Wednesday, 27 April 2011

Today, for the first time, I was the Toastmaster. That means that I hosted the meeting – calling up people as their turns arrived, and then thanking them afterward. April marks the first time since I joined the club that I have gone an entire month without giving a speech, but that’s just fine because I’m busy with school now that the semester is wrapping up. In fact, the agenda for the two Toastmasters’ meetings in may was passed out today and I was happy to notice that I am not scheduled for a speech at either meeting. I mean, I still plan to attend, of course, but it’s difficult to write up a competent speech when I’m busy with school.

Speaking of school, I may have mentioned this before, but there are assigned readings to do before each class. For tomorrow’s class, we have the biggest reading assignment yet: Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass. Yep, an entire book. Fortunately, I have already read this book, so I have at least a fading memory of its contents. Also, since I saw this book coming up on the horizon, I decided to secure a copy of the book on audiocassette and “read” it in the car going to and from work this week. I finished “reading” it today on my way home from work. The downside to doing it this way is that, when I come across a memorable passage to write down on the assigned worksheet, I just kinda gotta remember where it is and then look it up when I get home. The upside, however, is that I managed to “read” the entire book without taking away any time for family/work/sleep.

Thursday, 28 April 2011

Have I mentioned that, though I now work in a new department, I still have the same cube that I’ve had for over four years? Yeah, it’s true. This leads to the odd predicament wherein the people I used to work with walk by and wonder what I’m still doing squatting on their turf, whereas the people I now work with have no idea where I vanish to when not in meetings or in the lab. So, I’m kind of inhabiting a kind of purgatory right now where I both belong and don’t belong in two places.

I kind of like it.

More interestingly, we continued our discussion of Edgar Allen Poe in class today. Once again, the professor acted like he was going to share the Simpsons’ classic interpretation of “The Raven” with us, only to run out of time at the end of class.

Here’s a fascinating question:

Do we study texts like “The Raven” because we’ve studied them?

Yeah, it didn’t make any sense to me either, at first. But here’s what he meant: Does “The Raven” actually have outstanding artistic merit or some other historical importance, or do students and poetry aficionados study, read, and discuss it simply because it’s what has always been done (and, therefore, has lasting fame).

The answer, of course, is both, thought several students seemed to feel the answer fell squarely in one camp. This included one student who expressed her opinion that “The Raven,” as odd as this may sound, really isn’t that good.

The thing is, no one in class was alive when “The Raven” was first printed. They didn’t live through that time when it was first read and analyzed as new. Overall, though, the general consensus was that it was a superb poem and, consequently, it has endured through time. This leads to the fact that it gets printed in anthologies, such as the one we have for class, in which later generations get exposed to it, and they have the opportunity to like or dislike it.

Here, then, are two examples that, I think, explain this better than my previous convoluted paragraph:

I have this friend who is waaaay into music. He is proficient at several instruments; he has recorded dozens of albums, been a member of many bands, and has performed live at quite a few venues. As you can imagine, he’s also quite the storehouse of music lore – he knows a lot about the history and industry of music, so much so that he frequently cites musical acts I have never heard of.

One day, about 10 years ago, I stepped into his new bedroom, scanned the room, and announced, “I think John Lennon is overrepresented here.” He laughed, but then went on to explain that the reason why three of his eight music posters featured John Lennon was because there’s plenty of Lennon merchandise out there. And he’s correct: were he to make a list of his 100 favorite musicians, then walk into a music shop with the express idea of purchasing merchandise featuring these individuals, it’s hard to see how any musician would have more paraphernalia than Lennon (especially because Elvis would not be on his list).

You could say the same with me: Why do I have Star Wars Monopoly? Because it exists, while a version of Monopoly featuring far better films does not.

