Happy Solstice

All bundled up and ready for summer.  Happy solstice from Faux Social!

Favorite

I like that the word partner is replacing gender specific spouse names (i.e. husband or wife).  Partner is gender and marriage neutral, which is a step in the correct direction, but I dislike the over-use of the word.  While partner is neutral in many ways, it is not commitment neutral.  Partner implies both emotional commitment and interdependence.

The emotional bond with a partner is one that implies the relationship has planned longevity.  Some relationships last a short time period, others have longevity with no vision, no plan.  Neither of these are partnerships.  A partner is someone you plan to emotionally commit to for a long period of time.  This applies to business partners as well as romantic partners (sexual partners, like lawn badminton partners would not fit this description).  In both cases, the people are bound by the belief that their relationship will be positive for their desired foreseeable future.  This is not to say that planning for something makes it happen.  Businesses and relationships often fail before the partners want them to fail, but partners are bound in the emotional belief that the relationship (or business) will last.  Some partners are more pragmatic, and may be bound in the thought that their relationship will work, but most people jump to belief, not wanting to logically analyze.

Next, partners are interdependent by free choice.  If two people are in a situation where their lives intertwine by situations out of their control, they may not be partners.  Those people may choose to become partners, but they are not necessarily partners.  Partners, choose to cohabitate, share bank accounts, or own cars or pets together.  These dependencies make undoing the partnership complex.  While a legal system may not be involved in the dissolution of a partnership, they often are.  Friendships are often strained or broken., and negotiations are always part of the end of a partnership.

Think about other uses of the word partner.  Police officers have partners.  I imagine that certain soldiers have partners (snipers and spotters?).  Even roommates who have planned to live together for long periods of time (forgive the reference, but were Joey and Chandler not partners?).  All of these people would probably not easily walk away from the relationship, and walking away may be complex owing the intricacies (interdependence) of the relationship.

When someone asks you about your partner, they are accepting that you may not be married, and they may even be accepting that you could be with someone of the same sex.  They are assuming (and expecting), however, that you meet a minimum level of commitment and interdependence.  When someone asks that not assuming a level of commitment, e.g. a plus one at a wedding, what they are really talking about is a significant other (SO).  A SO is anyone with a romantic interest (though I have known people who have taken platonic friends to weddings).  This spans the entire relationship spectrum from first date to elderly married couple.  SO applies to every type of relationship at every level of commitment, and every romantic situation.

For many people, this does not matter.  When I was with Heidi, we experimented a bit with partner, but found that it rarely helped elucidate the nature of our relationship for others (too soon maybe).  While I would correct people who assumed we were married, it never really bothered me.  With Corinne, our relationship followed a more regular trajectory, but it never bothered me (though I would usually correct) when our relationship status was incorrectly described.  Now though, as a divorcee, I find that it is all the more trying to describe my relationship status.

If, for example, Sarah is in town, and there is a work function open to partners, is Sarah welcome?  What if the function is open to partners, but not friends?  What if I had a business partner, or a very close (platonic) roommate, would they be welcome?  No, because these people actually probably mean romantic partner as spouse devoid of legal marital status.  People see "partner" used in this context, get lazy, and start using it as a synonym for SO.  Confusing their question by not using the proper terminology (i.e. SO).  If there was an invite where friends were welcome, Sarah would be welcome.  An invite where SOs were welcome, Sarah would be welcome.  More specific than this, and the situation gets confused.

Expanding beyond SO is tricky because post-divorce is also post-standard relationship.  Relationship status is a like a pyramid.  In a lifetime, one may have many girl/boyfriends, not many fiance-level relationships, and only one spouse.  At the pinnacle of my pyramid though is the foundation to another pyramid.  What do I call these people now?  Eventually they will be friend-level, and some of those may become partners.  However, I am not really looking to start a new pyramid, I am in a land of love beyond geometry.  Frankly, I like this new world better.  Had I begun my relationship life with this knowledge, it would have been better.  Alas, I have discovered this new world through experience.  The problem with the new world I have worked myself into is that it is complicated to tell people about it who have not themselves gotten here.

Often times, in situations where geometric relationship description fails, people describe their relationships as "it's complicated."  I do not really like describing those who are special to me as it's complicated.  Further, for many people I talk to, it's complicated does not make sense.  They continue to probe.  In fact, the only person that it's complicated really worked for was a coworker who, according to scuttlebutt, has a level of complication rarely achieved by humans. Everyone else wants a pigeon hole for every relationship status.

In my desire to clearly communicate my meaning with people I think I have thought of the ideal word to describe a new relationship status.  A relationship status beyond the elementary, traditional descriptions.  It is neutral in every aspect but preference.  It is also modifiable as needed.  I introduce to the world the relationship status of "Favorite" (capitalized for clarity).

Think of anything that is your favorite.  It could be a trail, an ice cream flavor, band, or song.  Literally anything that you have preference in, you probably have a favorite.  Think of that thing.  What is your relationship to that thing?  It is, your favorite.  It is not easy to describe why that thing is your favorite, it just is.  My favorite ice cream flavor is chocolate.  Chocolate ice cream can be improved by adding peanut butter cups.  Roger Clyne (for the sake of this argument) is my favorite musician.  I have gone months without listening to his music, but when I come back to one of his songs that I enjoy, or am emotionally invested in, my relationship resumes with that music as if there was never a lull.  At Bootleg Canyon, I had my favorite series of trails to ride.  Those trails were my favorite because of the varied aspects of the trails, maybe the personality of the trails.  Whatever favorite thing comes to mind, there are aspects that you like, and maybe those you do not.  Some favorites are what you always choose because they are all you want, and sometimes you have other things to better appreciate your favorite.  Your favorite may change over time, or it may stay with you for life.  Some people may even have multiple favorites (would a parent of two children be unlikely to claim that they have two favorite children?).

All of these things are true of your Favorite.  Favorite is marriage and gender neutral.  It is also free of expectations.  The only thing Favorite conveys is preference.  A spouse, partner, fiance, boyfriend or girlfriend is probably a Favorite.  Then again, a spouse may not be a Favorite, and we can avoid the emotional response to words like mistress.  In fact, Favorite even eliminates expectation of love and romance.  I have had friends who were definitely each other's Favorite, but they were simply friends.  Do we really care if our friends are sleeping with the people whose company they most prefer?  Do we need recently divorced people to fall in love to have companionship?  Do we need to deny people the pleasure of spending time with the person they most enjoy because they do not fit into an arbitrary relationship pigeonhole?  No.

Favorite is also easy to modify!  My friends whose favorites were friends will likely eventually fall in love.  Their friends may no longer be their Favorite, but will likely remain a Favorite friend (best friend).  People who deal with long distance relationships could have a local Favorite (which may or may not be romantic), and their favorite Favorite.  Favorite is so easy, so straightforward, and so elegant.  It can be modified, or not, as the user sees fit.  It conveys all the information that others need, and probing for more information is really just being nosy.  Nosy is of course fine, because people's lives are interesting.  However, sometimes it is best to take the polite approach, letting people live their private lives with their Favorite, whatever that means to them.

Whatever that means to them is the key to it all.  Friend, SO, partner, fiance, and spouse all have external meanings.  They all have meanings that others apply to the relationship.  Favorite, on the other had, has only what has been defined by the people in the relationship.  I would be unlikely to call one of my friends my Favorite.  That said, I definitely have had best friends, and have had friends that were, for periods of time, my Favorite.  Favorite is not meant to displace SO.  SO, partner, spouse and all other relationship terminology should be used correctly.  Failing to use them is lazy on the part of the speaker, and thus confusing for the listener.  Favorite is simply the easiest way for me to communicate with the world what my relationship status is.  I do not need to share messy details with anyone (everyone).  I do not need to describe the nature of my relationship with coworkers.  I do not need to do any of these things.  Why?  Because, I do not necessarily know the answers to their questions.  I know one thing.

I have a Favorite.

Product Reviews

Two brief reviews of products, that are not much of reviews.

HTC Sensation

I have minor complaints about HTC.  For example, I do not like that HTC locks their phones to their port of Android, but in all honesty, I was not going to load anything else.  Much of the competition does this too (e.g. Apple goes so far as to have the proprietary iOS).  So, I accepted these issues when I purchased my HTC, as Telecom was offering the Sensation for free, and was not stocking the Samsung Galaxy S II (the phone I wanted, that had I waited one day, I could have gotten instead, bummer).  I cannot really complain about the OS, or the functionality of the phone.  However, I can gripe with the battery.  HTC put a 1520 mAh battery in the Sensation, enough to get through 6-10 hours of the day, in what I call normal use.  HTC recommends that you not stay logged into email and such to save battery, but is that not the point of a smartphone?  Amazon sells a replacement 1900 mAh battery for $20.  Would it have actually changed the price of the phone for HTC to have sprung for the bigger capacity battery?  I probably will not get an HTC as my next phone, and I would discourage others from supporting HTC as long as they ship phones with inadequate batteries.  Then again, I have not spent any time with the Galaxy S II, so hard to say if it is better.

