Random Fate

More small tragedies

This will likely be the last "personal" post I put up on Random Fate, since I'm changing directions for this weblog, but I needed to write one final commentary on the human condition here.

When I was in high school, I was in a class called "Creative Writing" that was restricted to those students who had been classified as "gifted". They gave the same test to the students who were believed to be "gifted" as to those who were suspected of being "retarded" (to use the terminology of those pre-PC days of 27 years ago).

I took the test, which involved both putting pegs into the appropriate holes (I briefly considered trying to squeeze a square peg into a round hole, but since the person giving the test seemed to have no sense of humor, even at 10 years old I was wise enough to decide better of it) along with being given a set of drawings on cards that I was supposed to arrange into a story.

To this day, I do not know if I got those drawings in the "right" order for a coherent story; my memory is very fuzzy regarding the details. I must have, because I was put in the "gifted and talented" classes, such as they were in Mississippi in the 1970s. Even then the state barely funded education, much less any programs that went outside the norm, gifted or behind the norm.

I actually had to ask to be given the tests to determine if I was "gifted". Somehow, I had not been noticed, and I complained to my parents when I was put in a class that I was completely bored in while some of the classmates I was good friends with had been put in the "gifted" class.

After I took the tests, it was surprising how many apologies were offered to my parents. Apparently, I had scored very well on all the standardized tests up until then, but no one had noticed.

My parents told me that I had been determined to have an IQ of 165.

The IQ tests of the time were designed to have a "normal" of 100.

Yet no one had noticed.

I'm still trying to determine if my parents did me a favor or not in telling me the whole truth at the time.

How does a child of 10 handle this kind of information, both about himself, and about the teachers who are supposed to be his guides yet who failed to notice such an obvious deviation that was in the realm of their responsibility to address?

I had a difficult time with it.

Even now, I try to cope with the consequences of both the knowledge of an imperfect measurement, and with the difficulties I have in communicating with people in general.

Occasionally, I meet others with whom I share some smaller or larger part of my history, and I continually wonder "what if?"

What if I had met them at a different time?

What if I had met them in different circumstances?

As with all "what if?" questions, however, there is no real answer.

One might as well ask, "What if the world were a different place?"

It the world were a different place, things would be different, would they not?

No demonstration needed, this is a tautology.

Somehow, we all rebel against the world and still cry, "Why? Why is it this way?"

There is no answer; the universe only offers silence in reply.

This is yet another small tragedy that rings large in our individual lives, but is insignificant in comparison to the blood and death that still exists on a large scale, even in these "enlightened" times.

Plus la change, plus le meme chose.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Technorati Tags: personal

Small tragedies

Sometimes, I wish I could write music and lyrics to express what I feel.

And sometimes, one of my favorite artists does it for me:

Father, Son by Peter Gabriel

Damn, I miss my Dad sometimes, even though he's still alive, he's thousands of miles away, and I often wish we could really say to each other what we feel deep inside, where we hide it as if it were shameful.

Damn it, I hate it when a song makes me cry...

We all have these small tragedies in our lives, and it is up to us and no one else, not even God, to turn them into victories.

Tell those whom you love how you feel, and gain that victory while you still can.

Technorati Tags: personal

After the precedent...

...established by Eric, here is my commentary on the start of this week.

Technorati Tags: personal

The curse of memory

Sarah the Penguin has started another weblog, and in her second post she has reminded me of an image from 14 years ago that still haunts me.

It was a photo of a soldier in a helicopter, crying, because he has learned of the death of one of his buddies in the 1991 Gulf War.

Fourteen years, and I cannot forget that image of sadness and loss.

We should not forget those deaths that come across as mere statistics in the evening news, "Another 5 die in Iraq".

Each and every one of these lives cut short have those who mourn for them, those who cry for them.

We can not forget.

Technorati Tags: personal

Implosion in blogworld

I may need to be revising the blogroll soon, because in the space of 24 hours, several bloggers have announced intentions or possibilities of going dark.

This, along with some other recent events in blogworld bring questions to my mind:

Some days, I ask myself, do I take this weblog thing too seriously, or not seriously enough?

Some days, I ask myself, does blogworld as a whole need a collective valium IV?

Some days, I ask myself, is anything in this chaotic anarchic imbroglio worth the energy expended?

Some days, I ask myself, what the fuck is the point?

Most days, I have no answers.

But...

I'm stubborn, and I'm not giving up, not yet, even though the level of idiocy seems to be reaching new depths.

