Guess who's going observing in Hawaii in March?
That's right, I am.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Thursday, December 28, 2006
venetian razors - part II
Referring back to an old post.
Have you ever tried to shave with one of those single blade razors you get from hotel front desks? I normally shave with at least a double (maybe triple) blade. When I was in Ithaca, NY on a business trip, I forgot my shaving kit and had to ask the front desk for one of these suicide blades. Now I realize the purpose of the extra blades. I guess it spreads out the force across your entire face so you don't cut yourself as often or as severely. Maybe it's just a matter of practice, but DAMN! I'm not sure if I'm ready for 5 blades, but I'll stick with 2 or 3.
Have you ever tried to shave with one of those single blade razors you get from hotel front desks? I normally shave with at least a double (maybe triple) blade. When I was in Ithaca, NY on a business trip, I forgot my shaving kit and had to ask the front desk for one of these suicide blades. Now I realize the purpose of the extra blades. I guess it spreads out the force across your entire face so you don't cut yourself as often or as severely. Maybe it's just a matter of practice, but DAMN! I'm not sure if I'm ready for 5 blades, but I'll stick with 2 or 3.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
recuperation
So it's been a week and a half since my little spat with gravity and the mountain. You'll be pleased to hear that my knee is healing quite nicely. It took about 5 days before the wounds scabbed over completely, so I'm glad about that. I still need to take some IB-profin every once in a while to keep the swelling down. It doesn't really hurt any more, but my right knee is still noticeably larger than my left one, and it's still a little stiff.
I went with Mom today to help her distribute some flyers in her real estate farm area. I probably walked a total of 2 miles. My knee felt a little weak, and every once in a while, I'd land on it wrong and it'd almost give out. It felt good to get out and exercise it for a while. Maybe I'll try to ride a bike a little bit once I get to Austin.
On a side note, I have a love-hate relationship with scabs. I like them because they keep my precious bodily fluids inside my body, where they belong. I like them because underneath their ugly exterior, pink, new skin is growing. I like pink new skin, btw. I hate them because when the new skin is growing, they itch something awful. They are just begging me to scratch scratch scratch. (un)Fortunately, I know better, but that doesn't keep me from wanting to do it.
I went with Mom today to help her distribute some flyers in her real estate farm area. I probably walked a total of 2 miles. My knee felt a little weak, and every once in a while, I'd land on it wrong and it'd almost give out. It felt good to get out and exercise it for a while. Maybe I'll try to ride a bike a little bit once I get to Austin.
On a side note, I have a love-hate relationship with scabs. I like them because they keep my precious bodily fluids inside my body, where they belong. I like them because underneath their ugly exterior, pink, new skin is growing. I like pink new skin, btw. I hate them because when the new skin is growing, they itch something awful. They are just begging me to scratch scratch scratch. (un)Fortunately, I know better, but that doesn't keep me from wanting to do it.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
earliest memory
inspired by Becks:
My earliest memory is running out of my sister's room in response to her crying from her crib. Probably crying in response to something I did to her/threw at her. I remember being scared that Mom would catch me and send me to time-out. My sister is only 2 years younger than I am, so I was probably 3 or so. Mandy and I HATED each other when we were kids. It's amazing how good of friends we turned out to be.
Another particularly vivid memory I have of my childhood days involves a set of plain wooden blocks we had. Now, this may actually be part-dream, but I did spend an awful lot of time playing with these blocks. I remember I built a Burger King restaurant out of blocks. I remember it was pretty complex, which is why I suspect it might be a dream. I can't remember how old I was when this happened, but I suspect around 4-6.
My earliest memory is running out of my sister's room in response to her crying from her crib. Probably crying in response to something I did to her/threw at her. I remember being scared that Mom would catch me and send me to time-out. My sister is only 2 years younger than I am, so I was probably 3 or so. Mandy and I HATED each other when we were kids. It's amazing how good of friends we turned out to be.
Another particularly vivid memory I have of my childhood days involves a set of plain wooden blocks we had. Now, this may actually be part-dream, but I did spend an awful lot of time playing with these blocks. I remember I built a Burger King restaurant out of blocks. I remember it was pretty complex, which is why I suspect it might be a dream. I can't remember how old I was when this happened, but I suspect around 4-6.
Friday, December 22, 2006
right/left brained?
My sister brought up an interesting point... We are pretty much two completely different people. She makes decisions rationally. She tries to calculate which decision is the right one, whereas I, go with my gut feeling. That, in itself, is not a very interesting tidbit of information, but the fact that we both chose professions pretty much diametrically opposite our decision-making-habits.
She's a history grad student/author, and I am an astronomy grad student. I'll admit it, I'm not a very analytical/logical person. So much of my thinking includes a little thought bubble saying "here, a miracle occurs..." When I was younger, everything I was interested in/good at was artistic/creative in some way. In elementary school, I was sort of singled out for art classes b/c of my creativity. In 8th grade, I was an enthusiastic writer. I played piano until I was in high school. Then, in High School, I took Physics. From there, everything else kinda went by the wayside. I can't really describe why I took to it as I did. I was fairly good at it, and I enjoyed the way everything seemed to fit together.
Now, here I am as an Astronomer-in-training wondering if I made the right decision. I think I did. I do enjoy astronomy, and the scientific method, even though I'm not the most logical of people. I can't really imagine myself in any other profession, so I guess that's a good sign.
It remains to be seen how good of a researcher I'll end up being. Cross your fingers for me...
She's a history grad student/author, and I am an astronomy grad student. I'll admit it, I'm not a very analytical/logical person. So much of my thinking includes a little thought bubble saying "here, a miracle occurs..." When I was younger, everything I was interested in/good at was artistic/creative in some way. In elementary school, I was sort of singled out for art classes b/c of my creativity. In 8th grade, I was an enthusiastic writer. I played piano until I was in high school. Then, in High School, I took Physics. From there, everything else kinda went by the wayside. I can't really describe why I took to it as I did. I was fairly good at it, and I enjoyed the way everything seemed to fit together.
Now, here I am as an Astronomer-in-training wondering if I made the right decision. I think I did. I do enjoy astronomy, and the scientific method, even though I'm not the most logical of people. I can't really imagine myself in any other profession, so I guess that's a good sign.
It remains to be seen how good of a researcher I'll end up being. Cross your fingers for me...
memories
It's amazing which memories stick with you and which don't.
When people talk about things which happened in the past, I can remember them, but I don't remember them on my own. I guess that's one reason I'm such a pack-rat. Just going through an old calendar or old ticket stubs jogs my memory and I can remember the particular concert/thing which corresponds to the trinket. However, without these trinkets, the memory is pretty much lost to me.
I wish I had a better memory.
-----------------Edit-----------------
Another funny thing I've noticed about my memory... The more times I try to tell a story, the harder time I have separating fact and fiction. Case in point:
When I was in Undergrad, I lived in Hart Hall with my friend Mike. Hart was a nasty old dorm in the middle of campus. It was un-air-conditioned and was built in 1930. At least 33 layers of paint were caked on the walls. It had a kick-ass view of the Academic Plaza. It was home, and I loved it. Anyway, this story involves me, Nick, Mike, a trash can, and some pizza. Here's how the story usually goes: Mike realizes that someone in our mutual company hasn't heard the story, so, like a little 14 year old girl, he squeals with delight, claps his hands, and tells the story how he remembers it. Apparently, I ate some ancient pizza with mold on it that I'd found by rooting through the 55 gallon trashcan outside our door. At this point, whoever is listening to the story gasps with horror and glares at me with revulsion. So, I have to defend myself by telling my side of the story (as I remember it). Nick (who lived across the hallway) had ordered some pizza for his dinner. I'd come back from doing something on campus, and I was pretty hungry. Before I went into my room, I stopped in Nick's room to shoot the shit. As I was getting ready to leave, I watched Nick pick up the (almost) empty box of pizza, took it out into the hall, and placed it _on_top_ of the trashcan. On my way across the hall, I opened the box, and fished out a (still warm) piece of pizza. Not nearly as gross as Mike's telling of the story.
Which one's true? Probably neither... It's probably somewhere in between, but I can't really remember. I've defended myself so many times, I can't really remember what happened and what didn't happen. Maybe I really did eat moldy pizza and I've just convinced myself of what I want to believe happened. Who knows?
I'll understand if you never again want to eat pizza I offer you. If I did fish out the moldy piece of pizza out of the trash can, I assure you it was only a momentary lapse in judgment. I'm better now, I promise.
When people talk about things which happened in the past, I can remember them, but I don't remember them on my own. I guess that's one reason I'm such a pack-rat. Just going through an old calendar or old ticket stubs jogs my memory and I can remember the particular concert/thing which corresponds to the trinket. However, without these trinkets, the memory is pretty much lost to me.
I wish I had a better memory.
-----------------Edit-----------------
Another funny thing I've noticed about my memory... The more times I try to tell a story, the harder time I have separating fact and fiction. Case in point:
When I was in Undergrad, I lived in Hart Hall with my friend Mike. Hart was a nasty old dorm in the middle of campus. It was un-air-conditioned and was built in 1930. At least 33 layers of paint were caked on the walls. It had a kick-ass view of the Academic Plaza. It was home, and I loved it. Anyway, this story involves me, Nick, Mike, a trash can, and some pizza. Here's how the story usually goes: Mike realizes that someone in our mutual company hasn't heard the story, so, like a little 14 year old girl, he squeals with delight, claps his hands, and tells the story how he remembers it. Apparently, I ate some ancient pizza with mold on it that I'd found by rooting through the 55 gallon trashcan outside our door. At this point, whoever is listening to the story gasps with horror and glares at me with revulsion. So, I have to defend myself by telling my side of the story (as I remember it). Nick (who lived across the hallway) had ordered some pizza for his dinner. I'd come back from doing something on campus, and I was pretty hungry. Before I went into my room, I stopped in Nick's room to shoot the shit. As I was getting ready to leave, I watched Nick pick up the (almost) empty box of pizza, took it out into the hall, and placed it _on_top_ of the trashcan. On my way across the hall, I opened the box, and fished out a (still warm) piece of pizza. Not nearly as gross as Mike's telling of the story.
Which one's true? Probably neither... It's probably somewhere in between, but I can't really remember. I've defended myself so many times, I can't really remember what happened and what didn't happen. Maybe I really did eat moldy pizza and I've just convinced myself of what I want to believe happened. Who knows?
I'll understand if you never again want to eat pizza I offer you. If I did fish out the moldy piece of pizza out of the trash can, I assure you it was only a momentary lapse in judgment. I'm better now, I promise.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
just my $0.00002
I originally found this on Marci's blog. I think I shall repost for the good of humanity. Apparently, the good folks at Verizon think that $0.002 = 0.002 cents. Sadly, this is not the case. However, when people try to inform them of this, they throw up their hands and claim not to be mathematicians.
Original audio - about 23 minutes long, excruciatingly funny/painful/sad example of the state of education in this nation.
Verizonmath - blog chronicling one dude's quest for a refund.
KellyHawk - humorous definition of verizonmath the noun.
It's sad how reliant we are on computers/calculators. It's one thing to use them to make your life easier, but when you can't do simple decimal math with a pencil and a piece of paper, it's a bit scary.
Original audio - about 23 minutes long, excruciatingly funny/painful/sad example of the state of education in this nation.
Verizonmath - blog chronicling one dude's quest for a refund.
KellyHawk - humorous definition of verizonmath the noun.
It's sad how reliant we are on computers/calculators. It's one thing to use them to make your life easier, but when you can't do simple decimal math with a pencil and a piece of paper, it's a bit scary.
Interesting story
I read a really good short story last night by Phillip K. Dick called "Foster, you're dead". It's about a I heartily recommend it. It's only ~15 pages long, so it's a quick read at your local library. If anyone gets the chance, let me know what you think.
From Wikipedia-
I think the part of it which struck me the most was amazing character sketch of Mike Foster, the teenage protagonist, and the success with which Dick captures the teenage shame for one's parents
From Wikipedia-
The story is a satire of two 1950s-era trends: consumerism and increasing Cold War anxiety. Dick wrote in a letter: "One day I saw a newspaper headline reporting that the President suggested that if Americans had to buy their bomb shelters, rather than being provided with them by the government, they'd take better care of them, an idea which made me furious. Logically, each of us should own a submarine, a jet fighter, and so forth.
I think the part of it which struck me the most was amazing character sketch of Mike Foster, the teenage protagonist, and the success with which Dick captures the teenage shame for one's parents
Monday, December 18, 2006
gimpy - day 1
So I went into work today. Vince and I drove to Mi Madres for breakfast (lame, I know, but I've got an excuse!) and then to work. Before we went, Vince decided to make me a walking stick out of a tree-branch. I ended up using it most of the day... I guess I looked pretty funny, but oh well.
They screwed up my order at mi madres, but I didn't say anything b/c I didn't want to wait for them to fix it. And besides, practically everything there is awesome. Well, this one wasn't exactly their best taco, but I decided it wasn't worth the trouble.
After lunch, I took the Dunham to the airport to go back to New York for the holidays. He was bitching about having to pack cold weather clothes. On my way back, I stopped into a Walgreens to drop off my antibiotic prescription for my knee and went back to work.
I didn't get a whole lot of stuff done today, I'll have to admit. I hate feeling non-productive. Which is bad, because it happens altogether too frequently.
In other news, Russell and I extended our 42 losing streak to 6 games. We won our first 4 games, and then have proceeded to drop the next 6. It's rather disheartening. However, after the league game was over, I managed to beat Mary in two games, AND the in-the-box game.
Mandy's car is acting up, so I guess I'm going to have to stick around Austin until we're sure she's going to be able to get it fixed or have a ride.
I feel bad about only spending a week and a half in Dallas.
They screwed up my order at mi madres, but I didn't say anything b/c I didn't want to wait for them to fix it. And besides, practically everything there is awesome. Well, this one wasn't exactly their best taco, but I decided it wasn't worth the trouble.
After lunch, I took the Dunham to the airport to go back to New York for the holidays. He was bitching about having to pack cold weather clothes. On my way back, I stopped into a Walgreens to drop off my antibiotic prescription for my knee and went back to work.
I didn't get a whole lot of stuff done today, I'll have to admit. I hate feeling non-productive. Which is bad, because it happens altogether too frequently.
In other news, Russell and I extended our 42 losing streak to 6 games. We won our first 4 games, and then have proceeded to drop the next 6. It's rather disheartening. However, after the league game was over, I managed to beat Mary in two games, AND the in-the-box game.
Mandy's car is acting up, so I guess I'm going to have to stick around Austin until we're sure she's going to be able to get it fixed or have a ride.
I feel bad about only spending a week and a half in Dallas.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
so long yellow snapdragons
It is with a tinge of sadness that I bid farewell to one of my favorite blogs to read, Yellow Snapdragons. It was the blog of an english/epistomology teacher I had in High School. I won't speculate on the reasons for her taking the blog down, but I do know I will miss it. One of my favorite memories from her class was the bell she always had next to her. It was a simple bell, much like this one:
Everytime someone made an insightful comment, she rewarded him/her by ringing the bell. "Dings", she called them. Looking back on it, it seems pretty silly, but getting a Ding in her class was quite an achievement for the day. It worked a lot better for classroom participation than any other sort of incentive/punitive points program I'm aware of.
So, thanks for the education and the blog, yellow snapdragons. You deserve this:
*DING!*
Everytime someone made an insightful comment, she rewarded him/her by ringing the bell. "Dings", she called them. Looking back on it, it seems pretty silly, but getting a Ding in her class was quite an achievement for the day. It worked a lot better for classroom participation than any other sort of incentive/punitive points program I'm aware of.
So, thanks for the education and the blog, yellow snapdragons. You deserve this:
*DING!*
Me duele en la rodilla
It's times like these when I would do well to remember my Mountain Biking Mantra.
So I went mountain biking with Jarrett yesterday. Like normal, I took Bruno and we went to Emma Long park. There's a motocycle trail there that's is quite nice for mountain biking. Apparently, it's one of the most technical trails in Texas. Anyway, we've been biking there before many times, and it's a lot of fun.
This trip was not quite as fun... Don't get me wrong, I still had a blast, but it wasn't as much fun as it could have been. Namely, because Bruno threw me on a pretty steep downhill slope, and I went ass-over-teakettle and banging my kneed pretty badly on some rocks.
The worst part about the fall, was not actually hitting the rocks, but the millisecond before, just after I realized "oh shit, I'm going way too fast, and there's no way I'm going to be able to keep from flipping" and the point where I hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. I remember floating through the air, feeling Bruno's back tire raise ominously up behind me like a bucking bronco, and being absolutely helpless to stop it. It was all I could do to brace myself for impact.
