I have to say I'm just tickled pink about my new blog header picture. Sure it's a little large, but I don't see the point in cropping it. I encourage everyone who hasn't done it already to run to your "Layout" section of your blog and start putting up header pictures.
Hooray for blogger.com!
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Rant: No Dating Life for Me
I haven't been dating at all. It's been a long time. Lately, I've been wondering why I've been treated like crap or why the guy is all excited about me during the first date, but loses interest in me after that.
I'm beginning to think there are several things going on:
1) There are a lot of jerks around and they're all available. Folks have said this has something to do with living in SF/Bay Area, but I'm not sure if that's true. Folks have also said it's because I'm too old, not "hot" enough, too fat. A couple of years ago I would have said that was true, but no more because it seems even young beautiful women are also being treated like crap. And they are also having a difficult time finding someone even if they are dating more than me. I had a conversation with a beautiful young woman who used to work in my office who is actively dating. She is sweet, smart and on track for a great career and yet she explained to me that guys take her out once and then dump her (and no, she's not having sex with them). One even explained that she just wasn't "hot" enough. And I'll spell this next part out instead of resorting to the usual acronym which I think is lame anyway: WHAT THE FUCK is up with that???!! I was flabbergasted when she told me that story.
2) All the good men are taken particularly the ones in my age bracket. I think this is mostly true now. I used to think that was just a cliche, but it's not, people. All good guys around my age are already in long term relationships. The ones left over are either commitment phobes and/or have baggage worthy of bringing a plane down.
3) Many men around my age group have absolutely no interest in forming a serious relationship. They date sometimes but mostly so they can have sex, or less often for companionship. They don't completely rule out a relationship but they're not going to consider it unless the "girl" is spectacular. She really has to be "The One" for these men to put forth any kind of effort. Anything less is just there to warm the pillow. What does this mean for me? It means the guy is looking for that elusive quality of genius supermodel with seven figure earning salary. I have none of those qualities.
4) Somewhat related to number three is the idea that my therapist suggested and that is that when a guy decides he likes me he realizes that I'm not just there for fun, but for a serious relationship and this can be intimidating. I'm not sure if that's true or not, but it can't hurt to include it on this list anyway.
5) The odds are lousy. As I tell my good friends, who are also having the same problems with dating, you only need one good man. I still believe that's true, but I don't see the point in looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack. The odds are that I will be very disappointed if I try to meet another guy. And, if the recent past is any indication, the odds are pretty high that he will turn out to be mean, inconsiderate asshole which seems to be happening more and more.
6) Being kind and loving are code words for "fuck me over!!" I'm a good person, I'm a nice person and I enjoy treating men well, but if you are kind and generous they see you as nothing more than a chump, someone to take advantage of. Oh and God forbid if you fall in love and tell them that. As soon as that happens you're off to the Gulag Archipelago of love, baby. Love is supposed to be the strongest force in the Universe, but the fact that I might love a man only means that I am weak and stupid in his eyes.
I'm never going to find someone who will love me, be excited to be with me, who will want to talk to me and see me, who I can explore the world and life with. I don't even remember what it's like to have a man love me like that. It's just as well.
What does this all mean? No dating life for me. I know I sound bitter, but it's the way things are. This is what happens when you spend over five years looking for a relationship and keep striking out over and over. I didn't start out this bitter, but feeling this way is inevitable when no one wants you unless they can get a nut off or when they tell you they want to focus on pursuing a serious relationship with someone else. Do I sound angry? You bet I do. I'm post nuclear pissed off in an apocalyptic dating world.
p.s. for all of you who might be concerned about this post, i'll just say this is my blog and i'll damn well rant on it if i want to.
I'm beginning to think there are several things going on:
1) There are a lot of jerks around and they're all available. Folks have said this has something to do with living in SF/Bay Area, but I'm not sure if that's true. Folks have also said it's because I'm too old, not "hot" enough, too fat. A couple of years ago I would have said that was true, but no more because it seems even young beautiful women are also being treated like crap. And they are also having a difficult time finding someone even if they are dating more than me. I had a conversation with a beautiful young woman who used to work in my office who is actively dating. She is sweet, smart and on track for a great career and yet she explained to me that guys take her out once and then dump her (and no, she's not having sex with them). One even explained that she just wasn't "hot" enough. And I'll spell this next part out instead of resorting to the usual acronym which I think is lame anyway: WHAT THE FUCK is up with that???!! I was flabbergasted when she told me that story.
2) All the good men are taken particularly the ones in my age bracket. I think this is mostly true now. I used to think that was just a cliche, but it's not, people. All good guys around my age are already in long term relationships. The ones left over are either commitment phobes and/or have baggage worthy of bringing a plane down.
3) Many men around my age group have absolutely no interest in forming a serious relationship. They date sometimes but mostly so they can have sex, or less often for companionship. They don't completely rule out a relationship but they're not going to consider it unless the "girl" is spectacular. She really has to be "The One" for these men to put forth any kind of effort. Anything less is just there to warm the pillow. What does this mean for me? It means the guy is looking for that elusive quality of genius supermodel with seven figure earning salary. I have none of those qualities.
4) Somewhat related to number three is the idea that my therapist suggested and that is that when a guy decides he likes me he realizes that I'm not just there for fun, but for a serious relationship and this can be intimidating. I'm not sure if that's true or not, but it can't hurt to include it on this list anyway.
5) The odds are lousy. As I tell my good friends, who are also having the same problems with dating, you only need one good man. I still believe that's true, but I don't see the point in looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack. The odds are that I will be very disappointed if I try to meet another guy. And, if the recent past is any indication, the odds are pretty high that he will turn out to be mean, inconsiderate asshole which seems to be happening more and more.
6) Being kind and loving are code words for "fuck me over!!" I'm a good person, I'm a nice person and I enjoy treating men well, but if you are kind and generous they see you as nothing more than a chump, someone to take advantage of. Oh and God forbid if you fall in love and tell them that. As soon as that happens you're off to the Gulag Archipelago of love, baby. Love is supposed to be the strongest force in the Universe, but the fact that I might love a man only means that I am weak and stupid in his eyes.
I'm never going to find someone who will love me, be excited to be with me, who will want to talk to me and see me, who I can explore the world and life with. I don't even remember what it's like to have a man love me like that. It's just as well.
What does this all mean? No dating life for me. I know I sound bitter, but it's the way things are. This is what happens when you spend over five years looking for a relationship and keep striking out over and over. I didn't start out this bitter, but feeling this way is inevitable when no one wants you unless they can get a nut off or when they tell you they want to focus on pursuing a serious relationship with someone else. Do I sound angry? You bet I do. I'm post nuclear pissed off in an apocalyptic dating world.
p.s. for all of you who might be concerned about this post, i'll just say this is my blog and i'll damn well rant on it if i want to.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
San Francisco Summer
My lovely City is known for its cold summers. For example, today is July 27, 2008 and it is now 61 degrees. There's a little wind rattling the inferior windows of my apartment and when I look out my little window towards the Pacific Ocean there's nothing but fog and the vague outline of houses and the pink church a few blocks down.