More relevant, let’s look at a list of films I’ve seen from the 1920s:

Cabinet des Dr. Caligari, das

Kid, the

Nanook of the North

Our Hospitality

Navigator, the

Wizard of Oz

Metropolis

Go West

Bronenosets Potyomkin (Battleship Potemkin)

Gold Rush, the

Ben-Hur

Lodger, the

Ring, the

Downhill (When Boys Leave Home)

Easy Virtue

Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans

Jazz Singer, the

General, the

Wings

Singing Fool

Champagne

Cameraman, the

Circus, the

Broadway Melody

Farmer’s Wife, the

Manxman, the

Juno & the Paycock

Chelovek s Kinoapparaton (Man with a Movie Camera)

Blackmail

…Yeah, that’s it. A list of films I’ve seen from any year of the past twenty would be longer than this. Now take a look at the list, there are a lot of classics on here; it’s likely you’ve heard of these films or, if you haven’t, that I could give you one or two facts about the film that would make you nod and go, “Oh, so that’s why we give a rat’s ass about that film.” And that’s the point: I am living in 2011. I do not know which films are the greatest of this year, and I do not know which films from 2011 will still be considered great films in 2100. However, the 1920s were several decades ago. As such, many of the films from that time are lost, and the only ones from that era that I care to see – or, indeed, have even heard about – are likely to be the ones that have stood the test of time because, for whatever reason, they’re considered classics.

The best film from the 1920s may be one I’ve never heard of, but then it’s likely I won’t ever see it.

Same thing with “The Raven.” The best poem from the 1840s might be one that no in class – including the professor – has ever heard of. But enough people felt “The Raven” was worthy enough to be reprinted and so, today, we have it as an example of poems from the 1840s. And if any of us like it, then we continue to perpetuate the myth of importance.

Saturday, 23 April 2011

Today, while Owen and I were wandering around Target, we approached one of those tables where they give out samples. Judging from the items on the table, the lady was giving out iced tea, so I thought, “Heck yeah!”

As we drew closer, the lady asked if I’d like to try the new blah blah blah brand Iced Tea. I said sure. So then, instead of pouring me a one-inch deep aliquot in a plastic shot glass, she hands me a full size cup, complete with ice, a lid, and a straw. “This is the sample?” I said. She affirmed my suspicion, and then told me something or other about a sale price.

So Owen and I got to enjoy 16 ounces of iced tea as we walked around the store (Jennifer was buying some stuff for Easter – and we didn’t want Owen to see what she was buying, so my only job was to aimlessly wander until Jennifer called me saying she was done). Owen insisted on saving the last sip for Mama, but, still, wow…how cool was that? I mean, especially considering there’s a Starbuck’s right in the Target there where I could’ve spent $3 for practically the same thing.

Sunday, 24 April 2011

Today was Easter, the one day of the year when rabbits lay eggs.

First, Jennifer took some pictures of our kids all dressed up in fancy Easter clothes. (Why were they dressed up? I don’t know.) Second, we met up with my sister and her husband at a restaurant in Eagan where we partook in an all-you-can-stuff-in-your-disgusting-face buffet. The waiter was kind enough to not charge us for Owen (he hasn’t learned how to be a glutton yet), and we got free mimosas. So, you know, I left the guy a good tip.

Third, we drove to Jennifer’s Uncle and Aunt’s place where about a dozen members of her family were present. I hid some plastic eggs around the yard (there was candy inside them – that’s some of the stuff that Jennifer bought yesterday) and then Owen and his cousin (the five year old, not the 8 month old) went hunting for the treasures.

On the way home, we had to pull the car over twice to let Owen puke. Yeah, that was nice. On the bright side, he appears to have reached that threshold where he can anticipate vomit and alert us that he needs to get somewhere where he can expel the contents of his stomach. This is good because, man, I hate cleaning up throw up, so the ditch next to the highway is a great spot.

Monday, 25 April 2011

My sick son, who threw up three times today (for a total of five times within 30 hours) stayed home from school today. What we initially took for overeating of sweets has now, probably, become the flu.

This evening, Jennifer and Isla walked to the co-op (which is how hip urbanites say “grocery store”), and I stayed home with Owen. He slept on the couch for about 98% of the time, just turning over once to smile at me and mumble something about Star Wars. This was a very easy form of parenting, and I think I could used to it rather quickly.

Anyway, Owen’s class has a field trip to the planetarium on Friday. If there’s one day I always wanted to make sure I attended school, it was on the days we went to field trips. And I think Owen will like the planetarium better than the last few field trips his class has gone on. So, I hope he’s better by Friday. Jennifer and I don’t want to remind him that the field trip is coming up, because then he’ll just get stressed out that he might miss it…but I’m rooting for his steady improvement by the end of the week.