**The following paragraph may be a bit graphic... If you are squeamish, don't read it**
After somersaulting through the air in some fashion I don't really remember, I landed about 6 feet downhill from Bruno, and immediately, I knew I wasn't going to be able to shake this one off. I looked down at my knee, and saw the damage. The lower layers of my skin on my knee were looking back aghast at me, as pale and shocked as I'm sure I probably looked. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, the color returned. It wasn't bleeding too bad, but it was obvious I wasn't going to make it around the entire trail.
Luckily, Jarrett was still within earshot at the time, so he heard the crash and my ensuing fit of cussing. He came back and walked with me back up the trail until we could get to the road. I had to use Bruno as a sort of mobile crutch until we got to the road, and then I was able to coast down the hill to Jarrett's Jeep.
Anyway, Jarrett dropped me off at home, and I cleaned myself up as well as I could. Because I'm somewhat of a worry-wort, I got kinda worried about one of the gashes. It seemed pretty deep and had a little white speck peeking out. I thought it might be cartillege, but it turned out just to be a fat globule. That, and it wouldn't stop bleeding.
So, I had Mike drop me off at the emergency room. After 20 minutes of waiting, they admitted me into triage, and luckily, I got put on the fast track. They stuck me in a room, gave me a tetnus shot, and cleaned and dressed my wounds. I was out in under an hour. All in all, I probably didn't need to go to the emergency room, but I guess it was good I got a tetnus shot. I hope my cheap-ass student insurance will pay for most of this.
This morning, my knee was pretty much stiff as a board. The good thing is, I can move it, albeit slowly. I think it'll be a few weeks before I'm mountain biking again. But I will be back.
Oh, and for those of you who were wondering, I WAS wearing my helmet. It's got a few small dents in it to show, but it didn't take the brunt of the blow.
I should have a pretty cool scar though...
So I went mountain biking with Jarrett yesterday. Like normal, I took Bruno and we went to Emma Long park. There's a motocycle trail there that's is quite nice for mountain biking. Apparently, it's one of the most technical trails in Texas. Anyway, we've been biking there before many times, and it's a lot of fun.
This trip was not quite as fun... Don't get me wrong, I still had a blast, but it wasn't as much fun as it could have been. Namely, because Bruno threw me on a pretty steep downhill slope, and I went ass-over-teakettle and banging my kneed pretty badly on some rocks.
The worst part about the fall, was not actually hitting the rocks, but the millisecond before, just after I realized "oh shit, I'm going way too fast, and there's no way I'm going to be able to keep from flipping" and the point where I hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. I remember floating through the air, feeling Bruno's back tire raise ominously up behind me like a bucking bronco, and being absolutely helpless to stop it. It was all I could do to brace myself for impact.
**The following paragraph may be a bit graphic... If you are squeamish, don't read it**
After somersaulting through the air in some fashion I don't really remember, I landed about 6 feet downhill from Bruno, and immediately, I knew I wasn't going to be able to shake this one off. I looked down at my knee, and saw the damage. The lower layers of my skin on my knee were looking back aghast at me, as pale and shocked as I'm sure I probably looked. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, the color returned. It wasn't bleeding too bad, but it was obvious I wasn't going to make it around the entire trail.
Luckily, Jarrett was still within earshot at the time, so he heard the crash and my ensuing fit of cussing. He came back and walked with me back up the trail until we could get to the road. I had to use Bruno as a sort of mobile crutch until we got to the road, and then I was able to coast down the hill to Jarrett's Jeep.
Anyway, Jarrett dropped me off at home, and I cleaned myself up as well as I could. Because I'm somewhat of a worry-wort, I got kinda worried about one of the gashes. It seemed pretty deep and had a little white speck peeking out. I thought it might be cartillege, but it turned out just to be a fat globule. That, and it wouldn't stop bleeding.
So, I had Mike drop me off at the emergency room. After 20 minutes of waiting, they admitted me into triage, and luckily, I got put on the fast track. They stuck me in a room, gave me a tetnus shot, and cleaned and dressed my wounds. I was out in under an hour. All in all, I probably didn't need to go to the emergency room, but I guess it was good I got a tetnus shot. I hope my cheap-ass student insurance will pay for most of this.
This morning, my knee was pretty much stiff as a board. The good thing is, I can move it, albeit slowly. I think it'll be a few weeks before I'm mountain biking again. But I will be back.
Oh, and for those of you who were wondering, I WAS wearing my helmet. It's got a few small dents in it to show, but it didn't take the brunt of the blow.
I should have a pretty cool scar though...
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Birfday - Austin Style
So, as of tuesday, I've begun my second quarter century. To celebrate, I invited all my astronomy/domino/other friends out dinner. We decided to go to Conan's Pizza, a local Austin pizzeria dedicated and decorated with Conan the Barbarian artwork. After haggling over what type of pizzas to buy, we ended up ordering a total 8 pizzas for ~18 people. It was awesome.
After people finished eating, we headed next door to Vulcan Video. Unbeknownst to me, Mike Elliot was working that night. He hooked me up with a sweet birthday discount (i.e. free!) I asked him to recommend me a bad movie, something on the level of Hell Comes to Frogtown. Luckily, Vulcan didn't disappoint in this department. We rented 4 flicks. Class of 1984 (with a very young Michael J. Fox!), Lady Terminator (First she mates, then she terminates!), The New Barbarians, and Vince made me get Porno Holocaust. Don't worry, we didn't watch the last one... I think we just got it for the shock value.
Anyway, we retired back to mi casa, and watched the New Barbarians and drank some lone star and shiner and wine. After the first flick ended, the domino crowd retreated into the back room and we started tossing tiles. Mandy, Mike and Tammi showed up around this time. The astro crowd put on the next movie, Lady Terminator. I don't think I ended up winning the game I was playing, but I had fun anyway, which is all that really matters. Terry even showed up after the basketball game.
Thanks to everyone who came, even if only in spirit. I had a lot of fun.
BTW, Marci and Becks took me out to lunch b/c they had plans and couldn't make my super-impromtu excuse for a party. Much thanks, you two.
After people finished eating, we headed next door to Vulcan Video. Unbeknownst to me, Mike Elliot was working that night. He hooked me up with a sweet birthday discount (i.e. free!) I asked him to recommend me a bad movie, something on the level of Hell Comes to Frogtown. Luckily, Vulcan didn't disappoint in this department. We rented 4 flicks. Class of 1984 (with a very young Michael J. Fox!), Lady Terminator (First she mates, then she terminates!), The New Barbarians, and Vince made me get Porno Holocaust. Don't worry, we didn't watch the last one... I think we just got it for the shock value.
Anyway, we retired back to mi casa, and watched the New Barbarians and drank some lone star and shiner and wine. After the first flick ended, the domino crowd retreated into the back room and we started tossing tiles. Mandy, Mike and Tammi showed up around this time. The astro crowd put on the next movie, Lady Terminator. I don't think I ended up winning the game I was playing, but I had fun anyway, which is all that really matters. Terry even showed up after the basketball game.
Thanks to everyone who came, even if only in spirit. I had a lot of fun.
BTW, Marci and Becks took me out to lunch b/c they had plans and couldn't make my super-impromtu excuse for a party. Much thanks, you two.
survey
Dammit, Caroline tagged me...
1. 3 Things that scare me: Cockroaches, Growing up, small confined places
2. 3 People who make me laugh: Vince, John Pinette, George Carlin
3. 3 Things I love: Mushrooms, 42, my mom
4. 3 Things I hate: getting up early, moving, insurance (a.k.a. legalized extortion!)
5. 3 Things I don’t understand: Strehl functions, the female perversion for shoes, why my wireless card sometimes doesn't want to connect to my router...
6. 3 Things on my desk: My fedora, bocadillo (from Nathalia), empty beer bottles
7. 3 Things I’m doing right now: Listening to Madsen, this survey, procrastinating work.
8. 3 Things I want to do before I die: do a triathlon by myself, Stand on all 7 continents, be in a band
9. 3 Things I can do: Pee standing up, bike 17 miles in 56 minutes, make some kick-ass spagetti sauce.
10. 3 Things I can’t do: go into labor, throw things away, give good presentations
11. 3 Things I think you should listen to: the Texas Tornados, Madsen, the Black Crowes
12. 3 Things you should never listen to: Nashville Country, Nickleback, the Gilmore Girls
13.3 things I would like to learn: German, how to be a more hard-core mountain biker, how to be an awesome researcher
14. 3 Favorite foods: Thai, Spagetti, Faijitas
15. 3 Beverages I drink regularly: Water, Coke, Beer
16. 3 Shows I watched as a kid: Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, Sesame Street, Perfect Strangers
17. 3 People I’m tagging (to do this meme): Sarah, Jill, Mike
1. 3 Things that scare me: Cockroaches, Growing up, small confined places
2. 3 People who make me laugh: Vince, John Pinette, George Carlin
3. 3 Things I love: Mushrooms, 42, my mom
4. 3 Things I hate: getting up early, moving, insurance (a.k.a. legalized extortion!)
5. 3 Things I don’t understand: Strehl functions, the female perversion for shoes, why my wireless card sometimes doesn't want to connect to my router...
6. 3 Things on my desk: My fedora, bocadillo (from Nathalia), empty beer bottles
7. 3 Things I’m doing right now: Listening to Madsen, this survey, procrastinating work.
8. 3 Things I want to do before I die: do a triathlon by myself, Stand on all 7 continents, be in a band
9. 3 Things I can do: Pee standing up, bike 17 miles in 56 minutes, make some kick-ass spagetti sauce.
10. 3 Things I can’t do: go into labor, throw things away, give good presentations
11. 3 Things I think you should listen to: the Texas Tornados, Madsen, the Black Crowes
12. 3 Things you should never listen to: Nashville Country, Nickleback, the Gilmore Girls
13.3 things I would like to learn: German, how to be a more hard-core mountain biker, how to be an awesome researcher
14. 3 Favorite foods: Thai, Spagetti, Faijitas
15. 3 Beverages I drink regularly: Water, Coke, Beer
16. 3 Shows I watched as a kid: Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, Sesame Street, Perfect Strangers
17. 3 People I’m tagging (to do this meme): Sarah, Jill, Mike
Sunday, November 26, 2006
south of the border....
so it seems I've met someone...
I was flying back from my business trip from Ithaca, NY (I was up there testing some optics for the FORCAST camera which will fly in SOFIA, a 747 with a 2 m telescope in the back). I flew from Rochester to Washington Dulles, and there I switched planes to a flight back to Austin. I sat down in my aisle seat, hoping I'd repeat my luck from the last flight, and have the row to myself. For five minutes, it was looking like I'd lucked out again, but then a very pretty girl came walking down the plane and took the window seat next to me. We didn't talk too much in the first hour of the flight, only I asked her for a pen so I could do some work on the flight. I read a paper or two and made some notes, but it wasn't too productive.
Eventually, (I can't remember how) we started talking. It turns out, her name's Nathalia, and she's an au pair for a family in Virginia. She's from Columbia and wanted to practice her english. Her english is still a little rough, so I got a chance to practice my spanish as well. It was fun because my spanish is about as good as her english. All in all, it was one of the most interesting conversations I've ever held on a plane. Not because the subject matter was terribly interesting, but more because it was fun trying to converse with someone with whom you only had half a language in common. We would each say something in the our native language, and if the other person still had a look of non-comprehension on his/her face, we'd try our best to say it in the other's language. I was amazed at how much spanish I still knew, as well as how much I'd forgotten. As the flight went on, more and more of my spanish came back. It was quite fun.
She's studying to be a Chemical Engineer back in Bogota, and she's almost done. However, she doesn't want to graduate quite yet, because it's harder to get a visa if you're not a student. She really wants to come here to America to re-start her degree at an American University, because the job prospects are much better with a degree from America.
Anyway, she was coming to Austin to visit her cousin for Thanksgiving. I gave her a list of things to do while she was in Austin. I suggested stuff like 6th street, the Alamo Drafthouse, Town Lake, Hamilton Pool, and Trudy's, to name a few. We exchanged phone numbers once the flight landed, and we went our separate ways.
Much to my surprise, she text messaged me after a few days, and we continued our broken conversations. She really wanted to go salsa dancing, but since her cousin was ~35 with three kids, he really didn't have time to take her out. Since I had a homework assignment due on wednesday, we decided that I'd take her out salsa dancing on wednesday night, after I was finished.
Thanks to a miscommunication, I ended up swiping Vince's car on monday night and we went out for coffee and then to RLM to see the Austin skyline at night.
On the way back home, we stopped at the capitol building and took some pictures.
Finally, Wednesday rolled around. I fought 5:45 Austin traffic and picked her up and met her cousin and his wife. They seem like nice people. We then went to Gueros and had some dinner. I had the chile relleno, and she had faijitas. For a hispanic person, she really has no tolerance for spicy food :-P. To be fair, Gueros does have some pretty hot pico de gallo. Anyway, after dinner, we walked across the congress bridge to Copa, a latin bar which claimed (on the website) to offer salsa dancing lessons ever wednesday night. However, since this was the day before thanksgiving, it ended up being closed. So, we ended up toodling around 6th street. We went to Nunos to listen to a band for a little bit, and then to Maggie Mae's to people watch from the rooftop. After we left Maggie Maes, we ran into Sarah and her crowd. She was in Austin with her boyfriend (Matt) to help her little sister celebrate her 21st birthday. We ended up hanging out with them for the rest of the night. Matt is Peruvian, and spke a little spanish with Nathalia. We ended up in a bar/club just off 6th street. Much fun was had by all, except when Emily's purse got stolen. The good news is, someone ended up turning it in, I think, so I don't think she has to worry about replacing EVERYTHING.
I took her back home and dropped her off. Before she went inside, she gave me a little figurine of a Columbian Chiva (basically a bus people use to get around in rural Columbia), a bracelet with the colors of the Columbian flag, and some columbian sweets, including bocadillo. Bocadillo is... well... kinda sweet and chewy, but yet still kinda crunchy. I think they make it out of cane sugar and guayabas. Whatever it is, it's very good.
We didn't kiss goodnight, per se... She did request that I kiss her on the cheek, but I think it's more of a custom, kinda like a hug or a handshake here in America.
Anyway, she flew out on friday, and she's now back in Virginia. However, we've exchanged skype numbers, and we've talked enough to definitely say there's something there. Sucks that she lives in Virginia. Oh well... we'll see.
I was flying back from my business trip from Ithaca, NY (I was up there testing some optics for the FORCAST camera which will fly in SOFIA, a 747 with a 2 m telescope in the back). I flew from Rochester to Washington Dulles, and there I switched planes to a flight back to Austin. I sat down in my aisle seat, hoping I'd repeat my luck from the last flight, and have the row to myself. For five minutes, it was looking like I'd lucked out again, but then a very pretty girl came walking down the plane and took the window seat next to me. We didn't talk too much in the first hour of the flight, only I asked her for a pen so I could do some work on the flight. I read a paper or two and made some notes, but it wasn't too productive.
Eventually, (I can't remember how) we started talking. It turns out, her name's Nathalia, and she's an au pair for a family in Virginia. She's from Columbia and wanted to practice her english. Her english is still a little rough, so I got a chance to practice my spanish as well. It was fun because my spanish is about as good as her english. All in all, it was one of the most interesting conversations I've ever held on a plane. Not because the subject matter was terribly interesting, but more because it was fun trying to converse with someone with whom you only had half a language in common. We would each say something in the our native language, and if the other person still had a look of non-comprehension on his/her face, we'd try our best to say it in the other's language. I was amazed at how much spanish I still knew, as well as how much I'd forgotten. As the flight went on, more and more of my spanish came back. It was quite fun.
She's studying to be a Chemical Engineer back in Bogota, and she's almost done. However, she doesn't want to graduate quite yet, because it's harder to get a visa if you're not a student. She really wants to come here to America to re-start her degree at an American University, because the job prospects are much better with a degree from America.
Anyway, she was coming to Austin to visit her cousin for Thanksgiving. I gave her a list of things to do while she was in Austin. I suggested stuff like 6th street, the Alamo Drafthouse, Town Lake, Hamilton Pool, and Trudy's, to name a few. We exchanged phone numbers once the flight landed, and we went our separate ways.
Much to my surprise, she text messaged me after a few days, and we continued our broken conversations. She really wanted to go salsa dancing, but since her cousin was ~35 with three kids, he really didn't have time to take her out. Since I had a homework assignment due on wednesday, we decided that I'd take her out salsa dancing on wednesday night, after I was finished.