I'll be the one on Doomsday to stand up and say to God, "Excuse me, but if You are merciful, why do You kill kittens?"

I may go to Hell, but at least I asked the question.

Technorati Tags: personal, weblogs

Where I come from

My father and his grandfather, whom I never met:

I saw that old carriage in a collapsed barn on the farm that my father's grandfather built.

The decay of that old farm struck a chord in me as a child that I have never forgotten.

Technorati Tags: personal

Well, there it is...

From the comments to my post "Forests and trees":

Couched in these terms I find very little about which to argue; however, while I concede there is a component in war time actions to strike terror and fear into the hearts of our enemies, it is but one small part of a much larger whole. After all, it is WAR.

I respectfully submit characterizing our war time actions as a whole as "terrorism" is painting with a very wide brush.

Nowhere in my post did I ever, directly or indirectly, characterize the actions of the US or the Allies as a whole as "terrorism".

So, now I am forced to ask, what the fuck is the point? I should stop what is obviously a waste of my time in writing of these matters, because this comment came from someone whom I know is intelligent and is willing to at least concede that they do not have all the answers.

Yet, a conclusion regarding something that was not there was jumped to none the less.

Everyone is so trapped in their own viewpoint that they read things that are not present in any arguments that do not support their preconceived answers to questions.

There is still a self-congratulatory theme running through many blogs about how they will change the world by circumventing the old media and providing a way for true cross-communication, even though bloggers have shown themselves to have the same feet of clay as their nemeses in the hated MainStream Media.

Blogging has not changed my world.

It has merely confirmed to me how the human race deserves exactly what it has: a self-created Hell filled with fear and violence and blood and death arising from no good cause but instead rooted in an absolute refusal to see a world in more than us versus them terms.

A refusal to do the hard work needed to think, instead choosing to follow the easy path of reacting.

We have brains that we use just enough to create better ways to kill more at once, but we don't use to find solutions to conflicts that stretch back centuries.

We have the world we deserve, because we are the ones who create it, every day, with every choice, with every opportunity to think avoided and refused.

Am I a misanthrope? No, for if I were, I would not feel this combination of rage and sadness.

Someone very insightful, intelligent, and of a poetic bent once wrote to me in an email:

subject: saw the worst thing yesterday...

there was a struck deer in the roadway... he was rocking back and forth and trying to get up.

unfortunately, his back was broken.

futility.

Well, there it is...

Technorati Tags: personal, weblogs

...on using Newtonian Physics in an Einsteinian universe

Back when I was in high school and college, there was a BBC series that was rebroadcast on PBS called "Connections", and as has become the custom with most shows on public broadcasting in the US now, it had an accompanying book, Connections, nominally, and in this case likely, written by the presenter of the series, James Burke.

This series (and book) showed how seemingly disparate discoveries in science and technology were connected together, hence the title.

For example, did you know that restrictions on the ivory trade created a connection between billiard balls and the development of the atomic bomb?

The series and the book were filled with odd but relevant threads that run through the history of science and technology.

There were two subsequent series named (inevitably, sometimes with the numbers as superscripts to imply "squared" and "cubed"...) "Connections 2" and "Connections 3", along with yet another series that focused on connections between events that were a bit more momentous, called The Day the Universe Changed.

It was the first series and book (both sadly very hard to find now) that had the most profound effect upon the development of my thought.

Other things I have learned have also had significant effects on the patterns of my thinking.

For example, the thought-experiments, the gedankenexperiments of Einstein or Schrodinger that ultimately revealed the limitations of Newtonian Physics when it came to the realm of extremes, where in acceleration or size, and resulted in the formulation of the theories of Relativity (both Special and General Relativity) and Quantum Mechanics (with all of its permutations).

In other words, Newtonian Physics was sufficient to explain the vast majority of everyday phenomena, but the universe changed (or our perception of the universe changed) once the failure of Newtonian Physics was revealed in the extremes.

Our perceptions went from a clockwork system of Newtonian Physics to the relativities of an Einsteinian universe and the probabilities and uncertainties of Quantum Physics.

That change in perception created an upheaval that had not been seen before in the argumentative but ultimately sedate realm of science, and that kind of shock has not happened since.

Einstein provided many different insights into Physics, not just the Theory of Relativity. He also provided insights that helped lead to the development of Quantum Theory. The class that had the largest effect on my mode of thinking when I was in graduate school was in Statistical Mechanics, which provides a Quantum Mechanics foundation to Classical Thermodynamics, which is a field that causes most engineers to groan and proclaim, "I hated that class!!!"