As a prebuttal to the iPhone loyalists, my Sensation's screen is way bigger than your precious iPhone's.

Toshiba NB205

I am emotionally attached to my netbook.  Her name is Penelope, she is beautiful, and she has been a loyal and helpful companion for three years.  Penelope is my second Toshiba, and her predecessor kept me computing for six years.  His hard drive failed after about 18 months, but other than that was a solid machine until his power board stopped working (a $500 part on the old machine).  Penny, has had no major issues.  The track pad has grown finicky with time, and she has been dropped/had things dropped on her chipping and damaging various parts of her case.  A bit of paint has also been marred on the palm rests, but these are just the signs of age that we grow to love and find comfort in as relationships build with cherished items.  Penny though, has a new issue emerging, that is making me investigate new computers.

Penelope is not starting up.  When I try to start her up, the status lights come on, the back-light comes one, and the BIOS screen appears, then...  Nothing.  At first, I thought this might be an issue with a loose connection to the hard drive.  I took out the drive, and noted some wear patterns on the chassis, and the back of the keyboard.  I put the drive back in, and Penny started right up.  I began devising ways to make a shim to hold the drive in place, but the problem grew worse.  After constructing various aluminum foil shims, I determined that it was not a problem to be solved with shims, and looked to the internet.

There seems to be some consensus that this issue is the result of insufficient heat paste between the processor and the heat sink.  When Toshibas of this age and model start up, they supposedly put out a pulse of heat, then measure the dissipation of the heat (well, they probably actually measure the resistance in a temperature probe over a short period of time, but heat dissipation will do).  If, the processor is not well attached to the heat sink with heat paste, this pulse of heat stays in the processor, and to protect the components, the machine does not start.  The fix becomes tricking the computer into thinking that heat will dissipate sufficiently (it seems to), even  though it fails the test.  There are two methods to address this problem.

The internets have decided that the more desirable method is the "G-spot Method."  Whereby, pressure is applied to the housing between the palm rest and the keyboard on the left side.  From looking at Penelope's motherboard, it seems like the back left would be better, but there really is not any spot to push there.  I tried it, and she booted right up.  The next day, I applied pressure to Penny's spot, and she hummed to life.  Today though, I could not seem to hit Penny's spot right.  After trying several times, I resorted to the second method.

The problem is heat-flow (or lack thereof).  It follows that the heat can be transmitted away from the processor at room temperature, or the processor can be cooled to the point that the heat generated in the test is insufficient to heat the temperature probe to the cut-off value.  How does one cool a netbook?  Chuck it in the freezer.  Thus, Penny was placed in the freezer for two hours while I ran errands, then when I returned home, she started right up.

Once running, Penelope does not seem to get hot enough to damage her, and she wakes up from sleep without any issue.  Thus, I can just never turn her off, and when I do I know I need a freezer, or to find her g-spot, or I can start shopping for a replacement.

Here is the product review side of it.  Many of those who posted to message boards where these solutions were found vowed to never purchase another Toshiba, but I have to ask myself, why?  Both my Toshibas have been pretty good, lasted pretty well, and were affordable.  I could purchase an Apple, with their legendary longevity, but for the price of the least expensive apple laptop I can get three to four similar Windows machines.  For three-quarters of the price of the cheapest Apple, I can get a pretty flash Windows machine with a USB3 port, a graphics card, and a blu-ray optical drive.  For the same price as an Apple, I can get a machine with a quad-core processor, a 7200 rpm hard drive and 12 gigs of memory (plus the USB3, graphics card and blu-ray).  So, forget Apple.  Other competitors are Asus, Acer, Fujitsu and Lenovo.  Lenovos are fine machines, but rarely seem to distinguish themselves, as with Asus and Acer.  You buy those three, in my opinion, based on which one has the best deal that day.  As for Fujitsu, their legendary longevity comes at similar cost to Apple machines (though they do have some sub $500 models, which seem to be on par with the competition).  All that said, I have been totally happy with my Toshibas, and I would happily replace Penelope with a new Toshiba.  At this point, it just comes down to which company has the best product, for the best price, on the day that Penelope finally needs to be replaced.

It's Time

A well made commercial supporting equal marriage rights.  I fully support that everyone has the right to experience the life they dream of.  (The video can also be found here:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_TBd-UCwVAY&sns=fb)

The Sedaris Conundrum

One of the most frightening things about writing is sharing it with others.  Yet, writing not shared often seems pointless.  I have a journal, and sometimes I write in it, but I cannot seem to make a regular habit of it.  At the end of the day, if no one reads what I am writing, I do not care so much to write.  This, in addition to taking the burden of my rants off of people who spend time with me, was one of the reasons to share my writing via a blog.  I had hoped that I would become more comfortable with sharing my writing, and develop an audience to share my writing with.

My audience is slowly growing, which is encouraging.  Gradually, people are leaving more comments (commenting should now be easier to leave as well).  All this, is highly encouraging.  Yet, I feel that I have encountered a conundrum that I imagine every writer faces.  I am calling this conundrum the Sedaris Conundrum.

Anyone who has read David Sedaris probably needs no further explanation.  Just to make sure everyone is on the same page, I will try to paint the picture.  David Sedaris writes wicked funny, autobiographical satire.  Much of it is self-deprecating.  That self-deprecation often incriminates strangers, friends and family.  At some point Sedaris had to think to himself, "I do not really care who reads it, this is damn funny," and went ahead and told a story that may have hurt someone's feelings.  Or been shocking to people who felt close to him.  Or, any number of negative reactions.  This, if I recall an interview correctly, caused tension in the Sedaris Family.  Regardless, Sedaris keeps telling stories.

I post blogs.  Usually, they have a low risk of offending readers.  Some have elevated risk.  Those with high risk are often censored, stashed away for another project, or never make it past the loose ideas, scribbles in a note book, or a rough couple of paragraphs.  Some of these subjects are easy to guess, and can be pretty easily worked around.  Parents and siblings are easy targets for humor, as are ex-partners.  While Corinne may not always be painted in the best light, I love her, her frustrating and often hurtful faults and all.  So, I use material that teases these people because I know that they know me well enough that if they did not want to be part of my occasionally cynical view of the world, they would have gotten out long before now (or when they did).

The other is much more difficult in open forums.  How does one avoid hurting feels based on exclusion?  Most people will find out new information about me when they read my blog.  I find out new things about myself when I write.  My previous blog post was mentally outlined to be funny and light from start to finish.  Something happened, and I revealed information about myself that I had not intended to when I started.  When I edited it, I liked what it said.  So I posted it.  The content was a surprise, even for me.  Albeit, a small surprise.

When writing about the big surprises, difficult topics, or personal information, how does an author not hurt people?  This, is the essence of the Sedaris Conundrum.  I have spoken with other people who write, and they have the same concerns.  We all worry about hurting people, and therefore censor ourselves.  My issue with this is that one of the reasons my marriage ended was that I was tired of censoring myself.  I was tired of presenting the person that I felt like other people wanted me to be.  So, I stopped.  I started telling Corinne who I was.  I started being honest with people close to me.  I started being honest with people I was just meeting.  For the first time, I was living a life where the big surprises, difficult topics and personal information were not hurting me.

One of the ways I was able to do this was remove myself from the people and places that made me censor myself.  I have never been great at keeping in touch, so it is pretty easy for me to walk away and start fresh.  When old people pop back into my life, they may stay for a while, but usually fade out pretty quickly.  This way of living seems pretty common among my peers (to the baby boomers reading, fear not, this is just a different way of living).

Unfortunately, I have begun to build myself a life where anything goes, and I realize that when I sit down to write about it, I must be mindful of my audience.  I imagine some people come to this line and shy away forever.  Others probably vault across it consequences be damned.  I am shooting for something in the middle. I will do my best to ease people into an unapologetic Faux Social, but I imagine that one of the draws of Faux Social is the crazy and unconventional thinking of brian.

Seals Can Do That

I sit on an exercise ball when I write.  They are cheaper than chairs, they supposedly work your core, they discourage slouching (though I manage), and they are super fun.  One day I was sitting on my ball, with writer's block, and I thought to myself, "I think seals can walk on balls. Seals have flippers.  Legs are better at walking than flippers.  I should be able to walk on my ball well enough to move around the room."  Figuring that bipedal walking may be a tall order, I endeavored to crawl on my exercise ball to move around the room.

One of the tricks to this hobby is that you move in the opposite direction as you crawl, i.e. crawling forwards makes the ball roll backwards.  Obviously, rolling in the direction you are looking is easier, but crawling backwards is actually quite cumbersome, especially on top of an exercise ball.  While practicing, cursing my horrible balance, I realized that seals do not walk on balls, but balance balls on their noses.  While this seems more reasonable, it also seems boring, so I persevered with the crawling.

I can now roll forwards, backwards and side-to-side with reasonable grace.  I am having a difficult time with turning, but I think it will come with practice.  Unfortunately, crawling around my living room on a ball is only fun for so long, and I had reached that point.  Luckily, Sarah showed up with her exercise ball, that she sits on to write.  Rolling evolved to battles.