Thanks to a miscommunication, I ended up swiping Vince's car on monday night and we went out for coffee and then to RLM to see the Austin skyline at night.
On the way back home, we stopped at the capitol building and took some pictures.
Finally, Wednesday rolled around. I fought 5:45 Austin traffic and picked her up and met her cousin and his wife. They seem like nice people. We then went to Gueros and had some dinner. I had the chile relleno, and she had faijitas. For a hispanic person, she really has no tolerance for spicy food :-P. To be fair, Gueros does have some pretty hot pico de gallo. Anyway, after dinner, we walked across the congress bridge to Copa, a latin bar which claimed (on the website) to offer salsa dancing lessons ever wednesday night. However, since this was the day before thanksgiving, it ended up being closed. So, we ended up toodling around 6th street. We went to Nunos to listen to a band for a little bit, and then to Maggie Mae's to people watch from the rooftop. After we left Maggie Maes, we ran into Sarah and her crowd. She was in Austin with her boyfriend (Matt) to help her little sister celebrate her 21st birthday. We ended up hanging out with them for the rest of the night. Matt is Peruvian, and spke a little spanish with Nathalia. We ended up in a bar/club just off 6th street. Much fun was had by all, except when Emily's purse got stolen. The good news is, someone ended up turning it in, I think, so I don't think she has to worry about replacing EVERYTHING.
I took her back home and dropped her off. Before she went inside, she gave me a little figurine of a Columbian Chiva (basically a bus people use to get around in rural Columbia), a bracelet with the colors of the Columbian flag, and some columbian sweets, including bocadillo. Bocadillo is... well... kinda sweet and chewy, but yet still kinda crunchy. I think they make it out of cane sugar and guayabas. Whatever it is, it's very good.
We didn't kiss goodnight, per se... She did request that I kiss her on the cheek, but I think it's more of a custom, kinda like a hug or a handshake here in America.
Anyway, she flew out on friday, and she's now back in Virginia. However, we've exchanged skype numbers, and we've talked enough to definitely say there's something there. Sucks that she lives in Virginia. Oh well... we'll see.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
the bike ride from hell
Wow... What a ride. Really... Before you skim this entry, let me, if I may, run a small teaser by you to entice you to read the rest of the post....
Flat tires, car-bike collisions, fipping the bird, AND assault! Now are you interested? Read on.
Yesterday, Eric emailed me and asked if I wanted to go riding today. Since it's been a while since I took Gertie out, I readily agreed. I skipped out from work fairly early (5:30ish) and rode home to get ready. Around 5:45, Eric showed up. Apparently, he'd hit a pothole on his way over, and broken two of his spokes, so he was a little late. So, I donned my oh-so-fashionable yellow jersey I got from the Martindale Tri, and we were off.
The ride was fairly uneventful for the first 15 minutes. We crossed over 35 and started riding around downtown. Eric took the lead and we headed down the big hill on 15th street, across the Lamar bridge, and into the hoity-toity neighborhood over there. We were riding in traffic (with a red blinking light on my tukus, mind you) and were keeping up with the flow of traffic (it's pretty exhillirating on a bike, let me tell you!). Anyway, there was a lady in a Corrolla 50 yards in front of Eric, when all of a sudden, she decides to slam on the brakes. FOR NO APPARENT REASON!!! It was all Eric could do to stop in time. He said his wheels were skidding and his back tire was fish-tailing pretty bad, and he just barely managed to stop. The driver must have been lost or something because shortly after, the corrolla merged into the other lane and promptly did a U-turn.
So, after much cursing of bad drivers, we were off again. We toodled around the nice neighborhoods up there until Eric had a flat. Luckily, there was a street lamp nearby and he had all of his bike tools, so he was able to patch it fairly easily in ~15 minutes. At this point, Eric commented about how this bike ride was cursed. First, he breaks two spokes, next, he almost rear-ends a Corrolla, and now, he gets a flat tire. Under his breath, he mutters that probably next, he's going to break his leg.
After the flat, We rode up north, across MOPAC and back again. At 45th and Shoal Creek, we came to a 4-way stop. Eric waited his turn, and then charged out into the intersection. Ordinarily, this is not necessarily a bad thing. However, if it's dark, you don't have a headlight, and it's a busy road, I wouldn't necessarily advise it. Rather, I would wait until I was sure that all cars in the interesctions knew that I was there, and then cautiously cross. Not Eric. Before I knew it, he was on the bumper of a blue caprice. He didn't get hit all that hard, but it did bump him sideways a little bit. He got hit on his right side, but his left foot got stuck in the bindings of the pedal, and when he tried to put his left leg down to stabilize himself, he rolled his ankle pretty bad.
Luckily, both Eric and the bike were ok, as was the lady's car. She was pretty shook-up about it. I don't blame her. IMHO, Eric was as much at fault (if not more) than she was. His ankle is going to be pretty sore tomorrow. He's able to walk on it and was able to bike home, so I don't think anything was broken. Strained probably, but not broken. Hugh the firefighter (of Domino fame) was coincidentally at the same intersection in his fire truck. They stopped and made sure everything was ok.
So, after we recover from the latest scare, we decide we've had enough, and head home. We head back to my place on Dean Keeton. For those of you not lucky enough to reside in Austin, Dean Keeton is the street which separates the north of UT campus from the rest of the city. It's a fairly large street (6 lanes, 3 each way), well lit, but around 8:00 PM, it's not particularly busy. We're not moving particularly fast, because of Eric's ankle, and the fact that we're almost done. We are, however, taking up an entire lane in the 3-lane road. A group of three cars come up behind us and eventually passes us. One of the cars, Daddy's 1965 teal Ford Mustang (which is driven by a real douchebag, as you will soon find out) is stuck behind us. We are so inconsiderate, that he has to tap on his brakes for an entire 3 seconds while the other two cars pass us, so he can (not put on his blinker) whip around us. Now, it's totally fine to pass bikes on the road. Just don't maliciously swing back into our lane and cut us off. We are on 20 lb. pieces of aluminum which we are moving by raw sweat and tears. You are in control of a 1500 lb. piece of machinery you can drive while doing your nails or calling your frat brothers on your razor.
Anyway, he whips around us and cuts us off, proclaiming with his loud muffler, that despite whatever the sorority girls have been whispering, he does NOT have a small penis. Oh, and he flips us the bird. So, not to be out done, I flip him the bird back. Admittedly, not the smartest thing I've ever done, but dammit, this guy deserved it.
Now, he sees this, and instead of easing through the yellow light, since he was in such a hurry to get around us, he slams on his brakes, squealing his tires, jams the gears into park, and jumps out, and comes rushing towards us, obscenities spewing from his pretty-boy mouth. For those faint of heart, you may not want to read the following paraphrase:
"I could have f-ing made that light! What the f are you doing? Why the f are you taking up an entire lane?"
At this point, he's reached me and Eric, and comes up to me, plants both hands on my shoulders, and shoves me (still halfway on my bike, and in cycling shoes) to the ground. I was really in a state of shock, so I didn't really do anything except start cussing him out for a) cutting us off and b) flipping us the bird first. Now, I'm really wishing I'd come up swinging. To make a long story short, Eric and I cuss at him and he cusses at me and Eric for a minute or so. At this point, I think he realizes he's done something incredibly stupid, so he retreats to the car, mumbling something about "you better f-ing watch who you flip off in this town" No shit sherlock. You too. You'd better watch who you assault.
Eric and I take about 5 minutes to decompress before we head home. On the way there, we talk about the fact that there's probably not too many teal 1965 mustangs around town, and his car shouldn't be too hard to find. If only we'd gotten the license plate number.
We arrive in my neighborhood, and as we turn the corner onto my street, Eric says "You've gotta be f-ing kidding me." Sure enough, parked next to the side of our house (there's an appartment complex next to our house) was a teal 1965 mustang. We put our bikes inside and I run out side with a pencil and paper and grab his license plate number. Texas Plates: P36-LCZ.
So, I've got a few ideas. I'm going to call the cops tomorrow and file a complaint. Probably nothing will come of it, but I'm going to ask if they could at least send him a brouchure about how bikes have the same rights/responsibilities as any other vehicle on the road. I'm also going to go to the bike shop tomorrow and buy a dozen "Be Kind to Cyclists" bumper stickers. The next time I see this mustang, I'm plastering the chrome with these things. Maybe some shoe polish too.
Any suggestions as to how to get retribution? Jill? what are my chances with the cops? The only other eyewitness is Eric.
Geez, I'm pissed off. I'm actually a very safe cyclist. Unlike Eric, I go off the assumption that cars do not see me, and I'll take my right of way when I'm sure that I'm not going to get ground into the pavement. I wait at red lights, I at least slow down at all stop signs, and stop if there's a car there. Oh, and by the way, Cyclists are supposed to take up an entire lane. It lessens the chances of a road-rage fueled maniac trying to squeeze through an opening and running us off the road.
Douchebag.
Flat tires, car-bike collisions, fipping the bird, AND assault! Now are you interested? Read on.
Yesterday, Eric emailed me and asked if I wanted to go riding today. Since it's been a while since I took Gertie out, I readily agreed. I skipped out from work fairly early (5:30ish) and rode home to get ready. Around 5:45, Eric showed up. Apparently, he'd hit a pothole on his way over, and broken two of his spokes, so he was a little late. So, I donned my oh-so-fashionable yellow jersey I got from the Martindale Tri, and we were off.
The ride was fairly uneventful for the first 15 minutes. We crossed over 35 and started riding around downtown. Eric took the lead and we headed down the big hill on 15th street, across the Lamar bridge, and into the hoity-toity neighborhood over there. We were riding in traffic (with a red blinking light on my tukus, mind you) and were keeping up with the flow of traffic (it's pretty exhillirating on a bike, let me tell you!). Anyway, there was a lady in a Corrolla 50 yards in front of Eric, when all of a sudden, she decides to slam on the brakes. FOR NO APPARENT REASON!!! It was all Eric could do to stop in time. He said his wheels were skidding and his back tire was fish-tailing pretty bad, and he just barely managed to stop. The driver must have been lost or something because shortly after, the corrolla merged into the other lane and promptly did a U-turn.
So, after much cursing of bad drivers, we were off again. We toodled around the nice neighborhoods up there until Eric had a flat. Luckily, there was a street lamp nearby and he had all of his bike tools, so he was able to patch it fairly easily in ~15 minutes. At this point, Eric commented about how this bike ride was cursed. First, he breaks two spokes, next, he almost rear-ends a Corrolla, and now, he gets a flat tire. Under his breath, he mutters that probably next, he's going to break his leg.
After the flat, We rode up north, across MOPAC and back again. At 45th and Shoal Creek, we came to a 4-way stop. Eric waited his turn, and then charged out into the intersection. Ordinarily, this is not necessarily a bad thing. However, if it's dark, you don't have a headlight, and it's a busy road, I wouldn't necessarily advise it. Rather, I would wait until I was sure that all cars in the interesctions knew that I was there, and then cautiously cross. Not Eric. Before I knew it, he was on the bumper of a blue caprice. He didn't get hit all that hard, but it did bump him sideways a little bit. He got hit on his right side, but his left foot got stuck in the bindings of the pedal, and when he tried to put his left leg down to stabilize himself, he rolled his ankle pretty bad.
Luckily, both Eric and the bike were ok, as was the lady's car. She was pretty shook-up about it. I don't blame her. IMHO, Eric was as much at fault (if not more) than she was. His ankle is going to be pretty sore tomorrow. He's able to walk on it and was able to bike home, so I don't think anything was broken. Strained probably, but not broken. Hugh the firefighter (of Domino fame) was coincidentally at the same intersection in his fire truck. They stopped and made sure everything was ok.
So, after we recover from the latest scare, we decide we've had enough, and head home. We head back to my place on Dean Keeton. For those of you not lucky enough to reside in Austin, Dean Keeton is the street which separates the north of UT campus from the rest of the city. It's a fairly large street (6 lanes, 3 each way), well lit, but around 8:00 PM, it's not particularly busy. We're not moving particularly fast, because of Eric's ankle, and the fact that we're almost done. We are, however, taking up an entire lane in the 3-lane road. A group of three cars come up behind us and eventually passes us. One of the cars, Daddy's 1965 teal Ford Mustang (which is driven by a real douchebag, as you will soon find out) is stuck behind us. We are so inconsiderate, that he has to tap on his brakes for an entire 3 seconds while the other two cars pass us, so he can (not put on his blinker) whip around us. Now, it's totally fine to pass bikes on the road. Just don't maliciously swing back into our lane and cut us off. We are on 20 lb. pieces of aluminum which we are moving by raw sweat and tears. You are in control of a 1500 lb. piece of machinery you can drive while doing your nails or calling your frat brothers on your razor.
Anyway, he whips around us and cuts us off, proclaiming with his loud muffler, that despite whatever the sorority girls have been whispering, he does NOT have a small penis. Oh, and he flips us the bird. So, not to be out done, I flip him the bird back. Admittedly, not the smartest thing I've ever done, but dammit, this guy deserved it.
Now, he sees this, and instead of easing through the yellow light, since he was in such a hurry to get around us, he slams on his brakes, squealing his tires, jams the gears into park, and jumps out, and comes rushing towards us, obscenities spewing from his pretty-boy mouth. For those faint of heart, you may not want to read the following paraphrase:
"I could have f-ing made that light! What the f are you doing? Why the f are you taking up an entire lane?"
At this point, he's reached me and Eric, and comes up to me, plants both hands on my shoulders, and shoves me (still halfway on my bike, and in cycling shoes) to the ground. I was really in a state of shock, so I didn't really do anything except start cussing him out for a) cutting us off and b) flipping us the bird first. Now, I'm really wishing I'd come up swinging. To make a long story short, Eric and I cuss at him and he cusses at me and Eric for a minute or so. At this point, I think he realizes he's done something incredibly stupid, so he retreats to the car, mumbling something about "you better f-ing watch who you flip off in this town" No shit sherlock. You too. You'd better watch who you assault.
Eric and I take about 5 minutes to decompress before we head home. On the way there, we talk about the fact that there's probably not too many teal 1965 mustangs around town, and his car shouldn't be too hard to find. If only we'd gotten the license plate number.
We arrive in my neighborhood, and as we turn the corner onto my street, Eric says "You've gotta be f-ing kidding me." Sure enough, parked next to the side of our house (there's an appartment complex next to our house) was a teal 1965 mustang. We put our bikes inside and I run out side with a pencil and paper and grab his license plate number. Texas Plates: P36-LCZ.
So, I've got a few ideas. I'm going to call the cops tomorrow and file a complaint. Probably nothing will come of it, but I'm going to ask if they could at least send him a brouchure about how bikes have the same rights/responsibilities as any other vehicle on the road. I'm also going to go to the bike shop tomorrow and buy a dozen "Be Kind to Cyclists" bumper stickers. The next time I see this mustang, I'm plastering the chrome with these things. Maybe some shoe polish too.
Any suggestions as to how to get retribution? Jill? what are my chances with the cops? The only other eyewitness is Eric.
Geez, I'm pissed off. I'm actually a very safe cyclist. Unlike Eric, I go off the assumption that cars do not see me, and I'll take my right of way when I'm sure that I'm not going to get ground into the pavement. I wait at red lights, I at least slow down at all stop signs, and stop if there's a car there. Oh, and by the way, Cyclists are supposed to take up an entire lane. It lessens the chances of a road-rage fueled maniac trying to squeeze through an opening and running us off the road.
Douchebag.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
1.5-athon
So I participated in a triathlon on satuday. Mary and I drove down at 6:50 to Martindale and got prepped for the race. She started out doing the running. It was a 7 mile run, and I think she finished in 1:15 or something like that. While she was doing that, I was getting the boat ready and making sure Gertie was ready to go. When she came in from her run, I she tagged me, and I grabbed Gertie and we headed out on the road.
I have a speedometer on Gertie which tells me A) how fast I'm going, b) how far I've gone, and C) how many RPMs I'm averaging. I did my best to keep a pace of ~ 90 rpm, and for the first 8-10 miles, I was doing alright. Then, the hills started to take their tolls. It's not that they were extermely steep, but rather that they were extrememly long. I was kinda scared that I had started out at too quick a pace, and that halfway through, I'd hit the wall and all the people that I'd passed in the beginning would overtake me. Luckily, I didn't exactly hit "the wall"... it was more of a minor speed bump. I wasn't exactly able to keep my rpms up to 90 after about 12 miles. I settled for 80-85. All in all, I passed about 6-7 people, and finished 17 miles in ~56 minutes. I can't imagine doing this after running 7 miles though.