Yesterday I was in San Jose, my hometown about 50 miles south of here, and it was about 88 degrees there. I grew up in that town and was used to the warm to hot summers there. I've been here in San Francisco now for over five years and have become very acclimated to our cooler, foggy temperatures. When the temperature climbs to over the mid-80s I find myself longing for our infamous fog.
Tourists are often shocked when they come here in the summer. Even when cautioned about our weather they still can't bring themselves to believe it really is that cold here. Tourists are easy to spot with their shorts and hastily bought sweatshirts that say "San Francisco" on them or "Alcatraz."
It's true that some days in the summer can be warm and beautiful here, even hot, but let's be clear that it's only a few days where that happens. Our "summer" which we call "indian summer" comes in the fall. During that time the weather is usually spectacular: warm, but not too warm and oh so mild.
We who live here waste no time getting out of doors when the weather is nice. You can find us in Golden Gate Park, out and about in neighborhoods, and on the beach wandering around in sun dresses and flip flops. As the song goes, there's nothing like a warm San Francisco night. The City takes on a magical quality enhanced by the billions of people out on the street.
Although weather enhancement does well for encouraging the entrancing qualities of the City to come out, I find it beautiful no matter what the weather. And no matter how people moan about how cold it is here.
Yesterday I was in San Jose, my hometown about 50 miles south of here, and it was about 88 degrees there. I grew up in that town and was used to the warm to hot summers there. I've been here in San Francisco now for over five years and have become very acclimated to our cooler, foggy temperatures. When the temperature climbs to over the mid-80s I find myself longing for our infamous fog.
Tourists are often shocked when they come here in the summer. Even when cautioned about our weather they still can't bring themselves to believe it really is that cold here. Tourists are easy to spot with their shorts and hastily bought sweatshirts that say "San Francisco" on them or "Alcatraz."
It's true that some days in the summer can be warm and beautiful here, even hot, but let's be clear that it's only a few days where that happens. Our "summer" which we call "indian summer" comes in the fall. During that time the weather is usually spectacular: warm, but not too warm and oh so mild.
We who live here waste no time getting out of doors when the weather is nice. You can find us in Golden Gate Park, out and about in neighborhoods, and on the beach wandering around in sun dresses and flip flops. As the song goes, there's nothing like a warm San Francisco night. The City takes on a magical quality enhanced by the billions of people out on the street.
Although weather enhancement does well for encouraging the entrancing qualities of the City to come out, I find it beautiful no matter what the weather. And no matter how people moan about how cold it is here.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Change and Habit
My swimming instructor is teaching me to breath on the left side. My current habit now is to turn my head to the right with each stroke of my right arm. This is causing my neck to stiffen and isn't efficient in the water.
So now I'm learning to swim three strokes (one, two, three, turn head to the right to breath-then one, two, three, turn head to the left). As I struggle with this new habit I'm sucking down water, I'm sinking and gasping for breath, my neck is bothering me and I can barely swim 200 yards as I flail around in the water trying to get my body in alignment.
I feel like a baby. And yet my turning my head to the right with every right arm stroke is just a habit, something I learned to do. And that means that I can learn to do something else to replace that habit as long as I practice it.
My swimming instructor's philosophy: "If people are willing to change and to practice that change, then people are capable of anything." I realized the simple, awesome truth of this statement. Annoying habits are just that, habits. This means they can be changed with practice. I couldn't swim at all as of last November, but now I can swim 400 yards without stopping. This is not a miracle. This did not happen overnight. It was hard work and training, but mostly it was all about breaking everything down into manageable pieces, learning them and practice, practice, practice.
It's not easy, but it's very doable.
If I can swim, I can do damn near anything including learning to breath on the left side. I'm wondering what other "good" and "fun" habits I can cultivate now.
So now I'm learning to swim three strokes (one, two, three, turn head to the right to breath-then one, two, three, turn head to the left). As I struggle with this new habit I'm sucking down water, I'm sinking and gasping for breath, my neck is bothering me and I can barely swim 200 yards as I flail around in the water trying to get my body in alignment.
I feel like a baby. And yet my turning my head to the right with every right arm stroke is just a habit, something I learned to do. And that means that I can learn to do something else to replace that habit as long as I practice it.
My swimming instructor's philosophy: "If people are willing to change and to practice that change, then people are capable of anything." I realized the simple, awesome truth of this statement. Annoying habits are just that, habits. This means they can be changed with practice. I couldn't swim at all as of last November, but now I can swim 400 yards without stopping. This is not a miracle. This did not happen overnight. It was hard work and training, but mostly it was all about breaking everything down into manageable pieces, learning them and practice, practice, practice.
It's not easy, but it's very doable.
If I can swim, I can do damn near anything including learning to breath on the left side. I'm wondering what other "good" and "fun" habits I can cultivate now.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Don't Eat the Apples
"This is a nice place, Miss Turtle."
I mumble something. Mr. Gryphon is right, of course, but I am looking around the impossibly lush garden we have the good fortune to be in. I look to and fro. The warm breeze and sparkling air are so perfect that I pause from my searching and take a deep breath.
"Is this your new garden?" I cannot ignore him any longer.
"No, sir. This is Paradise, a walled garden located in Eden. Judging by the good weather the Fall of Man has not yet occurred." Our attention is caught by a lion leisurely walking by. Mr. Gryphon's claws start to extend, but I stop him by putting my hand on his arm. "He won't hurt us. He can't. Everything is in harmony here."
Sure enough a small rabbit crosses his path. The two beautiful animals greet each other by touching noses before moving on. I decide to follow the lion a little ways behind. He pays no mind. The garden opens up before us. I feel it in my bones. A longing and an aching in my heart. Tears come to my eyes, but don't spill.
"Feel that, Mr. Gryphon?" My voice sounds a little watery.
"No, but I see you are affected," he says. He is watching me closely as we walk along the thick carpet of grass.
"It is the eternal longing, Mr. Gryphon. All of mankind longs to return home regardless of your religious beliefs. That's what this place is home of the soul." I sniffle. He pats my hand and I give him a grateful hug. It's good to be with my trusty friend once more. We walk on.
The garden opens up into a little glen and I feel my breath catch for in front of us are two spectacular trees. One is huge and is laden with apples. They are brighter than jewels and so overwhelming I can't take my eyes off them. I just want to stare and stare. The tree next to it is also laden with fruit, but not as showy. It is handsome and it glows with a quiet majesty*. I know what trees they are and I long to eat, but I don't move. An apple, I think. I've already fallen, I tell myself. What would happen if I had one now?
Just as I'm considering finding out the answer to my question Mr. Gryphon gently draws me back into the bushes. "Someone is coming," he says close to my right ear. We both crouch down and watch.
An ornament-like snake rolling gracefully along enters the glen on the far left side. Its colors shift and shine. Behind him a stunning young blond woman follows.
"That's Eve," I whisper, "Looks like we're in Book IX of Milton's book." The snake slides gracefully up the tree and begins to talk to Eve. They are so far away that we can't hear them.
"Snake there, 'the subtlest beast in the field,' is possessed by Satan so he can tempt Eve into eating the apples."
"What's wrong with eating apples?" Mr. Gryphon has had to sit down so he won't be visible.