Learning the quantum statistics that underlie the classical conceptions forced me to look for the hidden foundations behind the conventionally accepted "realities", and my world has never been the same.

A "quantum leap" in physics is a very small change in energy states, but in common parlance it has become slang for a huge change in fundamental beliefs and principles, in no small part because of the foundational shift in thinking required to change from Newtonian to Quantum realities that Physicists were forced to undergo at the beginning of the Twentieth Century.

We are in sore need of a "quantum leap" now.

Simple, linear thinking was fine for a bipolar Cold War world, but in our brave New World Order which is far more disorderly than those who boldly proclaimed an end to history imagined, linearity and bipolarity are both luxuries we can ill afford.

Our old model to understand the world and its threats is completely inadequate. The world has changed, yet we are like the Physicists at the turn of the Twentieth Century, still using Newtonian Physics to try to understand and make predictions in the complexities of an Einsteinian universe.

Classical Physics worked for many years, for centuries, and in many situations still provides results that are useful on a practical scale. When the situation changes because of scale of either relative velocity or size, or both, the Newtonian models break down and yield results that are completely wrong.

Simple, linear thinking worked for many years, for centuries, and in many situations still provides results that are useful on a practical scale. When the situation changes because of the scale of either relative populations or cultural collisions, or both, the linear models break down and yield results that are completely wrong.

Linear thinking in a complex, multifaceted, nonlinear world is simple-minded at best, and can lead to catastrophe.

Yet, most thinking on both the left and right in America is still linear, us-versus-them, whether "them" consists of the political opposition or "the terrorists", whatever that nebulous term really means.

For in the end, what does "terrorism" mean? In these days when we are about to commemorate the 60th anniversary of the first use of an atomic weapon in warfare, and where we recently commemorated the 60th anniversary of the liberation of the death camps created in Europe by the fascist regimes led by Nazi Germany the question has not been fully answered, and not the least because of the tactics used by the victors of six decades past.

Germany set up a deliberate mass-murder holocaust directed against a group because of their religion, and Japan practiced genocidal warfare on a scale still not fully recognized in the West. Both Germany and Japan were defeated by the United States and allies using tactics that today would be called "terrorist" by the bombing of cities in nominal aims of disrupting production of vital war materiel in campaigns that by even the standards of the day were indiscriminate. The fires of Dresden and Tokyo stand in accusation of the terrorist aspect of the assaults.

These tactics are defended as what was necessary to defeat evil.

In these days of the Global War on Terror, who has the privilege of defining what is "evil" so that terrorist tactics can be used to defeat it?

If "evil" is that which seeks to destroy your culture and way of life, then can we truly call the Islamofascists "evil" when in their eyes the West, led by the United States, is destroying what they believe to be the basis of Islamic culture and way of life, and they use terrorist tactics to defeat what they perceive as "evil"?

"Evil" and "good", the two sides of the edgeless coin of bipolar thinking.

One side or the other, impossible for the coin to land on a nonexistent edge that might bridge between the two sides.

Bipolar.

Simple.

Clean.

Easy.

The simple, bipolar-linear thinking of those who cry, "All Islam is evil" and "Kill the terrorists" and "If you're not 100% in agreement with me, you're against me!" leads to the kind of contradiction where a simple change of viewpoint makes what was once "good" become "evil", where the only difference between the Islamofascists and "us" is what and whom we choose to protect, and not how we define "evil" if "evil" is "that which is trying to destroy our culture and way of life".

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
   -William Shakespeare, "Hamlet", Act 1 scene 5

At small scales or high relative velocities, Newtonian Physics breaks down, and if actions are taken based upon the predictions of Newtonian Physics, disaster can follow. Even in the (comparatively) simple Physics involved with space shuttle and satellite operations, NASA takes Einsteinian factors into account.

Should we do any less when determining strategy for the survival and success of our nation?

What are the fundamentals?

What are the forces that underly the effects we see?

How can we blunt those forces and redirect them to paths that do not result in more enemies for us?

Do not merely label the opposition "evil".

To fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting.
   -Sun-Tzu

While "torture them until they spill all" may be satisfying on a visceral level, does it really move us towards our real goals?

The best vengeance is living well.

We cannot live well if we create as many enemies as we kill or imprison.

What are the fundamentals?

What are the forces that underly the effects we see?

How can we blunt those forces and redirect them to paths that do not result in more enemies for us?