Tuesday, 26 April 2011

Guess what? By a 2-to-1 margin, writing numbers in ascending sequence is more interesting than discussing Edgar Allen Poe. Yeah, it’s true. For while I demonstrated my continuing nerdiness and ability to portray myself as teacher’s pet, the student sitting to my left, and the student sitting directly in front of her, both decided to just start writing numbers.

So, about a half hour into class, I looked over at the guy one-up and one-over from me. He had been writing nonstop for over ten minutes and, I’m sorry, but no one takes notes that well. I looked at his paper, and I saw it was just a solid block of text – no bullet points, no paragraphs, nothing – just twenty or more lines of complete text. Upon further inspection, I saw that the top row of his paper looked like this:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

Okay, you get the idea.

He was already in the 200s by the time I identified this, and he showed no indication of abating. I figured he was just bored and this was his way of filling the time.

However, about 40 minutes later, I looked to the lady sitting to my left. She never participates, and appears to complete her homework in the five minutes prior to each class. So, it was kind of funny to notice that she was taking notes. Only, she wasn’t taking notes. She was, like our classmate, just writing numbers.

This reminds me of the time I sat down on the bus to go home from school one day (in junior high school), and the guy I sat next to was writing numbers. When I inquired as to his purpose, he told me he planned to write every number from one to one million. I took the notebook from him and paged through it. I couldn’t believe it. Of course, he was no where near a million yet, but he was in the hundred thousands, and he had filled several pages. In fact, the notebook was dedicated to this purpose.

Anyway, I’m just wondering. I’m a nerd. I love math. And numbers. And lists. And yet, I have never done what these three people were doing. Am I missing something? Is this like twiddling thumbs or doodling – the kind of activity lots of people do when they’re bored? Or were the two students in my class working on some inexplicable assignment for another class? Who knows?

Either way, weird.

Thursday, 21 April 2011

Here are three notable events from today:

1. The professor passed back our “draw the House of Usher” assignment. Before doing that, though, he showed each student’s artwork on the overhead projector. The first drawing he showed was phenomenal; the house was exactly as I pictured it, the drawing was skillfully down with shadows, perspective, and great detail. It appeared to have been done in chalk (or peharps just those fancy-schmancy pencils). My first thought upon seeing this was, “Crap, these classmates are talented!” Alas, that was the best one of the bunch. The others ranged from simple, geometric, haphazardly drawn pictures (that I imagine were created in the five minutes prior to class) to quite a bit better than mine.

Oh – and as promised, here’s mine:

Check out those eyes on the curtains, man! That’s my piece de resistance. The text doesn’t exactly say that there are eyes on the curtains (it says the windows themselves were shaped like eyes), but I interpreted this via the Salvador Dali segment of Hitchcock’s Spellbound (and if you don’t know what I’m talking about here, you really need to rent Spellbound), and it apparently impressed the Professor enough to where he pointed them out to the class when my picture was displayed on the screen.

2. I wrote THIS ARTICLE concerning the bullshit prediction of the Rapture coming on May 21^st. The article was, today, selected for MinnPost’s Blog Cabin. The proprietors of that site scan many, many local websites everyday and choose the post they feel is most read-worthy. So, today, they picked mine. Good for me.

3. This evening, my wife and I watched the film The King’s Speech. It was a rather good flick. I mean, the story wasn’t particularly amazing, neither was there any edge-of-my-seat moments, but for a historical drama, it was really good. Like many historical dramas, it suffers from assuming the viewers have a deep knowledge of the time and place they are being immersed in, but I don’t think that negated the good points. In fact, the best aspect was the acting. Colin Firth, who played King George VI, was completely believable; there was no point when I thought, “This guy doesn’t really stutter, he’s just playing a guy who stutters.” He deservedly was awarded the Academy Award for Best Actor. Of course, he did have an unfair advantage (not that I mean to diminish Firth’s performance, because he did deserve the award) – and that is that the Academy looooves to give Oscars to actors who portray real people with disabilities.