"They are from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. God has told them they can do what they like here except they can never eat from that tree or 'ye will surely die.' Eve eats the apple anyway and Man Falls and becomes mortal. It's a long, drawn out affair. I'd rather not watch it all, if you don't mind."
"We can do whatever you like, Miss Turtle."
"I am happy to see Snake, though. Surely Satan in this story is one of the greatest, most fascinating characters in literature. Milton was pretty far up there even if he wrote the whole thing in verse. I used to think it would be the greatest story I'll ever read, but I think it's number two*. We'll see."
We move slowly away from the glen leaving Eve and Snake to talk. "Better get our stroll in now before the weather changes. That should happen pretty quickly." We walk back the way we came. Birds are singing in the trees. "By tomorrow Paradise will be empty with nothing but the glorious plants, and the Cherubim who will be guarding it," I say.
"Did you know that gryphons were considered one of the origins for Cherubim?" he says.
"I had no idea!"
"This might hint at my former life, Miss Turtle, a subject you and I have never discussed."
"I'm intrigued. I didn't know you had a former life. I would not have guessed." The flowers are heavily fragrant, a rabble of butterflies float by on the sweet gentle breeze. The sun and the blue sky I glimpse as I look up look as though they were made for only Mr. Gryphon and me. I want to ask him more about his former life, but I decide to wait and enjoy this place for now. The garden and earth as it is now will change and Man will begin his real adventure once he leaves this perfect place.
"It's not a bad thing, Falling, no matter what they say. I'm sure of it," I look up at my good friend and we smile at each other. We continue through the garden slowly and easily. We walk under a cherry tree. The flowers are floating down on us like soft snow. Some are caught in my hair. Mr. Gryphon gently brushes them off. He hands me a small, perfect pink blossom.
"A souvenir for you, Miss Turtle."
"I don't think we can take that with us."
"It's all right. Trust me." I thank him and slip the flower into my pocket. "It will remain perfect forever," he says. I look at him more closely. The earth and grass smell green and warm. I wonder if he was an angel in his former life.
"That would make me a guardian, eh, Miss Turtle?" he says, reading my mind as he sometimes does.
"I suppose so. It makes sense. Odd how things are coming together like this."
"Odd indeed." We speak no more. The earth, sky and universe gives a great groan for the Fall has just happened." We will only have a little more time before the weather changes.
*the Tree of Life.
**my humble opinion is "The Epic of Gilgamesh" will take the top spot, but I still haven't read an actual translated version of it.
I mumble something. Mr. Gryphon is right, of course, but I am looking around the impossibly lush garden we have the good fortune to be in. I look to and fro. The warm breeze and sparkling air are so perfect that I pause from my searching and take a deep breath.
"Is this your new garden?" I cannot ignore him any longer.
"No, sir. This is Paradise, a walled garden located in Eden. Judging by the good weather the Fall of Man has not yet occurred." Our attention is caught by a lion leisurely walking by. Mr. Gryphon's claws start to extend, but I stop him by putting my hand on his arm. "He won't hurt us. He can't. Everything is in harmony here."
Sure enough a small rabbit crosses his path. The two beautiful animals greet each other by touching noses before moving on. I decide to follow the lion a little ways behind. He pays no mind. The garden opens up before us. I feel it in my bones. A longing and an aching in my heart. Tears come to my eyes, but don't spill.
"Feel that, Mr. Gryphon?" My voice sounds a little watery.
"No, but I see you are affected," he says. He is watching me closely as we walk along the thick carpet of grass.
"It is the eternal longing, Mr. Gryphon. All of mankind longs to return home regardless of your religious beliefs. That's what this place is home of the soul." I sniffle. He pats my hand and I give him a grateful hug. It's good to be with my trusty friend once more. We walk on.
The garden opens up into a little glen and I feel my breath catch for in front of us are two spectacular trees. One is huge and is laden with apples. They are brighter than jewels and so overwhelming I can't take my eyes off them. I just want to stare and stare. The tree next to it is also laden with fruit, but not as showy. It is handsome and it glows with a quiet majesty*. I know what trees they are and I long to eat, but I don't move. An apple, I think. I've already fallen, I tell myself. What would happen if I had one now?
Just as I'm considering finding out the answer to my question Mr. Gryphon gently draws me back into the bushes. "Someone is coming," he says close to my right ear. We both crouch down and watch.
An ornament-like snake rolling gracefully along enters the glen on the far left side. Its colors shift and shine. Behind him a stunning young blond woman follows.
"That's Eve," I whisper, "Looks like we're in Book IX of Milton's book." The snake slides gracefully up the tree and begins to talk to Eve. They are so far away that we can't hear them.
"Snake there, 'the subtlest beast in the field,' is possessed by Satan so he can tempt Eve into eating the apples."
"What's wrong with eating apples?" Mr. Gryphon has had to sit down so he won't be visible.
"They are from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. God has told them they can do what they like here except they can never eat from that tree or 'ye will surely die.' Eve eats the apple anyway and Man Falls and becomes mortal. It's a long, drawn out affair. I'd rather not watch it all, if you don't mind."
"We can do whatever you like, Miss Turtle."
"I am happy to see Snake, though. Surely Satan in this story is one of the greatest, most fascinating characters in literature. Milton was pretty far up there even if he wrote the whole thing in verse. I used to think it would be the greatest story I'll ever read, but I think it's number two*. We'll see."
We move slowly away from the glen leaving Eve and Snake to talk. "Better get our stroll in now before the weather changes. That should happen pretty quickly." We walk back the way we came. Birds are singing in the trees. "By tomorrow Paradise will be empty with nothing but the glorious plants, and the Cherubim who will be guarding it," I say.
"Did you know that gryphons were considered one of the origins for Cherubim?" he says.
"I had no idea!"
"This might hint at my former life, Miss Turtle, a subject you and I have never discussed."
"I'm intrigued. I didn't know you had a former life. I would not have guessed." The flowers are heavily fragrant, a rabble of butterflies float by on the sweet gentle breeze. The sun and the blue sky I glimpse as I look up look as though they were made for only Mr. Gryphon and me. I want to ask him more about his former life, but I decide to wait and enjoy this place for now. The garden and earth as it is now will change and Man will begin his real adventure once he leaves this perfect place.
"It's not a bad thing, Falling, no matter what they say. I'm sure of it," I look up at my good friend and we smile at each other. We continue through the garden slowly and easily. We walk under a cherry tree. The flowers are floating down on us like soft snow. Some are caught in my hair. Mr. Gryphon gently brushes them off. He hands me a small, perfect pink blossom.
"A souvenir for you, Miss Turtle."
"I don't think we can take that with us."
"It's all right. Trust me." I thank him and slip the flower into my pocket. "It will remain perfect forever," he says. I look at him more closely. The earth and grass smell green and warm. I wonder if he was an angel in his former life.
"That would make me a guardian, eh, Miss Turtle?" he says, reading my mind as he sometimes does.
"I suppose so. It makes sense. Odd how things are coming together like this."
"Odd indeed." We speak no more. The earth, sky and universe gives a great groan for the Fall has just happened." We will only have a little more time before the weather changes.
***
This past Saturday I finally finished reading "Paradise Lost" by John Milton. His tale of Man's Fall is wonderful, poignant and hopeful. A beautiful story. I highly recommend it even if isn't an easy read. It was published 1674 and language takes some getting used to as does reading in verse. At least you don't have to worry about translation.