Battling on a ball is a short lived game, where the objective is to knock the other from their ball.  After a great deal of giggling, postulating rules and objectives, and comically falling off of balls, I was reminded of an xkcd where a stick figure fills her(?) apartment with play-pen balls (http://xkcd.com/150/).  The idea in this comic is that as "grown-ups" we get to decide what it means to be grown-ups.

It seems that I should start deciding what it means to be grown-up.  I look at the traditional model; marriage, house, car, dog, kids, etc., and while there are certainly aspects of that life that are at times appealing (owning a home), I don't want it, and I don't know if I ever did.  Many of the decisions I have made in my life have been based on what other people define as being an adult.  For example, my brother and his wife have a house, steady jobs, and a cat.  I am thankful for their stability (and generosity), as I relied on them for support during my divorce.  The stability they have, and I do not, often makes me feel like I am not grown-up.  That I have a facade of age, but I am unchanging, repeating the same mistakes, and an ever bigger fraud.

Obviously, I need to redefine what it means to be a grown-up for me.  The life I most want is not the life of a "grown-up," but is the life that suits me.  I want a ball-pit (actually I don't, but metaphorically) because it will be fun for me.  I want to live life without a track, and I do not want the interview-question cliched five-year plan.  Where do I see myself in five years?  Hopefully doing something interesting and fun, and that is it.  Maybe I will start answering interview questions that way.  Even if I do not, I can plan to not-plan my life.

How does a not-plan work in the marriage model, it did not seem to.  When I look back at my marriage, we (I?) never really seemed to like the forever concept.  Our wedding bands were two small bands side-by-side to represent that we were two people, living two lives, that touched closely and always.  While some may view this as a poor take on marriage, it should be noted that many works of science fiction have marriage as fixed-term contracts, and Mexico City is, apparently, considering adopting some form of this to curb divorce rates.  In the end, Corinne wanted more than two lives touching, with a stable future, with kids and white picket fences separating her from the world.  I wanted the world (and her as my partner to explore it).

I was recently asked if coming to New Zealand was a way for me to heal from my divorce.  Maybe it was.  Maybe though, my divorce was a way to heal from my marriage.  Maybe my definition of being a grown-up is  living the life that comes to me, experiencing love and loss, and following the whims of my wandering mind.

In this, I am reminded of Dr. Who.  The Doctor does not plan his voyages through time and space (in fact it seems he cannot).  While some writers suggest that this is The Doctor's choice, it often seems like chaos is the nature of the fabric of space and time that the TARDIS travels upon.  While The Doctor is frequently haunted by lonely spells, and guilt over the risk he exposes his companions to, he does choose to continue to experience whatever lies outside his blue box.

In my definition of being a grown-up, I will decide that it means knowing the consequences of experiencing an awfully big world, with companions that may come and go, but will always be a part of you.  I will loose people who are close to me as they grow-up more traditional ways, but they probably have not ever battled for the infinite glory of finding brief happiness in an exercise ball battle...

And, even a seal can do that.

The Fellowship Breaks

I finished The Fellowship of the Ring, and had to take a brief break from LOTR owing to the fact that I did not have The Two Towers.  Now I have it, but feel obligated to finish The Calculus Diaries, which is a pretty quick and fun read when I devote some time to reading it.  I enjoy when people make math more fun, because like spreadsheets math is always fun, so more fun is just a bonus (or a fiery rant about making simple concepts dumb enough for the average person, rather than making the average person educated enough for simple concepts).

I promise, I am working on a longer post for this week, but...  I (may have) just applied for a position at the USGS (when a contract geologist, applying for your next job is never done), which has taken up a lot of my desire to sit at a computer after work.

I Didn't Even See Them

I have not done any research into this, but I imagine a common statement made after a collision is, “I didn't even see them.” I was once backed into in a left turn lane at an intersection, the woman who backed into me said something like that. The statement also seems pretty obvious, presumably, if one sees something, they are unlikely to run into it. It seems cyclists have taken this idea, and endeavored to be hyper-visible.

Just under 10% of the employees at GNS bike to work. Of those who do, I am the only one who does not wear hi-viz safety gear. Road bikers here wear hi-viz vests and helmets here. Yet, the only commuting collision that has happened at GNS recently was when a trucker rear-ended a car turning into the access road. The trucker reported that he looked down to shift, and didn't even see them.

If, the root cause of motorists not seeing the things they run into is truly the visibility of the object, then black cars should be illegal, and we should all be driving around in vehicles that are bright orange with flashing lights (firetrucks?). But, we aren't. Cars have headlamps, taillights and reflectors, which is considered sufficient. Motorists do run into other cars, but if every car was hi-viz, it would loose its meaning. Wrapping vehicles in orange, chartreuse, reflectors and flashing lights is saved for vehicles that are not normally on the road.

Construction workers also wear hi-viz, but like the emergency vehicles, they are not part of normal driving. While construction and maintenance crews likely work on the roads most days, they are generally not part of most motorist's daily drive. In other words, they “do not belong” on the road from the viewpoint of the motorist. Cyclists, on the other hand, do.

The first issue with cyclists wearing hi-viz is that it implies to motorists that bikes do not belong. That bikes, like construction workers and emergency vehicles, are a special case. Motorists will never “see” cyclists as long as cyclists are not viewed as a legitimate part of traffic by motorists, lawmakers and police officers. As long as the consensus exists that cyclists are not part of normal traffic, and cyclists further the idea by wearing hi-viz, motorists will not respect cyclists.

The second, and probably larger issue of wearing hi-viz, is that it does not work. I have ridden with other cyclists who are wearing hi-viz, and two cyclists, one in hi-viz, one not, does not affect how close motorists come to you. I have watched cars pass me, then pass another cyclist wearing hi-viz, and they pass at the same distance. Motorists drive the way they drive, no matter what a cyclist wears. Close passers pass close, cell phone users text and talk, and drunk and drowsy drivers are drunk and drowsy. A piece of bright orange fabric does not change the person behind the wheel.  

Minutiae

More pictures have been posted to my Picasa site, and the new Faux Social page is nearly set (I'm still debating a few things, we'll call it a beta version).  Preview it if you are interested, and comment on the new format if you like or dislike it.  Check it out at fauxsocial.blogspot.com.

Some folks have apparently been wondering what has been happening in my life, and, well, I think a recent xkcd captures what I go through when I try to work with most people.  This, is a stick-figure drawn glimpse of my life:  http://www.xkcd.com/974/.  In my defense, I usually can access my "fuck it, and get it done" response when it counts, but I hate going back through shoddy work, so I take the time to try to make the work being done at present good enough that I will not want to hurl feces at myself in a year or two.

Upcoming posts will probably include random topics such as balancing on exercise balls, the merits of high-vis clothing, and identifying hazards, but I may grow tired of those topics before I finish writing anything of consequence.

Faux Social Update

Faux Social's URL is currently brian-aillaud.blogspot.com.  In the coming weeks the blog will migrate to fauxsocial.blogspot.com, and will get a new look.  The content of Faux Social will likely shift a bit with this change, but since Faux Social lacks focus, that may not be entirely noticeable to anyone but me.

For anyone out there with lots of time on their hands, and in need of focus, fo.sci is a new blog by Sean Mulcahy (fosci.blogspot.com).  His one post is nerdy and fun, and I recommend it.  Hopefully more will follow.

Comments

In listening to All Songs Consideredpodcasts (I have very nearly listened to every episode), I havenoticed that they ask for listener comments, frequently. I getoccasional comments on photos, but not many. I essentially never getcomments on my blog posts. I have come to realize that I also rarelyask for reader comments. So, here it is, a shameless request forcomments.

If you enjoy Faux Social, comment on myposts. Agree or disagree? Have your own thoughts about a subject? I want to hear them! Want more of a certain kind of post, or less ofa kind of post, let me know. I will try to oblige. Obviously, Ihave to travel to have more travel posts. Once I get home internet,a plethora of pictures will be posted, which seems to generate themost interest. Regardless, let me know you are out there, otherwiseit becomes simply anti-social for me to sit at home writing.

You can read minds?

I seem to never be full. Should I eata big restaurant dinner and feel stuffed, by the time I walk home, Iam almost always cruising for a snack. My biggest weakness seems tobe sweets. As a joke a group of grad students at UNLV did put theremainder of a chocolate cake in front of me, just to see if it wastrue that I never stop eating chocolate. After plowing through it, Iwent home for a snack, of chocolate.

Obviously, if I am ever to have abslike Gerard Butler's (which starred in the movie 300, withGerard playing a supporting role), I must curb my insatiable sweettooth. The simple solution is to eat less, but finding moderation isnot easy for me (or anyone?). I was eating a lot of fruit, tohealthfully satiate the sweet tooth, but 1.5 kilos of oranges/dayleft me lusting after chocolate. Since gluttony in one food does notseem to address the issue, I tried to quit overeating cold turkey. This, as any diet expert will tell you, leads to binge eating, oressentially, no change.