Even with a full toolbox to support him, for a simple-minded man holding a hammer every problem is a nail, and the results are disastrous, predictably so for those who see the toolbox, but sadly not for the simple-minded man who only sees the hammer in his hand.

We must stop using Newtonian Physics in our Einsteinian universe.

Yes, the math is harder now, but are our goals not worth the effort of thought necessary?

---

UPDATE: I have posted a follow-up to clarify some points entitled "Forest and trees".

Technorati Tags: patterns in the white noise, personal, some thoughts

Inconsequential imbroglios

UPDATE: For all you knee-jerkers, there is a background to this post for which you have no knowledge, a history that has little to do with me and much to do with the blogger that I discuss and his pointless and needless insults to several women. Those who do know have already expressed their support for what I wrote here, and any opinions you feel the need to express here about how "thin skinned" I am are merely revealing the depth of your ignorance along with your poor character in judging me without knowing the facts of the matter.

---

One of my previous posts, when commented upon by another in an attempt to add levity to an overly-political blogworld, prompted an asinine response by one of the "bigger" bloggers.

This person is someone who is does not have the courage to either:

- comment to the post itself

- link to the post in question to dispute my statement and conclusions (with a trackback so I am aware of his commentary)

- email me to tell me of his dispute if he does not want to "give the traffic" to my weblog

In other words, this person does not have the courage to actually dispute me directly.

To state it plainly, he is a coward, as is evidenced by his relentless attacks on women (yes, I am Southern raised, and I view anyone who attacks women in the way this person does as both unmanly and cowardly).

I am not linking to the weblog of the person in question for two reasons:

(1) he has all the traffic he needs, those who need to know, already know, and

(2) he is nothing more than an oxygen-thief from the rest of the living world, someone who needs no more attention than he already has.

So...

Why am I now bothering to waste glucose and oxygen molecules to even peripherally comment upon this inconsequential imbroglio stirred up by this person who is a waste of skin?

I am writing because I've received an unprecedented number of emails in support of what I wrote, or at the least in opposition to the distortion of what I wrote, and in opposition to the ignorance of the screeds the particular "big" blogger likes to write, especially if they have a misogynist element added, and in responding to these messages I have not been able to write the posts I had planned to put up this evening.

Pissing matches are pointless, and that is what more than 90% of what any cross-commentary in blogworld boils down to.

If you agree with me, de-link and ignore this person and any others who spew piss and vinegar instead of actually discussing issues and being willing to admit they do NOT have all the answers.

I have found only a very few on the left, right, or between the two extremes of the political spectrum who are willing to discuss instead of simply name-call from the first post in disagreement with someone, and this is why I have little hope in blogging changing the political landscape, just as I have little hope in the majority of humanity.

If I am proven wrong, I will be happier than anyone else, including those who prove me wrong as they wreak that change in the world.

In the short term, I merely hope this dies down so I can return to writing about things that aren't the waste of time that this particular feeble-minded person prompts in far too many who are worth and worthy of so much more.

Technorati Tags: personal, weblogs

Dead again

The iPod that is, dead again.

Argh!

I've identified the source of the issue, I think.

Regardless, I now have another dead iPod.

I'm the six-sigma anomaly for the iPod, it wouldn't sell so well if there were more folks who had this many problems.

Oh, well...

Technorati Tags: personal, technology

Plans and obsessions

I had hoped to write a post on complexity this evening, but I got occupied with other things, not the least of which was trying to get my resurrected iPod functional again.

In previous versions of iTunes, I could duplicate the files between my PCs and my Mac, and there was no issue. Now, with the latest version, the music library of the PC is not recognized by the Mac. In other words, simply mirroring the directories and files doesn't keep the iTunes library identical on the two platforms any more.

So, I've been spending a lot of time this evening trying to puzzle out how to make it work.

I don't have enough time to write about complexity tonight, not if I want to sleep!

Technorati Tags: personal

I missed a meme...

...where I was tagged by Boudicca with "The Bedside Table Meme". I don't know if she will be disappointed or not, because I don't find what I have on my nightstand nearly as interesting as what she has.

Here's the list:

1 glass of Port wine I'm drinking before I go to bed

1 halogen desk lamp I'm using as a reading lamp (I read a lot in bed)

1 indoor-outdoor wireless thermometer with hydrometer and clock that I use as my alarm clock (and it tells me how damned uncomfortable I'm going to be when I go outside...)

