Deep in the Darkness

By all rights, I should be in bed. I called the SOOTTAD and left a message maybe twothree hours ago and now it's getting on towards 1am2am. I studied a little, looked at some pictures, and then started surfing around the 'net maybe an hourtwo hours ago, the music of the mix that I'm putting together for her playing in the background.

It's a reunion year -- college reunion, 15-year. I started surfing because I remembered that the notice I got in the mail yesterday seemed to suggest that there would be a list of the people attending this year. No such luck though; maybe it hasn't been set up yet, a whole two months away. Two months. It doesn't seem all that far off.

Anyway, from there, I started poking around the alumni directory and began recognizing names. A roommate from my grad year apparently lives here in Waltham, and it looks like he got his PhD. The guy who lived down the hall freshman year who had the same birthday as me looks to have relocated to Pennsylvania, although it still looks like he's managing the dive resort down in Honduras. There's the friend and neighbor from junior year with the PhD and law degree still living down in New York. On and on the names go. Then I start googling other names I can remember.

I have mixed feelings about going to reunion. I was hoping use it as an opportunity to share some of my memories with the SOOTTAD -- the campus, the town, the diner, Hot Truck. And there are a bunch of people that I'd like to see, but just don't get the chance, despite living just a short drive down to New York, or even in the next town. It shouldn't be so hard, but time creates barriers: calendars get filled, priorities and situations change. We are not the same, and as we change so do are connections. They change, weaken, fail.

It's a chance to try pulling the threads back together... but a part of me doesn't want to look back. I've been a bad friend for not keeping in touch. I want to just cut my losses and move on. It feels like it's already too late.

And then there's me. Compared to them.

PhDs, lawyers, published authors. Families, contributors to society, managers, big shots. People who have their shit together.

And then me in transition. (Hey, at least I have a job now.) Looking for a change, maybe. Just playing. And I know I'm being stupid. That these things are unimportant. It's the life that's lived -- I've traveled, I try to enjoy life. But, it seems so... inconsequential.

So I continue to debate: to go, or not to go? The logistics are already a little tricky with the SOOTTAD in Chicago and having to get back for school on Sunday. I'll put the decision off, see how a feel about it in a few days.

And I keep surfing.

And then, the descent into the bad place. Not this past Sunday's bad place -- different, but in some ways just as bad.

I surf over to the Ex's blog.

It's never a good thing. I still have some baggage from that period, but it's mostly water under the bridge. It's not like we parted on bad terms, but they weren't exactly the best of terms. Civil. We weren't right for each other, and we went our separate ways.

We live on opposite coasts now.

And so I spy, and there's this judge that sits in my head that's constantly making comparisons, evaluating.

Wow, they bought a house IN the city over there. That must have cost a freaking fortune!
Check it: looks like she's a senior manager or director in her company now.
Look, fancy new car!

She seems to be doing ok, I guess. Looks like they go out drinking. A lot. Damn, how many cats do they have?

I have to admit that I'm not always sad when I read about her occasional troubles and frustrations. I have been reassured on occasion that this doesn't necessarily make me a bad person, but I try not to dwell on it too much. But what I usually find the most interesting is discovering the things we have in common -- activities, music, opinions, blogs. (although somewhat troubling.) This shouldn't be that much of a surprise, there were reasons we got together in the first place. But some things you forget, and some you may never know. It's interesting that a blog might give you more insights into a person than actually living and spending time with them for 4-7 years.

Beyond such philosophical meanderings, I don't get much from these covert visits. Usually just yet-another-thing for which to be annoyed with myself. Tonight, a creepy parallel (besides the blogs): she apparently has the same phone that the SOOTTAD just got.

Stupid brain, just cut it out.

Must. Go. To. Bed.

more transitions

Strange things are afoot at the circle K.

Well, not necessarily strange, but change is definitely in the air, and it's not just the pollen.

Things have improved somewhat since Sunday -- there have been no cascading outbursts, no spontaneous breakdowns; the perturbance that had been clinging to the edge of my perception, that edginess, has settled down. It still sucks mightily that the SOOTTAD is almost a 1000 miles away, but it feels like things are under control, an equilibrium of sorts, be it unstable or otherwise. We've been talking a lot on the phone (thank god for free night and weekend minutes) and there's generally been stuff keeping me busy (and distracted).

For one thing, disc has started. My summer club team started its practices last week and I played in my first hat game in JP on Monday. The weeknight JP league has a much different feel than the weekend games in Waltham -- the level of competition is slightly higher, but more importantly, it has a more social culture, due in large part to the presence of Doyle's right across the street. I didn't fully understand how integral the bar was to the frisbee scene until I walked in after the game and the woman at the counter immediately told me that my team was in the middle room... and then noticed that almost every other team was in the bar, too; segregated by color (I'm on a green team), but at least present and accounted for. The running helped, it always does. But it was good to grab a beer with some friends I hadn't seen in a while.

So disc. And school. This week is effectively finals week -- we got our first final back in Physiology last night, and we have finals/assessments in Anatomy, Technique and Skills & Dynamics this coming Sunday.

Busy.

And then there's the new job.

Yeah, a new job.

When I was telling a friend of mine about how I got hooked up with this gig, she thought it was the weirdest thing -- no job posting, no applications, no cover letters, just a short email exchange, a phone call and then a fairly casual affair meeting people at their office. (I did send them a resume before I went in.)