*the Tree of Life.
**my humble opinion is "The Epic of Gilgamesh" will take the top spot, but I still haven't read an actual translated version of it.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Hidden Abalone Under My Feet
Daily, I wander down that old road. Its gold colored bricks and sideline orchids cast a heavenly glow, but heaven it is not. I move slowly hoping for a sign or for someone to come along, but it's just me as usual.
My solitude has become familiar to me much like a pair of well-worn jeans. I think about how my time has passed and wonder what's in store for me now. Am I past my prime? Will my solitude extend into forever? No one knows.
I dream of a man who's a low-key genius, who is kind and funny. Who sits in the dark. I keep hearing more reports about him. I keep hearing that he is more wonderful than I ever dreamed he'd be. I want to tell him how I feel about him. I want him to know I feel this longing but it is too much for us, both apart and together.
Today was a once in a lifetime. A few hours that will never be duplicated or planned for ever again. They told me they were glad I was there, that they knew I wouldn't have missed it for anything. They know me well. I sloshed around with the others. Salt water splashed on my face. I felt like I would burst with gratitude all day long.
I feel marvelously happy and achingly sad tonight.
It's been a good day to think about these things.
My solitude has become familiar to me much like a pair of well-worn jeans. I think about how my time has passed and wonder what's in store for me now. Am I past my prime? Will my solitude extend into forever? No one knows.
I dream of a man who's a low-key genius, who is kind and funny. Who sits in the dark. I keep hearing more reports about him. I keep hearing that he is more wonderful than I ever dreamed he'd be. I want to tell him how I feel about him. I want him to know I feel this longing but it is too much for us, both apart and together.
Today was a once in a lifetime. A few hours that will never be duplicated or planned for ever again. They told me they were glad I was there, that they knew I wouldn't have missed it for anything. They know me well. I sloshed around with the others. Salt water splashed on my face. I felt like I would burst with gratitude all day long.
I feel marvelously happy and achingly sad tonight.
It's been a good day to think about these things.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
They Say The Best Camera Is The One You Use All The Time
Since I got a monster tax return this year I decided to buy myself a new point-and-shoot camera. You can see the first pictures in the previous post. It's a Panasonic DMC-TZ4 with 10x zoom and it shoots 8 megapixal pictures. The zoom was a must have for me. I have my nice Canon Powershot, but it's a bit bulky to carry around every day and I've found that carrying a camera with me all the time encourages me to shoot more spontaneously and to think more about posting on this blog.
I'm embarrassed to say I now have two nice 35 mm cameras, the Canon Powershot and now this camera and I'm still not using any of them to their full potential. Part of this is because I just don't know what they're capable of. I need to take a few photography classes.
I'm embarrassed to say I now have two nice 35 mm cameras, the Canon Powershot and now this camera and I'm still not using any of them to their full potential. Part of this is because I just don't know what they're capable of. I need to take a few photography classes.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Pierre is Still the Alpha Male
I wrote about Pierre the Penguin quite a while ago, here's the link since he is one of the penguins I work with regularly. As you can see from a previous video I posted (see it here), Pierre is 25 years and had lost all his feathers. The biologists at the Aquarium where I volunteer decided to try something different to keep him warm and that was to make him his own neoprene wetsuit. Last Friday, Associated Press released an article about him and his wetsuit. I'm proud to share the article, videos and pictures here. Enjoy!
Click here for the link to article and pictures:
Here's the video, courtesy of YouTube:
Click here for the link to article and pictures:
Here's the video, courtesy of YouTube:
Monday, April 07, 2008
Some Current Favorite Quotes
"Can I have one of those Chesterfields now?" Dennis Hopper to Christopher Walkin in the infamous "Sicilian" scene in "True Romance."
"It's not true I had nothing on, the radio was on." Marilyn Monroe.
"I've already told you want I want and if you ask me again, I'm going to scream! You keep asking me over and over what I want and I keep telling you and I'm tired of telling you, and, no, you can't ever, ever touch me. Do you hear me? You can't touch me!" a friend relaying a "conversation" she had on a date with a very wealthy man whom she didn't find attractive. She had this "conversation" outside a lovely restaurant in North Beach (a wonderful neighborhood here in SF).
"Okay, well tell Superman to iron his cape and get his super fanny over here, pronto." A co-worker talking to a vendor on the phone who screwed up a job.
"The crime you see now it's hard to even take its measure. It's not that I'm afraid of it. I always knew you had to be willing to die to even do this job. But I don't want to push my chips forward and go out and meet something I don't understand. A man would have to put his soul at hazard. He'd have to say, 'O.K., I'll be part of this world.'" Tommy Lee Jones' opening monologue in "No Country for Old Men."
And one from me:
Me: "What we need is a form on the system that everyone can fill out. An apology form. In Word format."
Nice Boss: "Oh, so you can just fill it out and email to someone here in this office? Fill in your name, date and what you're apologizing for?"
Me: "No, that's the beauty of it. You don't have to do anything. It's there for someone who feels they need an apology. They fill it out and email it to themselves."
Nice Boss: "Oh, I get it. Then they can send you a thank you email in response, right?"
"It's not true I had nothing on, the radio was on." Marilyn Monroe.
"I've already told you want I want and if you ask me again, I'm going to scream! You keep asking me over and over what I want and I keep telling you and I'm tired of telling you, and, no, you can't ever, ever touch me. Do you hear me? You can't touch me!" a friend relaying a "conversation" she had on a date with a very wealthy man whom she didn't find attractive. She had this "conversation" outside a lovely restaurant in North Beach (a wonderful neighborhood here in SF).
"Okay, well tell Superman to iron his cape and get his super fanny over here, pronto." A co-worker talking to a vendor on the phone who screwed up a job.
"The crime you see now it's hard to even take its measure. It's not that I'm afraid of it. I always knew you had to be willing to die to even do this job. But I don't want to push my chips forward and go out and meet something I don't understand. A man would have to put his soul at hazard. He'd have to say, 'O.K., I'll be part of this world.'" Tommy Lee Jones' opening monologue in "No Country for Old Men."
And one from me:
Me: "What we need is a form on the system that everyone can fill out. An apology form. In Word format."
Nice Boss: "Oh, so you can just fill it out and email to someone here in this office? Fill in your name, date and what you're apologizing for?"
Me: "No, that's the beauty of it. You don't have to do anything. It's there for someone who feels they need an apology. They fill it out and email it to themselves."
Nice Boss: "Oh, I get it. Then they can send you a thank you email in response, right?"
Inner Life: All the Crap in Your Head that Weighs You Down
I'm suffering from a lack of confidence. Today I helped out on a project at work, jumped in at the last minute. It went down to the wire, but it got done. I did good work, caught a lot of errors and yet all I can think about tonight is how I screwed everything up because it took me a long time to complete the centerpiece of the project. Everyday at work I beat myself up because I take too long, I'm not learning fast enough. Sometimes I want to cry from the fear and frustration of it.
