the ship. By the last few days I felt like a totally different person. Maybe it felt a lot like I did when I was 25 or so. I seemed purposeful and full of promise. Now I’m back and it feels a lot like I missed the train or something. I’m back at the same job I’ve been working for over seven years. Not that it’s a bad thing. I think this job is good for me, but lately I’m wondering if I wouldn’t grow more elsewhere.
So much happened that I want to write about, but I’m just not in the mood for writing. I’m tempted to Excerpt it all here, but that seems cop-out’ish. Were it not for friends and family I think I would seek a change of venue. Not that I think I could find a niche in Hawaii, but closer to the ocean would be nice. Besides, after living in paradise how could you go on (or even visit) elsewhere? Kauai was heart-breakingly beautiful. The ocean was warm. There are chickens everywhere.
Be all you can be
I got a call at work today, and it just started off weird because my phone was ringing with a default ring, not the Beulah song I have normally. I didn’t recognize the number so I just answered with my regular work answer.
“This is Erik.”
“Is this Erik?” (This frequent response kills me)
“Yes it is.”
“This is [rank, somebody] from the U.S. Army recruiting office, How are you doing?”
“Fine”
“Good, I understand you are a student at the University of Utah.”
“I was last year.”
“Oh, did you graduate?”
“No.” (My playtime algorithm is kicking in and overriding my politeness filter)
“Did you transfer schools?”
“No, Dropped out.”
“Oh (he’s finding his opening now, maybe money problems??), was there a reason?”
“Cancer.” (ok, you have to get some milage out of having it)
It’s at this point I can hear the gears grinding as he shifts into non-standard phone conversation.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
I can tell that his wheels are kind of spinning and my politeness filter slips in while playtime is laughing.
“I’m too old anyway.”
He grabs at this lifeline eagerly.
“Oh, how old are you?”
“Forty-one.”
“Well, the cutoff age is 42 now! Uh… how is your prognosis doing?”
“50-50”
“Oh. Well, do you know anyone who would be interested in a bazillion (or something like that) college dollars?”
“Nobody who’s not doing it.”
“Ok, well…. I uh, hope your uh… recovery goes ok.”
“Thanks.”
Sands of Time
So this last couple weeks have been a frenzy of preparation for the CAU Holiday Sale. (along with preparations for SC in Austin and Christmas in Hawaii [although Debbie is mostly handling Hawaii*])
Anyway, I had list after list of things that I needed to remember to handle taking up little bits of paper in my pockets, among which was a note to get some butchers paper in which to wrap the sales.*** I remembered from a past life where I worked in a book bindery that they used to give out the ends of the rolls of paper (endrolls –clever, eh?) to people who wanted them. I thought that as it was a greener time recycling places may have worked deals with them, but I hauled myself on over anyway.
I walked in to an empty reception area and caught the eye of a guy standing in the hall. He looked familiar, but for me, who doesn’t? As he walked up I started to say, “I used to work here a long time ago and remembered you used to give out endrolls.” No sooner did I say this than my brain clicked and I recoginzed one of the women standing in the hall as one of the girls who ran the collator when I worked there. Time did that funny thing where it rubber-bands back to an earlier time and flashes around for a minute. Suddenly it was 20-ish years ago when I worked there all the guys would have chased her, but she was queen of the ‘you creep’ stare down. She was one of those girls who wouldn’t give anyone the time of day. I asked her once, because I really wondered what time it was. She gave me the look, turned and walked away. I knew she was out of my league, I really just wanted to know the time.
Then time snapped back and the weight of two decades whalluped me. I was completely floored that someone I still knew worked there, the job just wasn’t that promising. She still had the same haircut even, and I would have been hard pressed to admit they weren’t the exact same clothes when last I saw her, so maybe change wasn’t her thing. The guy I started talking to told me to drive around to the loading dock, “you remember where that is, right?” I had to admit I didn’t because the old printing house is now a strip club a few blocks away. They moved a few years after the bindery and I parted ways. He told me where it was and I beat a hasty retreat. I don’t know if I could have withstood another timefugue.
I picked up three rolls of good paper. I’ve got to remember to check out more production cast-offs for supplies more often.
* good thing I didn’t need to subreference again**
** doh!
*** if any
All over but the cryin’
The booth is in a pile awaiting packing, My room is in order for the final stowage and I’m about falling into bed for the last sleep before I can go home. It’s funny how every year I look forward to this week, and it stays elusive and unreal until it falls on me, then before it’s over I can’t wait to get back. It’s worse now that I have a family than before, but even then the whole conference thing wears a little by Thursday morning.
My dad worked for a company that contracted in the aerospace industry and spent a lot of time at conferences. We were always excited to see what he’d bring back for us from his trips, and a lot of my memories from my youth involve the excitement of going to the airport Friday nights to pick him up after he was gone all week. I used to imagine going off on trips like he did and flying all over the world to some conference, but I never believed it was anything more than a dream. I can’t really imagine doing more than the one a year, but I make up for it by bringing home more schwag.