Don’t believe me? I’m sure there’s a comprehensive list out there somewhere, but here’s a top-of-my-head listing of people who were nominate for acting Oscars for portraying real disabled people:

Daniel Day-Lewis, My Left Foot (quadriplegia)

Patty Duke, The Miracle Worker (blind and deaf)

John Hurt, The Elephant Man (Proteus Syndrome)

Russell Crowe, A Beautiful Mind (schizophrenia)

Judi Dench, Iris (Alzheimer’s)

Geoffrey Rush, Shine (schizoaffective disorder)

Jamie Foxx, Ray (blind)

James Franco, 127 Hours (amputee)

Tom Cruise, Born on the Fourth of July (paralysis)

Jon Voight, Coming Home (also something requiring a wheelchair)

Harold Russell, The Best Years of Our Lives (limb deficiency)

Russell’s performance is particularly noteworthy – he didn’t have to act like a man who had no hands, because he really is (was) a man with no hands!

Of course, if there are no historical people to cull from, the Academy will look to fictional characters, such as Jane Wyman’s portrayal of a deaf woman in Johnny Belinda, or Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man, Peter Sellers in Dr. Strangelove, Jack Nicholson in As Good as It Gets (or One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest), Hillary Swank in Million Dollar Baby, or Tom Hanks and Gary Sinise – who both portrayed disabled people in Forrest Gump – or even Kevin Spacey, who portrayed a man pretending to be disabled in The Usual Suspects.

I think AnnaSophia Robb has a good shot at getting the Oscar nod next January:

Friday, 22 April 2011

Today I let a co-worker borrow all my beer brewing equipment (well, not all my equipment – I kept my bottles).

Do you know how often I let people borrow things? Pretty much never. So, I guess this is a big day for me.

I have a problem with letting people borrow stuff, and it’s not just because I don’t want people to borrow stuff (because, in fact, I often do). My problem is that most people – closest friends included – just don’t seem to have the wherewithal to return stuff. I could list off the books, DVDs, and CDs that I’ve lost to people over the past 25 years as well as who borrowed which thing and then, however inadvertently, never returned it.

I practically cringe when people ask to borrow stuff, hoping that they’ll forget they asked if I let some time go by or change the conversation. And the reason is because this leads to the other problem, wherein I have to remind the person constantly. They keep forgetting, I keep reminding. I just end up looking like the bad guy, even though I was the one who was, essentially, robbed. Once, back in 1988, a friend asked to see a book that I had brought to school one day. He wanted to see if for a few hours, and he promised to give it back at the end of the day, when we saw each other getting on the bus. Problem was, he left early that day because he was sick. The next day, I asked him for my book back. He forgot it at home. Same thing with the next day, then the next day, then the next day. I never saw that book again.

Another time, back in 1999, I brought in a U2 CD to work. A co-worker asked if she could bring it home overnight. I let her do it (saying no to things like this is also perceived as jerky). The next day she forgot it. I reminded her everyday, but she kept forgetting – even after she put in her two-week’s notice to quit. Finally, on the last day of her employment, I asked if she brought the CD. She said she didn’t, but that she promised she would bring it on Friday when she returned to pick up her last paycheck. I said, “Well, see that you do, otherwise you’ll have to write me a check for $18.” She looked at me incredulously, as if I was the biggest asshole who ever lived because I dared to request payment for an item she stole from me. She returned on Friday… and my CD was with her. With her, actually, it was easy, because I didn’t care if she thought I was a jerk or if she didn’t want to be my ‘friend’ anymore. Usually the situation is a bit stickier.

So why allow someone to borrow my beer brewing equipment? Two reasons:

First, I got into beer brewing in part because someone was kind enough to allow me to borrow their equipment. So, I guess I owe it to someone else now, in some kind of Karmic manner, to pass on what was given to me. Oh – and yes – I am completely hypocritical in this manner: I don’t let people borrow my stuff, but I have no qualms about borrowing items from other people whenever I feel so inclined. My only defense is that I return items – sometimes even after the borrower has forgotten that I borrowed the item. (I don’t forget.)

Second, beer brewing equipment is a “big” thing. Unlike a CD or a book, it takes up a lot of space, and it costs (relatively) a lot of money. It would be difficult for the borrowee to neglect to return or reimburse me for the item at some point in the future.

I guess the take away lesson from this is that you probably shouldn’t ever waste your time asking to borrow a book on my shelf, but if you need to use my car for a week…have at it.