I read somewhere that you should think about whose voice you're hearing when you start verbally beating the crap out of yourself so tonight I asked myself who has been doing been doing all the trash talking in my head. The answer is a woman and a man from my old job who I believe were responsible for my being laid off. I can't say for sure, but I'm fairly certain their comments were a factor.
Now mind you no one has told me at work that they're having problems with my work, speed or otherwise. Folks who have been there a while assure me that if I'm truly screwing up they would tell me immediately. But then I think they're just being nice to me. I don't know.
Then I thought about what my true voice, my real self is saying to me right now while the other voices tell me what a piece of crap I am at my job. My real self is telling me it wants a cup of tea, and it wants a snack, oh and it wants to take the dog for a walk because it wants to go to bed soon. It also wants to stop listening to the others because it's gotten so tiring. As for the job thing, well, it's saying any cluster-fucks that happen can be corrected tomorrow, no problem.
It also wants to write (I haven't written hardly anything in over a month), it wants to get through my current Korean DVDs I have from Netflix, and it wants to go grocery shopping.
It wants to have fun and not be bogged down by all this shit. Maybe this is what they truly mean by having baggage.
Ugh.
I read somewhere that you should think about whose voice you're hearing when you start verbally beating the crap out of yourself so tonight I asked myself who has been doing been doing all the trash talking in my head. The answer is a woman and a man from my old job who I believe were responsible for my being laid off. I can't say for sure, but I'm fairly certain their comments were a factor.
Now mind you no one has told me at work that they're having problems with my work, speed or otherwise. Folks who have been there a while assure me that if I'm truly screwing up they would tell me immediately. But then I think they're just being nice to me. I don't know.
Then I thought about what my true voice, my real self is saying to me right now while the other voices tell me what a piece of crap I am at my job. My real self is telling me it wants a cup of tea, and it wants a snack, oh and it wants to take the dog for a walk because it wants to go to bed soon. It also wants to stop listening to the others because it's gotten so tiring. As for the job thing, well, it's saying any cluster-fucks that happen can be corrected tomorrow, no problem.
It also wants to write (I haven't written hardly anything in over a month), it wants to get through my current Korean DVDs I have from Netflix, and it wants to go grocery shopping.
It wants to have fun and not be bogged down by all this shit. Maybe this is what they truly mean by having baggage.
Ugh.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
City Life: The Space Man
1st guy: "You look like a space man in that white jacket."
2d guy: What?"
2d guy is an older gentleman I see sometimes on my street. He's wearing a white jacket and his hood is up.
1st guy: "I said you look like a space man in that jacket."
Said a bit louder, pronounced a little slower.
2d guy: "I wear this white jacket so the cars won't hit me."
1st guy: "You're definitely a spaceman. Do you float?"
2d guy (obviously a little confused): "What? I wear this jacket so the cars don't hit me. I DON'T LIKE to be hit by cars."
Says the part in all caps slowly, loudly.
1st guy: "You should try floating."
2d guy: "I have a bright pink jacket too. Everyone is so surprised when they see it, but I don't get hit by cars in it."
Overheard (and seen) on a crowded elevator at Forest Hill Station here in SF a couple of nights ago during the evening commute.
2d guy: What?"
2d guy is an older gentleman I see sometimes on my street. He's wearing a white jacket and his hood is up.
1st guy: "I said you look like a space man in that jacket."
Said a bit louder, pronounced a little slower.
2d guy: "I wear this white jacket so the cars won't hit me."
1st guy: "You're definitely a spaceman. Do you float?"
2d guy (obviously a little confused): "What? I wear this jacket so the cars don't hit me. I DON'T LIKE to be hit by cars."
Says the part in all caps slowly, loudly.
1st guy: "You should try floating."
2d guy: "I have a bright pink jacket too. Everyone is so surprised when they see it, but I don't get hit by cars in it."
Overheard (and seen) on a crowded elevator at Forest Hill Station here in SF a couple of nights ago during the evening commute.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Recent Self-Portrait
Not one of my favorites, but I do like the angle. Plus my face is in focus. I was standing on my little ottoman and fell off it while doing taking this and several pictures like it. It's always tricky shooting straight into a narrow mirror like this one.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
The Lost Stories: The Light That Never Goes Out
This is the second story written for a specific question. See my other post "Sleven Goes Home" to see how the process works. The question for this story was "How can I meet a guy who likes me and who will pay attention to me?" Although the main character in this story is a man, it's mostly about me and my shortcomings. There is a possibility that the main character's self-centeredness might be taken from a couple of guys I've known, but I can never be sure about that.
***
The man never knew what hit him. He’d spent most of his life in that state, but each time he was clueless. He still didn’t know. He wasn’t introspective at all, just focused on everything outside. He never realized he was making his own problems even when he clearly did stupid things to the detriment of himself and those around him.
One day a demon showed up in his bedroom just before dawn. The man woke and trembled in terror. The demon started to recite a list of his most grievous wrongdoings and explained to him that it was all to his making. He chose to ignore, he chose to be arrogant, he chose to allow himself to lose sight of his inner self and his inner workings. The man pledged to change if he demon wouldn’t hurt him. The demon refused. Instead, he tore the man from limb from limb and dropped off parts of his body to the people he had grievously wronged as payment for the wrongs done to them.
The man’s soul wandered in fear and pain and loneliness in a cold empty space. There was no one there to talk to, nothing but the hard cold ground and an all encompassing darkness. The demon left him with a single light, an eternal flame covered in a small hurricane lamp that would never go out as reward for offering to change.
“The offer to change is better than nothing,” the demon had said. The man called out to the darkness until he was hoarse. He realized he might spend the rest of eternity here if he didn’t think of what he must do next. A very long time passed and then the man found a single object on the hard ground as he wandered around. It was a compass. And it worked. The man thought for a long time about which direction to go. It was difficult to know in the pitch blackness, but while he was thinking about it, he noticed something in the lamp with the eternal flame that he hadn’t seen before. The top of the glass from the lamp could be removed. He carefully removed the glass and the eternal flame stood alone. He stared at it for a while and then turned around towards the compass. Immediately the flame flickered in the dark for the first time. He thought it was his own movements causing the flicker, but realized there was a slight breeze coming from somewhere. The man held the flame here and there and was able to figure out which direction the breeze was coming from: northeast. He carefully closed up the eternal flame in it’s glass covering then carefully setting the compass, the man started moving in the right direction.
***
This story is very simple and lord knows I've written about people (myself) being lost in a featureless dark place. The flame is clearly a throwback to the Lord of the Rings and the dark place is what I think of as Purgatory even though I'm not Catholic. The flickering of the flame is something I borrowed from spelunking as a method of finding your way through a cave system.
Did this story answer my original question about meeting a good guy? Yes and no. To me it means that finding a good guy is something secondary, there's a breeze to find, a compass to use and the flickering flame. Somehow those things transcend dating.
***
The man never knew what hit him. He’d spent most of his life in that state, but each time he was clueless. He still didn’t know. He wasn’t introspective at all, just focused on everything outside. He never realized he was making his own problems even when he clearly did stupid things to the detriment of himself and those around him.