Tuesday I was walking back around town and I saw a star on the sidewalk with a name that somehow rang a Patsy Cline-ish bell in my head. Paying it little heed, I eased on down the road. I ran across another star that said Sandra Day O’connor. I mused on this somewhat more as I walked towards another star. Mean Joe Green was printed on this one and it stopped me in my tracks. My head nearly burst trying to make some sort of order of the three before I hit the pressure release valve by deciding it must just have to do with Texans. It was almost as surprising to see how many different recognizable names there were on these markers, as it was to see the back-street way in which they are presented. Arguably having them around the convention center gives them exposed to the tourist traffic that would give them more notice, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more gum-spotted and pigeon-flecked nondescript thoroughfare in my limited travels.
I suppose there is more to tell, but I’m still mulling over the events I’ve not quite sorted through yet, and it’s midnight, so I suppose I ought to sleep some. I wouldn’t want to doze off on my flight.
Southern Seeds
Aloha from Austin. Normally a picture would go here, but in the myriad of cables I packed into my backpack I somehow left out anything that will let my camera feed my laptop like an angry baby bird. I did remember the phone charger. And the camera charger. And the laptop charger. And a cat-5 cable for the laptop. And the phone USB cable. But not the camera USB cable. Or the media reader. I was sure I ordered one on this laptop, but there you go. It would be nice, maybe I’ll remember to look into it. Along with all those other things I’m supposed to remember.
Supercomputing (SC08) got underway yesterday. We landed about 3:00 and grabbed a quick dinner and set up the booth, and got back to the hotel just in time to close out the hot tub at the end of the day. It was fairly event-less, other than the usual travel complaints. Sharpie somehow got a late flight by himself going home Friday and gets in after 11:00 p.m. while we all land around 7:00. Our flight out of Denver was delayed while we sat in the plane for half an hour while they rebooted the right engine’s computer, or something like that. Several times there was a sound like a compressor-driven wrench that seemed to shake the plane for its volume from the starboard side that was a bit unnerving. We made it alright but for some turbulence that showed which of us ‘really’ didn’t like to fly. The hysterical laughing by a toddler in the back of the plane after every shimmy caused several passengers to roll their eyes. I liked it too, but then again, I suppose I’ve never had a really scary flight.
The weather here is really nice. Much better than last year in Reno, which tried to be nice, but only succeeded in foreboding the coming winter. It seems like every conference I end up finding seeds. I suppose it’s the time of the year for it, but for some reason every November I end up walking around a strange town with a pocket full of some sort of potential floral offspring. This year it started last night. We were waiting for the shuttle bus after checking in to the hotel when we noticed some pods, like gamma irradiated edamame, hanging from a small tree. Stepping on them revealed some hard reddish seeds that made my hands itch from carrying them around. I have some in my bag. Today as I detoured slightly en route to the bus I came across the biggest acorns I have ever seen. Some that looked disturbingly uncircumcised. They were lying under the scrawniest little oakling which caused me to search the surroundings for some sort of benefactor (Santa Squirrel? The Thanksgiving Bunny?) or perhaps it was just a baby sitter for some Oak who’s gone on holiday. They were as big as small eggs from the dairy section. One slipped into my bag and I was off to the conference.
There were no tutorials today that I felt compelled to attend, no matter how much I tried. The last couple years the tutorials seemed either outside the realm of usefulness or redundant to previous ones I’ve attended. I manned the booth for a bit as USU set up their portion. Really, I sat and read the news and refreshed the Iseult message board. Restless, I stowed my gear, obfuscated my conference badge and meandered back out into sunlight.
On the ride to the convention center I’d noticed we crossed a big river (maybe it’s a lake, there didn’t seem to be any current, but it’s long and narrow, so go figure). With a little aid from Google maps on my phone I found the ubiquitous Caesar Chavez St. and the waterfront. As my left hand doesn’t know what’s up on the other side I made the routine wrong turn and headed towards a seedier side of town. I was watching fat squirrels pester noisy blackbirds when I ran across what seems to be some sort of southern pine-cone. Although it does somewhat resemble a cross between a miniscule cantaloupe and a walnut. It does, however, smell of clean kitchens. Four found their way into my pocket.
I crossed under the bat-bridge. There are enough bats nesting under the overpass to qualify it as a tourist attraction, and I attest it was the squeakiest bridge I’ve ever heard. I may have to hang around till dusk one of these nights. As I meandered around I stopped at one point on a bridge and was watching two turtles compete for the world record for holding their breath in the river, thinking about the shared nature of experience (If I never told anyone about the turtles would anyone hear?) a guy came up and asked me if I would help his brother propose matrimony to the girl he was jogging with in 10 minutes. He explained that his brother was about to pop the question and they had several people they were gathering to help out. I was supposed to stand on the bridge and hand a tuxedo jacket to him as he ran by. It was one of those moments where you know you’re about to choose one of the trouser legs of time to head down but I chickened out and headed down the path where I hustled back to the convention center. I need to make a post sometime exploring my savings throws vs. adventure, but, despite the headache, I’m in too good of a mood today.