Anyway, I ran down to the boat after parking Gertie and Mary and I put in. All-in-all, we did pretty well. We navigated 95% of the river obstacles sucessfully. My driving has improved, as well as Mary's instinct as to when to use a post/draw stroke. However, we did get stuck sideways in the current about halfway through the race, and tumped over the canoe. We swam the swamped canoe to the nearest bank and tried to dump out all the water. In case you don't already know this, water is heavy. We had to empty Mary's water jug and use it to bail out enough water so we could turn it over.
At this point, we'd passed about 3-4 people. They all overtook us in the 15 minutes we lost while we were bailing. I'll have you know that once we got back on the river, we passed up all the people who we'd passed once before.
After it was all said and done, we finished 8th in our division. Had we not tumped the canoe, we probably could have finished as high as 6th. My bike time was good enough for 16th out of 40 men. I was happy with that.
When we signed in, we both got a commemerative jersey, which was pretty cool. It's made out of some pretty nice mesh, and drys off really quickly. We actually both ended up changing out of our normal clothes and raced in the jersey. After it was all over, to boot, both Mary and I won something out of the raffle. I got another jersey, and Mary got a paddle cover. She says she's either going to buy her own paddle or give it to Terry for letting us use his boat.
I have a speedometer on Gertie which tells me A) how fast I'm going, b) how far I've gone, and C) how many RPMs I'm averaging. I did my best to keep a pace of ~ 90 rpm, and for the first 8-10 miles, I was doing alright. Then, the hills started to take their tolls. It's not that they were extermely steep, but rather that they were extrememly long. I was kinda scared that I had started out at too quick a pace, and that halfway through, I'd hit the wall and all the people that I'd passed in the beginning would overtake me. Luckily, I didn't exactly hit "the wall"... it was more of a minor speed bump. I wasn't exactly able to keep my rpms up to 90 after about 12 miles. I settled for 80-85. All in all, I passed about 6-7 people, and finished 17 miles in ~56 minutes. I can't imagine doing this after running 7 miles though.
Anyway, I ran down to the boat after parking Gertie and Mary and I put in. All-in-all, we did pretty well. We navigated 95% of the river obstacles sucessfully. My driving has improved, as well as Mary's instinct as to when to use a post/draw stroke. However, we did get stuck sideways in the current about halfway through the race, and tumped over the canoe. We swam the swamped canoe to the nearest bank and tried to dump out all the water. In case you don't already know this, water is heavy. We had to empty Mary's water jug and use it to bail out enough water so we could turn it over.
At this point, we'd passed about 3-4 people. They all overtook us in the 15 minutes we lost while we were bailing. I'll have you know that once we got back on the river, we passed up all the people who we'd passed once before.
After it was all said and done, we finished 8th in our division. Had we not tumped the canoe, we probably could have finished as high as 6th. My bike time was good enough for 16th out of 40 men. I was happy with that.
When we signed in, we both got a commemerative jersey, which was pretty cool. It's made out of some pretty nice mesh, and drys off really quickly. We actually both ended up changing out of our normal clothes and raced in the jersey. After it was all over, to boot, both Mary and I won something out of the raffle. I got another jersey, and Mary got a paddle cover. She says she's either going to buy her own paddle or give it to Terry for letting us use his boat.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
spherical aberations
What did I say last time? Never trust a pitcher. I'm not exactly sure my position on using pine tar to get a better grip on the ball, but I'm sorry, stealing signs is just part of the game.
Friday, October 20, 2006
instant gratification
I'm writing this in response to all the firings (and talk of firings) that have been happening around the Major Leagues since the season has ended.
Take, for example, the Oakland Athletics. They rolled over and died in the ALCS after doing quite a number on the Minnesota Twins in the division series. Now, they've been having some problems lately in the post-season. In the last 9 times they went to the postseason, they were unable to win a clinching game. 9 times! I remember when I was in elementary school (which was ~15 years ago), the A's WON the world series. So, in 15 years, the A's made it to the post-season 9 times! The rangers did it 3 times. And, of those three, they only one one (1) game.
I guess I can understand the frustration of the fans, never being able to advance past the first round. But hey, at least they GOT there. They've won world series in the past.
So, as a reward for managing a team which a) won the division, and b) won the first round of the playoffs, and c) had won 368 and lost 280 over 4 years, a 0.568 winning percentage, Ken Macha was summarily dismissed from his post not a week after being swept by the Tigers.
Now, I understand the owners wanting their teams to perform, especially since they put so much money into them, but in the postseason, I'm not so sure you can your expectations of a team by how much money you've thrown in their direction.
Case in point: The New York Yankees. Year after year, George Steinbrenner spends very pretty pennies ensuring that he has the best players in baseball. To their credit, they are awesome baseball players. They definitly deserve to be making the money they are. However, their talent seems to be concentrated on being consistently good in the regular season. For the past several years, the Yankees have always been atop the AL East division. They've made it to the post season with out fail for the past 12 seasons. They've gone to the World Series 6 times, and they've won it 4 times.
When they got knocked out in the first round against Detroit, there was a big media clammor over whether or not Joe Torre (the manager) would keep his job. Steinbrenner was livid, of course.
People like George Steinbrenner don't get baseball. To him, baseball is a simple formula. Money in = World Series Titles. He pays his players and expects them to perform like machines. He refuses to believe that players with inferior regular-season records could even compete with his players. Over the course of a season, he's probably right. However, this is not the case in the post-season.
George Steinbrenner doesn't realize that there's more to baseball than just statistics. Momentum is a very powerful thing in baseball. When a team's on a roll, it's hard to stop them, whichever way it's going. Chemistry and clubhouse leadership are rather intangible, but are very important in any team sport.
More important, is the clutch player. Some players (most Yankees) are phenomenal regular season players. They can put up numbers like nobody's business, but when the chips are down, they choke. Some notable clutch players: Kirk Gibson, Rusty Greer, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Ortiz, and even Derek Jeter.
Alex Rodriguez is a perfect example of what is NOT a clutch player. His post-season performance has been abysmal. Yet, the Yankees are spending $25.2 million a year on him.
One thing which has made itself painfully obvious in most of the recent post-season games. Good pitching will beat good hitting every time. Hitting is more macho, but pitching is the essence of baseball.
On a related note, my dad always said: "Never trust a pitcher. They will tell you a lie when the truth would do."
So, enough bitching about the Yankees. It looks like we've got quite a World Serious on our hands. Caroline and I have a friendly wager on the outcome. I'm pulling for the Tigers, and she's rooting for the Cards. We have yet to decide the stakes of the bet, but I'm pretty confident, whatever it is, I'm going to win.
Take, for example, the Oakland Athletics. They rolled over and died in the ALCS after doing quite a number on the Minnesota Twins in the division series. Now, they've been having some problems lately in the post-season. In the last 9 times they went to the postseason, they were unable to win a clinching game. 9 times! I remember when I was in elementary school (which was ~15 years ago), the A's WON the world series. So, in 15 years, the A's made it to the post-season 9 times! The rangers did it 3 times. And, of those three, they only one one (1) game.
I guess I can understand the frustration of the fans, never being able to advance past the first round. But hey, at least they GOT there. They've won world series in the past.
So, as a reward for managing a team which a) won the division, and b) won the first round of the playoffs, and c) had won 368 and lost 280 over 4 years, a 0.568 winning percentage, Ken Macha was summarily dismissed from his post not a week after being swept by the Tigers.
Now, I understand the owners wanting their teams to perform, especially since they put so much money into them, but in the postseason, I'm not so sure you can your expectations of a team by how much money you've thrown in their direction.
Case in point: The New York Yankees. Year after year, George Steinbrenner spends very pretty pennies ensuring that he has the best players in baseball. To their credit, they are awesome baseball players. They definitly deserve to be making the money they are. However, their talent seems to be concentrated on being consistently good in the regular season. For the past several years, the Yankees have always been atop the AL East division. They've made it to the post season with out fail for the past 12 seasons. They've gone to the World Series 6 times, and they've won it 4 times.
When they got knocked out in the first round against Detroit, there was a big media clammor over whether or not Joe Torre (the manager) would keep his job. Steinbrenner was livid, of course.
People like George Steinbrenner don't get baseball. To him, baseball is a simple formula. Money in = World Series Titles. He pays his players and expects them to perform like machines. He refuses to believe that players with inferior regular-season records could even compete with his players. Over the course of a season, he's probably right. However, this is not the case in the post-season.
George Steinbrenner doesn't realize that there's more to baseball than just statistics. Momentum is a very powerful thing in baseball. When a team's on a roll, it's hard to stop them, whichever way it's going. Chemistry and clubhouse leadership are rather intangible, but are very important in any team sport.
More important, is the clutch player. Some players (most Yankees) are phenomenal regular season players. They can put up numbers like nobody's business, but when the chips are down, they choke. Some notable clutch players: Kirk Gibson, Rusty Greer, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Ortiz, and even Derek Jeter.
Alex Rodriguez is a perfect example of what is NOT a clutch player. His post-season performance has been abysmal. Yet, the Yankees are spending $25.2 million a year on him.
One thing which has made itself painfully obvious in most of the recent post-season games. Good pitching will beat good hitting every time. Hitting is more macho, but pitching is the essence of baseball.
On a related note, my dad always said: "Never trust a pitcher. They will tell you a lie when the truth would do."
So, enough bitching about the Yankees. It looks like we've got quite a World Serious on our hands. Caroline and I have a friendly wager on the outcome. I'm pulling for the Tigers, and she's rooting for the Cards. We have yet to decide the stakes of the bet, but I'm pretty confident, whatever it is, I'm going to win.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Yellow Snapdragons: Olbermann on Habeus Corpus
This is a ominous clip... Big Brother seems to be doing a good job keeping us scared.
Yellow Snapdragons: Olbermann on Habeus Corpus
Yellow Snapdragons: Olbermann on Habeus Corpus
Saturday, October 14, 2006
It's been a sad week in the world of the bands/singers that I like...
Freddy Fender died today of Lung Cancer in Corpus Christi, TX. He played guitar and sang in the Texas Tornados.
They've got some great songs... Especially "Dinero", "Adios, Mexico", "(Hey Baby) Que Paso?", and "Soy de San Luis"...
Check 'em out, you'll be glad you did.
They've got some great songs... Especially "Dinero", "Adios, Mexico", "(Hey Baby) Que Paso?", and "Soy de San Luis"...
Check 'em out, you'll be glad you did.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Bill Maher on Pluto
Bill Maher on Pluto and the republican attitude towards science...
It starts off talking about something else, but when he gets to it, it's glorious!
It starts off talking about something else, but when he gets to it, it's glorious!
The Lancelet: Anti-science vs. anti-evolution
I agree with this blogger.
The Lancelet: Anti-science vs. anti-evolution
Right on. Keep on fighting the good fight.
The Lancelet: Anti-science vs. anti-evolution
Right on. Keep on fighting the good fight.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
adios, los skarnales....
I just found out that a band I like (Los Skarnales) is breaking up. I won't say they're my favorite band, because they're not, but they were the first band I saw live here in Austin. They are possibly the best live band I've ever seen. I bought a CD from them at their show at the Continential Club in Austin. They aren't the most polished studio band, but I've never seen a band with so much energy live.
I almost saw them again a few weeks ago. The only thing is, the tickets were $35 to get in the door, which was WAY more than we were expecting. So, instead, we went back to my house and got drunk. I would have rather seen Los Skarnales.
Oh well, I hope the break-up was amicable and maybe they'll do a reunion tour through Austin someday.
I've got a CD if anyone wants to borrow it. They're best described as Mexican Ska.
I almost saw them again a few weeks ago. The only thing is, the tickets were $35 to get in the door, which was WAY more than we were expecting. So, instead, we went back to my house and got drunk. I would have rather seen Los Skarnales.
Oh well, I hope the break-up was amicable and maybe they'll do a reunion tour through Austin someday.
I've got a CD if anyone wants to borrow it. They're best described as Mexican Ska.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
I feel a disturbance in the store....
What if Darth Vader had a brother named Chad who worked as a day shift manager at Empire Groceries?
Chad Vader...
Genius.
Chad Vader...
Genius.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Don't Buck the trend....
So, the Rangers fired Buck Showalter as their manager yesterday. I though that he was doing an alright job, and was willing to give him a few seasons more. But, I guess the Rangers' upper management disagreed.
I can't say I'm altogether broken up about it for a few reasons:
1) Joe Girardi was fired from the Marlins after pissing off the owner. He managed to turn a team full of rookies into serious playoff contenders. Maybe he can work some magic with the worst franchise in sports history...
2) The last two times Buck was fired, the team he left ended up winning the world series the very next year. Can lightening strike three times?
Of course, he got fired from the Yankees and the Diamondback, both of which had winning records during his final season.
I wish him well, I guess, but I hope the replacement can do better.
Dammit, we're due!
I can't say I'm altogether broken up about it for a few reasons:
1) Joe Girardi was fired from the Marlins after pissing off the owner. He managed to turn a team full of rookies into serious playoff contenders. Maybe he can work some magic with the worst franchise in sports history...
2) The last two times Buck was fired, the team he left ended up winning the world series the very next year. Can lightening strike three times?
Of course, he got fired from the Yankees and the Diamondback, both of which had winning records during his final season.
I wish him well, I guess, but I hope the replacement can do better.
Dammit, we're due!
Monday, October 02, 2006
Inspired by Yellow Snapdragons....
While I don't exactly have a garden, I do have a vine/bush growing up the screen on one of the windows of my bedroom. As I was working on the lappy yesterday, I noticed this little guy sunning himself on the screen...
Gubenatorial Goodness
Stolen from some crazed astros fan's boyfriend:
Here's my plug for Kinky: While he's not as polished as most of the candidates, he is the only candidate who comes right out and says exactly what he stands for: He's not going to run to the pollsters before deciding what bills to support. While I don't agree with everything he supports, at least I know what he stands for.
Everyone should at least watch the debates. With Kinky there, they should at least be entertaining.
We are less than a week away from the only televised debates of this gubernatorial election. That's right: the only chance you are going to get to see the people vying to lead Texas for the next four years going head-to-head will be this Friday night, before the UT-OU football game.
Democracy! The debate's going to be an hour long, without commercials, and will run from 7pm-8pm (central time). In addition to the statewide cable channel TXCN, the following stations will run the debate:
In Dallas WFAA
In Houston KHOU
In San Antonio KENS-TV
In Austin KVUE-TV
Here's my plug for Kinky: While he's not as polished as most of the candidates, he is the only candidate who comes right out and says exactly what he stands for: He's not going to run to the pollsters before deciding what bills to support. While I don't agree with everything he supports, at least I know what he stands for.
Everyone should at least watch the debates. With Kinky there, they should at least be entertaining.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Hallettsville
So Friday, I went to Hallettsville, TX with Jeff, Mike, and Jordan. We met up with Aaron and Terry. It was Aaron's bachelor party, and I must say it, was the oddest bachelor party I've ever been to. Actually, I think this is the only bachelor party I've ever been a part of. That's sad. Oh well... I guess it means that relatively few of my friends are hitched, which, in my current situation, is pretty cool. Not that wives aren't cool, but they do tend to hamper the fun-factor of their husbands. (Don't take this as an indictment of women, but rather as an indictment of the whole married couple mentality, i.e. "no, I don't think I'll come with y'all on (insert random act of fun here)... I think I'll go home and hang out with my wife...")
Anyway, back to the bachelor party. We drank ourselves silly on $1.50 lonestars and played dominoes until all hours of the morning. Oddly enough, the only sober man was the bachelor. I found this out when I offered to buy him a beer. He declined politely, saying he'd given it up. Once during the night, I asked him if he was having fun, and with a big grin, he replied he was having the time of his life. He wasn't kidding either. Whoop for him.
Anyway, we woke up at 7 on saturday and stumbled across the street to the Knights of Columbus Hall in bustling Hallettsville, Texas. We paid our $40 entry fee and immediately jumped into the round robin. We ended up with a 3-2 record in the round robin, which was almost but not quite good enough to get us into the championship bracket. So, instead, we were in the consolation bracket, which dampened our spirits a little bit. However, we won our next two matches before getting eliminated in the final 8. Of all the teams the Austin 42 club sent to the team, we lasted the longest, which was heartening.
Anyway, there were two incidents of note during the tournament. If you're not domino literate, you may not understand everything in the next few paragraphs, but I encourage you to try. If all else fails, ask me, I'd love to teach you how to play.
The first happened during the round robin. We were playing some frat boys who, according to Jeff, were completely trashed during the last tournament. They were real class acts this time, let me tell you.