One day a demon showed up in his bedroom just before dawn. The man woke and trembled in terror. The demon started to recite a list of his most grievous wrongdoings and explained to him that it was all to his making. He chose to ignore, he chose to be arrogant, he chose to allow himself to lose sight of his inner self and his inner workings. The man pledged to change if he demon wouldn’t hurt him. The demon refused. Instead, he tore the man from limb from limb and dropped off parts of his body to the people he had grievously wronged as payment for the wrongs done to them.
The man’s soul wandered in fear and pain and loneliness in a cold empty space. There was no one there to talk to, nothing but the hard cold ground and an all encompassing darkness. The demon left him with a single light, an eternal flame covered in a small hurricane lamp that would never go out as reward for offering to change.
“The offer to change is better than nothing,” the demon had said. The man called out to the darkness until he was hoarse. He realized he might spend the rest of eternity here if he didn’t think of what he must do next. A very long time passed and then the man found a single object on the hard ground as he wandered around. It was a compass. And it worked. The man thought for a long time about which direction to go. It was difficult to know in the pitch blackness, but while he was thinking about it, he noticed something in the lamp with the eternal flame that he hadn’t seen before. The top of the glass from the lamp could be removed. He carefully removed the glass and the eternal flame stood alone. He stared at it for a while and then turned around towards the compass. Immediately the flame flickered in the dark for the first time. He thought it was his own movements causing the flicker, but realized there was a slight breeze coming from somewhere. The man held the flame here and there and was able to figure out which direction the breeze was coming from: northeast. He carefully closed up the eternal flame in it’s glass covering then carefully setting the compass, the man started moving in the right direction.
***
This story is very simple and lord knows I've written about people (myself) being lost in a featureless dark place. The flame is clearly a throwback to the Lord of the Rings and the dark place is what I think of as Purgatory even though I'm not Catholic. The flickering of the flame is something I borrowed from spelunking as a method of finding your way through a cave system.
Did this story answer my original question about meeting a good guy? Yes and no. To me it means that finding a good guy is something secondary, there's a breeze to find, a compass to use and the flickering flame. Somehow those things transcend dating.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Pouring Rain, Fierce Winds
This past Sunday I had my swim lesson at Mission Bay. Mission Bay is the newer part of UCSF and it's quite the campus here in SF. It's not far from the Giants' ballpark. On Sundays the indoor pool is reserved for family swim classes so I have to swim in the outdoor pool on the roof. It's a beautiful view to be sure, but also freezing on certain days in the morning.
I sat in my car in the parking garage because I'd gotten there a little early. I heard the sound of the wind and looked out the window. I could see the wind blowing the rain at a diagonal. It seems both natural and counter-intuitive to be swimming in the rain. On one hand, you're already wet so what does it matter? On the other, you have to get out of the pool and walk the freezing few steps to the stairway leading down to the (warmer) locker room. Those few steps can be hard.
I told my swim instructor, who arrived wearing jeans, a baseball cap, black fleece jacket and large umbrella, that I never imagined I would be here swimming in the cold rain. He laughed and told me only hardcore people swim in the rain and I was one of them.
The majority of the lesson consisted of my instructor running back and forth in the pouring rain yelling "faster, FASTER!" as he put me through my paces with many drills. The lifeguard on duty was kind enough to lend him a huge waterproof lifeguard jacket, but he still got soaking wet. I asked him if he had to swim later, he nodded. He's taking a course or renewal of some kind so he had to swim about an hour after our lesson in the same pool.
As I swam as fast as I could back and forth I could feel the rain thumping me on the back. It was an odd feeling. It felt alien, but not wrong. I kept telling myself I was already wet. The wind started blowing the rain almost horizontal. It was affecting my ability to breathe as I turned my head because of the surface waves. I wasn't cold, my instructor made sure I kept my heart rate up. In fact he was kicking my ass. I was so winded after the last drill it was hard to take a breath as I slowly made my way down the stairway to the comfort of the women's locker room.
During the second to the last drill where I had to swim three laps without stopping I kept turning my head to breath and was sucking down water instead because of the waves. It scared me, as usual, but I had a different thought. Whenever something like that happens I always think something like "the pool is shallow enough so I can put my feet down if I need to" or "my swim instructor would never let me drown, neither would the lifeguard for that matter." This time I thought something different for the first time "This isn't that scary at all because I can swim and I'm going to keep swimming even when I'm swallowing water."
It's a new, marvelous place to be.
I sat in my car in the parking garage because I'd gotten there a little early. I heard the sound of the wind and looked out the window. I could see the wind blowing the rain at a diagonal. It seems both natural and counter-intuitive to be swimming in the rain. On one hand, you're already wet so what does it matter? On the other, you have to get out of the pool and walk the freezing few steps to the stairway leading down to the (warmer) locker room. Those few steps can be hard.
I told my swim instructor, who arrived wearing jeans, a baseball cap, black fleece jacket and large umbrella, that I never imagined I would be here swimming in the cold rain. He laughed and told me only hardcore people swim in the rain and I was one of them.
The majority of the lesson consisted of my instructor running back and forth in the pouring rain yelling "faster, FASTER!" as he put me through my paces with many drills. The lifeguard on duty was kind enough to lend him a huge waterproof lifeguard jacket, but he still got soaking wet. I asked him if he had to swim later, he nodded. He's taking a course or renewal of some kind so he had to swim about an hour after our lesson in the same pool.
As I swam as fast as I could back and forth I could feel the rain thumping me on the back. It was an odd feeling. It felt alien, but not wrong. I kept telling myself I was already wet. The wind started blowing the rain almost horizontal. It was affecting my ability to breathe as I turned my head because of the surface waves. I wasn't cold, my instructor made sure I kept my heart rate up. In fact he was kicking my ass. I was so winded after the last drill it was hard to take a breath as I slowly made my way down the stairway to the comfort of the women's locker room.
During the second to the last drill where I had to swim three laps without stopping I kept turning my head to breath and was sucking down water instead because of the waves. It scared me, as usual, but I had a different thought. Whenever something like that happens I always think something like "the pool is shallow enough so I can put my feet down if I need to" or "my swim instructor would never let me drown, neither would the lifeguard for that matter." This time I thought something different for the first time "This isn't that scary at all because I can swim and I'm going to keep swimming even when I'm swallowing water."
It's a new, marvelous place to be.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
The Lost Stories: Sleven Goes Home
I keep writing stories about myself. They are short and meant to answer a particular question. The idea is you write down questions and put them in an envelope. Later (perhaps weeks later), you sit down, look up for a moment and write a very short story. After the story is done you pick an envelope to see how your story answered the question.
So far, all my stories are about people being lost (namely me). I like them a lot even if they are odd so I'm going to share one of them here.
Sleven was a strange girl who didn’t know her way home. When she was leaving school, the teachers had to point her in the right direction and tell her which street to turn left on. She always recognized the street and the house once she got there and she had no problems with directions to other places. The house was friendly on the outside, but forgetful on the inside. Forgetfulness reigned in that place. It was all she could do to get her homework done properly. Her parents were merely images in her mind of kind, happy people. In real life they were just vapors hanging in space. Sleven had made good use of this trying scenario. She kept the house clean and tidy and managed herself well. She was afraid of getting sick and having no one to help her so she worked hard at staying healthy and taking plenty of vitamin supplements.
Sleven was a favorite of her teachers, but not of her fellow students. No matter, she was used to managing on her own.