It seemed a little weird to me, too, but not totally out of the ordinary. (This was also before I went back for a second meeting and a meatier grilling of my experience that actually felt like a job interview.) There had been a slightly more formal structure to the interview process for my previous job, but the discussions were still pretty casual and I got hooked into the position by a cold call from a recruiter. The only difference this time around was that the initial contact was an email from an ex-coworker. And if it doesn't seem that weird to you, maybe it's because I'm not conveying the vibe of the initial phone conversation I had with them, which I unfortunately don't feel I can adequately express here.

So anyway, I start Tuesday. We'll see if it works out. It's a contract gig, my first. So in addition to familiarizing myself with a new design and getting used to a new environment, (not to mention the return to a commuting routine) I get to figure out self-employment taxes (Social Security, Medicare), estimated taxes, IRAs and probably lots of other crap I don't even know about yet.

Between work and school and studying and disc and running, I'm not exactly sure when I'm going to have time to sleep or eat.

As an aside, it's interesting to notice that as I'm being pulled back into the step of working life again, all that political stuff that I've been ignoring and/or hiding from has started creeping back into my awareness. When I lost my job, it was pretty easy to just ignore it because it felt like it was outside of my circle of concern. It felt like I was no longer part of the system. My focus was on budgeting my savings, minimizing spending. Keeping active, distracted. There was no connection outside of that, perhaps by choice. (I don't know if I could deal, either financially or emotionally.) Simply being unemployed made me feel like I was outside, disenfranchised.

So I guess I'm, uh, franchised now?
Could I get some fries with that?

Anyway, here are two links that I've stumbled across over the last few days, one that discusses the falling value of the dollar (and how it's tied to our ballooning deficit) and the other about what's broken with the Bush Administration's education policy.

• In Yuan We Trust (via BoingBoing)
• Built to fail (via Miniver Cheevy via mkb)

Sprung

Originally uploaded by tallasiandude.

First tulip bloom of the season.

processing

Perception has slowly been creeping into consciousness all day. After class this afternoon, things finally slowed down enough for the details to begin coming into focus.

And it looks like one giant barrel of suck. (Yeah, supersize me, baby.)

i am a fucking wreck.

Ouch

Originally uploaded by tallasiandude.

Took a digger on my long run today.

Looks like it's gloves and finger cots this week in technique class.

Bah.

not there yet

So, V wanted to know if I wanted to get together tonight -- hang out, commiserate over our respective suckitudes -- and I just realized that my head's in that place where I don't really want to spend the evening alone, and yet, I don't really want to spend time with other people.

I guess I'm not really doing as well as I thought.

holding pattern; slow transition

It was nice to sleep in this morning after having to get up early that past two days. And yet, in some ways, it would have been better to have something to kick me out of bed and get me moving.

Early Wednesday morning I took the SOOTTAD to the airport. We had eaten dinner at Tuscan Grill on Moody Street the previous night and then stayed up much later than we should have, but we managed to get up early enough to hit Wilson's diner, together for the last time (at least until she comes back in June to pack up the rest of her stuff), before driving to Logan. We love both of these restaurants; I keep hoping she'll write about them, since I couldn't do them justice.

Logan. Frustrations in Central Parking were a good distraction from the emotions of the imminent departure, but really, it just replaced stress with stress. Poor signage, exit arrows leading to dead-ends and aisles blocked by cones -- the Logan nightmare that used to be the Pike-to-93-to-tunnel commute transferred to the newly centralized, overcrowded and partially under construction clusterfuck that we'd normally avoid by doing curbside drop-off, but which wasn't going to be an option on this particular morning.

I'll spare youmyself the details, and just point out that since only ticketed passengers can go to the gate, I can only watch her go through security and up the escalator until she's out of sight. I wait a few moments before walking slowly back to the car. I feel... heavy. I look at the planes or rather, their tails, peaking up behind the terminal building, keeping an eye out for the green and red of the AirTran logo.

I'm pretty much on auto-pilot. And when I catch myself drifting into the bad place, I force myself to keep busy. Activity -- keep moving, keep to the routine. Run, study, go to class.

Thursday morning, I'm up early again -- for an interview*. Then study, run, play disc.

I talk to the SOOTTAD in the evenings.

Friends check up on me. When they ask me how I'm doing, how things are going, I don't really know how to answer. I'm ok -- been worse, been better. We're ok. But I'm ever so slightly on edge. Off kilter. I'm keeping myself distracted, but I'm not really processing things. I can't. At least, not right now. People want to be there for me if I need to talk it out, but I'm not really ready for that right now. And trying to force the processing before my brain is ready for it leads to the dark places, the bad places.

I stay up late for no reason.

This morning, with nothing pressing for the day, I lie in bed, listless.

Nope, still not ready.

Try to appreciate Spring. Disc season. Starting to poke around in the garden -- I email with the SOOTTAD about planning, weed/perennial identification. It's no longer freezing after dark -- I was ok in just shorts and a shirt when I came home last night. Days warming, lengthening.

Close. Almost there.

I think we'll make it through this. It's feeling more normal. I'm already planning my flight out at the end of May.

Now, if I could just get to bed.

* I effectively had a first round of interviews last week but have avoided talking about it because I didn't want to jinx it. That, and I've really just been too busy. Mixed feeling on how it went -- at times, I can tell myself that it went alright, but generally, I do a pretty good job of convincing myself I totally screwed it up. In any case, it's done and I figure I'll hear one way or another sometime early next week.

681 minutes

That would be 11 hours and 21 minutes of special-extendo, Platinum-edition Lord of the Rings goodness.