The incident involved a 2 mark hand, which I called because we were down and running out of time. We played the first three tricks normally, stacking the third trick on top of the first. I was just about to play my fourth domino on top of the second trick when, out of no where, I'll be damned if frat tool #1 didn't reach over and pick up the third trick to look at the dominoes it was covering. I don't care where you learned how to play dominoes, or even if you're just playing for fun. You cannot ever under any circumstances look under the stack. (Stacking the dominoes makes it more difficult b/c you've gotta remember what's been played by who). It's supposed to be more difficult because the hand is worth 2 marks.
Anyway, Jeff and I look at each other incredulously and then Jeff calls him out, awarding us the hand by default. For some reason, he can't believe it and then turns into a real asshole. Jeff shakes the dominoes for the next hand, and once he finishes shaking, both I and frat tool #2 draw our dominoes. Frat tool #1 doesn't draw, and immediately calls me on drawing bones out of turn, demanding Jeff to give his team a mark. To be fair, the rules for the tournament do state that players will draw their dominoes clockwise from the dealer, and he was sitting on Jeff's left. However, this is total bullshit for two reasons: A) In the previous hands, we did not follow this particular rule. (Usually, the only rule on drawing dominoes is the shaker must draw last... this was the rule we were adhering to for the previous hands) B) His partner drew before I did, so I could just as easily have called that on him.
Luckily, the tournament judge saw it our way, and we played the hand out. Frat tool #1 was fuming though. I was too. I wanted to play him again later so Jeff and I could stomp them.
If you're skimming, I'd suggest reading the next section a little more carefully. There's some tricky moral/ethical/gamesmanship issues here...
The second incident occured after our second win in the consolation bracket. The old guys we were playing caught onto our bidding scheme. I won't bore you with the semantics, but basically, during the bidding portion of the game, we had a little pre-arranged system worked out so we could provide information to the other partner as to what dominoes we're holding in our hand.
For example, a bid of 30 meant "I have doubles" A bid of 32-33 meant "I have a 10 point piece and help". This last bid was particularly helpful, because there are only two 10 count dominoes in the game. Knowing that your partner has one of them can be a huge help in deciding if/what/how much to bid.
The way it would work, I would look at my hand, see that I have the 5-5 and maybe another double. I don't necessarily have a strong trump suit, but I bid 33. My partner, who bids after me, looks at his/her hand, and if it contains the 6-4 (the other 10 count), knows that I've got the 5-5. (S)he no longer has to worry about any 5 offs, making the bidding process much simpler, usually allowing my partner to bid quite high.
One of the rules of the game is that there can be no physical indications of what is in your hand. In tournament play, you can't move your dominoes around, you can't tap your finger on the table, you can't do anything which might possibly be used as a signal to your partner. You CAN, however, indicate which dominoes you have remaining in your hand by the order you play. For example, playing a 5-4 on your partner's trump to let him/her know that you have the 5-5 is perfectly legitimate.
So, on one hand, it appears to be table talk, because you are communicating information about your hand to your partner. On the other hand, it seems a perfectly valid strategy within the confines of the game.
What do y'all think?
Anyway, back to the bachelor party. We drank ourselves silly on $1.50 lonestars and played dominoes until all hours of the morning. Oddly enough, the only sober man was the bachelor. I found this out when I offered to buy him a beer. He declined politely, saying he'd given it up. Once during the night, I asked him if he was having fun, and with a big grin, he replied he was having the time of his life. He wasn't kidding either. Whoop for him.
Anyway, we woke up at 7 on saturday and stumbled across the street to the Knights of Columbus Hall in bustling Hallettsville, Texas. We paid our $40 entry fee and immediately jumped into the round robin. We ended up with a 3-2 record in the round robin, which was almost but not quite good enough to get us into the championship bracket. So, instead, we were in the consolation bracket, which dampened our spirits a little bit. However, we won our next two matches before getting eliminated in the final 8. Of all the teams the Austin 42 club sent to the team, we lasted the longest, which was heartening.
Anyway, there were two incidents of note during the tournament. If you're not domino literate, you may not understand everything in the next few paragraphs, but I encourage you to try. If all else fails, ask me, I'd love to teach you how to play.
The first happened during the round robin. We were playing some frat boys who, according to Jeff, were completely trashed during the last tournament. They were real class acts this time, let me tell you.
The incident involved a 2 mark hand, which I called because we were down and running out of time. We played the first three tricks normally, stacking the third trick on top of the first. I was just about to play my fourth domino on top of the second trick when, out of no where, I'll be damned if frat tool #1 didn't reach over and pick up the third trick to look at the dominoes it was covering. I don't care where you learned how to play dominoes, or even if you're just playing for fun. You cannot ever under any circumstances look under the stack. (Stacking the dominoes makes it more difficult b/c you've gotta remember what's been played by who). It's supposed to be more difficult because the hand is worth 2 marks.
Anyway, Jeff and I look at each other incredulously and then Jeff calls him out, awarding us the hand by default. For some reason, he can't believe it and then turns into a real asshole. Jeff shakes the dominoes for the next hand, and once he finishes shaking, both I and frat tool #2 draw our dominoes. Frat tool #1 doesn't draw, and immediately calls me on drawing bones out of turn, demanding Jeff to give his team a mark. To be fair, the rules for the tournament do state that players will draw their dominoes clockwise from the dealer, and he was sitting on Jeff's left. However, this is total bullshit for two reasons: A) In the previous hands, we did not follow this particular rule. (Usually, the only rule on drawing dominoes is the shaker must draw last... this was the rule we were adhering to for the previous hands) B) His partner drew before I did, so I could just as easily have called that on him.
Luckily, the tournament judge saw it our way, and we played the hand out. Frat tool #1 was fuming though. I was too. I wanted to play him again later so Jeff and I could stomp them.
If you're skimming, I'd suggest reading the next section a little more carefully. There's some tricky moral/ethical/gamesmanship issues here...
The second incident occured after our second win in the consolation bracket. The old guys we were playing caught onto our bidding scheme. I won't bore you with the semantics, but basically, during the bidding portion of the game, we had a little pre-arranged system worked out so we could provide information to the other partner as to what dominoes we're holding in our hand.
For example, a bid of 30 meant "I have doubles" A bid of 32-33 meant "I have a 10 point piece and help". This last bid was particularly helpful, because there are only two 10 count dominoes in the game. Knowing that your partner has one of them can be a huge help in deciding if/what/how much to bid.
The way it would work, I would look at my hand, see that I have the 5-5 and maybe another double. I don't necessarily have a strong trump suit, but I bid 33. My partner, who bids after me, looks at his/her hand, and if it contains the 6-4 (the other 10 count), knows that I've got the 5-5. (S)he no longer has to worry about any 5 offs, making the bidding process much simpler, usually allowing my partner to bid quite high.
One of the rules of the game is that there can be no physical indications of what is in your hand. In tournament play, you can't move your dominoes around, you can't tap your finger on the table, you can't do anything which might possibly be used as a signal to your partner. You CAN, however, indicate which dominoes you have remaining in your hand by the order you play. For example, playing a 5-4 on your partner's trump to let him/her know that you have the 5-5 is perfectly legitimate.
So, on one hand, it appears to be table talk, because you are communicating information about your hand to your partner. On the other hand, it seems a perfectly valid strategy within the confines of the game.
What do y'all think?
Friday, September 29, 2006
Diversity: Why Bother - Opinion article by Dr. Robert Gates, TAMU Prez.
Recently, yet another international grad student was assaulted behind Northgate by some rednecks scared of anything/different than themselves. They see a turban and get offended, much the same way they get offended when they hear someone speaking spanish. Dammit Aggieland, why do there have to be so many ignorant people living there?
Anyway, Dr. Gates (president of TAMU) wrote this in the opinion section of the batt... I thought I'd share...
Gig 'em Dr. Gates.
From The Batt.
Anyway, Dr. Gates (president of TAMU) wrote this in the opinion section of the batt... I thought I'd share...
Every now and then, there is an exchange of opinions in "The Battalion," or I get an email from a student, that reminds me that what I learned in CIA and the White House about diversity as a source of strength has yet to be learned by too many Americans, including some students at Texas A&M.
The belief that a diverse population bound together by a common spirit and shared ideals and principles is a source of great national strength is as old as the American Republic. Look at every coin in your pocket; it carries on it testimony to that belief. "E Pluribus Unum" - One from Many. Its meaning is unambiguous. Our national motto is both an enduring challenge and an enduring promise.
Further, the belief that each and every person has value is the touchstone of our democracy. The role of men and women from every race, ethnic group, nationality, religion and socio-economic background in building and safeguarding America - and in creating our unprecedented prosperity as a people - is the stuff of legend (and of history).
How, then, can anyone argue that exposure to a rich mixture of people and human experience is not an essential part of one's education? Surely a decent education must include getting to know and learn from people from different parts of Texas and the United States, from more than 120 countries, from different economic and social circumstances, from different political and cultural backgrounds, from different religions and yes, from different racial and ethnic groups.
I score pretty low on the "political correctness scale. I believe recognition, privilege - and admission to Texas A&M - should be based solely on personal merit, i.e., earned. And, that is, in fact, our admissions policy.
Accordingly, everyone here deserves to be here and deserves to be treated as a full-fledged member of the Aggie Family. That also means everyone of every background, belief and point of view deserves to be treated with civility.
Accepting diversity as contributing to one's education does not mean everyone has to agree on everything - or even that we all have to like each other. It does mean treating other members of the Aggie Family and our guests on campus with respect. It means making the "Aggie Family," the "campus community," real - not just rhetoric.
In this regard, as I have said before, being part of the Aggie Family also means looking out for each other. Frankly, I'm fed up with one or another our international students - Aggies all - getting assaulted every few months in the Northgate area. We've done a lot to step up police patrols and provide rides to students late at night. And, I refuse to believe that any of our students are the criminals who carry out such acts. I do believe, however, that every Aggie who passes through or lives in Northgate has a responsibility to keep an eye out for and report those who prey on members of our Aggie Family. The only place in Aggieland for these predators is in jail.
My bottom line: when you graduate, you will enter a world full of diversity. Knowing how to interact with and treat people who are different from you will play an important role in determining whether you are successful, whatever your career path. So, take advantage of your time here to learn about that world, make new friends from different backgrounds, learn how to deal with different points of view. That was my world in CIA and the White House. You have the advantage of unlimited opportunity to do that right here in Aggieland.
If you don't agree with what I have said, that is your right. But know this: We will not tolerate intolerance or incivility on this campus. Such behavior is not an Aggie tradition.
Gig 'em Dr. Gates.
From The Batt.
Monday, September 25, 2006
"Pimps be damned, it's harder out here for a Rangers fan."
Somehow (can't remember how), I ran across this article early in the spring this year. How prophetic it was.
Of course, it's not hard to be prophetic when the same damn thing happens again and again.
The Rangers are off on their final road trip of the season, hoping to stay above .500 for the season.
Damn you Rangers, why must I love you so?
Of course, it's not hard to be prophetic when the same damn thing happens again and again.
The Rangers are off on their final road trip of the season, hoping to stay above .500 for the season.
Damn you Rangers, why must I love you so?
Thursday, September 21, 2006
heard on ESPN
in reference to Notre Dame's loss last week to Michigan:
"Happiness is a poor memory. If you can't remember what happened last week, you'll never be discouraged."
I like it :-D
"Happiness is a poor memory. If you can't remember what happened last week, you'll never be discouraged."
I like it :-D
Iran-ium
Transcript of press conference with the Iranian President...
He sounds coherent. I wish it were not naieve to believe him.
He sounds coherent. I wish it were not naieve to believe him.
razors
I'm sitting here watching TV and doing a little bit of research...
There was just a commercial for some razor on TV. It had 4, count them 4, blades. I can remember a few years back, three was the magic number. Pretty soon, we'll all be shaving with venitian blinds. Not sure what the extra blades do, other than make it more expensive.
There was just a commercial for some razor on TV. It had 4, count them 4, blades. I can remember a few years back, three was the magic number. Pretty soon, we'll all be shaving with venitian blinds. Not sure what the extra blades do, other than make it more expensive.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
reciprocity
Ok readers...
I have been doing my part. I posted not one, not two, but six (6) posts this past week. With the exception of Caroline, not a one of you has commented.
Comments are half the reason I maintain this blog. C'mon, throw me a bone here :-P
Y'all are slackin...
I have been doing my part. I posted not one, not two, but six (6) posts this past week. With the exception of Caroline, not a one of you has commented.
Comments are half the reason I maintain this blog. C'mon, throw me a bone here :-P
Y'all are slackin...
Monday, September 18, 2006
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Canoe Racing!
Yes folks, I have ventured into the high paced world of canoe racing.
My friend Ginger asked me to be her paddling partner for the TX. Junior Water Safari race this saturday. It was a 16 mile race on the San Marcos River. We put in near the Lions' Club tube rental and ended up in Martindale 3 hours and 45 minutes later.
We got off to an excellent start and were ahead of most of the pack. We kept getting passed by people in single kayak-like canoes. I asked Ginger if this was something to be worried about, and she said no, they are usually much faster than 2-man canoes.
We managed the portages over the two dams pretty well, and were making good time, even keeping pace with a few kayakers.
Then, as we went under a bridge just underneath the Martindale Dam, I heard a distinct crack. We then ended up running aground on a rock and had to get out to get it unstuck. We took on a little bit of water, but it wasn't a whole lot so we kept going.
A few hundred yards downstream, Ginger suggested we pull over to dump the water. Quickly, we did and got back in the canoe and kept going. A few hundred more yards, Ginger notes how much water there still is in the boat, and wonders if we've got a hole. I turn around and look at the hull, and sure enough, we've got a sizable gash letting river water in.
We pull the canoe out of the water to quickly patch it with a food wrapper and some foam we cut off of the water-jug holders. Sadly, the patch is not very effective. It slows the flow of water into the boat, but it does not stop it. We continue to have to pull over every half mile to dump the water from our boat. We can't even go over shallow parts for fear that our makeshift patch will come undone.
All in all, we finish just 5 minutes behind our competition. We would have easily smoked them if we hadn't been towing half the river along with us. The hole in the boat makes for some lively conversation once we've pulled it from the river.
Free chilidogs are provided for all race participants. I eat waaaay too many... Life is good.
My friend Ginger asked me to be her paddling partner for the TX. Junior Water Safari race this saturday. It was a 16 mile race on the San Marcos River. We put in near the Lions' Club tube rental and ended up in Martindale 3 hours and 45 minutes later.
We got off to an excellent start and were ahead of most of the pack. We kept getting passed by people in single kayak-like canoes. I asked Ginger if this was something to be worried about, and she said no, they are usually much faster than 2-man canoes.
We managed the portages over the two dams pretty well, and were making good time, even keeping pace with a few kayakers.
Then, as we went under a bridge just underneath the Martindale Dam, I heard a distinct crack. We then ended up running aground on a rock and had to get out to get it unstuck. We took on a little bit of water, but it wasn't a whole lot so we kept going.
A few hundred yards downstream, Ginger suggested we pull over to dump the water. Quickly, we did and got back in the canoe and kept going. A few hundred more yards, Ginger notes how much water there still is in the boat, and wonders if we've got a hole. I turn around and look at the hull, and sure enough, we've got a sizable gash letting river water in.
We pull the canoe out of the water to quickly patch it with a food wrapper and some foam we cut off of the water-jug holders. Sadly, the patch is not very effective. It slows the flow of water into the boat, but it does not stop it. We continue to have to pull over every half mile to dump the water from our boat. We can't even go over shallow parts for fear that our makeshift patch will come undone.
All in all, we finish just 5 minutes behind our competition. We would have easily smoked them if we hadn't been towing half the river along with us. The hole in the boat makes for some lively conversation once we've pulled it from the river.
Free chilidogs are provided for all race participants. I eat waaaay too many... Life is good.
crack whores in Austin
Ok, now I've seen everything...
Vince and I had some friends staying with us in Austin for ACL and the Sufjan concert. Kit and I were in the living room watching some TV, and Daniel was outside talking on his cell phone. I went into the restroom. While I was in there, there was apparently a knock at the door.
Thinking it was Daniel, Kit opened the door. Standing outside was a woman in hippie garb (burka, sandals, etc...) She asked if she could come in. Thinking she was one of my friends, Kit let her in.
About this time, I walked back into the room. Her back was to me, so I thought that this was one of Vince or Kit's friends, but it soon became apparent she was not.
Her feet were dirty and she had a kinda desparate look on her face. Something right out of Requiem for a Dream.