I go through cycles of these attempts. In general, the most successful diet for me is carrots (yes, back tothe gluttony scheme). I have, in the name of controlling appetite,eaten up to 5 lbs of carrots a day. The average is about two poundswhen I am powering through carrots. Even with eating more carrotsthan a horse can dream of, the abs do not come, but I do eat lessother foods. As I write this I am looking at a demolished box ofcookies, wishing it was a bag of carrots that I had just eaten as a“snack.”

My inability to curb my eating hasgiven me a strange respect for anorexia. Yes, it is bad. Yes, it isan illness. Yes, yes, yes, but think of it in terms of will power! Imagine if you could apply that will power in a healthy, constructiveway. We would all have Gerard Butler's abs! Not necessarily be abad thing. The eating disorder I do not understand is bulimia.

I just ate a box of cookies. They weredelicious, actually they weren't. They were pretty crappy cookies,and if logic played a role in this I would have just saved them forwhen my pantry is bare. The cookies will probably be a big part of mydinner, and if not, then they will be a big part of my waistline. Either way, I get my money's worth. If, I were bulimic, and purgedthem, I could guiltlessly eat a more delicious food item. But! Idid not enjoy eating them, and I would probably not enjoy vomitingthem. I would thus double my dissatisfaction with the cookies, andnot be able to count them as usable calories. I would also have topay money for the new item, which probably would not make up for thevomiting and bad cookies, and I might overeat that food too, and haveto purge again. Bulimia just seems like flushing money down thetoilet, which I would classify as not a “disorder,” but crazy.

To deal with my physical fitness,having ruled out bulimia (I am not thatcrazy), anorexia (not enough will power), overeating “healthy”foods, and moderation, my only option now seems gluttony in exercise,which I suppose I am all for. My holdup is now inertia. I havesomething of a routine. I get up, get ready for work, ride my biketo work, work, ride my bike home, eat dinner, read, write, then go tobed. I would like to add a swim in the morning, a run in theevening, and yoga before bed. It is totally doable. The swimmingrequires a wet suit, so it will probably be a run in the morning, anda ride in the evening, a long yoga practice, or astrength/calisthenics session. Regardless, spending more timeexercising is reasonable, if I can change my routine to accommodateit.

Like building shinynew abs, getting into the new routine will take time, but it is agoal. It has been recommended that I should train for an event,maybe the Taupo Ironman, but I do not know if I need to enter a racejust to motivate. However, if I ever do an event, it might as wellbe a tri-, and if I enter a tri- it might as well be an Ironman. After all, if I swim a couple of miles, then ride 100 miles, it seemsthe best way to address an insatiable hunger, would be to run amarathon.

RWC + Classic Autos

--Note: This was written on 29 October 2011, thus "today" refers to that date, not the date of posting.--

Over the six weeks of the Rugby WorldCup I asked people what would happen if New Zealand did not win. Thefirst response was economic recession and an increase in familyviolence. Each additional person I asked gave the same response. Iassumed it was just a national joke, then I saw the sign. The otherday, I ran past a billboard sponsored by the New Zealand Policeurging Kiwis to “blow the whistle” on family violence. Apparently, when the All Blacks loose, there really is a surge infamily violence! Maybe that is true of all sports, but Rugby (andall other sports) are not worth it! It blows my mind, but thenagain, maybe that is why all the girls were dolled up for the finals,“you can hit me, or...”

Today, under the billboard was a yellow1978 Mini Clubman LE for sale (the billboard is in a field on Highway1 where people sell vehicles). I like the Volkswagen Kombi vans, andthe 70's era body style is decidedly the best looking. Perhaps theonly vehicle better looking than those vans is the classic Mini(maybe classic vehicle in my price range that is better looking...). The car is tiny, yellow and black (like my 1976 Schwinn Le Tour), andin good shape. I am feeling committed to living car free as long asI do not need one,but cars like that definitely make it hard for me to stick it out.

Psychiatrists

A frequent theme in the TV show Houseis that patients lie. Maybe not a theme, maybe a mantra of Dr.House's, that is usually part of the flourish that makes the showwork. Without the lie, the writers of the show would generally nothave the gotcha moment. I have no doubt that most patients do lie totheir physicians, after all, it is much easier to present the personwe want to be, rather than the person we actually are. While I havemuch to say about physicians, they are only slightly related to thispost.

A recent Science Friday was about themovie, book and case history source material of Sybil. I think I may have seen some clips of Sybil,but I have not watched the movie, or read the book. I also have notlistened to the Science Friday because listening to the people whocall into radio shows is like putting a cheese grater to myintellect, and I come out of listening to a Science Friday 3 IQpoints lower than going into it. So, full disclosure, I do notreally know what I am talking about when I refer to the specifics ofthe impetus for writing this post. Thus, I will attempt to notreference them very much.

In the ScienceFriday, apparently, psychiatrists and/or psychologists have theirknickers in a twist because some new analyses have been publishedabout Sybil (the person who inspired the story, not the movie). Further, the case is frequently used as an example of a mental healthclinician becoming too involved in a case, and lost objectiveassessment. This makes me wonder, does one necessarily wantobjective assessment in a mental health clinician?

Everyone wouldprobably benefit from talking to a psychiatrist (I will henceforthlump all mental health clinicians into one label, I will try to stickwith psychiatrist). Emotions are complicated, and often times we arelimited by who we feel comfortable talking to about our most complexemotions. Even still, I have no interest in speaking with apsychiatrist. How can I acknowledge the potential benefit, but haveno interest in engaging in some sort of therapy? I have ahypothesis, but no answer.

Imagine going intoa job interview, and telling the interview committee about yourselfin earnest. You would never get a job. They want to hear how wellyou can sell yourself, and the committee attempts to get a glimpse ofwho you are by analyzing how you present yourself. The committee isnot being honest with you either. The committee never starts theinterview with the problems of the company, and they dance aroundthem when you hit tender topics. I see going to a psychiatrist as avariation on the same theme.

I picture (though Ihave never done it) going to a person who will take loads of personalinformation about you, that clearly identifies you, then talking toyou about your problems. What are they doing? They are sitting overthere judging you! You have voluntarily given someone power over you(the opinion of a psychiatrist can affect your ability to obtainvisas, job offers, security clearances, etc.), then are both expected(from their perspective) and required (to get effective treatment) totell them the truth. Will this person act as an emotionally attachedfriend who wants the best for you? No, their goal is to maintainobjective assessment! Why would any sane person want to findthemselves in this situation?

Howmany movies have been created where the sane are assumed insanebecause they do not accept the benefit of telling/admitting theirproblems to someone who has power over them? Countless, I imagine. I know that people are more likely to talk to friends about someissues. I have some friends that I feel comfortable tellingeverything/anything to. Without them, I would be lost much more thanI am, but they are feeling their way through life with equaluncertainty as I, which is probably one of the reasons that I amattracted to their friendship. These friends are dear, and helpful,and committed to what is best for me, but, they do not know what theyare doing when it comes to assessing my true mental health, and theyare usually just as lost when it comes to what to do to findhappiness in life. So what about the other side? What if there wasa trained person who did not know you, kept no records, and only maderecommendations to you, i.e. no power over you, would you be likelyto tell them the truth?

I wouldn't.

Atfirst when I started wondering these things I began thinking about ascene in the movie Demolition Manwith Sylvester Stallone and Wesley Snipes (my mind works this way, inabsolute honesty). In the scene, Wesley Snipes' character wants touse a public computer terminal that looks much like a payphone (Iguess they did not see smart phones coming). The terminal is in useby a person engaged in conversation with the computer where thecomputer is asking the person questions, and the person is lamentingthat lately they just don't feel happy, and doubts their self-worth. I think Snipes then throws them into a bush, which is a bit of funfor us to watch. In the dystopian universe of DemolitionMan it is unlikely that thiswould be anonymous, but it could be. My anonymous psychiatrist is aperson, rather than a computer, but operates in much the same way. Iwonder if I would talk to this person, and while I think I would bemore likely to talk to a person who was anonymous, I still probablywould stick to silence.

Once every twoweeks or so Wayne walks through my building. Wayne is an employee ofa contractor who provides support to employees. Apparently, one mayspeak to Wayne about anything, confidentially. GNS provides thisservice to keep employee's “happy.” I am too cynical to see itthat way. I see it as GNS sending a goon around to spy on theemployee's mental health, so I generally try to politely avoidtalking to Wayne.

Wayneis the anonymous psychiatrist! He is the service that I imagine, heis the human version of the Demolition Mancomputer. Yet my base assumption is to not trust him with mytroubles. I do not trust him becausehe is interested, yet not invested. In the same way that I do nottrust the psychiatrist. Which means I will only trust someone withmy emotions who is emotionally invested in me, which, for me,invalidates the entire ethos of the psychiatric profession.

Spreadsheets and Climate Data

I enjoy creating spreadsheets. I likeseeing data organized, and I like to compare the numbers in ways thatgive me new understanding, or quantify what I may have felt like Ialready knew. I currently have two spreadsheets active “just forfun.” I will share one here, the other is a work in progress (I amconverting lights in my home to compact florescent lights to savepower, and I am quantifying how much power I am saving, this activityis limited by budget and availability). The spreadsheet I will shareis climate data for Taupo, Vancouver and Seattle.