I bought the Director's cut of the Fellowship of the Ring when it was first released, but realized that I didn't want to watch it until I could watch all three films in all their extended glory. So it sat, unopened, until they finally released the extended edition of the Return of the King last December.

But then it became an issue of finding time to watch them all, because somewhere down the line, I decided that I needed to watch them all consecutively on the same day. Weekends are always busy, and while I didn't have silly things like work getting in the way for me during the week, I still had to make time for my training workouts, not to mention studying and going to class. And the SOOTTAD was still working and had suddenly become significantly (and rather inconveniently) busier, not even counting the hate-my-job-looking-to-escape activity going on around the same time. So we kept putting it off until this week, with her finally done with the old job, and her imminent departure just a few days away.

Our friend V (who is also currently employment-deficient) came over around noon, Doritos and vanilla frappaccinos and the Two Towers* in hand, and we got rolling soon after. We took a brief break at every disc change (each film was split onto two DVDs), ordering pizza at the halfway mark of disc 2 of the Two Towers and ended up finishing a little before 1am this morning.

I'll make no attempt at writing an actual review and just say that I thought the platinum series rocked. I really liked the way it fleshed out a lot of the backstory that was missing from the theatrical releases -- I thought it allowed the story to flow much better. It was also interesting to see how an extra few seconds in a scene could drive home a point about industrialization or war that hadn't been present in the theatrical release, without feeling out of place.

Highly recommended if you've got a free half-day in your calendar.

No foolin'.

* A minor glitch in our nefarious plan -- our copy of the Two Towers was nowhere to be found. Our only guess is that we loaned it to somebody, but at this point, we haven't a clue as to who we lent it to. Fortunately, V had his own copy, so we were good to go.

Signs of Spring

Originally uploaded by tallasiandude.

Just one day after the rains that finally washed away most of the remaining ice and snow and there are already tulip sprouts.

A week ago, there was still a 3-foot tall snowbank; a snowbank which had been in place since mid-December and which was probably taller than me after the storm we got in February.

I'm assuming that these sprouts didn't grow three inches overnight, which means that they were already sprouting into the ice before the rains melted it away.

...which is still pretty damn cool.

Running Observations for Late March

I did my long run today, squeezed in between social engagements for the SOOTTAD farewell tour. I strongly considered pushing it out until tomorrow and just doing a shorter run today, but a quick look at the weather forecast (low 40s and rain, rain, rain) convinced me that I should just suck it up to do it today when it was sunny and supposed to approach 50°F. Just a few quick observations on the run:

• Despite it being a beautiful spring day in the high 40s, I was happy to have worn my wind pants and brought my glove-liners. It may have reached 50°, but it definitely drops a few degrees in the shade and feels cooler with the wind. It also cools quickly in the afternoon as the sun descends.
• I don't think I stuffed myself silly or anything, but apparently 2 hours is not a sufficient amount of time to properly digest the tasty Sichuan treats we ate for brunch. 20 minutes into the run and I'm burping little flashbacks which, not suprisingly, are not particularly enjoyable.
• The snow is mostly gone, leaving a lot of winter detritus along the side of the road -- faded beer cans and plastic bottles mostly. It's not clear whether they're being dumped by pedestrian drinkers or getting tossed out of car windows.
• The reservoir is still a sea of white, covered by a (hopefully thinning) layer of ice.
• I counted passenger vehicles on this Easter Sunday. (I'll post more details about this soon, hopefully.) Total count: 13 SUVs, 0 Pickups, 6 Vans/Wagons, 18 Cars. It felt like there were fewer SUVs than usual, but I'll get a better idea as I collect more data.
• Saw a Bush/Cheney sticker on a stationwagon that passed me. I observe two thoughts that pop into my head almost immediately:
  1. How could you vote for them?! You live in freaking Massachusetts fer cryin' out loud and should recognize the benefits (education, income, services) from living in the liberal oasis that is the Commonwealth. (Or maybe not. As I write this, I realize that these things are likely don't-cares to Bush/Cheney voters.)
  2. Damn, even in "li'brul" Massachusetts we have people who voted for these guys. I'm a freak, and it's only a matter of time before it won't even be safe to live HERE.
• Last 400 yards before the 10 mile mark (and the end of the run) and I see a cute indie-rock looking chick dressed mostly in black, walking in my direction on the sidewalk across the street. Gee, I didn't think we had that demographic in the neighborhood... Oh, it's the SOOTTAD! Heh, cool.

Take your Chinese medicine...

Fellow tour members being diagnosed.

I was reminded of my trip to China when I saw this post at chineseamericanprincess.com.

That's how it works -- I don't sit around and just decide to reminisce about the trip; I'm usually just minding my own business and I'll see something that just kind of triggers the way-back machine.

Anyway, when we were in Beijing, we signed up for tour that visited the Ming Tombs and a section of the Great Wall. As with all tours, it included lunch, but also a few side trips that were designed to "educate" the visitor about various aspects of Chinese culture. On our tour (from Hell) of Hangzhou, we received a presentation about the production of tea (with an opportunity to buy some of the super-grade-A-superior-awesome tea that we had just tasted). On our Beijing city tour, we went to a pearl center and another tea house, both with informative presentations and plentiful shopping opportunities afterwards.

So, on the Tomb/Wall tour, we visited a jade store information center and something like "the National Institute of Traditional Chinese Medicine."