She (probably) concocted a story about a black lady who was hassling her and how she just wanted to come in to get away from her. Being the naieve person I am, I kinda sorta believed her. I offered to let her use a phone or call the cops or something. She didn't seem to respond to that. She kept asking if there was a party going on, to which we responded we were headed to bed.
She then started repeating that she "could pay," and that she "was cool," and kept offering to turn us on. At this point we flat-out, categorically denied that ANY of us needed to be turned on by her. She was kinda agitated at this point and was walking further into the house, looking in all the rooms. I got her turned around and corralled her to the living room, right next to the front door. At this point, she sat down on the couch and started reaching in her bag.
By the time I figured out what she was doing, it was too late. A vagrant hippie crack whore was smoking a rock on our couch in our living room! I really didn't know what to do. Vince had retreated into the back room hoping the problem would fix itself. Kit was in the kitchen with an apologetic expression on his face mouthing the words "no physical contact," with which, I heartily agreed.
The moment she was done, I hurried over to the door and asked her to leave. Thankfully, she did. I locked the door behind her.
She kept wondering around the neighborhood for at least an hour, stoned out of her mind...
Was she casing the place? I hope not, but I think she was too high to do much of anything.
Should I have called the cops? Probably. Of course, she probably got picked up soon after.
I hope she's getting help. Drugs can f-up your life. For the rest of the evening, I kept thinking what her family must think about her... whether they know she's a druggie, if they even care, or if they even keep in touch.
Kinda sad really.
Vince and I had some friends staying with us in Austin for ACL and the Sufjan concert. Kit and I were in the living room watching some TV, and Daniel was outside talking on his cell phone. I went into the restroom. While I was in there, there was apparently a knock at the door.
Thinking it was Daniel, Kit opened the door. Standing outside was a woman in hippie garb (burka, sandals, etc...) She asked if she could come in. Thinking she was one of my friends, Kit let her in.
About this time, I walked back into the room. Her back was to me, so I thought that this was one of Vince or Kit's friends, but it soon became apparent she was not.
Her feet were dirty and she had a kinda desparate look on her face. Something right out of Requiem for a Dream.
She (probably) concocted a story about a black lady who was hassling her and how she just wanted to come in to get away from her. Being the naieve person I am, I kinda sorta believed her. I offered to let her use a phone or call the cops or something. She didn't seem to respond to that. She kept asking if there was a party going on, to which we responded we were headed to bed.
She then started repeating that she "could pay," and that she "was cool," and kept offering to turn us on. At this point we flat-out, categorically denied that ANY of us needed to be turned on by her. She was kinda agitated at this point and was walking further into the house, looking in all the rooms. I got her turned around and corralled her to the living room, right next to the front door. At this point, she sat down on the couch and started reaching in her bag.
By the time I figured out what she was doing, it was too late. A vagrant hippie crack whore was smoking a rock on our couch in our living room! I really didn't know what to do. Vince had retreated into the back room hoping the problem would fix itself. Kit was in the kitchen with an apologetic expression on his face mouthing the words "no physical contact," with which, I heartily agreed.
The moment she was done, I hurried over to the door and asked her to leave. Thankfully, she did. I locked the door behind her.
She kept wondering around the neighborhood for at least an hour, stoned out of her mind...
Was she casing the place? I hope not, but I think she was too high to do much of anything.
Should I have called the cops? Probably. Of course, she probably got picked up soon after.
I hope she's getting help. Drugs can f-up your life. For the rest of the evening, I kept thinking what her family must think about her... whether they know she's a druggie, if they even care, or if they even keep in touch.
Kinda sad really.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Menage a trois
And then there were three...
So.... I'm beginning to collect quite a harem... of bicycles...
Quite by accident, Josh told me of the UT bicycle auction which was, fortiutously (sp?), this afternoon. He was looking for a road bike, and I tagged along to possibly purchase another mountain bike, thus allowing me to take friends out mountain biking who don't have their own bike.
I ended up winning the first bike in the auction. Well, it's half a bike, because it's missing the back wheel, has gunk on the handlebars, and needs a new chain and gearset, but, all in all, I think I got a pretty good deal. It's fairly new and with a paltry $100-$150, I can have a totally decent bike. It's a Trek 4500, which new, goes for $450+. I paid $70. I kinda almost feel bad, because there was a guy who was bidding on it before I was, and he really wanted the bike. Every time someone bid, he'd up it by $5. His final bid was $45, and then I bid $70, which was apparently out of his price range. He didn't look like a starving student though...
When the auction ended, the lady wrote the wrong price on the ticket for me to go pay, so I COULD have walked out of there with my spoils of victory for $45. I really considered it, I really did. Especially since I'm doing UT a favor by taking this bike off their hands. But, it wouldn't have been fair to the dude I outbid. If he hadn't wanted the bike so much, I probably wouldn't have said anything.
Even still, I got a great deal.
In other news, I've come up with a name for my current mountain bike: Bruno. Bruno's a hoss and can take quite a beating. And he's not pink like Gertie.
We'll see what kinda name I come up with for this new franken-bike once I get him/her all put together again.
So.... I'm beginning to collect quite a harem... of bicycles...
Quite by accident, Josh told me of the UT bicycle auction which was, fortiutously (sp?), this afternoon. He was looking for a road bike, and I tagged along to possibly purchase another mountain bike, thus allowing me to take friends out mountain biking who don't have their own bike.
I ended up winning the first bike in the auction. Well, it's half a bike, because it's missing the back wheel, has gunk on the handlebars, and needs a new chain and gearset, but, all in all, I think I got a pretty good deal. It's fairly new and with a paltry $100-$150, I can have a totally decent bike. It's a Trek 4500, which new, goes for $450+. I paid $70. I kinda almost feel bad, because there was a guy who was bidding on it before I was, and he really wanted the bike. Every time someone bid, he'd up it by $5. His final bid was $45, and then I bid $70, which was apparently out of his price range. He didn't look like a starving student though...
When the auction ended, the lady wrote the wrong price on the ticket for me to go pay, so I COULD have walked out of there with my spoils of victory for $45. I really considered it, I really did. Especially since I'm doing UT a favor by taking this bike off their hands. But, it wouldn't have been fair to the dude I outbid. If he hadn't wanted the bike so much, I probably wouldn't have said anything.
Even still, I got a great deal.
In other news, I've come up with a name for my current mountain bike: Bruno. Bruno's a hoss and can take quite a beating. And he's not pink like Gertie.
We'll see what kinda name I come up with for this new franken-bike once I get him/her all put together again.
We'll miss you, you tough old boot
From Wikiquote
Ann Richards on How to Be a Good Republican:
We'll miss you Ann... I remember being in 1st or 2nd grade when Ann Richards was running for Governor. I can't really remember who I was wanting to win, but all the other guys in my classes wanted Clayton Williams to win for no other reason than he was a guy and Ann Richards was a girl. So, being the little conformist that I was, I said I was pulling for Williams too, even though it didn't sit quite right with me. I remember Williams won the mock election we had in our elementary school by a pretty large magin...
I think we need more people like Ann Richards in politics... It keeps it interesting. Kinky anyone?
Ann Richards on How to Be a Good Republican:
- You have to believe that the nation's current 8-year prosperity was due to the work of Ronald Reagan and George Bush, but yesterday's gasoline prices are all Clinton's fault.
- You have to believe that those privileged from birth achieve success all on their own.
- You have to be against all government programs, but expect Social Security checks on time.
- You have to believe that AIDS victims deserve their disease, but smokers with lung cancer and overweight individuals with heart disease don't deserve theirs.
- You have to appreciate the power rush that comes with sporting a gun.
- You have to believe...everything Rush Limbaugh says.
- You have to believe that the agricultural, restaurant, housing and hotel industries can survive without immigrant labor.
- You have to believe God hates homosexuality, but loves the death penalty.
- You have to believe society is color-blind and growing up black in America doesn't diminish your opportunities, but you still won't vote for Alan Keyes.
- You have to believe that pollution is OK as long as it makes a profit.
- You have to believe in prayer in schools, as long as you don't pray to Allah or Buddha.
- You have to believe Newt Gingrich and Henry Hyde were really faithful husbands.
- You have to believe speaking a few Spanish phrases makes you instantly popular in the barrio.
- You have to believe that only your own teenagers are still virgins.
- You have to be against government interference in business, until your oil company, corporation or Savings and Loan is about to go broke and you beg for a government bail out.
- You love Jesus and Jesus loves you and, by the way, Jesus shares your hatred for AIDS victims, homosexuals, and President Clinton.
- You have to believe government has nothing to do with providing police protection, national defense, and building roads.
- You have to believe a poor, minority student with a disciplinary history and failing grades will be admitted into an elite private school with a $1,000 voucher.
We'll miss you Ann... I remember being in 1st or 2nd grade when Ann Richards was running for Governor. I can't really remember who I was wanting to win, but all the other guys in my classes wanted Clayton Williams to win for no other reason than he was a guy and Ann Richards was a girl. So, being the little conformist that I was, I said I was pulling for Williams too, even though it didn't sit quite right with me. I remember Williams won the mock election we had in our elementary school by a pretty large magin...
I think we need more people like Ann Richards in politics... It keeps it interesting. Kinky anyone?
Monday, August 28, 2006
BSG
Ok, I'm a big dork... I am a BattleStar Galactica addict. It's a really nerdy, but really good show. I've been catching up with the rest of season 2.5 in preparation for season 3.0 which is coming out in October.
However, I am starting to have some serious reservations about the show. Well, it's not so much reservations about the show, but reservations about american-style television shows, as compared to Brittish television shows.
See, television shows in the states go on and on and on, milking every possible plot line until everyone's f-ing sick of it, at which, they have a big finale and sell the commemerative DVD box sets.
In this regard, I feel brittish television shows are superior. In my (very limited) experience, the show runs for no more than two seasons. They tell the damn story, or explore the damn characters, situations, or issues which are necessary or interesting. Once they've told it, they end the damn thing.
Case in point: The Office. The character of David Brent only has about 2 seasons worth of material in him. Any longer than that, he's just going to start getting really repetitive, unbelievable, and SAD! There were several interesting side plots, but none of them ever really hijacked the main premise of the show. Now, I really shouldn't talk about the american version of the Office b/c I haven't really been keeping up with it, but I can't help it. This is a perfect example of what's wrong with it. It seems to me that NBC is making the Jim/Pam love interest the main point of the show, which was never the case in the brittish version. Yes, we were all interested in the love side-story, but that's what it was, a side story! I'll bet they did some testing with representative audiences and found out that they could get the most people to watch if they made it into a Ross/Rachel type thing. F-ing capitalism should never be used to make artistic decisions.
A small disclaimer for the previous paragraph: I have only seen one DVD of the american Office, so I could just be taking things out of context.
Anyway, back to Battlestar: The story has completely morphed from the original premise. According to Mike, the main creative-force behind BSG has a 5-season roadmap for the story, but I'm having my doubts. They kept a character alive in a completely contrived way when it was obvious (to me, at least) they should have killed him/her. We'll see how it turns out when the third season begins, but my initial reaction to this was they were just trying to prolong the series to milk more cash out of the series before they cancel it.
Another Brittish TV show which I think did it just right. Fawlty Towers. Hi-lar-i-ous. John Cleese is maddeningly funny as a neurotic hotel owner. They only made 12 episodes. When I tell people this, they ask why they canceled it so fast. The thing is, if they'd made any more episodes, the jokes would have stopped being funny. There's only so many time Basil can chase Manuel into the kitchen with a stool and have it be funny.
I guess I favor the short-story version of television shows. Use all the words you need to tell your story, and not a word more.
Bah Humbug.
However, I am starting to have some serious reservations about the show. Well, it's not so much reservations about the show, but reservations about american-style television shows, as compared to Brittish television shows.
See, television shows in the states go on and on and on, milking every possible plot line until everyone's f-ing sick of it, at which, they have a big finale and sell the commemerative DVD box sets.
In this regard, I feel brittish television shows are superior. In my (very limited) experience, the show runs for no more than two seasons. They tell the damn story, or explore the damn characters, situations, or issues which are necessary or interesting. Once they've told it, they end the damn thing.
Case in point: The Office. The character of David Brent only has about 2 seasons worth of material in him. Any longer than that, he's just going to start getting really repetitive, unbelievable, and SAD! There were several interesting side plots, but none of them ever really hijacked the main premise of the show. Now, I really shouldn't talk about the american version of the Office b/c I haven't really been keeping up with it, but I can't help it. This is a perfect example of what's wrong with it. It seems to me that NBC is making the Jim/Pam love interest the main point of the show, which was never the case in the brittish version. Yes, we were all interested in the love side-story, but that's what it was, a side story! I'll bet they did some testing with representative audiences and found out that they could get the most people to watch if they made it into a Ross/Rachel type thing. F-ing capitalism should never be used to make artistic decisions.
A small disclaimer for the previous paragraph: I have only seen one DVD of the american Office, so I could just be taking things out of context.
Anyway, back to Battlestar: The story has completely morphed from the original premise. According to Mike, the main creative-force behind BSG has a 5-season roadmap for the story, but I'm having my doubts. They kept a character alive in a completely contrived way when it was obvious (to me, at least) they should have killed him/her. We'll see how it turns out when the third season begins, but my initial reaction to this was they were just trying to prolong the series to milk more cash out of the series before they cancel it.
Another Brittish TV show which I think did it just right. Fawlty Towers. Hi-lar-i-ous. John Cleese is maddeningly funny as a neurotic hotel owner. They only made 12 episodes. When I tell people this, they ask why they canceled it so fast. The thing is, if they'd made any more episodes, the jokes would have stopped being funny. There's only so many time Basil can chase Manuel into the kitchen with a stool and have it be funny.
I guess I favor the short-story version of television shows. Use all the words you need to tell your story, and not a word more.
Bah Humbug.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Canada, part deux
So the trip home was more eventful than I would have liked...
We flew into Pheonix just before a giant rainstorm (called a monsoon) hit. We landed, got off the plane, ran to our next flight, and then boarded just in time. We then proceeded to wait for 3 hours ON THE TARMAC for the lightening storm to pass. There are few things which bug me more than waiting in an airplane... By the time we actually took off, we were supposed to have landed already. Grr...
Anyway, it's good to be back home again. Traveling always does a number on my digestive track. I mean, I don't get sick or anything, but I don't think my digestive enzymes work nearly as well, 'cause in the words of Donkey, "there were some toxic gases eeking out of my butt." Maybe it was all the eating out and all the rich food.
In other news, I got my hair cut. Mary (the hot asian domino playing girl I've got a massive crush on) cut it for me. It'll take a while for my hair to adjust to it, but I'm hopeful.
I'm slowly but surely getting unpacked. Unpacking sucks almost as much as packing does.
Mahaffey will be in town on thursday. We're going to play an obscene amount of dominoes and drink massive amounts of beer. I'm stoked.
We flew into Pheonix just before a giant rainstorm (called a monsoon) hit. We landed, got off the plane, ran to our next flight, and then boarded just in time. We then proceeded to wait for 3 hours ON THE TARMAC for the lightening storm to pass. There are few things which bug me more than waiting in an airplane... By the time we actually took off, we were supposed to have landed already. Grr...
Anyway, it's good to be back home again. Traveling always does a number on my digestive track. I mean, I don't get sick or anything, but I don't think my digestive enzymes work nearly as well, 'cause in the words of Donkey, "there were some toxic gases eeking out of my butt." Maybe it was all the eating out and all the rich food.
In other news, I got my hair cut. Mary (the hot asian domino playing girl I've got a massive crush on) cut it for me. It'll take a while for my hair to adjust to it, but I'm hopeful.
I'm slowly but surely getting unpacked. Unpacking sucks almost as much as packing does.
Mahaffey will be in town on thursday. We're going to play an obscene amount of dominoes and drink massive amounts of beer. I'm stoked.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
prediction
I'm saying it now... Mike and Miranda are going to end up together. It's going to take them a while to get together, but it's going to happen.
Washington
So we're in washington right now. we took the ferry into Anacortes on friday and chilled with Miranda's friend. He took me mountain biking in the Galbraith Hills. There are some freaking awesome trails up there. I rented a bike for $20 for the day. It was a really nice bike. I can't remember what kind it was but the list price was ~$2,000. I'll post a picture of it when I get back and get my disposable camera developed. The trails up there are a lot different than the ones in Austin. For one, there are a lot more really really tall trees and dirt. Not so many giant boulders. Anyway, there are a lot of crazy stunts that other bikers have built into the trails. Lots of them involve little ladders bridging over gullys and logs. I should have taken a few pictures of some of these crazy stunts. Needless to say, I didn't try many of them. The ones I did were fun though. Jarrett would have loved it.