The motivation for comparing climatedata for these three cities is that in the two months I have been inTaupo, it seems that the weather in Seattle and Vancouver isgenerally better than the weather I have experienced here. Thisobservation was met with a cacophony of arguments by my coworkersrejecting my sound observations of the weather. Some of theseco-workers have lived in Vancouver, or Cascadia. Some have onlyvisited, but they all agreed that Taupo has great weather, andSeattle and Vancouver have insufferable weather. The only thing thatcan be done in such situations is to get on Wikipedia, find someclimate data, and prove a large group of people wrong.

Taupo has terrible weather. Were thisan academic paper, it would be entitled; “An analysis of climatedata for Vancouver, Canada, Seattle, USA, and Taupo, New Zealand toassess favorability for habitation and bicycle commuting.” Afterthe location maps, the first figure that showed climate data would bereferred to as something like this: “While Seattle, the Vancouverairport (YVR), and the Vancouver central business district (CBD) haverainier months than Taupo, climate data suggest that Seattle andVancouver have either comparable climates to Taupo, or better, i.e.Taupo has terrible weather (Fig. 1).” I would normally want toleave it at that, enough said, but in order to celebrate howfantastically correct I am, I'll continue to belabor the point.

Figure 1:  Taupo has terrible weather.

First, a bit on how I went about this,other than copying data from Wikipedia. The value I initially wantedwas the number of days that it rains in each city, but it seemswhoever compiled the climate data for Wikipedia for Taupo lacked thisinformation. In fact, they seem to have lacked a great deal ofinformation. Owing to the fact that I am lazy, or do not reallycare, or something along those lines, I have not attempted to findmore complete data. I decided that three numbers could capture theclimate, average daily high by month, average daily low by month, andaverage daily precipitation by month. Today it occurred to me thataverage wind speed (while riding straight into strong winds) would bea useful addition, oh well. Next, I reorganized the months by wintersolstice, whereby month 1 is January in the Northern Hemisphere, andJuly in the Southern Hemisphere, and month 12 is December in theNorthern Hemisphere and June in the Southern Hemisphere. Finally, Iplotted a scatter plot with all of the data. Then, the fun began(the “fun” being realizing how right I was, the traditional funstarted with opening Open Office Calc).

All three cities have a similar amountof seasonality when it comes to temperature. Taupo tends to have thehighest average daily high. The daily low is closer, but frequentlylower in Taupo. For the bicycle commuter, this is an importantnumber. I rarely commute during the hottest part of the day, thoughI do often commute to work before the sun has heated the air, and thenight's cold is still lingering in the gullies along my route. Thus,for the bicycle commuter, the lowest lows are not made up for by thehighest highs. Further, for favorability for habitation, I wouldargue that while an outside temperature of 72 is probably ideal, anarrow temperature range is also very important. Given two cities,one with a high of 87 and low of 57, and one with a high of 65 andlow of 55, I would take 65 and 55. A third city with high of 90 andlow of 80 would also be more favorable than the first city. Theaverage temperature in the first city is an ideal 72, but at almost90 during the heat of the day residents will want to be wearingshorts, running fans or air conditioners, and drinking a coolbeverage on a shady veranda at noon. In the mornings, evenings andnights the temperature drops below sixty, and the residents will wantto wear long pants and a jacket, running heaters in their homes, andcuddling under blankets at night. This means that they have to carrya change of clothes to be comfortable, and pay to both heat and cooltheir homes. In the second and third cities, the residents plan on atemperature, grab a jacket, or an ice water, and go about their day. In this way, both Seattle and Vancouver have nicer temperatures thanTaupo.

Perhaps the most important number isprecipitation. Rain can be dressed for, much like any other weather. It can feel oppressive, but like anything else, a little priorplanning, and you can be reasonably comfortable in the rain. Vancouverites have to deal with the most rain overall, andSeattleites the least. In both of those cities, residents can expectmonths 1, 10, 11 and 12 to be rainier than in Taupo. Vancouveriteshave to deal with the rainiest month 2 as well (Seattle and Taupo tiefor second). For these four/five months, it is much rainier. TheSeattleite and Vancouverite must plan for rain most days. They will,accordingly, adjust their attire to a winter wardrobe. The residentof Taupo must have the wet and dry wardrobe ready throughout theyear! During months 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 and 9 (the majorityof the year) the Kiwi will endure more rain, and, like the other fivemonths, must have at the ready wet and dry weather clothing!

This post may comeacross as very negative, but it is not necessarily meant to be so. Idid not ever feel that the weather in Seattle or Vancouver was“terrible,” it was difficult to go from sun everyday, to cloudymany days, but it was not terrible. The use of the world terrible ismostly in response to my co-workers' indignant, “Vancouver (and/orSeattle) has terrible weather.” Thus, if the Pacific Northwest hasterrible weather, then it follows that Taupo has terrible weather,since it is worse here. Kiwis need not worry though, because theydefinitely have Ketchikan beat.

Rugby World Cup

I am at home writing.  While I do this, 4 of 5 residents of Taupo (Taupons?) are down the street for the Rugby World Cup (notably being played in Auckland, not down the street).  It is a big deal here.  Rugby may seem like just football with no forward passes, but it is like hockey in Canada - basically more popular than heroine in a methadone clinic.  I can hear every single play from the crowd's reaction.

I walked around a bit to check it out, and see if I could spot someone I knew to be social for a bit.  I was unsuccessful at running into someone, and in finding something to keep me out on the town.  Most people are enjoying the festivities in groups where the women have worn trendy, revealing outfits fitting of clubbing to entice their blokes, and their men have worn All Blacks jerseys and jeans, the average Tuesday attire.

The Best Cars, or Some Good Ones Anyway

I have driven most of the vehicles atwork now, in addition to driving all of the personal, rental and workvehicles I have encountered in the past, and it seems that I canmakes some generalizations after years of driving. I could just laydown the generalizations, but that would not be much fun to write,and it certainly would not be much fun to read. I will start withthe oldest observation, I do not like Toyotas.

I know, I know, Toyota lovers areaghast with disbelief. I liked my parent's 1981 Toyota CorollaWagon. It had the loveable early '80s squariness, it was fuelefficient, it was utilitarian, and, though I have not confirmed theprice, it probably had a utilitarian price tag, which, along withquality, is one of the ways that the Japanese automakers surpassedthe Big Three. It is true that the quality thing seems to remain intoday's Toyota cars, which is a definite plus. However, new Toyotasare dripping with sleek lines, but they are not sleek. The interiorsare constructed of so much cheap ugly plastic that it feels like youcan start sympathizing with Barbie, waiting inside of disposablepackaging on your way to your destination. I do not like that Toyotahas linked off-road and towing capabilities with luxury fittings onthe inside (e.g. leather seats). I also do not like how the startermotors sound. That may be petty, but I do not like it. I dislikethe sound of Chevrolet starters even more, they kind of sound liketurning a running car over mixed with fingernails on a chalkboard. Lastly, I do not like the price tag that Toyota has inflated the costof their vehicles to. When I was last shopping for cars, a similarlyloaded Yaris and MINI Cooper were the same price. The Yaris might bea better car, but I simply cannot justify $20,000 on a Yaris.

It will come as no surprise that Idislike Chevrolet/GM/GMC/Pontiac. They all suffer from the GMstarter motor issue, but I take issue with their aesthetics too, allof them. I cannot think of a GM product that I have looked at andthought, “I like the looks of that car.” The new Camero isn'tbad, but the reverse lights are terrible. It is as if the architectsdrew up the plans, they got approved, the engineers started buildingthem, realized there were no reverse lights, and stuck in the middleof the bumper. Had they simply duct-taped a flashlight to the trunkit would have at least been unique, but they didn't.

Hondas are okay, but too expensive forwhat you get (if I was buying a new car tomorrow, I might test drivea Civic hatchback). The Suzuki Swift is super cute, and the SX4Crossover is a practical all-wheel drive, and good to look at. Nissans, I despise. The trucks suffer from tremendous body-roll, Iwould rather try to turn around a 14' raft with a teaspoon afterrealizing I was about to go over Niagra Falls, than make a U-turn ina Nissan on a busy street, they are designed with a face made forradio, and, like many of their fellow countrymen, they are expensive. What solidified my dislike of Nissans was the Nissan Pulsarfive-door hatch. The driver, owing to the position of the seat,steering wheel and pedals, sat at a 5 degree angle to the car. Terrible!

I like Ford trucks. I might argue thatFord is the only company (saving maybe the Land Rover Defender) stillmaking a work truck. Ford's cars are decent. I like the new Fiesta,but the branding is tragic (I would have a hard time buying aFiesta). They are not “greatcars,” but my Ford Ranger had less unscheduled maintenance in thefirst 100,000 miles than my parent's Subaru, so they might not be badcars either.