At the Institute, we were first led into a reception area with several display cases which provided information about various aspects of Chinese medicine, the history of the Institute, as well as several accounts (with photographs) of Chairman Mao being successfully treated for different ailments in his later life. We get taken upstairs into a small room where we hear a brief presentation and are then told that we can have an evaluation performed by one of their top practitioners, if we are so inclined.

I should say now, I do believe in this stuff, at least to a certain extent. I believe that as a system, the body operates as a whole and that it is possible for it to manifest problems in ways that go beyond what can be observed via X-rays, MRIs or blood tests. And I certainly don't believe that there's anything particularly magical about Western medicine. That is, just because we use science and technology to develop our drugs, I don't assume that they're necessarily superior to substances found in nature -- herbs, critters or what have you. Ironic use of the word, I know, considering the common (although potentially diminishing) Western view of eastern medicine as being largely based in superstition. That it's effectively believing in magic. And as far as drugs go, I'm really no fan of pills, whether they're from Glaxo-Squabb-Merl-Co or some herbal supplement. But I'm getting ahead of myself. (And I realize that it seems like I'm fixating on the drug-thing, but the reason for that will become clear shortly.)

Anyway, I sit down, and after giving the obligatory duibuqi, wo shi meiguoren (sorry, I'm an American), we get down to business through the translator. From across the table, the doctor takes my wrists in his hands and checks my pulse, sitting quietly for a few moments. [I have a friend up in Vermont who practices eastern medicine and who's done this with me, and explained it... but sadly, most of the details have faded. What I do remember is that they're checking multiple pulses (that I think are tied to different organs); checking quality, checking strength.] He asks me (through the translator) if I have any back pain. I say yes. He tells me that it's because my kidneys are weak. (Funny, I thought it was because I have two herniated discs between some of my lumbar vertebrae.) He then marks a piece of paper in front of him and passes it to me to read. He's marked two paragraphs on it and the translator explains that they describe the appropriate herbal remedies that I can take to cure my problem.

And, of course, at this point in the story, you're probably wondering to yourself, "Gee, where on earth is he going to be able to get these obscure traditional herbs?" (All together now...)

Where can you get them? Planet Ten! Right here!
When can I get them? Real Soon! Right now!

So, they told me that I should get a month's worth of their special, concentrated herbal supplement (not available in stores!) and I would be all better. A month's worth of these supplements turned out to be two bottles that my crappy long-term memory is telling me would cost 1000RMB a bottle, or roughly US$240. Um, yeah. Like, no job. Not so much with the disposable income at this point. Not to mention that I don't like spending large sums of money without some careful consideration. And maybe it was 1000RMB for the two, but I'm pretty sure it was for each bottle, because I remember it still costing over a hundred bucks when the translator helpfully suggested that I just buy half the dose. (and get half better?)

She tried another tack:

It is your health, after all. Can you put a value on that? Isn't that worth the money?

Well, yeah.

But, taking pills? Wrong sell. Maybe they're just trying to appeal to the Western market. Or just human nature. We naturally gravitate to the quick fix, the easy, the accessible. Sure, I can change how I do things. Sure I can do it the hard way, the long way. But why should I, if I don't have to?

At our core, we're lazy -- it's what drives us to optimize processes, to become more efficient.

I guess I was hoping they'd tell me why my kidneys were bad. Is it something I'm eating? Something I'm doing? What was wrong with them? What can I do to make things better? It seemed to me that if there was something wrong with my kidneys, something made them that way. And even if one month of pills would make them better, wouldn't whatever it was that made them bad in the first place just make them bad again? [I'd put a nice little analogy in right here, but frankly, I'm feeling a little lazy and not coming up with anything that seems sufficiently engaging or amusing. And I want to publish this post sooner rather than later. Feel free to come up with something on your own. Sorry.]

I guess I was just a little disappointed. It felt like Western medicine with Chinese characteristics. (Although admittedly, I may have just been over-reacting to the pill meme.)

And then there's context -- I suspect that in general, I'd be much more inclined to believe somebody when they aren't trying to sell me something.

So, me and my bad kidneys took a pass.

The End

Alright, now I gotta go pee.

Huh...

Speaking of peeing, I'd just like to note that when I spell-checked this post, it wanted to change "herniated" to "urinated."

Sorry, I just found that amusing.

And this is a bad thing?

Headline: Commercial Leaves Kids Too Scared to Watch TV [Reuters]

There's something in the air...

You'd have to figure with all the snow we've gotten over the last few days, weeks, months, that Spring has GOT to be right around the corner. We've had a few days over 40, and that's always a good start, especially after getting 8-10 inches of wet snow on Saturday. But that's not it. No, there's something else. And actually, I wouldn't really call it a sign of spring, but I guess my brain is just making free associations -- nature's rebirth, birds and flowers, new beginnings.

People are getting married.

The march of progress is inescapable -- I got my first evite to a wedding a few weeks ago, from my friends H & J. It was just a save-the-date, but still kind of amusing. (It also asked for my meal choice -- salmon, chicken or mushroom risotto.) And practical -- a heads-up before they got the actual invitations in hand, addressed and in the mail. And, I knew they were getting married this summer, so it wasn't like it was a surprise or anything.

As opposed to hearing about the engagement of some frisbee friends, B & C, at a party on Saturday.

Or the phone call I got last night from my friend V, when he told me that he had just bought a car, and oh, by the way, he and M had just gotten married.

And then finding out about Matt and Amy by reading Matt's blog this morning.

Yep, there's something in the air.