1 pair of sunglasses

my watch

my wallet

car key

the token that generates the 6 digit code I have to use to get a VPN connection with my work

coins adding up to approximately 2 euros and 60-some odd centiemes (aka "cents"), much of which is in these damned two-centieme coins that I can't get rid of. They are worse than pennies, it's like having a two-cent piece in US currency. It's completely idiotic to have a two-centieme piece.

Ummm, excuse me...

OK, I feel better now. Back to the list.

my apartment keys

6 books:

Orcs - The Omnibus Edition, by Stan Nicholls (apparently only available in the UK, the first book is Bodyguard of Lightning)

Breakfast at Tiffany's/Petit déjeuner chez Tiffany by Truman Capote (a bilingual edition with the left page in French, the right the same passage in English, sold here to help folks learn English, needless to say, I'm using it to learn French)

The Catholic Church : A Short History (Modern Library Chronicles), by Hans Kung

Slapped Together: The Dilbert Business Anthology, by Scott Adams

Beyond Fear - Thinking sensibly about security in an uncertain world, by Bruce Schneier

Christianity and Paganism in the Fourth to Eighth Centuries, by Ramsay MacMullen

I did say I read a lot...

Technorati Tags: memes, personal, weblogs

An odd feeling

While at work researching patents possibly related to a new idea I have that just might be patentable, I ran across a patent of mine that I had forgotten.

I was tracking down the patents referred to a in recently issued patent that was tangentially related to my new idea; unfortunately I have to be that thorough about these things. So, I looked at the full text and diagrams of the referred patents, making sure that my new idea wasn't already covered. There was one patent that stood out in a way that I couldn't quite place, so I payed particlar attention to it.

I didn't recognize it from the title or the abstract, but when the first diagram appeared on the web browser I went back to look at the inventors.

There was my name as first inventor, no less.

Then I couldn't resist the vanity search, and I discovered the company I worked for 13 years ago had been busy little bees after I had left and had obtained four patents in Japan that I had no idea existed (completely legitimate according to my contract).

I also had several patents issued by the European Union and recognized by the WTO from my current employer that I was also unaware of until today.

This all prompted some rather odd and uneasy feelings, knowing there are things out there with my name attached as "inventor" that I did not know existed.

Not completely coincidentally, there is a lot of uneasiness about the current system of patenting inventions in the United States.

Technorati Tags: personal, science, technology

One more post on "Scotty"...

From The Joy of Tech, a tribute I had to be sure to preserve:

Technorati Tags: general, personal

Yet another vanishing symbol...

...this one courtesy of Ann Althouse.

Barber poles...

Barber shops, as in men-only, not "hair stylists".

Memories of drug stores with real snack bars...

...and unfortunately, other, more unpleasant legacies of my childhood in the South, such as the "Whites Only" signs...

...legacies and heritage, some pleasant, some repulsive, some fondly remembered, some forgotten in a shame that is not recognized nor acknowledged.

All vanishing.

Time marches on, as it always has, and nostalgia triumphs over the shame, and the dark legacies forgotten in the comfortable, sentimental, and yet somehow lonely tinting of our past.

The South, where the air can be as thick as molasses even today, and the dust can hang as a shroud over events both commonplace and tragic.

A region where the word "gothic" has true meaning in the New World (see definition 5 of the adjective or definition 4 of the noun), despite the weight of age that the word carries.

Perhaps some things will never change.

Technorati Tags: personal

Not much in the way of posts this evening for me...

...because I'm actually reading a book (gasp!!!).

A finite number of hours in a day, a finite number of heartbeats in our lives.

Priorities, we all have them, even if we don't bother to recognize them.

What are the priorities you show your loved ones?

Are they the priorities you truly have towards them?

If not, why?

Later is irrelevant.

NOW is important.

Technorati Tags: personal

Old hopes that wither in the harsh light of the now

Through one of the myriad unexpected, odd paths that the Internet now enhances, late last night I ended up contemplating the move and book 2001: A Space Odyssey, in no small part due to the anniversary of the 1969 Moon landing, but also stirred by other now forgotten promptings.

We were once filled with high aspirations and dreams for the future, not just of technology but also of exploration and a peace that arose from a realization that our simple human differences were nothing in the face of the universe of infinity to contemplate and explore.

Now we are reduced to a desperate hope than our loved ones are not burned in a nuclear fire or biological meltdown perpetrated by enemies of civilization.

The melancholy musings prompted by the thoughts on a lost future of exploration with hopes unfulfilled prompted my post "Inspiration Lost" along with many other dark thoughts in the hours where it is better to be sleeping than thinking.