Tuesday, 19 April 2011

So, as the dust has settled after the lay-offs at my job, I have now found myself in possession of  a Galilean Thermometer. This is one of those devices that, like Newton’s Cradle, Mechanical Puzzles, Ant Farms (all of which have been on my desk at one time or another), and Magic 8 Balls (which has never been on my desk due to it being created by Satan), has come in to the popular culture as a way of saying, “I like crap sitting on my desk, but it has to be nerdy.”

One problem with the thermometer is that the numbers hooked on to each bulb are nearly unreadable. I have to be within two feet of the bulbs in order to read them. Would it have killed the manufacturer to print the numbers in a different color from the disc they are on? Also, since the bulbs are free-floating, there’s nothing compelling the numbers to face the “right” way; they are often parallel to my line of sight and, thus, impossible to read. If I try turning the whole thermometer, the bulbs remain stationary, and the discs are no easier to read.

But here’s the bigger problem: this thermometer is absolutely no fun inside a perfectly climate-controlled building. According to the device, it is currently 76 degrees in the building, a value which has remained unchanged in the seven years I have worked in close proximity to it.

I’m thinking of bringing the thermometer home, where our fluctuating kinetic energy (due to opening windows and turning down the heat at night and not having central air) all would conspire to give the little bulbs some action.

…But, we all know what happens when fragile glass objects are displayed in our home.

Wednesday, 20 April 2011

So, I need to register for class today. Of course, I definitely will sign up for a class for the upcoming fall semester (which runs, roughly, from Labor Day to Kwanzaa), but I’m also considering signing up for a summer class (which runs, roughly, from Jill Biden’s birthday to Independence Day).

“Hey,” you ask, “why haven’t you ever signed up for a summer class before?”

“Hey,” I answer, “that’s a great question.”

The thing is, the tuition reimbursement my employer offers is not infinite. This differs from the cost of tuition at Hamline which, essentially, is infinite. Basically, I can take two courses per reimbursement calendar (which, inexplicably, runs from December 1st – November 30th). As you’ll recall, I did not take a class in the fall of 2010, as I was still helping out around the house while Isla configured her neck muscles and my wife reassembled her uterus.

Therefore, the year running from December 1, 2010 – November 30, 2011 is one in which I will only have taken one class. Yes, yes, like I said, I will sign up for one for the fall, but since that one runs until Hanukkah, it will be counted towards the December 1, 2011 – November 30, 2012 year.

So, I’m trying to decided if I can fit in all the work that’s likely to be required. Since the summer course only runs about a third the lengh of a fall or spring course, the work is compressed into less time, and I have to find more time available to do the work. One option is to not sleep, which is a great idea (on the surface), because I have long lamented slumbering as a waste of time, and this might give me the impetus I need to forego this wasteful habit. Another option is to do my homework in the car, whilst commuting to and from work. I’ve done that before, with surprisingly stunning results, so that might be the best option.

One class I am considering is titled “Women in Literature,” which sounds like a combination of my two favorite things in life (not to be confused with “Film and Beer,” a class that combined my two second-favorite things in life). So I’ve emailed the professor, requesting a syllabus so that I can gauge the workload. To my delight, she promptly responded with a course schedule that, among other things, included a film viewing. Holy crap! This might be the best class EVER (assuming I can show up with beer).

Saturday, 16 April 2011

So, despite what I had guessed, I actually had time to complete the book Proofiness. I finished reading it this evening and, I gotta say, it’s the best book I’ve read this year.

The author (Charles Seife), spends much of the book discussing elections. It’s here where counting, statistics, polls, and politics all converge to create some crazy numbers.

Seife discusses the 1936 election – in which one magazine claimed to know (to within 0.5%) the outcome of the election. They claimed Governor Alf Landon would win. Yeah…he didn’t win. He only recieved ~35% of the popular vote. How did the pollsters make such a huge mistake? Seife points out that even though their margin of error – their statistical error – was very low, they had neglected to factor in their systematic errors. In fact, that’s one of Seife’s points: when you read or hear about the results of a poll, you invariably hear about the accompanying “margin or error.” Yes, that’s nice, but what’s more important it taking into account statistical errors.