Me? I think I might've caught a bug -- my throat's feeling a little scratchy today. And my girlfriend is moving to Chicago.

I don't want this to come off the wrong way. I admit to being pretty cynical sometimes, but I AM genuinely happy for all the previously mentioned couples. And things between me and the SOOTTAD are still really good, other than not wanting to think about the logistics of living 1,000 miles apart, and dealing with the visceral "she's leaving me" response.

But sometimes I feel like the one guy who bought the [insert wicked cool thing that everyone loves] when it was first released and had the battery explode when I turned it on. The only guy to fall off a Segway? Um. No, maybe not. But you get the idea.

Or, to use my favorite analogy, it's like David Wilcox's Big Blue Poodle (from Live Songs & Stories):

I'm tryin' to find my way to some club, and somebody will have told me, "oh, you just drive straight on such-and-such, and you see the..." y'know, something ridiculous: "you see the HUGE BLUE POODLE, and then you CAN'T MISS IT... and then you turn right and..."

...and I'm thinkin' to myself: "now, I've been driving now, and driving and driving... and I have only one landmark to go by. What if I... missed it?" And you know they said you can't miss it (which is the kiss of death) so what if I'm just driving into oblivion, and I'll just drive for the rest of my life, you know?

And the reason why it bugs me... Y'know, it's no big deal -- I can make it to the club, I can skip the sound check. I'll find it, eventually.

It's only bad directions.

It bugs me on a metaphorical level, because it's just too much like life.

Y'know, like as a kid when you're asking people "well how do you know... when it's true love?"

What do they always say?

"Oh, you'll know, you'll know."

Well, y'know, that's like saying "you can't miss it." It's the KISS OF DEATH, y'know...

...you just imagine you're 96 years old: "No, I'm holding out for the big blue poodle... They said it was on the road here, 'I can't miss it...'"

To follow through with the analogy, you could say that I've already made the turn at the big blue poodle. Except that, well, it turned out that it wasn't actually the big blue poodle.

I kinda jumped the gun... y'know? I didn't want to miss it... And, well... at the time, it seemed kinda poodle-like. But well, y'know, maybe it was really, uh, like a big shrubbery. Or a rock or something that kinda looked like a poodle? Y'know, from the right angle it might have looked like some kind of dog or something. Ok -- so maybe it was a big rock that might have been shaped more like a fish. And it was red. But I coulda sworn there was a sign next to it that said that it was a blue poodle. (Ok, maybe it said I was a poodle. It's been a while, it's hard to remember the details.)

And I wasn't entirely sure there really were any poodles on this road, so I figured it was close enough, you know?

So anyway, it took me a few years to get back on the road.

A few years ago and a few years later, I thought I might have really found the poodle -- so I turned... but there wasn't actually a turn off. And when I got the car back on the road, I noticed something up ahead and pulled up to it to figure out what it was.

I'm pretty sure it's blue, but you know -- what if what we call "blue" is actually perceived as a different color by different people? So, if I could look at something I think is "blue" with someone else's eyes, it would look... "orange," except they'd call it "blue" because it's always been "blue" to them. Then is it really blue? (So maybe it's orange. Or aqua. Or cyan. WTF is cyan, anyway?) And I think it's a poodle. Well, a dog, probably. But what if it's really a puli or something? And is it big enough? "Big" is a pretty subjective word. . . .

Yeah, so I've been here a while, but I really don't want to mess this up again. Of course, there's more than one way to mess this up. Yeah, we're good like that.

So maybe that's a little backstory, perhaps more than was necessary, which we can set aside so we can move on to more important things.

Things like: congratulations Matt and Amy! Congratulations H, J, V, M, B, C, and all the A to Z's that I've forgotten or haven't heard from yet. Congratulations, good luck, well wishes and happy thoughts to all of you.

Really.

I hope to see you all soon, with my own poodle.

Finished

Originally uploaded by tallasiandude.

Boston's Run to Remember Half-Marathon, March 13, 2005.

Started a little slower than I had originally planned, but ended up finishing around where I wanted to be. Chip time: 1:45:19.

Next up: Big Lake Half Marathon on May 7th.

But I'll probably take a few days off before starting up again.

Google, you fail me.

I've been a advocate of Google for quite a while. I'm generally not the early-adopter type, and I certainly hadn't picked up on Google when they first went beta or anything (I'm just not that plugged in), but I did start using it in the fall of '99 when I heard some buzz on it and I noticed a friend and coworker using it at the office. It was hard not to: it stood head and shoulders above the competition at the time, and y'know, not being Microsoft is always a plus in my book.

So I was trying to find some information to an animated short that I had seen at an animation festival at the Coolidge a few years ago. I think it was a flash animation that had two kids sitting across each other discussing the merits of their cup-o-noodles that they were eating. I figured I'd find something, but no such luck. I actually remember having this same problem when I was trying to write about ramen last August. Eventually I figured I could just link to my original post, but Blogger (also owned by Google now) was acting up, so I was having a hard time finding the original post from the editing index.

So of course, I tried to google it.

And found... nothing.

WTF, yo?

Ok, so I realize that there's a lot of chaff in the blogosphere. You'll even find "blogs" now that are basically just being used as link farms, presumably trying to increase their search ranking by saturating the pages with link after link after link to porn, consumer sites, erectile dysfunction meds, ad promotion, porn, insurance, porn, and, well, porn. So I totally expect the search engines to do some kind of filtering to try to keep this stuff under control and maintain the relevancy of their search results.