One day all this enforced isolation finally paid off when Sleven was mysteriously picked up by a group of rangers misplaced on her street. They told her they were from the “place far away, so far” and that they were there to take her home. She would have to endure isolation and be self-reliant, but after five years she would get her reward. Nervously she asked what that reward would be. The head ranger, Smith, told her it would the richest reward, especially for her loving heart.
“You will find everything will fall into place. I’m not saying it will become easier, far from it, but you will find your place in this world.”
Sleven was afraid and not sure if she trusted Smith or any of the other rangers, but she didn’t know what else to do.
“It will be difficult,” said a ranger named Tomorrow, “ and you will be lonely.”
“No matter,” said Sleven, “I’m ready for it. I’m ready for the coldest isolation and the most fiery trial by fire.”
The head ranger smiled. “I promise, you will come out the other side after five years of hardship, and you will come out smiling.”
Sleven accepted the small knapsack of supplies they gave her and then turned one last time to wave at the group of gruff but kind men. They waved back and she walked into the dark forest. She never saw the rangers again.
***
The question this story was meant to answer was whether I could have a good relationship with this guy I was enamored with at the time. The short answer, based on this story, is no. I won't do any further analysis here, but I've done a fair amount on my own. In a way the story is more important than the question. I just love some of the details here such as the forgetfulness inside the house and there are more than one of my own personal anxieties on display here.
I've written a total of three stories so far and I may share story number two. We'll see.
So far, all my stories are about people being lost (namely me). I like them a lot even if they are odd so I'm going to share one of them here.
Sleven Goes Home
Sleven was a strange girl who didn’t know her way home. When she was leaving school, the teachers had to point her in the right direction and tell her which street to turn left on. She always recognized the street and the house once she got there and she had no problems with directions to other places. The house was friendly on the outside, but forgetful on the inside. Forgetfulness reigned in that place. It was all she could do to get her homework done properly. Her parents were merely images in her mind of kind, happy people. In real life they were just vapors hanging in space. Sleven had made good use of this trying scenario. She kept the house clean and tidy and managed herself well. She was afraid of getting sick and having no one to help her so she worked hard at staying healthy and taking plenty of vitamin supplements.
Sleven was a favorite of her teachers, but not of her fellow students. No matter, she was used to managing on her own.
One day all this enforced isolation finally paid off when Sleven was mysteriously picked up by a group of rangers misplaced on her street. They told her they were from the “place far away, so far” and that they were there to take her home. She would have to endure isolation and be self-reliant, but after five years she would get her reward. Nervously she asked what that reward would be. The head ranger, Smith, told her it would the richest reward, especially for her loving heart.
“You will find everything will fall into place. I’m not saying it will become easier, far from it, but you will find your place in this world.”
Sleven was afraid and not sure if she trusted Smith or any of the other rangers, but she didn’t know what else to do.
“It will be difficult,” said a ranger named Tomorrow, “ and you will be lonely.”
“No matter,” said Sleven, “I’m ready for it. I’m ready for the coldest isolation and the most fiery trial by fire.”
The head ranger smiled. “I promise, you will come out the other side after five years of hardship, and you will come out smiling.”
Sleven accepted the small knapsack of supplies they gave her and then turned one last time to wave at the group of gruff but kind men. They waved back and she walked into the dark forest. She never saw the rangers again.
***
The question this story was meant to answer was whether I could have a good relationship with this guy I was enamored with at the time. The short answer, based on this story, is no. I won't do any further analysis here, but I've done a fair amount on my own. In a way the story is more important than the question. I just love some of the details here such as the forgetfulness inside the house and there are more than one of my own personal anxieties on display here.
I've written a total of three stories so far and I may share story number two. We'll see.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
DVD Classes/Zero and Infinity
I bought a few courses from the Teaching Company. I know for many of you sitting on your couch and watching a professor talk at the podium on your DVD for 24 lectures (at 30 minutes a pop) is enough to set you running for the remote, but I think it sounds like great fun. I bought them as a Valentine's Day present for myself since I don't have a sweetheart for this most Hallmark of holidays.
Here's what I bought:
***
As many of you know I'm terrible at math. I can barely figure out the tip for the restaurant meal. When I was much younger I read a book about mathematics which I didn't understand very well, BUT there was a half a chapter on the history of counting. This half chapter was so riveting and interesting to me I never wanted it to end, but rather than explore further I told myself I couldn't do math and left it alone. I can't WAIT to learn more about the history of counting in my DVD course.
As a seventh grader with an overactive imagination and an inability to do fractions, I figured out one morning in math class that the number line, that is negative numbers, zero, positive numbers both extending into infinity in both the negative and positive directions, is really not a line at all. Instead it's a massive oval because the numbers bend back on themselves. Everything always comes back to zero.
For the first time my very good math teacher had no idea what to say, and I couldn't readily explain why I thought this was so. She asked me for specifics. I couldn't give her any. I just knew everything comes back to zero. Then, somehow, I was able to explain why. My explanation was simple and made complete sense. Or so I thought, but my friends thought I was completely out of my mind and spent a good deal of time telling me so.
When I became an adult I completely forgot about this incident. Every once in a great while I would recall it, but I completely forgot why everything comes back to zero.
While reviewing the course starter materials for my DVD course, due on my doorstep any day now, I read a line about how when it comes down to it zero and infinity are very similar numbers.
A light went on (this happened about 30 minutes ago). It sputtered for a moment and then burned brightly. The reason why everything comes back to zero is because zero and infinity are mirror images of each other. Since negative and positive numbers are mirror images of each other so is zero and infinity. This is why the numbers bend back on each other.
Now I know you're thinking this is all well and good, but you're probably wondering if it's true. Can it be proven with an equation or series of equations? The answer is I have no idea. I don't know if it's true and I have no way of finding out. I'm hoping to get a clue on my DVD class, but if the professor doesn't mention this idea I'll send him an inquiring email when the class is over.
Huh. Too bad I can't do math. I have a feeling I would have really enjoyed playing with numbers and theories and things.
Here's what I bought:
- The History of European Art
- Einstein's Relativity and the Quantum Revolution (I looove quantum physics!)
- Zero to Infinity: A History of Numbers
- Foundations of Western Civilization (from earliest civilizations to 1600)
- Museum Masterpieces: The Louvre
- Museum Masterpieces: The Met
***
As many of you know I'm terrible at math. I can barely figure out the tip for the restaurant meal. When I was much younger I read a book about mathematics which I didn't understand very well, BUT there was a half a chapter on the history of counting. This half chapter was so riveting and interesting to me I never wanted it to end, but rather than explore further I told myself I couldn't do math and left it alone. I can't WAIT to learn more about the history of counting in my DVD course.
As a seventh grader with an overactive imagination and an inability to do fractions, I figured out one morning in math class that the number line, that is negative numbers, zero, positive numbers both extending into infinity in both the negative and positive directions, is really not a line at all. Instead it's a massive oval because the numbers bend back on themselves. Everything always comes back to zero.
For the first time my very good math teacher had no idea what to say, and I couldn't readily explain why I thought this was so. She asked me for specifics. I couldn't give her any. I just knew everything comes back to zero. Then, somehow, I was able to explain why. My explanation was simple and made complete sense. Or so I thought, but my friends thought I was completely out of my mind and spent a good deal of time telling me so.