Subarumakes a great all-wheel drive system. Probably as good as Suzuki's,Ford's, and most other company's, but it is not as good as VW's. Sorry Subaru, I have driven a VW van that was more capable off-road,and as fun to drive as every Subaru I have been in. I will say thatthe VW van had as much road noise as the Subaru (deafening), but tobe fair to VW, it was a cargo van, and all of the sound dampeningmaterial had been removed behind the front seats.

I havea crush on small hatchbacks, and no one does them better than theEuropeans. I like the Fiat 500, BMW 1 series,Volkswagen's Rabbit (RIP, the nearly identical Golf just is not assweet) and GTI, and the Volvo C30 is beautiful. Seat, Renault andSkoda have some acceptable cars. Peugeot has the decent looking 308,and made a hatchback with a sliding door, which is beyond words, eventhough it was kind of ugly. The top of the list for European cars isthe MINI. It is not perfect. Sometimes sitting in a MINI I have anincredible urge to touch something made of a natural material, buttheir plastic is vaguely nicer than other plastic cars (if I were tobuy a MINI without budget constraints it would have a wooden steeringwheel, an option they may no longer offer, -tear-).

Koreancars remind me of the Toyota of the 1980s. Decent to look at, greatrunning, kind of crappy interiors, and a price tag fitting for thereliable, no frills vehicle they are selling to move a family orcommuter around for years to come. The Hyundai and Kia of old weretrash, but the new ones seem great. I challenge any Toyota (Subaru,Honda or Lexus) dedicated owner to get into a Hyundai of the sametrim level and make a compelling argument that their car was worththe extra money. It seems to me that the Koreans are doing to theJapanese what the Japanese did to the Big Three all those years ago.

Lotsof cars did not make the list, but here are the promisedgeneralizations. I like Ford Trucks. They are the best trucks, iffor no other reason than they make a work truck, and if your truck isnot for work, buy a station wagon. I like European cars, and do notlike Japanese cars. Everything else is somewhere in the middle. There are, of course, European cars I do not like, and American andAsian cars I do.

Theastute reader and lover of Japanese cars may be upset that Ispecifically mention liking Suzuki autos, but dislike Japanese cars. Here is the rub. When I sit in a Suzuki, it feels Korean, in thesense that it feels like a Japanese car in every way, except theprice tag was set at the value of the vehicle, not the value of thevehicle plus hefty advertising. Suzukis feel like Korean cars, andthat is a good thing...

But,the swift just isn't a MINI.

Alice in Wonderland

I started reading Alice in Wonderland on my phone while waiting for something to happen (I do not recall what).  Progress has been slow, as I have not spent a lot of time sitting in waiting rooms alone lately.  I started reading it because I was curious about e-readers, and it seemed handy to have a book on my phone.  Progress in Walden has also slowed owing to my working lunches of late.  On the bright side, LOTR continues to progress at a reasonable pace for a bedtime book.  I anticipate my reading will increase once Sarah departs on Wednesday, which I suppose might be a bit of sweetness, but I am not looking forward to it in the slightest.

War Stories

It has been something of a challenge to get online for any decent length of time since arriving here.  The internet is somewhat expensive and somewhat elusive.  To add some complications Sarah has come to visit, and I fell ill.  Sarah visiting is a great distraction!  Getting sick is a much less desirable one.  In the end though, it has all added up to a paucity of posts in September.  Since it seems that people do occasionally read my wandering thoughts, I have decided that I need to come up with "easy" posts for times that I am not able, willing, or motivated to write something new and exciting.  While telling new friends and acquaintances the stories of my life, it occurred to me that some of these stories could make good posts, even though most people who know me have heard at least some of them.  Thus, without further ado, a new category of post is born, the war story.

When I lived in Socorro, I lived in economical accommodations.  My duplex was small, fatigued and poorly built.  The ceiling was not insulated.  The carpet was old and gross (I will admit to being partly to blame for this as my vacuum cleaner was generally down for unscheduled maintenance).  The toilet was slowly rotting through the floor, allowing the tank to slosh during hurried ascensions to the throne, further rotting the floor.  The house behind me had pigs.  And, my neighbor was a deaf, retarded smoker.  He could often be seen through his screen door asleep with the TV blaring, a lit cigarette slowly burning in his hand.  Among all of these peculiarities, the most amazing feature of this building is that the walls and floors were not attached.

Any person who has peered into the blackness of a crawl space, through the layers of spider webs and debris that crawl spaces (particularly in unloved buildings) attract and retain knows that while the ecosystem is supposed to stop mere inches into the abyss of the underworld, the simple thought of what might actually be living down there is the stuff of nightmares and horror films.  I know this, not from ever venturing into that crawl space, but because when the walls and floors of a building are not connected, what lives in the crawl space, lives in the house.  It was not uncommon to be sitting in front of a movie, and spy a visitor scuttling across the floor.  Sometimes they were harmless roaches, other times they were centipedes, or worse.  Jason once woke up to watch a spider cruise by on a mission to wherever spiders mission to.  All the insects mostly just passed through, but at one point the population of mice exploded.

I did not want to kill the mice with traps, nor did I want bricks of poison laying around.  Thus, I endeavored to capture the mice, by hand.  In the beginning, it was largely unsuccessful.  Heidi would often attain a perch, on a chair or other high place, and I would tear the house apart after the mouse.  In these days, I used the domesticated dog approach to capturing prey, with no knowledge of what to do should I actually meet with success.  While  I never truly "caught" a mouse in my early attempts, I did once chase one into the pantry, where it seemed to simply disappear.  Days later, I discovered a tail sticking out from under a bin filled with camping gear.  Lifting the bin, I discovered a dehydrated mouse, pressed to the bottom of a Rubbermaid, as a flower between the pages of a book.  A definitive failure in the avoidance of killing the mice.

My first success was actually a careless mouse, more than skill on my part.  The mouse managed to climb into a bag of tortilla chips, and having discovered what it thought was mouse heaven, decided to munch chips until it was caught.  I took this first mouse out to the shed in front of my house (yes, the shed was in front), figuring it would find plenty of mouse habitat there, and never want to return.  The next mouse I caught in the silverware drawer, and again relocated it to the shed.  With time, I learned stealth, and hunted the mice like a cat, or less like a domesticated dog.  With every mouse I caught, I worried more that the mice were not retiring to the shed, but were returning to my crawlspace, more convicted in their quest for chips, flour, chocolate, peanut butter and the other stores of my pantry.

This concern led me to relocate the mice further and further away, but with every captured mouse, the concern escalated that I was simply capturing the same couple of mice over and over again.  Thus, I did the only logical thing.  I obtained a vast array of colored Sharpies.  Upon capturing a mouse, I would use a Sharpie to give the mouse a racing strip (or two), and would then release them to the neighborhood.

Never did I get a repeat mouse.  This may be because mice shed their fur rapidly.  It may be because they never came back.  It may be because one of my neighbors kept getting mice in their mouse traps with carefully drawn racing strips.  I'll never know.

In time, the mouse population subsided, and I moved onto new endeavors and new homes.  The days of mouse hunting are hopefully behind me, but the memories live on as stories shared with people, and now the internet.  I will endeavor to keep a queue of these types of post at the ready in the inevitable event I encounter a period of few posts.  I hope you enjoyed it, and there should be a plethora of updates in the coming days as much has happened, and is happening in establishing myself in the land of the long white cloud.

The Fellowship of the Ring and Walden

I finished Lost Discoveries, an interesting read.  I think Teresi lacks a suitable definition of science, but the book is fun in establishing what non-European cultures contributed to our understanding of the world (like the number zero).  After finishing it, I started The Fellowship of the Ring, which I had wanted to read in camp, but I cannot really complain about reading it in New Zealand (I might have to buy one of the travel guidebooks that catalog all of the sites in the movies).

I also started Walden for my lunch time reading.  I have not read Walden, but Jason and Alecia gave me a Walden t-shirt (http://www.outofprintclothing.com/) for Christmas, which prompted Sarah and I to decide to read it.  I do not know if it is going to be exactly my type of book, but it is a classic, and there is no better place to read classics than at work, where TV, runs and blogging are not as easily at hand.

Ayurveda

I went to an Ayurveda workshop at Living Yoga last weekend.  I spent the money mostly to have an excuse to socialize.  I was not all that interested in the subject, and am amazed at the belief people put into such obvious nonsense (bloodletting is a detoxification method for the Pitta dosa).  It did, however, work to help me socialize.

Ayurveda was introduced by the instructor as the "science of life."  Science, in this use, would relate to the study of something, not necessarily to scientific study.  That is, science in the -logy sense, where geology is the science of Earth systems, cosmology is the science of the universe, and theology is the science of religion.  Obviously, science is not the best translation of the Greek root.  It should be, rather, the study of the Earth, universe or religion, in the previous examples.  The translation from Sanskrit for Ayurveda would probably be better not as the study of life, but as the knowledge of life.  The Wikipedia translation defines it as "the complete knowledge for long life."  (The Wikipedia page seems like (I have not read it) a good summary of Ayurveda, and can be found here:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ayurveda, as a discussion of what Ayurveda is functionally, is out of the scope of this post.)  Even if the ancient Indians called Ayurveda science, it would not be science today.  Unfortunately, most people lack the understanding of the difference between that which is science, and that which is not to appreciate the difference.