I got to see Crystal and Blake, which was cool. We walked around downtown seattle for a little bit. I got my picture taken in front of Safeco field. Too bad the Mariners are on a road trip... I'd have liked to take in a game. Molly (their dog) was cute, but not so keen on walking so much, so she got carried.
We did the Seattle Underground tour... It was anti-climactic. Not that I felt I got completely cheated out of my $9, but it was not too terribly interesting. Our guide was rather weird.
We're going back to Anacortes tomorrow to go kayaking around the San Juan Islands. It should be really cool. And cold. I can't imagine the water temperature being more than about 50 degrees. Hopefully my camera won't get too wet.
Back in Austin on monday. It'll be nice to get back.
ciao
I got to see Crystal and Blake, which was cool. We walked around downtown seattle for a little bit. I got my picture taken in front of Safeco field. Too bad the Mariners are on a road trip... I'd have liked to take in a game. Molly (their dog) was cute, but not so keen on walking so much, so she got carried.
We did the Seattle Underground tour... It was anti-climactic. Not that I felt I got completely cheated out of my $9, but it was not too terribly interesting. Our guide was rather weird.
We're going back to Anacortes tomorrow to go kayaking around the San Juan Islands. It should be really cool. And cold. I can't imagine the water temperature being more than about 50 degrees. Hopefully my camera won't get too wet.
Back in Austin on monday. It'll be nice to get back.
ciao
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Canada, eh?
So I'm in Canada. It's really freakin' beautiful. The weather is crazy. It's August, and I'm cold outside. That's not supposed to happen.
The conference is pretty cool. Some of the talks are useful and informative. Others are quite soporific.
I met one of Dan's former students. He's now a professor at the University of Calagry. He seems pretty cool. Didn't have any good stories about Dan though.
We were walking around the harbor yesterday, and we saw a street performer's act. He was a juggler/comedian. He was really good and put on an excellent show. I gave him $5, and as we were walking away, Mike made the comment that he probably makes more in a year than we do. I agreed, b/c he gathered quite a large crowd and people were pretty generous. We walked further into the city for dinner, and returned via the same way a few hours later. There was another variety act at the same place. We stopped for a minute or so to see what they were doing. It seemed to be some sort of comedy troupe. However, they were using some of the same phrases/tricks/jokes to entice people to tip them. I.e. they both threw a hat up to a person in the top row to collect money from people up there. Anyway, it dawned on us that they were probably working for a company/guild of stree performers. I don't know why, but it sort of tarnished the image in my mind I had of the juggler. No longer was he the free spirit making his living scraping by on the generosity of strangers, but something akin to a corporate con artist... putting up the facade of the street performer to get more tips.
Then, I thought more about it. It shouldn't matter who he's working for, or whether or not he's a genuine starving artist, because he was really good. He was the best street performer I'd ever seen. His jokes were funny, his tricks were amazing, and he truly entertained me. He earned his $5. I wonder if I'm becoming an entertainment snob now that I've lived in Austin.
Oh well.
E-mail me with your address if you want a postcard from either victoria or Seattle. Crystal, you should call me. Actually, I should turn on my phone to see if you have left me any messages.
The conference is pretty cool. Some of the talks are useful and informative. Others are quite soporific.
I met one of Dan's former students. He's now a professor at the University of Calagry. He seems pretty cool. Didn't have any good stories about Dan though.
We were walking around the harbor yesterday, and we saw a street performer's act. He was a juggler/comedian. He was really good and put on an excellent show. I gave him $5, and as we were walking away, Mike made the comment that he probably makes more in a year than we do. I agreed, b/c he gathered quite a large crowd and people were pretty generous. We walked further into the city for dinner, and returned via the same way a few hours later. There was another variety act at the same place. We stopped for a minute or so to see what they were doing. It seemed to be some sort of comedy troupe. However, they were using some of the same phrases/tricks/jokes to entice people to tip them. I.e. they both threw a hat up to a person in the top row to collect money from people up there. Anyway, it dawned on us that they were probably working for a company/guild of stree performers. I don't know why, but it sort of tarnished the image in my mind I had of the juggler. No longer was he the free spirit making his living scraping by on the generosity of strangers, but something akin to a corporate con artist... putting up the facade of the street performer to get more tips.
Then, I thought more about it. It shouldn't matter who he's working for, or whether or not he's a genuine starving artist, because he was really good. He was the best street performer I'd ever seen. His jokes were funny, his tricks were amazing, and he truly entertained me. He earned his $5. I wonder if I'm becoming an entertainment snob now that I've lived in Austin.
Oh well.
E-mail me with your address if you want a postcard from either victoria or Seattle. Crystal, you should call me. Actually, I should turn on my phone to see if you have left me any messages.
Friday, August 11, 2006
Nerd Post - CCD woes
It seems that the CCD camera I've been using in the lab has decided to become tempermental... The camera itself works just fine, but the shutter keeps getting stuck. Because there's a thermo-electric cooler on the CCD chip which keeps the CCD around -20 C, I think that one half of the shutter keeps getting frozen. I hope I don't have to take the damn thing apart. That would really suck.
Monday, August 07, 2006
moving sucks
I am FINALLY out of my apartment. I am so glad to be out of there. Not because I hated the place, but b/c I'm finished packing/transporting.
I'm going to get screwed on the deposit though, because I didn't clean the blinds, and the move-out instructions state that they'll bill me $25 for each blind they have to clean. And they're just the type of bastards to charge me $100 for the 4 blinds, even though I made significant effort to clean two of them.
Anyway, the new house is shaping up quite nicely. It's going to be an awesome party house. Details to follow on the house-warming party.
I have waaaaaaaay too much shit. When I unpack, I'm going to have a garbage can sitting right outside the door. I plan to fill it up at least twice before I'm done.
I'm going to get screwed on the deposit though, because I didn't clean the blinds, and the move-out instructions state that they'll bill me $25 for each blind they have to clean. And they're just the type of bastards to charge me $100 for the 4 blinds, even though I made significant effort to clean two of them.
Anyway, the new house is shaping up quite nicely. It's going to be an awesome party house. Details to follow on the house-warming party.
I have waaaaaaaay too much shit. When I unpack, I'm going to have a garbage can sitting right outside the door. I plan to fill it up at least twice before I'm done.
Friday, August 04, 2006
I am an AWESOME car mechanic!!
I started work on my car today around 4:15. At 10:30, I finished. It seems that my alternator decided to crap out, which sucks, because I bought a new battery before I bought a new alternator. I guess it's just as well, because I've had the battery for 6 years, so it was living on borrowed time anyway.
I really love the engineers at Pontiac. Really, I do. I mean, who else would have thought to bury the battery underneath not only the Wiper Fluid container, but also the air filter? This is a stroke of genius. However, I do fault them for this: the alternator is not nearly hard enough to take out. I really would have liked to cuss just a little bit more, and drop 7 nuts on the ground in the pitch black instead of only 3. C'mon, I was expecting more from you guys.
If you've not slept in 48 hours and haven't had much in the way of food, it's amazing what 3 beers will do to you.
I'll pack tomorrow after I go wash all the tree-sap off my car and drop off the old battery and alternator.
night night
I really love the engineers at Pontiac. Really, I do. I mean, who else would have thought to bury the battery underneath not only the Wiper Fluid container, but also the air filter? This is a stroke of genius. However, I do fault them for this: the alternator is not nearly hard enough to take out. I really would have liked to cuss just a little bit more, and drop 7 nuts on the ground in the pitch black instead of only 3. C'mon, I was expecting more from you guys.
If you've not slept in 48 hours and haven't had much in the way of food, it's amazing what 3 beers will do to you.
I'll pack tomorrow after I go wash all the tree-sap off my car and drop off the old battery and alternator.
night night
Is it friday already?
Man... I'm tired... I didn't sleep last night b/c I was wrestling with IDL. IDL can go pee up a rope, for all I care. Actually, I'm just being pissy because I'm still learning it. The deeper and deeper I get into it, the more cool things I realize it can do. I think after I re-write my latest batch of codes, I'll be pretty good.
I took Gertie out on a ride with Eric on Wednesday. In case you're wondering, Gertie is the name I've decided to give my road bike. I'll post a picture of her later. She's black with pink lettering, and a very sexy bike indeed. I decided to embrace the pink rather than try to paint over it. This means I'm confident in my sexuality, right?
I'm moving tomorrow. Haven't packed a lick. Still need to fix my POS car. Hopefully it won't be that difficult to fix.
In other news, the squatter is off my couch! Not that I didn't enjoy Greg's company, but I think anyone would get tired of sharing a 1-1. Unless you're romantically involved. Even then, I'm not sure how that'd go.
time for lunch. I'm hungry.
I took Gertie out on a ride with Eric on Wednesday. In case you're wondering, Gertie is the name I've decided to give my road bike. I'll post a picture of her later. She's black with pink lettering, and a very sexy bike indeed. I decided to embrace the pink rather than try to paint over it. This means I'm confident in my sexuality, right?
I'm moving tomorrow. Haven't packed a lick. Still need to fix my POS car. Hopefully it won't be that difficult to fix.
In other news, the squatter is off my couch! Not that I didn't enjoy Greg's company, but I think anyone would get tired of sharing a 1-1. Unless you're romantically involved. Even then, I'm not sure how that'd go.
time for lunch. I'm hungry.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
procrastination
I'm here at work procrastinating by reading the Wikipedia list of baseball jargon and watching the Rangers blow yet another 4 run lead.
Anway, I ran across this entry, and it made me think back to my days in baseball.
Tools of Ignorance: Catcher's gear.
How true this is. Dammit, it was fun though.
Anway, I ran across this entry, and it made me think back to my days in baseball.
Tools of Ignorance: Catcher's gear.
How true this is. Dammit, it was fun though.
Overheard in a Burger King
Wow... I'm sitting next to a crazy girl and her bf in Burger King. That's right, Burger King has free wireless in Austin, TX. (Did i mention I love this town?)
So far, she's been talking about the following things:
"I should just put up an ad on Craigslist and see if someone just wants to give me money, no strings attached. See, normal kids have people who do this. They're called Parents. Mine don't do that."
"I don't have any idea what Hezbolla is, nor do I care."
"I think fast food restraunts should have a scale right inside the door. If you're too fat, it kicks you out."
Crazy.
So far, she's been talking about the following things:
"I should just put up an ad on Craigslist and see if someone just wants to give me money, no strings attached. See, normal kids have people who do this. They're called Parents. Mine don't do that."
"I don't have any idea what Hezbolla is, nor do I care."
"I think fast food restraunts should have a scale right inside the door. If you're too fat, it kicks you out."
Crazy.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Say it ain't so...
Dammit Floyd Landis. I really really REALLY do not want to believe that you doped.
The tests are rather damning, but the rest of it doesn't add up.
I mean, he was tested 8 other times in the race, and none of those turned up positive. Testosterone seems to be a long-term effect steroid. There wouldn't be much use to just use it once.
They didn't publish the actual results of the test, but I think they should. Do they know all the effects of all the drugs he'd been taking? He's taking cortisone for his hip, and another hormone for his thyroid. And besides, he got drunk the night before. Does alcohol affect it? What if he got laid with a cheap french whore the night before? I'm sure that would do something to his testosterone levels.
That would be kinda embarrassing to admit though... especially since he and his family are strict Menonites.
I believe him.
The tests are rather damning, but the rest of it doesn't add up.
I mean, he was tested 8 other times in the race, and none of those turned up positive. Testosterone seems to be a long-term effect steroid. There wouldn't be much use to just use it once.
They didn't publish the actual results of the test, but I think they should. Do they know all the effects of all the drugs he'd been taking? He's taking cortisone for his hip, and another hormone for his thyroid. And besides, he got drunk the night before. Does alcohol affect it? What if he got laid with a cheap french whore the night before? I'm sure that would do something to his testosterone levels.
That would be kinda embarrassing to admit though... especially since he and his family are strict Menonites.
I believe him.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
My Mountain-Biking Mantra
While on the trail at Emma Long park last weekend, I came to terms with the fact, that indeed, I will probably break something if I keep this up. Not looking forward to that, but here's something I keep telling myself:
Everything the helmet doesn't protect will grow back.
Everything the helmet doesn't protect will grow back.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Nerd Post - Point Spread Functions
Ok, as the title suggests, this will be a nerd post. Since my blog is named with an optics term, I figure I should probably write some science in here too.
Definition of Terms
Doug and I got the optics bench pretty well aligned and focused. Since our optics aren't achromatic, we have two focii for our two laser beams (one green, one red). We've got our camera lens on a linear adjustable stage so we can repeatably focus the camera on the two laser spots.
Anyway, once we focused the system, we inserted the grism that Doug's been working on. It's still got some plastic on it from the time when he accidentally melted some zip-ties in 180 C phosphoric acid. After two further rinses with the hot phosphoric acid, we've managed to get most of the plastic off, but there's still a little bit. Anyway, we were able to measure the FWHM of the PSF of the grism, and found it to be approximately 2 pixels, which is no worse than the FWHM of a flat mirror. This is pretty good, implying that our grism is not any worse than a flat mirror, which is good.
Tomorrow, I get to take it all apart and put a faster lens in so we can get more orders on the CCD chip. Then we get to measure the efficiency of the grating, i.e. how much light is reflected into the different orders versus how much light we shine onto the surface of the grating.
Definition of Terms
- Point Spread Function: Measuring the spot created in the focal plane when you focus a beam of collimated light down to a point.
- Collimated: All travelling in the same direction. Laser light is collimated light.
- Grism: a combination of a grating and a diffraction grating. Splits up light into its component colors (aka wavelengths).
- Full Width Half Maximum (FWHM): A measurement of how steep a peak on a graph is. Imagine a mountain. You take the peak elevation, divide it by two, and go find two towns on opposite sides of the mountains at this elevation. Then, you measure the horizontal distance between the two towns. The smaller the distance, the steeper the slope.
- CCD: Charge-Coupled Device. In laymans' terms, a digital camera, just more expensive. The one I'm using has a cooler on it which can cool the chip down to -20 C. It's also $5,000.
Doug and I got the optics bench pretty well aligned and focused. Since our optics aren't achromatic, we have two focii for our two laser beams (one green, one red). We've got our camera lens on a linear adjustable stage so we can repeatably focus the camera on the two laser spots.
Anyway, once we focused the system, we inserted the grism that Doug's been working on. It's still got some plastic on it from the time when he accidentally melted some zip-ties in 180 C phosphoric acid. After two further rinses with the hot phosphoric acid, we've managed to get most of the plastic off, but there's still a little bit. Anyway, we were able to measure the FWHM of the PSF of the grism, and found it to be approximately 2 pixels, which is no worse than the FWHM of a flat mirror. This is pretty good, implying that our grism is not any worse than a flat mirror, which is good.
Tomorrow, I get to take it all apart and put a faster lens in so we can get more orders on the CCD chip. Then we get to measure the efficiency of the grating, i.e. how much light is reflected into the different orders versus how much light we shine onto the surface of the grating.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Road Bike! (Part Deux)
Yes folks, I have done it! I now own ~15 lbs. of aluminum, rubber, and probably some steel which have been fashioned into a mode of transportation. I am as giddy as a school girl.
Since my car is dead, I rode it to Ginny's tonight to play my leauge match. While it could be that I just normally kick ass, I'm pretty sure my stellar record this evening (3 wins, 0 losses, two of which were in leauge play) was due to the fact that I HAVE A ROAD BIKE!
I feel a bit like a little kid, not only because I'm still a little shaky on it, as the pedals are kinda funky, but also because I'm going to take it to work tomorrow and show it off. :-D
Fixing my car will have to wait, because there's not much left in my bank account right now. Oh well, I guess I'll just have to ride my bike everywhere. Oh darn.
Since my car is dead, I rode it to Ginny's tonight to play my leauge match. While it could be that I just normally kick ass, I'm pretty sure my stellar record this evening (3 wins, 0 losses, two of which were in leauge play) was due to the fact that I HAVE A ROAD BIKE!
I feel a bit like a little kid, not only because I'm still a little shaky on it, as the pedals are kinda funky, but also because I'm going to take it to work tomorrow and show it off. :-D
Fixing my car will have to wait, because there's not much left in my bank account right now. Oh well, I guess I'll just have to ride my bike everywhere. Oh darn.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Piece of Shit Car
So my car died today. Which sucks royally. I'm pretty sure the alternator died, but I think it took my battery with it, which sucks even more because the feng-shui masters at Pontiac thought it would be better to bolt the wiper-fluid container right on top of the battery. Maybe it pleases the Chi of the car, but it annoys the hell outta me. Eh... it'll give me an excuse to give my new bike a workout.