I realize that there are very few people that read this blog who haven't stumbled on it by accident following the "next blog" link on the header of all the free Blogspot blogs out there. Still, this was annoying. I felt so, well, not relevant.

Hello, my name is Chopped Liver. Pleased to meet you.

So fine. We'll ditch the general search for references to the animated short and just do a search on my blog.

See? I'm being specific now. I'm not putting on airs about how important I think my opinions are. I just want to find something on my blog. Someone else might want to do that, right?

Nope.

If you do a search on "grey matter gruel" and just about any other noun, you either get the "tough noogies" page, or if you're lucky, you'll get a link to a page that links here. So I google:

"grey matter gruel" cup o' noodles - Nothing
"grey matter gruel" noodles - Nothing
"grey matter gruel" animation - Matt's page
"grey matter gruel" ramen - Matt 's page and the Bostonite webring

No such problem on Yahoo-exclamation-point or AltaVista. Dogpile and Webcrawler (apparently, both search aggregators) only find the top page. Oh, and nothing on MSN. Congratulations Microsoft, looks like you're in good company.

Ok, I think I see the pattern, after having some success with "running," "movie," "manhattan," "chinese," and "hoops." It looks like they stopped indexing the archives sometime in early 2004. (Geez, I am such a nerd.)

C'mon Google, you guys are smart -- you can do better than this. Or are you going to be like every other company that started out sharp and innovative and cool that just grew too much for their own good and got lazy and complacent?

The pitfalls of contentment

A few months ago, I wrote a post about appreciating the things that I had going for me.

The cynical me has always tried to keep expectations low, because when it comes right down to it, if things don't work out, at least you won't be disappointed. But I've been trying to ignore him, Mr. Negativity, of late. And thus I've attempted to venture forth into the new frontier, the new millennium as it were. The new and improved me -- confident, centered, hopeful, positive. (I mean, let's not be stupid: there's no sense in unnecessarily walking under anvils or driving behind piano movers. Living next door to bomb factories. But really, there's no need to expect the worst.)

So despite everything that had been going on at the time -- the upcoming presidential election, discontent at work, and just a general malaise -- I came to the conclusion that things were Ok. I might have been in a rut, but I really had nothing to complain about. I took a step back and said to myself, "Y'know, self? Life is good."

And six months later, Bush has been reelected, I've lost my job, and as of yesterday, my girlfriend, the SOOTTAD, has accepted a new job in Chicago and will be moving there in the next few weeks.

Bah.

This immediately makes me think of two things:

1. I really ought to get around to signing up for my COBRA benefits before the NEXT BAD THING happens.

2. Maybe I shouldn't feel too accepting and content with what I've got now, lest something even more catastrophic happen to try and get me to readjust my perspective yet again.

I mean, it's not like the world has come to an end. We'll get through this. But I have to say -- I really don't like this game.

E-mail Anger Management

A helpful lesson in communication skills from zeFrank. [via Yi]

Anti-Atkins

Milk? No.

Chicken? Beef? No and no.

Originally uploaded by tallasiandude.

This is our freaky, starch-loving kitty licking the breadcrumbs off my sandwich plate.

He will also eat mashed potatoes.

Meditate on this

I keep forgetting that running is a form of meditation for me.

It's been far to easy to think of it only as training, therapeutic maintenance for my back, and more recently as a mood enhancement.

It also doesn't click when I'm running with other people or when I'm running at the gym. Ugh, the gym. At the gym, my brain is all over the place: I'm thinking about my pace, the time; I'm concentrating on adjusting my stride to the infernal machine; I'm watching my mileage, the clock, other people, the TV. There are just too many distractions. And it's intentional, because you're trying to distract your brain, because it's just so damn boring. Just go, do your thing, get it over with, and get the hell out of there. If people try to exercise more (say, for a New Year's resolution) by joining a gym, it's no surprise to me that so many people don't stick with it. It drives me crazy, and I LIKE exercising.

No, it can only be a meditation when it's solo, outside, preferably on quiet roads or through the woods.

I had forgotten, until yesterday.

It was cold. I didn't really want to go out, but I hadn't run all weekend; two days off since the long run on Friday.

I'd been thinking about a class from the previous day. It's a class that focuses on people skills, taught in the context of the therapeutic relationship, but which has broader application in developing general communication skills and self-awareness. For the most part, the class has been enjoyable, but some of the discussion and exercises in Sunday's class (on self-awareness and finding the core self), didn't jive and had left me a bit frustrated.

And so that's where my head was when I went on this run.

Well no -- I was probably spending more time dwelling on how I didn't really feel like going out in the cold, but that I needed to put some miles in, and that being outside would be better than being in the gym.

Probably high 20s, headphones on (MP3 player in an inner layer). Just wanting to get the damn thing over with.

And sometime around mile 3, past the busy intersection by the hotels and the 'Co and the Despot, past the last traffic light, with the reservoir on my right and the woods on my left, I find my rhythm.

There's a mindfulness to it. Breathing, moving.

Breathe in, breathe out. Left foot, right foot. Arms swing. A gentle pendulum twist between the shoulders and hips. The road passing underneath. And just you inside your head.

I found my core. Connections between memories and thoughts. It was good, but I'll spare you the details.

Running IS exercise. But it's also mindfulness of your breath, of your body. There's discipline and dedication*. And hopefully clarity of thought.

In the most recent issue of National Geographic, there's a photo of a Buddhist monk chanting under the frigid waters of a waterfall in Japan. I thought it was a cool picture, but I remember thinking that, in the pursuit of a more spiritual self, I probably drew the line somewhere well before standing beneath a torrent of freezing water.