Soon friends will appear and we can mosey off to the exhibitor party and there will be more tales I can procrastinate tell. And maybe tonight I’ll roll the adventure.
Someday pics will follow.
The Zombie Cat Cometh!
So on Sunday afternoon I went to take the recycling out to the can by the side of my house and I noticed a strange cat sitting on the new garage pad at the back of the yard. Now this cat was strange, not merely unfamiliar, so I walked back a bit to get a better look. As I walked back the cat arose from it’s haunches and began to lurch towards me. My first impression was how an arthritic cat, who was unfamiliar, in addition to being strange, came to be in my back yard. Generally all our cats run off all feline interlopers, even ones that used to be welcome. As I got closer what I had mistaken for a cat shaved from the neck down developed (to my horror) to be afflicted with some sort of malady, nutritional or otherwise, that had rendered it nude. In addition I could clearly see every bone in the poor creatures body as malnutrition had taken a toll on the beasts mass. Startled, I recoiled a pace or two as a preservational proximity alert chimed in my head. With cinematic timing that would have made George Romero proud the cat’s jaw dropped and it let out a gravely cry. Now, I’m not one to have ever interpreted tongues, but in my head I heard the zombie call. “Braaaaiins!” I scooped up a handful of gravel from the ground and tossed it in the general direction of the cat, afraid that if the pebbles actually struck it they might tear through the beast like tissue paper. Undeterred, the cat continued to close distance at a snails pace. Equally appropriately to the situation, I failed to use my superior coordination to get safely away.
I yelled (and backed up a step). I stamped my foot (and took two more steps back). The cat was closing on me. Any second now it would be in reach. I finally let out a manly wail and broke into a run for the front door.
“What’s the matter with you?” my wife asked, turning from her computer.
“Where are our cats?” I couldn’t keep the tremor out of my voice. I started searching on chairs under tables trying to count pets.
She got up and started for the door, “What happened?”
“Don’t open it!” I shreaked. “Zombie Cat!”
She went to the door, “Oh the poor thing!”
One of us sent Kayla out back to gather up Stan and Narby.
“What’s it doing?” I managed, cracking open the brand new phne book.
“It’s eating the food on the porch.”
I found the number for animal control and began dialing. I wondered what percentage of brains was in the cat food. An automated message told me the phone number for animal control had been changed. At this point the phone should have gone dead, but my luck held out. I dialed the new number. An automated message came up telling me to listen to the options and to push 1 for some non-zombie animal situation. I sat listening to my choices waiting for some sort of Buffy option but none came. I finally pushed 0 to talk to an operator. After a moment a synthetic voice came back telling me to listen to the options and push 1 for… I pushed 0 again.
And again.
Again-again-again!
“Please listen to our options.”
Animal control was out. So I went to get my cell phone because it has the number for police dispatch on it from a car accident a couple years ago. Debbie was still looking at the door making sympathetic comments. I love her for caring about everything, even the undead pets.
Dispatch answers and I describe the zombie cat on my porch eating cat food. They tell me to call animal control and I told them I’d tried, and maybe everyone there was dead already. (ok, I didn’t say that last part, but it did cross my mind.) They say there’s nothing they can do.
“Can I kill it?” I ask.
“That will probably result in animal cruelty charges.” I’m told.
“It wouldn’t be cruelty, it would be…” and here I can’t think of the word merciful so I end up muttering, “better… stopping… Well, it’s not in good shape.” I finish lamely.
They asked if I called a certain number and I said I didn’t that I’d tried one number and gotten a changed number and then the other one just told me to listen to my options. The kind, yet dispassionate dispatch officer, knowing how to deal with the over imaginative, adrenaline-addled horror movie susceptible segment of the population gave me a fourth number.
I dial the fourth number and begin to tell another person of my brush with the feline undead. I get a quick response, “Do you have the animal trapped?”
“What?” I’m a bit taken aback, as this seems like a step in a positive direction.
“Do you have it in a cardboard box, or something?”
“I’m not going near that,” and again I imagine the tissue-paper thin skin tearing as I try to pick it up in my welding-gloved hands.
“Well, if you catch it we can send somebody out, otherwise…”
“Isn’t this animal control?” I ask, wondering if I could borrow a protective storm-trooper outfit or something.
“No, they’re closed on Sundays, this is the County Sheriff’s office. Do you still have a visual on the animal?”
“Can you see it?” I ask my wife who is still at the door.
“No, it went back around the side of the house.”
I relay the information to the sheriff.
“Sorry, if you don’t have at least a visual and we send an officer out, he’s just going to wander around your yard a second and leave, so it’s really not worth the time.”
It makes sense, yet I feel somehow let down.
“Ok,” I tell her.
“Call us back if you catch it.” and she rings off.
I ask Debbie where the cat went, and bravely (in my mind, as I still am unprotected from my knees to my toes) walk out on the porch. She tells me back up the driveway and I go investigate, but it seems the zombie cat has disappeared into the dark of the afternoon.