Road Bike!
Come monday, I will be the proud owner of a Trek 1200 road bike! I just have to draw out $450 of my hard earned cash and go pick it up. It's going to be awesome.
Jarrett and I went mountain biking today. It was a lot of fun. And f-ing hot. It must have been at least 100 degrees out there. I couldn't suck down water fast enough. I think I'm still a little dehydrated.
I think I'm getting over my fear of death and dismemberment on a mountain bike. While there are still drop-offs I don't think I'll ever be able to ride off of, I am getting braver and willing to take a few more plunges. And even the ones where I pull up short, I know that it's just a matter of getting a little more speed and leaning back a little further, and I'll be alright. I think I'll wait until after I buy a new helmet to try these though... I got my current one second hand, so it may have a history of which I'm unaware.
Courage is a bitch to build up...
-------------------------------
To a certain someone...
While you're not the reason I come to domino night, you are the reason I stay so long...
Jarrett and I went mountain biking today. It was a lot of fun. And f-ing hot. It must have been at least 100 degrees out there. I couldn't suck down water fast enough. I think I'm still a little dehydrated.
I think I'm getting over my fear of death and dismemberment on a mountain bike. While there are still drop-offs I don't think I'll ever be able to ride off of, I am getting braver and willing to take a few more plunges. And even the ones where I pull up short, I know that it's just a matter of getting a little more speed and leaning back a little further, and I'll be alright. I think I'll wait until after I buy a new helmet to try these though... I got my current one second hand, so it may have a history of which I'm unaware.
Courage is a bitch to build up...
-------------------------------
To a certain someone...
While you're not the reason I come to domino night, you are the reason I stay so long...
Thursday, July 20, 2006
A night at the alamo
I. Love. The. Alamo.
They did a Queen Sing-a-long tonight. It was glorious. They played Fat Bottomed Girls, Killer Queen, Bicycle, Don't Stop Me Now, and to finish it all off, Bohemian Rhapsody. It was so cool.
If I were gay, I would be ga-ga for Freddy Mercury. As it is, I think he's pretty awesome.
Anyway, at the Alamo, I sat next to another astro student, and she grilled me on the tryst I had last semester with a certain other astro grad student. Kinda made me realize that I'd been a bit of an asshole about the whole thing... I should probably call/email/talk to her about it. Hopefully we can still be amicable about the whole damn thing.
I'm watching the office right now. It's solid gold genius. Ricky Gervis is a comedy god.
They did a Queen Sing-a-long tonight. It was glorious. They played Fat Bottomed Girls, Killer Queen, Bicycle, Don't Stop Me Now, and to finish it all off, Bohemian Rhapsody. It was so cool.
If I were gay, I would be ga-ga for Freddy Mercury. As it is, I think he's pretty awesome.
Anyway, at the Alamo, I sat next to another astro student, and she grilled me on the tryst I had last semester with a certain other astro grad student. Kinda made me realize that I'd been a bit of an asshole about the whole thing... I should probably call/email/talk to her about it. Hopefully we can still be amicable about the whole damn thing.
I'm watching the office right now. It's solid gold genius. Ricky Gervis is a comedy god.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
the cat has come back... playtime's over
So Dan (my advisor) gets back in town tomorrow.
I've been working... but I'm not sure it's been enough.
I've made progress, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to be able to publish the paper when Dan wants me to.
I'm nervous...
In other news, my friend who's sleeping on my couch just got fired. Seems the eccentric rich dude didn't want to pay him what he thought he was worth... Man... I hope he's gonna be able to find a new job before he signs his mortgage.
I've been working... but I'm not sure it's been enough.
I've made progress, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to be able to publish the paper when Dan wants me to.
I'm nervous...
In other news, my friend who's sleeping on my couch just got fired. Seems the eccentric rich dude didn't want to pay him what he thought he was worth... Man... I hope he's gonna be able to find a new job before he signs his mortgage.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Found on the back of a cereal box
Q: Who would you call if you find Chicago, IL?
A: Baltimore, MD.
Think about it.
A: Baltimore, MD.
Think about it.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
We live in an awesome neck of the woods...
Wow... that's really all I can say.
Tonight, Rebecca (friend from work) and I got paid $250 each to drag a few telescopes up to Possum Kingdom lake and show some rich old farts a few cool objects in the night sky while some real-estate moguls wined and dined them into purchasing their second or third million dollar homes. I can't say that I'd buy from them, but I'd definitely like a ranch or a lakehouse out here, at least before it gets totally yuppi-fied. (prolly too late, I know).
Anyway, Rebecca talked about the astronomy department and McDonald Observatory, and I gave a short tour of the summer sky (i.e. constellations, visible planets, scale of the solar system/galaxy). I managed to work in a short plug for my old A&M days, and I got a few whoops and a few cat-calls from some red raiders. After it got dark enough, we pointed the scopes at the sky and showed them some cool things (Jupiter, Saturn, and Mars, basically). Let me tell you, drunk people are rather entertaining to try to explain astronomy to them. Well... for a while... then, after the 4th time you show them where the north star is, they just get annoying.
Anyway, they wrapped everything up by 10:30, so we had to clear out. As it had been a long time since both of us had seen a decent sky, we went back to the hotel, stocked up on some bugspray and some red flashlights, and headed out down highway 16, until we got tired of driving and pulled off the side of the road.
When we got out of the car, we both started laughing almost hysterically... I have NEVER EVER seen a sky so dark. The Milky Way just pops out and smacks you in the face. We set up the Dobsonian telescope and took out a few binoculars. Jupiter was so bright, it almost hurt your eyes to look through the scope at it. I could see globular clusters with my naked eye. I now know more constellations than I ever knew existed, and can cross at least 10-15 Messier Objects off my list.
The Milky Way is really something. It's not something I can put into words. It's more than beautiful, it's more than humbling. I've never seen the milky way as clearly as I did tonight. We could even see the dust lanes. I was simply dumbstruck. Just looking with binoculars, I could see all sorts of cool stuff in the sky, and we were able to find quite a few of them with the scope. By far the coolest time I've ever spent stargazing.
If you've never seen the milky way, GO! Go to a DARK location. Preferably 60-70 miles away from any sort of civilization. Go to Ft. Davis. Go to Possum Kingdom Lake. Go anywhere.
I've never been more excited to be an astronomer. You guys don't know what you're missing out on.
Tonight, Rebecca (friend from work) and I got paid $250 each to drag a few telescopes up to Possum Kingdom lake and show some rich old farts a few cool objects in the night sky while some real-estate moguls wined and dined them into purchasing their second or third million dollar homes. I can't say that I'd buy from them, but I'd definitely like a ranch or a lakehouse out here, at least before it gets totally yuppi-fied. (prolly too late, I know).
Anyway, Rebecca talked about the astronomy department and McDonald Observatory, and I gave a short tour of the summer sky (i.e. constellations, visible planets, scale of the solar system/galaxy). I managed to work in a short plug for my old A&M days, and I got a few whoops and a few cat-calls from some red raiders. After it got dark enough, we pointed the scopes at the sky and showed them some cool things (Jupiter, Saturn, and Mars, basically). Let me tell you, drunk people are rather entertaining to try to explain astronomy to them. Well... for a while... then, after the 4th time you show them where the north star is, they just get annoying.
Anyway, they wrapped everything up by 10:30, so we had to clear out. As it had been a long time since both of us had seen a decent sky, we went back to the hotel, stocked up on some bugspray and some red flashlights, and headed out down highway 16, until we got tired of driving and pulled off the side of the road.
When we got out of the car, we both started laughing almost hysterically... I have NEVER EVER seen a sky so dark. The Milky Way just pops out and smacks you in the face. We set up the Dobsonian telescope and took out a few binoculars. Jupiter was so bright, it almost hurt your eyes to look through the scope at it. I could see globular clusters with my naked eye. I now know more constellations than I ever knew existed, and can cross at least 10-15 Messier Objects off my list.
The Milky Way is really something. It's not something I can put into words. It's more than beautiful, it's more than humbling. I've never seen the milky way as clearly as I did tonight. We could even see the dust lanes. I was simply dumbstruck. Just looking with binoculars, I could see all sorts of cool stuff in the sky, and we were able to find quite a few of them with the scope. By far the coolest time I've ever spent stargazing.
If you've never seen the milky way, GO! Go to a DARK location. Preferably 60-70 miles away from any sort of civilization. Go to Ft. Davis. Go to Possum Kingdom Lake. Go anywhere.
I've never been more excited to be an astronomer. You guys don't know what you're missing out on.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Bike Thiefs Suck!
Yeah... So my bike got stolen last week. Through my own stupidity, really. I had my bike in the back of a friend's truck while we went to eat. When we finished, I hauled my bike out and headed home. The unfortunate thing was, somewhere between my apartment and his truck, I lost my bike lock. I returned to the parking lot and tried in vain to find it, but to no avail.
Anyway, I kept my bike inside for that night, and kept my bike in the library during the day. I kept this up for a day or so, until my friend Greg came to stay with me. He's sleeping on the couch, so I didn't want to crowd him, and I put the bike out on the rail, like I usually do. I even went through the farce of pretending to fumble with a lock and "lock" it to the rail.
This worked for a night. I was pretty busy the next day, so I didn't manage to make it to the bike store to buy a new one, and I was also holding out hope that my friend would find it in his truck.
I tried the farce for a second night, and it worked again. By the third night, I was pretty sure that I could get away with it again. However, I was indeed planning on buying a new lock. I even said to Greg as we walked past a bicycle store, "I need to buy a new lock." That very night, my bike was stolen from off my balcony...
I walked outside the next morning, and my heart sunk into my stomach. I've pseudo-lost my bike several times before, but that was just because I forgot where I parked it. There wasn't even a glimmer of hope that I might have parked it somewhere else.
So, I called the Po-po... I reported it as stolen. I guess I've got a shot, because my driver's license is engraved underneath the bottom bracket.
My guess right now is that a homeless guy took it. I've seen them joyriding on bikes which obviously weren't theirs before... Hopefully they dump it in a location the cops frequent.
Oh well... gives me an excuse to finally buy that road bike I've been wanting... it looks like there are some good deals on Craigslist.
Moral of the story: Inconvenience your friends or buy a damb lock.
Anyway, I kept my bike inside for that night, and kept my bike in the library during the day. I kept this up for a day or so, until my friend Greg came to stay with me. He's sleeping on the couch, so I didn't want to crowd him, and I put the bike out on the rail, like I usually do. I even went through the farce of pretending to fumble with a lock and "lock" it to the rail.
This worked for a night. I was pretty busy the next day, so I didn't manage to make it to the bike store to buy a new one, and I was also holding out hope that my friend would find it in his truck.
I tried the farce for a second night, and it worked again. By the third night, I was pretty sure that I could get away with it again. However, I was indeed planning on buying a new lock. I even said to Greg as we walked past a bicycle store, "I need to buy a new lock." That very night, my bike was stolen from off my balcony...
I walked outside the next morning, and my heart sunk into my stomach. I've pseudo-lost my bike several times before, but that was just because I forgot where I parked it. There wasn't even a glimmer of hope that I might have parked it somewhere else.
So, I called the Po-po... I reported it as stolen. I guess I've got a shot, because my driver's license is engraved underneath the bottom bracket.
My guess right now is that a homeless guy took it. I've seen them joyriding on bikes which obviously weren't theirs before... Hopefully they dump it in a location the cops frequent.
Oh well... gives me an excuse to finally buy that road bike I've been wanting... it looks like there are some good deals on Craigslist.
Moral of the story: Inconvenience your friends or buy a damb lock.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Damn Government....
Well, it seems that the legislature has gotten a taste of their own medicine, and it doesn't look like they like it.
Bear in mind that I am an Astronomy grad student, so anything contained in this blog is pure speculation.
Anyway, it seems to me that the FBI's actions could VERY WELL fall under the jurisdiction of the Patriot Act. (Jill, other people of the legal persuasian, could you comment on this?) The senator (Jefferson, I think is his name) had been caught in a bribery scheme to bribe some Nigerian government official. Nigeria is in Africa, which is kinda close to the middle east (a lot closer than we are, anyway), which is a hot-bed of terrorism, right? So, couldn't the FBI claim that they were acting to protect our government from a terrorist threat?
I know, it's a bit of a stretch, but not an extreme one. The lawmakers are all up-in-arms about this "breach of the Constitution" when they have repeatedly used this hallowed document to wipe the mud from their boots after mucking around with our Civil Rights.
I agree, they should be upset at this over-stepping of constitutional powers, but I am really finding it hard to feel pity for them. After all, they basically gave the FBI a carte blanche.
Silly people...
Bear in mind that I am an Astronomy grad student, so anything contained in this blog is pure speculation.
Anyway, it seems to me that the FBI's actions could VERY WELL fall under the jurisdiction of the Patriot Act. (Jill, other people of the legal persuasian, could you comment on this?) The senator (Jefferson, I think is his name) had been caught in a bribery scheme to bribe some Nigerian government official. Nigeria is in Africa, which is kinda close to the middle east (a lot closer than we are, anyway), which is a hot-bed of terrorism, right? So, couldn't the FBI claim that they were acting to protect our government from a terrorist threat?
I know, it's a bit of a stretch, but not an extreme one. The lawmakers are all up-in-arms about this "breach of the Constitution" when they have repeatedly used this hallowed document to wipe the mud from their boots after mucking around with our Civil Rights.
I agree, they should be upset at this over-stepping of constitutional powers, but I am really finding it hard to feel pity for them. After all, they basically gave the FBI a carte blanche.
Silly people...
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Legalize Drugs
I just got finished watching an episode of Penn and Teller's show "Bullshit!". This particular episode was on the "War on Drugs". I have to say, they made some convincing arguments. There are a hell of a lot of similarities between the war on drugs and prohibition. And, from what little I know about prohibition, it seems like it was a phenomonally stupid idea. The more I think about it, the more the libertarian inside me comes to the surface.
Their section on medicinal marijuana was very good. Did you know that the Federal Government actually provides 7 (count them, 7) people with pot cigarettes? They're the vestiges of a medicinal marijuana program they started way back when. They actually showed a shot of one of the guys lighting up a joint right in front of the capital building. I grinned.
Legalizing drugs seems like it would alieviate a lot of society's problems. You'd immediately kill the black market, and a great deal of the criminal underworld would suddenly be out of a job. I suppose there'd be a little re-adjustment process, and probably the economies of a few latin american nations would suffer a bit, but I think that's a far cry better than all the people currently dying in drug gang turf-wars. The border patrol probably wouldn't have to pack heat while patroling anymore, since no more heavily armed drug traffickers will have to cross illegally.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not advocating putting crack vending machines in elementary schools. The money that now funds the DEA could instead be spent on educating people about the dangers of all the various drugs and rehab clinics.
Yeah, I know some people would OD and die, but doesn't that already happen with alcohol? And what about tobacco? At least if they're legal, we can regulate them.
Right now, I'm not exactly positive if I completely support legalizing drugs across the board, but I'm pretty positive I support legalizing marijuana. I've never smoked it, but from what I can tell, the side-effects are no worse than alcohol. Plus, I don't think there's a pot equivalent to alcohol poisoning.
Their section on medicinal marijuana was very good. Did you know that the Federal Government actually provides 7 (count them, 7) people with pot cigarettes? They're the vestiges of a medicinal marijuana program they started way back when. They actually showed a shot of one of the guys lighting up a joint right in front of the capital building. I grinned.
Legalizing drugs seems like it would alieviate a lot of society's problems. You'd immediately kill the black market, and a great deal of the criminal underworld would suddenly be out of a job. I suppose there'd be a little re-adjustment process, and probably the economies of a few latin american nations would suffer a bit, but I think that's a far cry better than all the people currently dying in drug gang turf-wars. The border patrol probably wouldn't have to pack heat while patroling anymore, since no more heavily armed drug traffickers will have to cross illegally.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not advocating putting crack vending machines in elementary schools. The money that now funds the DEA could instead be spent on educating people about the dangers of all the various drugs and rehab clinics.
Yeah, I know some people would OD and die, but doesn't that already happen with alcohol? And what about tobacco? At least if they're legal, we can regulate them.
Right now, I'm not exactly positive if I completely support legalizing drugs across the board, but I'm pretty positive I support legalizing marijuana. I've never smoked it, but from what I can tell, the side-effects are no worse than alcohol. Plus, I don't think there's a pot equivalent to alcohol poisoning.
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