Today, it is yet another repetition of the refrain "same partisan shit, different day."

Today, it is yet another holding action instead of an advancement of humanity.

Today, it is yet another individual tragedy revealed, an action that although on a small scale, affecting only a few, is a tragedy nonetheless.

There are countless so-called small tragedies that occur each day, yet each is devastating to those affected, taking a little more of that commodity that is far too rare to start, joy.

There are some days that I cannot ignore the sad outcomes, the heartbreaking narratives encompassing far too much of our all too short lives, the grievous losses that are all the more lamentable because they are not inevitable but instead a product of our flawed human nature.

On those days, only the reaction of the Southern boy inside of me is adequate, despite my repeated attempts to permanently silence that part of my personality that arose from my origins and has little merit beyond its recognition of the tragedy of humanity that is so well-expressed in the Southern Gothic tradition.

Some days, all that can be said is "Well, fuck..."

The universe is indifferent to our pleas.

The universe operates on the unpitying laws of thermodynamics, best expressed in layman's terms as:

You cannot win

You cannot break even

You cannot even get out of the game

All of which continue to push us down the path to disaster while we are distracted by shadow-boxing with fanatics, while we are playing every event for political gain at the expense of what is good for the nation , while we are manipulating the data to conform with decisions already made regardless of the reality and ignoring other truly existential threats at our peril.

Never has my teenage-arrogance-originated phrase "mental masturbation" been more apropos...

And never has the danger of this navel-gazing distraction been greater.

We are presented with tragedies on both large-scale and small, we are confronted with evil both widespread and deep, originating not the least in our realpolitik of our recently exited bipolar age where the morals and ethics were discarded in favor of "our side" versus "theirs", with results of our conditional morality completely missed by our government.

We are left stranded after a transformation into a New World Order that is not a time of peace but instead of unipolar instability enhanced and increased by our moral failings today.

And when that confrontation shows itself in all its horrifying strength we retreat into our world of "reality TV" and empathy for the tragedy of the individual while ignoring the resonance inherent in the far larger tragedies of each death-dealing day, and even with that willful ignorance the tragedy of the individual becomes overwhelming.

Some days, all that can be said is that whispered by my despised internal Southern boy, "Well, fuck..."

Some days, those high aspirations for the future seem not only a chimera, but a naive fantasy that should never have been taken seriously.

I mourn for those old hopes that continue to wither in the harsh light of the now, smothered aspirations that are ultimately destroyed by the desperate wishes for a non-lethal today, hopes destroyed by a melancholy darkening of whatever inspiration might still try to thrive.

Well, fuck...

Technorati Tags: commentary, opinion, personal

Inspiration lost

Thirty-six years ago, I stood mesmerized by the blurry, interrupted images on the television.

I was four years old, and I was inspired.

I didn't fully comprehend the magnitude of the achievement, but I was excited none the less.

That inspiration lit my heart for years, and that inspiration broke my heart when the Challenger exploded in the Florida sky.

Thirty-six years ago, I stood mesmerized by the blurry, interrupted images on television.

That remains one of my earliest memories, and one of my most treasured.

What memories do we create now?

What do we do to create our desired future, rather than to avoid some catastrophe?

What do we do to inspire?

Paradise was lost long ago, like childhood and innocence never to be regained.

Inspiration can be created anew, but only if we have the courage to do so.

Technorati Tags: history, personal

James Doohan is dead

For the non-geeks out there (if any non-geeks read this...), James Doohan played "Scotty" in the original Star Trek series. In real life, Doohan was a genuine World War II hero. From CNN.com:

James Montgomery Doohan was born March 3, 1920, in Vancouver, British Columbia, youngest of four children of William Doohan, a pharmacist, veterinarian and dentist, and his wife Sarah. As he wrote in his autobiography, "Beam Me Up, Scotty," his father was a drunk who made life miserable for his wife and children.

At 19, James escaped the turmoil at home by joining the Canadian army, becoming a lieutenant in artillery. He was among the Canadian forces that landed on Juno Beach on D-Day. "The sea was rough," he recalled. "We were more afraid of drowning than the Germans."

The Canadians crossed a minefield laid for tanks; the soldiers weren't heavy enough to detonate the bombs. At 11:30 that night, he was machine-gunned, taking six hits: one that took off his middle right finger (he managed to hide the missing finger on screen), four in his leg and one in the chest. The chest bullet was stopped by his silver cigarette case.

A life to be proud of, even before he was 30.