People have a difficult time defining science, and there is not, to my knowledge, a definitive definition of satisfactory quality published by a respectable body, for example, the National Academies of Science.  In this vacuum of fact there is an overabundance of opinion to which, I add my own.  Science is a method to study a system strictly using the scientific method.  The scientific method is observation, question, hypothesis, test, observation.  A "scientist," who observes glaciers, but does little hypothesizing is a naturalist.  It is a noble pursuit to be a naturalist, and in fact, science would be better if those incapable of original thought stuck with naturalism, rather than "inventing" social significance, hypotheses and such to validate their research as science, but I digress.  For this rant, I will use my definition of science, and I encourage people to think about those things that claim to be science (naturalism, engineering, creationism, etc.) in this light, and see if the world makes more sense.  I would be grateful for any comments about how to improve my definition without adding complication.

Pursuits that are not science are not bothered with all the steps of the scientific method.  In the geosciences, it is common to see naturalists skip the hypothesis and test steps (observation, question, observation).  In every "pseudo-science" it is the test step that is wont to be skipped.  In Creationism, the method is something like answer, question, observation, answer (a dogma cannot really be a hypothesis because one believes it).  In Ayurveda, the method is observation, question, hypothesis, observation.  It is notable to point out that in all of these examples scholarly people are pursuing explanations for the world, the question here is one of rhetoric (defining science), and belief.

Belief is a plague in society.  Belief has its place.  Religion is nothing without belief, but love, trust and happiness are probably nothing without belief too.  The problem is that people believe (or not) in nearly everything.  Common beliefs in society are about trivial things ("I believe the meeting is at 09:00"), the functionality of a treatment ("I do not believe in chiropractic care" or "I believe in Ayurveda") or any number of similar ideas where thought, not belief, belongs.  Does the co-worker believe the meeting is at a given time, or do they think the meeting is at 09:00 based on their memory of a memo?  Does the person actually not believe in chiropractic care, or do they not think that it is not a useful treatment?  Should the person believe in Ayurveda?  Of course not!  Here is the test for the use of believe; can you replace what you believe in (or do not believe in) with a common object?  If you can, then you should think not believe.  Here are some examples.

"I believe the meeting is at 09:00."
Replace the meeting time with something else, say telephones.  You now have the statement, "I believe in telephones."  There is plenty of evidence for the existence of telephones, and there is also plenty of evidence for the meeting times.  There are also ways to test both the existence of telephones, and the time of the meeting.  Therefore, telephones is an appropriate substitution for the meeting time.  Thus, the statement should be, "I think the meeting is at 09:00."

"I do not believe in chiropractic care."
Replace chiropractic care with red cars to get, "I do not believe in red cars."  Can you test for the existence of red cars?  Yes.  Can you test for the existence of chiropractic care?  Yes.  Can you test the effectiveness of chiropractic care?  Again yes.  Red cars can substitute for chiropractic care in this statement.  Thus, the well spoken, rational person says, "I do not think chiropractic care is useful."  (Personally, I think chiropractic care is an effective treatment for certain ailments, as a note.)

"I believe in God."
Replace God with dogs.  Is there a test for the existence of dogs?  Yes.  Is there a test for the existence of God?  No.  Thus, dogs cannot substitute for God in this statement.  It follows that one can believe in God, or have faith in God, or what have you.  This is not to say that you cannot think that God does or does not exist, it is simply to say that one can believe in God without being a complete idiot for doing so (e.g. the guy who does not believe in red cars is a complete idiot).  In the case of deities, belief just indicates that you are out of the discussion.  I, for example, do not think that God (or any other omnipotent being) exists.  I would find it most enjoyable to have a discussion about this with someone who thinks such a being exists.  I do not (generally) mind hearing the thoughts of those who believe/do not believe in God, but I gain little from this because I will be swayed by thought, not feelings, opinions or ancient texts.

Back to Ayurveda and science.  The beauty of all these methods of describing the world is that the observation step is common to everything!  Creationists observe a beautiful, complex world, and seek explanations.  Naturalists observe a beautiful, complex world and seek to record and categorize it.  Ayurvedics observe a beautiful and complex world, and seek a path through it.  Scientists observe a beautiful and complex world, and seek understanding.  To focus on Ayurveda, Vatta people are generally thin, active and cold.  To be comfortable in life, they should give themselves warmth and eat regularly.  Maybe this is because they are Vatta, or it could be that there is a physiologic reason for this.  Either way, the observation that thin, active people are generally cold, and need to eat small meals regularly holds solid.

As for my Ayurvedic experience, I am tri-dosic, meaning that I am Pitta, Vatta and Kapha in nearly equal proportions.  Finding balance in my life is difficult owing to this.  I suppose I might be all three dosas, or it could be that it is difficult to develop a system that answers all of the questions of the human body based on three types of people who are controlled by the five elements (earth, water, fire, air and ether), and thus some people fit multiple dosas.

I gained several things from the workshop.  Most important, were invitations to two dinner parties.  Of lesser importance, was the knowledge of my own dosas.  As for Ayurveda, six hours of sitting on the floor gave me an increased appreciation of the observations that people of all belief systems can contribute to the combined knowledge of humans.  This dovetailed nicely with finishing the book Lost Discoveries as the author of that book attributes scientific discovery to ancient peoples.  After the workshop, I think the discoveries of most ancient peoples are made through insight, not science

The Final Straw, and Moving Out

*Note*  The following post was written in Honolulu on the 24th.  After writing this post, I have made it into Taupo without incident, and have been running errands, and doing just a bit of socializing.  On the docket this morning is foraging for food, then cell phone, then some time for exploring my new surroundings.

I am sitting in the Honolulu airport, it is hot, muggy and crowded, and the internet is not free. Thus, this may not be posted until Auckland. It all depends on how cheap and bored I feel (ah, the scales of frugality vs. boredom).

I left Chicken early. The story is interesting, but I do not know if changing names is enough for me to feel comfortable posting it publicly. The skinny of it is that after a summer of my complacency putting myself at greater and greater risk in the field, I had a false sense of security working with a partner. The second day after I had a bear encounter (previous post), working in the same area, there was another bear encounter. It was between one of the employees who was working alone and a bear, and he took a shot at it. I will never know what actually happened. A radio call came through, then a shot rang out a moment later. What little procedures we had were not followed, were not sufficient and people clearly had insufficient training to be working in bear country (“we were trying to be quiet so the bears wouldn't hear us”). After the shot was fired, my field partner spotted a bear running straight at us at high speed. The bear ran at us for 20-30 seconds before being deterred by our noise making. It is not clear if the bear that was shot at was hit, but it was definitely not killed in a responsible manner if it was hit.

In the aftermath of this incident it was clear that the other employees and the company were not interested in working safely, following industry standards for field work, or taking the appropriate actions. Further, the fieldwork was set to continue in the same area the next day. One other employee and I declined to continue working under such conditions, and left for home, rather than for the field the next morning. Allowing me to spend a week and a half in Delta.

The extra time in Delta allowed me to say good bye to the Delta “family,” and my parents, made making final arrangements a bit easier, afforded me some great runs, a hike and bike rides with my parents, and easy to neglect Faux Social. I am at what can best be described as halfway, here in Honolulu, and it still seems, not unreal, but unfathomable, I suppose. I have never had a contract this long, I have never moved to a place I knew no one, and I have not ever sat in an airport this hot typing about what I have never done before.

I posit that the surreal feeling about this is that I am so accustomed to the “temporary” attitude towards everything, that even a long period, like two years, has been temporary for me for the last six years or so. It seems like I have always been preparing to leave, and this last year has been defined by preparing to leave wherever I just arrived. I think this has made me feel stuck in between moving somewhere, and heading off to another temporary life, with temporary people in temporary accommodations. Hopefully I will be able to snap out of this, and settle into a life that looks like what I want my life to be.

It is time to stretch, refill water, and figure out what time it is.

Bears

Yesterday, I had my second bear encounter of the summer.  The first encounter was at the last property I was working.  In that encounter, the bear was spotted approximately 1/4 mile away.  It then walked up hill directly at my field partner and I until it was 50 feet away.  At that point, the helicopter picked us up.  My field partner fired one warning shot, which did nothing to dissuade the bear.  The second bear encounter was one of the more stressful hours of my life.

Bear encounters are highly stressful events.  However, statistically speaking, bears are not that great of a risk.  At the last property, someone pointed out that a bear attack might be a one in a million event for the average person, but geologists working in bear country are not really average.  Thus, I propose a new statistical analysis.  I will assume that everywhere in Alaska represents "bear country."  Thus, in the last ten years (according to Wikipedia:    http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_fatal_bear_attacks_in_North_America) there have been 5 people killed by bears in Alaska, or about 0.5 per year.  According to the State of Alaska (http://www.hss.state.ak.us/dph/bvs/death_statistics/Leading_Causes_Census/frame.html), bear attacks, at 0.5/year are not in the top ten causes of death.  Malignant neoplasms are number one, number two are diseases of the heart, yet the food served in mining camps is not generally heart friendly.  Unintentional injuries come in at number three (with 339 deaths per year, if you deduct bears, 338.5 people are killed by other unintentional injuries in Alaska per year).  Intentional self-harm (suicide) is number six, with 140 deaths in Alaska per yer.  This means, that a randomly selected person in Alaska is 280 times more likely to kill themselves, than to be killed by a bear.  Given this, should people carry firearms to prevent bear attacks?