When I became an adult I completely forgot about this incident. Every once in a great while I would recall it, but I completely forgot why everything comes back to zero.
While reviewing the course starter materials for my DVD course, due on my doorstep any day now, I read a line about how when it comes down to it zero and infinity are very similar numbers.
A light went on (this happened about 30 minutes ago). It sputtered for a moment and then burned brightly. The reason why everything comes back to zero is because zero and infinity are mirror images of each other. Since negative and positive numbers are mirror images of each other so is zero and infinity. This is why the numbers bend back on each other.
Now I know you're thinking this is all well and good, but you're probably wondering if it's true. Can it be proven with an equation or series of equations? The answer is I have no idea. I don't know if it's true and I have no way of finding out. I'm hoping to get a clue on my DVD class, but if the professor doesn't mention this idea I'll send him an inquiring email when the class is over.
Huh. Too bad I can't do math. I have a feeling I would have really enjoyed playing with numbers and theories and things.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Sickle
I hear the clang of bronze and steel before he slips quickly into view. He is tall and thin, carrying ancient weapons. He regards me with suspicion and cold calculation. He raises the old sword to my throat. I do not move.
I feel a swoosh of feathers behind me, but still I don't move. The man looks up in shock as the seven foot Gryphon suddenly appears behind me and then plants his huge claws around the guy's neck. Mr. Gryphon crushes the man's armor like it's made of eggshells. The man falls to the ground, clutching his neck. Crimson is everywhere.
The old sword is on the ground and I reach down to pick it up. It's super heavy and sickle shaped, more ceremonial than practical even if the metal still has the marks from the ancient hammer that created it. I have to hold it with both hands even if it's not that large. The handle is made of bronze. I look at Mr. Gryphon.
"Where did he get this sword? It must be over 2,500 years old."
"He probably found it somewhere. It appears completely intact, but geographically it's traveled a long way." I hand the sword to Mr. Gryphon so he can carry it for me. We have only just arrived here and I took a wrong turn and had the misfortune of running into that now dead knight.
Mr. Gryphon and I are in Compiegne in Northern France the night before the state tournament starts. The year is 1272. For some reason I've wanted to come here just to see, or maybe it's because I've been thinking of Heath Ledger and that silly movie "A Knight's Tale" which I like very much, by the way. I am dressed in a nun's outfit having bought one from a kind sister just before we arrived in town. Mr. Gryphon is visible only when he needs to be which is lucky because that means when he's carrying the sword it will be invisible too.
The place is overrun with knights getting drunk and disorderly the night before the tournament. All around the perimeter of this town are hundreds of tents and camps. Wealthy knights hold forth in lavish tents and with their own entourages. Less wealthy country knights have set up simple camps. The smell of food, of overcooked meat, of ale, to sweaty bodies, of horses, burning wood fires and horse manure seeps into my bones. The sound of metal and weapons, horses neighing and men laughing fill the air. I hold a basket and no one pays me any attention. Men usually don't look at nun's faces.
Mr. Gryphon follows, walking regally and slowly. I am ambling to get a feel for the place. I pass a particularly lavish tent set up and run my hands over the fine, brightly colored silks. The edges are a little ratty, but otherwise the silk has held up well. We walk for quite some time then I head toward the square in the middle of town.
"Miss Turtle, this is not a very safe place," Mr. Gryphon says unnecessarily.
"I just want to look around a bit more." I adjust my wimple. The fabric is roughly dyed a dark color, but it's also scratchy and uncomfortable. I'm thankful it's a cool night.
"You got what you came for and we can come back tomorrow when the tournament starts," he says.
"Why are you in such a hurry, Mr. Gryphon?"
"We have to finish this post now so we can go get something to eat, in the real world," he says. He rarely mentions "the real world" to me. I stop and look at him and I realize he's right. I've had fun writing this post, but I did find what I was looking for. Time to stop.
As we prepare to exit a lone faded blue door appears hanging in space. Mr. Gryphon hands me the sword and opens the door for me. We pass through and manage to bring the sword and the nun's habit with us.
I feel a swoosh of feathers behind me, but still I don't move. The man looks up in shock as the seven foot Gryphon suddenly appears behind me and then plants his huge claws around the guy's neck. Mr. Gryphon crushes the man's armor like it's made of eggshells. The man falls to the ground, clutching his neck. Crimson is everywhere.
The old sword is on the ground and I reach down to pick it up. It's super heavy and sickle shaped, more ceremonial than practical even if the metal still has the marks from the ancient hammer that created it. I have to hold it with both hands even if it's not that large. The handle is made of bronze. I look at Mr. Gryphon.
"Where did he get this sword? It must be over 2,500 years old."
"He probably found it somewhere. It appears completely intact, but geographically it's traveled a long way." I hand the sword to Mr. Gryphon so he can carry it for me. We have only just arrived here and I took a wrong turn and had the misfortune of running into that now dead knight.
Mr. Gryphon and I are in Compiegne in Northern France the night before the state tournament starts. The year is 1272. For some reason I've wanted to come here just to see, or maybe it's because I've been thinking of Heath Ledger and that silly movie "A Knight's Tale" which I like very much, by the way. I am dressed in a nun's outfit having bought one from a kind sister just before we arrived in town. Mr. Gryphon is visible only when he needs to be which is lucky because that means when he's carrying the sword it will be invisible too.
The place is overrun with knights getting drunk and disorderly the night before the tournament. All around the perimeter of this town are hundreds of tents and camps. Wealthy knights hold forth in lavish tents and with their own entourages. Less wealthy country knights have set up simple camps. The smell of food, of overcooked meat, of ale, to sweaty bodies, of horses, burning wood fires and horse manure seeps into my bones. The sound of metal and weapons, horses neighing and men laughing fill the air. I hold a basket and no one pays me any attention. Men usually don't look at nun's faces.
Mr. Gryphon follows, walking regally and slowly. I am ambling to get a feel for the place. I pass a particularly lavish tent set up and run my hands over the fine, brightly colored silks. The edges are a little ratty, but otherwise the silk has held up well. We walk for quite some time then I head toward the square in the middle of town.
"Miss Turtle, this is not a very safe place," Mr. Gryphon says unnecessarily.
"I just want to look around a bit more." I adjust my wimple. The fabric is roughly dyed a dark color, but it's also scratchy and uncomfortable. I'm thankful it's a cool night.
"You got what you came for and we can come back tomorrow when the tournament starts," he says.
"Why are you in such a hurry, Mr. Gryphon?"
"We have to finish this post now so we can go get something to eat, in the real world," he says. He rarely mentions "the real world" to me. I stop and look at him and I realize he's right. I've had fun writing this post, but I did find what I was looking for. Time to stop.
As we prepare to exit a lone faded blue door appears hanging in space. Mr. Gryphon hands me the sword and opens the door for me. We pass through and manage to bring the sword and the nun's habit with us.
A Penguin Short
I'm back, finally. My phone works, my internet connection works. Thank goodness. I'm going to start with a couple short, but fun posts. I took this footage on my phone camcorder. Enjoy!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)