His portrayal of Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott in Star Trek in no small part inspired me to work in the sciences; I suspect it worked a bit of magic on many others as well.

Despite being typecast after Star Trek, Doohan's attitude stayed positive throughout, providing him with a fine epitaph:

In a 1998 interview, Doohan was asked if he ever got tired of hearing the line "Beam me up, Scotty."

"I'm not tired of it at all," he replied. "Good gracious, it's been said to me for just about 31 years. It's been said to me at 70 miles an hour across four lanes on the freeway. I hear it from just about everybody. It's been fun."

Another lesson to learn from him, to be able to say, "It's been fun."

It is difficult to explain what a huge effect the original Star Trek series has had on my life. I doubt I would have accomplished much of what I have achieved in my career without the dream presented by that show, and much of the good in my life would never have come to pass. Another piece of my childhood has slipped away, as is inevitable for us all.

Tonight, I will raise a glass of my favorite single malt Scotch in tribute to this fine man.

Much sadness...

Technorati Tags: personal

We are experiencing technical difficulties

The Mac died again.

This time, it IS the hard drive, because the "SMART" status came up with the "He's dead, Jim" notice, along with helpful advice to back up my files immediately if the drive is still working "somewhat".

It ain't working at all.

I'm a wee bit frustrated over this.

Tell them

Contrarian I am, as John of Argghhh! likes to point out, I have no desire put up yet another Father's Day post.

I am the product of both of my parents, and I love them both. I call them every week and talk with them to tell them so.

I am who I am because of them, and I am happy with who I am. I thank them both for it, directly when I speak with them, because I believe it is important to say these things.

One of the best things for me to hear is when someone I love, such as my parents, tell me they are proud of me. Fortunately, my mother never hesitates to tell me how proud they both are of me, and always tells me when my father tells her how much he thinks of me. My father rarely says this to me directly because it is not in his nature, nor was that kind of openness a part of his generation, nor the generation before.

So my message is this:

No matter who the others are in your life that you care about, tell them how much you love them and the good things you think of them.

If your parents are still alive, tell them how much you appreciate all they taught you.

If you are a parent, tell them, your children, how proud you are of them.

If you have a significant other, tell them what it is about them that you love.

No matter who it is, tell them you love them, and tell them what makes them special, and what makes you proud to know them.

Tell them.

Don't wait for a special day, don't wait for tomorrow, don't wait for the supposed "right time", you never know when you may no longer be able to tell them.

So tell them, now, and every chance you get.

Tell them.

Otherwise, they may never truly know.

Technorati Tags: personal

For me, for now

Despite the certainty that next week will consist of major idiocies on the work front that will frustrate me to no end, I'm having a good day.

The sun is shining here in Grenoble.

There is a band playing what sounds to be Mexican music in the park next to my apartment.

In one week I go on a two week long vacation.

I've been invited to a party tonight to celebrate the 40th birthday of one of the people in my French class.

And, best of all, I am now the proud owner of a pound of cheddar cheese! (Europeans outside of England apparently do not consider cheddar real cheese, they barely consider it even edible, so it is extremely difficult for me to find any in the stores here in France, I bought my last batch in Prague).

So for me, for now, life is good.

Those of who know me in person probably need to close the mouths that I'm sure are gaping in astonishment, because I know that none of them have ever heard me say that.

No more posts for a while, I'm going outside to enjoy the day. I might hook up a microphone to my Mac and record the band and take a photo to give you a flavor of the day.

Or maybe not.

Either way, time to go outside.

Technorati Tags: personal

A question that I would like to see answered honestly

While I am working on my post "Weaving it all together", I see that I have been misunderstood and misinterpreted to the point where I need to make an interim clarification (I'm sure I'll have to make a clarification again after I state what I believe unequivocally in a manner I will mistakenly think is coherently expressed and understandable by those willing to think instead of react) regarding my views upon Guantanamo.

I am not going to try to define "torture" here.

I will merely ask this question:

What would be your reaction if you heard of this "stress treatment" being applied to members of the US Armed Forces or any American being held prisoner by anyone?

Be careful how you answer my question. What would YOUR reaction be if you heard of an American prisoner being treated in this manner?

What would you write in your weblog?

Be honest, for the only one who will know you if you are lying is yourself, the harshest critic, the most unforgiving judge, the one who will condemn you to restless nights and uneasy days.

Then wonder, based upon your reaction of if the recipient of this benignly-labeled "stress treatment" was an American, soldier or civilian, reason out for yourself whether this treatment of any enemy is the act of a nation of honor.