From an easy, back of the envelope statistical analysis, it is very evident that bears are not the biggest risk.  However, bears are scary.  It, for some reason, is not scary to ride in a truck on a gravel road to the field.  It is not scary to ride a quad for half an hour into the field.  It is not scary to walk over uneven ground.  Nor is it scary to ride in a helicopter.  However, when you are confronted with a bear, it is scary.  From this fear, people start making decisions based on emotion, rather than logic.  This is an undesirable situation that can only be dealt with through discussion, and training.

I have been through several bear trainings.  Some have been funny to me ("While there is no proof bears are attracted to menstruation, menstruating women should wear tampons rather than pads while in bear country"), and others have been quite good.  It is generally agreed upon that bears have vision approximately equal to our own with excellent senses of smelling and hearing.  If a bear can only see you when you see it, that does not help keep bears away.  Since scent is controlled by wind direction, which is unpredictable sound becomes the best warning tool.  All training advises you to take advantage of this.  They say that to warn an animal with an excellent sense of hearing it is advisable to make lots of noise.

I usually sing to make noise.  My go to song is Greg Brown's "If I Had Known," but I have a few other partial songs in my catalog.  "If I Had Known" is 3:25 with music.  I can pause for a bit between stanzas, but the goal is to make noise, not be artistic.  Thus, I rip through that song in about 2:20, I might stretch it to 3 minutes, but either way, I have to sing that song a lot to make it through a full day in the field.  So, sometimes I take a break from singing.

When I am not singing, I am not really a geo-ninja.  When in the thick of black spruce, moss, willows, tundra, tussocks and alders, I break branches pushing through them, I rustle trees trying to move them out of the way, I hit my shins and fall resulting in me turning the air blue, and if I get really angry with something I break the branches or what have you with my shovel.  This, apparently, is not enough noise to warn a creature with excellent hearing of my imminent arrival.  Bears, apparently, hear me rolling in on them like a gaggle of drunken sailors on shore leave in a fine china factory, and think to themselves, "what is that noise?  It must be a sparrow."  Given this line of reasoning, that seems to be common to all bears that will attack you, does singing actually help?  Would carting out a rock band help?  I am skeptical that if these creatures cannot associate my slow, steady progress through the brush with stick breaking and expletive eruptions as a human coming towards them, that folk music will make them turn and run.

What seems to work with bears is not noise (I am not suggesting that travel should be done with stealth, but rather the noise working in the brush combined with the normal amount of talking and singing should be sufficient), but working in pairs.  The buddy system does not eliminate the bear threat, but rather mitigates the risk in the most effective manner.  That is why one should never be working hundreds of meters away from anyone else, in an area of high bear sign, swimming through alders, singing, swearing and releasing frustration through fits of blind rage on dead trees.

This brings me to my second bear encounter of the summer.  I was hundreds of meters away from anyone else, in an area of high bear sign, having just passed through a bear latrine with fresh scat, swimming through alders, singing, swearing and releasing frustration through fits of blind rage on dead trees.

I exited the alders into a burned area (from a forest fire).  I was relieved to be out of the alders, but looking straight into another thick zone of alders between me and my first sample points.  I took out my HTC (absolute rubbish for field work) to assess whether I should move farther off my line to avoid the alders, or continue through the alders when I heard a branch break behind me.  I turned around to see a bear's ass leap back into the alders at the precise point I exited the brush twenty feet before.  I drew my bear spray, easily removed the safety I improvised when my was torn off in alders (a concern of the pistoleros), and called to the team that I had just spooked a bear and it was headed southeast towards Olmos and Stewart.  Fillion, who was attacked by a bear a year ago, quickly realized that he was between Olmos and Stewart, he thought through this, and realized that if a bear is headed towards Olmos and Stewart, it is actually headed directly for him!  Shatner began to orchestrate a response on the radio, and the chatter began.  At this point I realized that the bear had not moved southeast towards the other three crew members, but was glowering at me from the bushes, and all I can see are two eyes and a snout.

They teach you how to recognize bear moods to predict their actions in bear training, and they teach you what to do when you are interacting with a bear.  A bear with perky ears and its head up is curious, much like a dog.  A bear with its ears back and head down is angry or aggressive.  I could not see the bears ears, but its nose was very near the ground, so I leaned towards angry/aggressive, and called on the radio that the bear was not moving, but staring at me.  Shatner wanted to know who was closest to me to offer aid.  Stewart then radioed to ask what point I was nearest to.  In order to answer that question, I had to look at my HTC.

In bear training, they also teach you how to interact with a bear.  The best method seems to speak calmly, "hey bear, whoa bear," with your hands above your head to "look big."  I had one hand on my pepper spray, taking an aggressive stance, ready to hose the bear down.  My other hand was at my radio to key the mic when I had to need to give updates.  The only logical thing to do to look big, was to raise my elbows.  I was then standing with elbows up, one hand in front, ready to spray, one hand on my radio, and I had to let go of my radio to get my HTC.  HTC3, as mine is designated, is slow to connect to the satellites to get GPS points, and is prone to not reliably updating my location on the screen.  I turn on the HTC, unlock the screen and wait for the screen to update, with elbows raised, a constant stream of "hey bear, whoa bear" coming out of my mouth.  I radioed my location, and the radio chatter began again.  I was also thinking the whole time that one should back away slowly from a bear.  These burned areas resemble logging slash, and I was quite convinced that backing away would result in me falling backwards, thus, I decided to stand my ground, elbows held high, thumb on the trigger.

Shatner, in an attempt to figure out where Stewart was, had Stewart fire a shot into the air.  I heard this request, and realized that Stewart is on the other side of the bear.  I braced for the possibility that the shot would frighten the bear into me.  Bang, the shot was fired, and it became clear that Stewart, Olmos and Fillion were a long way off.  Shatner had obtained visual on me by this point, and was 300 meters away.  The bear eventually disappeared out of view, and Shatner gave watch as I moved away from the point of first contact.

When I got approximately twenty meters away from the point of first contact, and Shatner radioed that a small bear emerged from the brush and was moving behind me.  I turned around, pepper spray still ready, and could not see anything despite being in the relative clear of the burned area.  Eventually I saw a yearling cub bound by, and I continued moving away.  The next call I got on the radio was that the cub was changing direction, then coming parallel to me, then overtaking me.  This forced me to head more directly towards Shatner.  As I began to cross between the cub and the point of first contact, Shatner radioed that he saw a larger bear emerging from the brush at the point of first contact, it was bigger than the cub, and was following my trail.

Shatner continued to navigate me away from the bears, but it required me to move into a thicker area that was difficult to walk through, where I had no visibility.  Trusting his guidance, I proceeded.  Olmos, Fillion and Stewart were within sight of each other, listening to the radio and organizing themselves when the bad news came.

"brian, I know it is thick in there, but you need to hurry up," then a pause on the radio.  I kept walking, singing Greg Brown, and try to think how I was going to walk faster, through brush and fallen trees, with a can of bear spray that did not have a safety tab.  I figured if I fell, Shatner would see a puff of orange spray, and could do something to help me.  I resolved to speed up, and then call came through, mere seconds after the hurry up call, "I am going to fire a couple of warning shots."

While I do not recall making this transmission, reports are unanimous, I responded, "Okay.  I am not happy," in a stern, grumpy, monotone.  While I do not recall reporting my unhappiness, I do recall thinking that while I did not know what Shatner could see, I probably did not want to.  I motored, as best I could, bear spray sans safety, stumbling through brush and fallen trees.

Eventually I got to Shatner, and then we walked to a nearby cabin.  Fillion and Stewart met up with Olmos in view, and we waited for thirty minutes, without the bears following.  Fillion, Stewart and Olmos sampled the top of the lines, away from the bears.  Shatner and I walked over to points east of the bears, and sampled.

The day was significantly stressful, and after working the adrenaline out of my system, I started to think about what led to the situation.  Working this summer, I have been making small compromises on my personal work safety standards in order to get the job done.  There were issues at the last project I was working, there were issues with the truck driving here, and there have been issues working here.  After yesterday, I requested that I not work without a partner again.  Thus, I have made progress back towards safety.  Other crew members have made safer choices, and fixed some of the problems that existed here as well.  Meaning others are making progress back towards safety as well.  As stressful as the day was, and as bad as the day could have gone, it is the occasional serious incident that reminds us the reasons that we have safety standards that are always followed.

Note:  I am not working with a crew of actors who have played spaceship captains, but changed names to protect the identity of people and entities that were portrayed in this post.