But I will run. (Although I'm thankful I've only had to run in the rain once this season so far.)

* I found an article that discusses the difference between discipline and dedication on the Runner's World site. Check it out. As a dedicated, but fairly undisciplined runner, I found it an interesting and valuable way of looking at things.

Of Dinosaurs, Radio Shack, and a bit about Capitalism

"Wow, look! A dinosaur!"

We were having brunch a few weeks ago, after playing snow disc under clear skies with temperatures running in the high 40s; the Milkman was referring to my cell phone.

I took a certain amount of pride in my old Audiovox CDM-9000, which I'd had for almost 5 years. It's never been a priority for me to have the latest, greatest, gee-whiz new-fangled doo-dad. When I bought my PDA (a B&W Handspring Visor Edge) over 3 years ago, it was right around the time they had discontinued making it. I've had my stereo amp and tuner since college (if they were people, they'd be allowed to vote by now), and they were refurbished models when I bought them. I'd been looking for a new cell phone, but it was hard to justify since the one I already had was working just fine. The buttons were starting to go, but overall I couldn't complain: it got good signal and I'd never really had any problems with it. (And there's that whole trying not to spend money because I still don't have a job thing.) I hadn't really NEEDED a new phone.

You'll notice that I wrote a lot of that in the past tense.

And that would be because the Milkman's little comment was apparently something of a harbinger of doom. Pretty much the next day, my phone died.

So it really was time to get a new cellphone.

The problem is that I'm pretty picky about the features I've wanted in a new phone, and Verizon seems to be determined not to offer the combination I've been looking for. For what it's worth, I wanted a tri-mode phone, clamshell, with an LCD display on the outside, and NO CAMERA.

I mean, how hard is that?

Hard enough apparently.

The sticking point seems to be the camera. They're pretty much ubiquitous these days, and while I think it's pretty nifty that it's A PHONE AND A CAMERA (AT THE SAME TIME!!!), when it comes right down to it, I don't need it. Just like I don't need mobile web. Or video on demand. (Crikey, I don't even use video on demand IN MY FREAKING HOUSE!)

I don't want it. I don't need it. And I sure as hell don't want to need it.

I'd been checking the Verizon website on a fairly regular basis after learning that they would offer up to a $100 credit on a new phone to existing customers. But the selection has always been fairly limited*.

Ok, the selection sucked.

So I figured I'd just be stuck with my old phone for the rest of my natural life.

And then I walked into the Radio Shack at the Fresh Pond Mall.

I had been in the area for a required DUA seminar at the Career Source and wandered in to try and find a replacement battery for a cordless (landline) phone.

Let me now state for the record here that I've always held a wee bit of contempt for Radio Shack. Just a deep-seated visceral response probably rooted in an ancient Apple ][+ versus TRS(trash)-80 rivalry and memories of lame electronics kits and crappy alkaline batteries. I admit that it's fairly irrational, but there it is. And it hasn't been helped by a few recent experiences where the service has been uninspiring to say the least.

Let's take my original attempt at finding the replacement battery as an example.

I had originally looked for the battery at a Shack down on Main Street in Waltham. I don't find the stores particularly well organized, but I manage to find the rechargeable phone batteries. Unfortunately, they don't seem to be in any particular order and they all seem to be based on phone models and, silly me, I just wrote down the specs and part number of the BATTERY. (And did I mention that even if you know the phone model number, the phone model information is printed on the back of the package, so you have to pull the package off the rack to see if it's the right one?) I go through them anyway, hoping to pattern match on the voltage and current, checking to see if it fits a Panasonic phone (for any model), but no luck. So I go talk to the guy behind the counter (after he helps two other people in the store).

I have to bring in the phone, he tells me. I ask him again just to make sure I was hearing him right (I was), and then left, too dumbfounded to ask why he couldn't somehow, maybe, look it up, like, on a computer or something.

Yeah, I'm not so fond of the Shack. In my head, I think of them as the Scrap. Or, Radio Crap.

So back to Fresh Pond. I walk into the store, fully expecting to be disappointed when I'm asked if I need any help and I tell him about the battery I'm looking for. And he just walks over to the rack and hands it to me. And then says something to the effect of: "I think this is the one you want, but I'll double-check on the computer." Huh, a computer. Who'da thunk it? I'm amazed at the technological advances they've made in the last week. So cool, I get my battery. After I pay, I look over the cell phones before I head out. (I find it odd that the Shack sells cell phones, but whatever. It's particularly interesting that the other Shack in Waltham that's in the mini-mall down the street is just 2-3 storefronts down from an actual Verizon store. And while I'm on the subject, does anyone else think that these brick and mortar corporate cell phone stores are stupid? Especially when they probably have better accessibility through these 3rd party resellers? Like Radio Shack?) The sales guy notices me looking and asks again if I need any help. I tell him no, Verizon never has the phone I'm looking for, but I usually check just for shits and giggles. He asks what I'm looking for, I give him the list, and then he points out two (not one, but TWO) phones that are the droids I'm looking for.

"Are you sure they're tri-mode?" I ask.
"Yup," he says.

Huh, again. I file this information away (since I'm still trying to be circumspect about my spending), thank him and leave.

So when my phone dies, I go through the motions and check the Verizon site, and then hit Fresh Pond the next day.