Predictably, Seife also devotes space to the whole “Dewey Defeats Truman” prediction, and the razor thin margin between Bush and Gore. What was surprising, however, was Seife’s chapter on the Franken vs. Coleman election. He goes into detail about the mathematical wrangling that took place, how certain ballots were contested and why, and why Minnesota does, in fact, have a very good set up for voting and for recounts. Seife notes that such a minor difference in totals would have totally baffled most other states. He also points out that such a small difference is beyond our ability to count. Counting, after all, is just another form of measuring, and all measurements have an inherent inaccuracy. Seife concludes that the Minnesota Senatorial election (and the 2000 Presidential election) should’ve been decided legally: in cases of a tie, lots are to be drawn.

Here’s a funny thing: did you know the Senatorial race lost one vote to Lizard People? It’s true, and Seife includes an image of the ballot to prove it. Basically, some voter decided to write-in “Lizard People” for every position on the ballot. The voter also dutifully colored in the oval next to the words “Lizard People.” Except in one case: Senator. There, the voter wrote in “Lizard People,” but colored in the oval for Franken.

Naturally, Franken’s camp declared that to be a vote for their man. “Not so fast,” said Coleman’s camp: the voter clearly meant to vote for “Lizard People.” Franken then argued that the oval was colored in next to his name and, therefore, even if the voter meant to vote for “Lizard People,” election officials can only count who the voter actually did vote for.

But then, Coleman pointed out that Minnesota law states that if a voter writes in a candidate, then they have voted for that person – regardless of what else they do on the ballot. Franken then countered that, while that may be true, “Lizard People” is not a person, it’s clearly plural, rendering the write-in invalid and thus counting the ballot for Franken. But Coleman pointed out that “People” is a real last name, and there is no way to determine if, somewhere, there is a person named Lizard People and that – in the opinion of the voter – is the best person for the job.

Sunday, 17 April 2011

Today I took Owen to yet another birthday party. It had, after all, been over two weeks since his last birthday party, so he was due for another one. This time, we ventured over to Pump It Up.

We had been to a Pump It Up once before – though I don’t think Owen has any recollection of the event (he was only 2). Man, it’s a loud, wild place. As you can imagine, Owen was a bit overwhelmed at first. The birthday boy had invited over 20 of his friends, and they were all excitedly jumping around and screaming even before the party ‘officially’ began.

Owen later said that he wants a birthday party at Pump It Up. I’m not so sure about that. For one thing, it’s gotta be quite pricey (especially when you include food and gifts for all in attendance, as this boy’s family did). But more importantly, I don’t really care for how orchestrated the whole thing is. When we showed up, for example, we were directed to put our gift into a big box that was later ferried to the party room. I didn’t like the idea of not being able to give the gift to the birthday boy ourselves. Also, the whole thing was tied to closely to the clock. First the kids had to watch a video, then they had to go, single file into one room, then another room, then another room. When it was time to eat the food, they were repeatedly told to sit down. When the birthday boy was opening his presents, everyone was trying to speed him along because they had to clear out the room for the next party.

I told my wife that maybe we could do that when Owen is older but, for now, I like his birthdays to be more laid-back affairs with family and friends.

Monday, 18 April 2011

Today, as I was driving home from work, U2’s song “Desire” came on the radio. It’s definitely a superb driving song: it’s got a fast, moving beat that doesn’t let up – it’s no wonder the song exhausts itself in less than three minutes.

Anyhow, as I was singing along, a car full of young ladies pulled up beside me with their windows rolled down. They were singing and clapping to the very same song. My windows weren’t rolled down, but they must’ve noticed my lips lining up to the words of the song, because they deliberately tried to get my attention and then, when I looked over at them, they waved their hands in the air excitedly, as if we had just made some sort of U2-connection. Then I plowed into a truck. Just kidding.

Anyway, they sped on down the road and veered east when I headed south. All I could think was, “Man, I’m so cool.”

Also today, I watched to movie Zombieland. I’m not, as a rule, a fan of the whole zombie subgenre, but I must admit that this was a very fun film. I enjoyed Columbus’ “rules,” especially, and how they were visually inserted into the film at various points. As you may recall, I read Night of the Living Trekkies last year, and I found that to be quite the page turner. So, who knows? Maybe I am getting into zombies.