Different guy, just as helpful. He pulls out the phones so I can actually play with them. Gives me the scoop on their features, but also brings up their specs on a computer in the store. And then leaves me alone so I can figure out what I want to do. I end up with the Motorola v260, and it'll cost me 30 bucks if I renew my contract with Verizon for 2 years. Yeah, cool, whatever. I've stuck with them for over 5 years. I like my plan. Sure, no problem.

Well, no. To get the phone, I have to upgrade my plan, otherwise I have to pay $200 for the phone.

I'm kind of attached to my phone plan. For 35 bucks (plus taxes, fees and assorted reaming charges), I get 150 minutes (low in the grand scheme of phone plans, but perfectly adequate for me) in the USA OneRate plan, which they don't offer anymore, and should not be confused with their America's Choice plan that they're trying to force down everyone's throat. It means there are NO roaming charges, anywhere in the country. It's a really simple coverage/rate map, too. You take a map of the U.S. and just color the whole thing in. I like it. Simple. And it's nice to not have to worry if you're gonna have coverage or be charged for roaming** (which I can never seem figure out exactly how much they're charging).

So I'm not happy about being forced into changing my plan, but the guy convinces me that their National SingleRate plan (which also isn't officially being offered anymore) is basically the same plan that I used to have. Ok. Sold. I'm annoyed with Verizon, but close enough. And hey, new phone.

And that night, I remember that my plan had a promotional (for as long as I had the plan) service of unlimited free weekend minutes. I'm worried again. Did I lose my weekend minutes? The next morning, I call to find out the scoop, expecting the worst. Nope. I still have my weekend minutes, and actually my plan didn't get changed*** at all. It should have been changed, but since it wasn't, they're not going to muck with it. (SCORE! Fresh Pond Radio Shack, you ROCK!)

And then he tries to sell me on the America's Choice plan.

*sigh*

So I go over my standard story about how I don't need that many minutes, and I like not having to worry about coverage and roaming charges in some of the random places I end up, like in the middle of the Mojave desert or obscure parts of New Hampshire or the wilds of Western Mass. That I don't think the Choice plan is the plan for me. And I think I mention that I'm annoyed that they keep changing the plans and are trying to get me to switch. And then he tells me that Verizon is only TRYING TO HELP THE CUSTOMER. . . .

I'm sorry, did you just hear my eyes roll?

It's funny, I had this crazy idea that big companies basically did things to make money. And pretty much as much money as possible. (Of course, preferably in such a way that they can show a nice constant growth trajectory in revenue to make the zombies on Wall Street all collectively soil themselves.)

I mean, I'm sure that a company wouldn't stop doing something that happened to help a customer so long as it wasn't directly getting in the way of the prime directive of making more money. But let's face it: if there were no repercussions for a company to make money by, I dunno, cutting off people's arms to be sold to their next door neighbor, I'm pretty sure it'd happen. In fact, I expect the stockholders would probably demand it. I'm sure there are exception, but as a general rule, I expect a large company to help the customer only because it benefits the company, whether it be to build loyalty, to improve the company's image, to avoid the threat of regulation (Not like that's going to happen these days), or whatever.

I was listening to Marketplace on NPR the other day, and one of the listener letters was complaining about how Verizon was investing in premium services (such as V-CAST) rather then improving their basic services.

Well, Duh.

There is this false idea that capitalism and the spirit of competition will just make everything better. Sure, in some markets you can get price competition, but there will also be competition in quality and service. And even then, there are dependencies: true competition, market saturation, resource availability. And what about companies that are trying to (required to) grow revenue? When stock price and market perception (read: the focus on revenue growth) trumps stability, you get companies emphasizing new features over core service, and cost reduction (like "encouraging" your customer base to switch to internal network plans), especially when you start approaching market saturation.

I find the idea particularly frightening when you start talking about health care and health insurance, where the discussion seems to focus on costs, but the reality is that there is more than one degree of freedom. Competition can reduce costs, but you can't assume that the quality of the care and service will remain fixed. Differentiation and competition will occur on both cost AND quality. And if you can't afford basic health care, you can just suck it up, and hope some band-aids and aspirin will be enough. Sure, you get what you pay for, and if you can't afford to pay: too bad, so sad.

How about an insurance company that's always watching the bottom line, decides that you're high risk (Smoker? Eat fatty foods? Family history of cancer?) so they either charge you an astronomical premium, or just flat out refuse coverage. How well does that idea sit with you? Or what about...

Um, right. I was talking about my new cell phone.

Sorry...

It's got a cool ring though, did I mention that?

*According to a Verizon rep that I talked to (at their store in the Burlington mall), they're pretty picky about qualifying phones which, while possibly providing better reliability and coverage, severely limits their selection. He also said that they tended to only order limited stock because they didn't want to get stuck with a bunch of older models because people were more interested in the latest new thing. (Thus: lots of camera phones; no old, boring tri-mode phones.)

**Since all of this happened, Verizon has changed their America's Choice plan to have no roaming charges. (As is typical, this happens about 2 weeks after I have to deal with the new phone/new phone plan thing.) But they still don't have full national coverage, so I can only assume that you just won't get signal in those areas.

***I've since received a monthly statement and a new contract in the mail that both seem to suggests that I'm only getting free weekend airtime as a special 2-month promotion and that I'm going to be charged $10 a month for the service. I've called Verizon's customer service yet again, and they seem to think that the paperwork is wrong and I really do have free weekend minutes at no additional charge. But I'm not going to believe it until I get my May statement and I don't see any extra charges.