If you are capable of holding more than one point of view in your mind without going into mental gridlock, then perhaps, just perhaps, you might be able to escape a partisan point of view and understand a larger world.

If that sounds condescending, then you have gotten my point, a gold star for you. I will no longer write pablum suitable for the lowest common denominator.

Use your mind, not your gut...

Technorati Tags: commentary, personal

Setting standards, and staying faithful to them

From the Dartmouth 2005 Spring Commencement address by Tom Brokaw:

I am humbled by the sacrifices that so many of you have made to help you to this promising place in your lives. Your family, your teachers, and some that you may not have considered, especially on a sunlit morning here in Hanover in early June. As we gather here today there are young men and women your age in uniform, in far-off places, in harm's way, dedicating their lives to your security and you must remember them on this occasion as well.

I am envious of what you will carry from here - more than the degree or honors, what you will come to treasure are the friendships and the fellowship, some of which will accompany you all the rest of your days. I envy you as well, of course, the thrill of exploring frontiers of knowledge while rediscovering and re-examining ancient truths.

Most of all, I envy you the road ahead on the 21st century, with its transformation technology, emerging democracies, developing economies, shifting power centers and yes, lethal cultural conflicts that demand attention and resolution.

These are the themes of commencement speeches across a broad spectrum of campuses this spring and I am fully prepared to expand on them momentarily. But first, I am compelled to offer somewhat lofty, but I hope useful, observations. You have been hearing all of your life about this moment - your first big step into what you have been called and told is the real world. What, you may be asking yourself this morning, is this real life all about? Ladies and gentlemen of the Class of 2005 at Dartmouth, it's not college - it's not high school. Real life is junior high.

The world you're about to enter is filled with adolescent pettiness, pubescent rivalries, the insecurities of 13-year-olds and the false bravado of 14-year-olds. Forty years from now, I guarantee it, you'll still be making silly mistakes, you'll have a temper tantrum, you'll have your feelings hurt for some trivial slight, you'll say something dumb and at least once a week you'll wonder, "Will I ever grow up?"

You can change that. In pursuit of passions, always be young. In your relationship with others, always be a grown-up. Set a standard and stay faithful to it.

I really like his comments about what they world they are about to enter is filled with... "adolescent pettiness, pubescent rivalries, the insecurities of 13-year-olds and the false bravado of 14-year-olds."

In my 40 trips around the sun, that's what I've seen far more often than not, only getting worse as time passes and society supposedly "progresses".

There is more to this, however.

I know I frustrate many people much of the time.

I have personal standards that I try my best to stay faithful towards, and I have standards I was taught when I was a child that my nation is supposed to hold, standards that when violated that I cry havoc.

Be careful what you teach the children, because some of them believe in ideals, and grow up into people like me who are willing to point out when the emperor has no clothes.

---

Thanks to Goemagog at Incite for the stimulation of thought by his(?) linking to the speech.

Technorati Tags: personal, recommended reading

Frustration

I had a very bad day in speaking and understanding French today, after a few weeks of marked improvement in my skills with that language.

I am discovering new levels of frustration...

Technorati Tags: personal

It cannot be history until you stop living it... Part II

I hadn't planned to write upon this topic.

However, the Commissar at The Politburo Diktat has stimulated in my mind a few thoughts I feel need to be said.

First however, I present the topic that stimulated this writing, then some history.

The topic:

The resolution on lynching passed today is being used by some very prominent bloggers on the left-wing to attack Republicans who did not co-sponsor the bill, despite the fact that the passage was unanimous.

With his typical, honorable self-consistency, the Commissar condemns this invocation of lynching by the left to score political points just as he did a prior summons of this horrific imagery that was utilized by the right.

A personal aside here, there are times I get so disgusted with what I read in blogworld I am tempted to walk away from this strange yet enthralling occupation completely. Then I find someone as honorable and self-consistent as Stephen, aka the Commissar, and it reaffirms my faith that there are more than a few out there who are not blinded to the point of insanity by their point of view.

To return from the personal aside, using the "non-sponsorship" of a bill seems rather weak as a way of attacking a Senator of a particular party, especially when there were members of BOTH parties on the "non-sponsorship" list.

What about the history I mentioned?

The history is personal.

I have written about this long ago, I'm not even sure it remains in the archives of this weblog due to my changing hosts and configurations a few times, so it bears repeating here.

The name of the town I grew up in was Southaven, incorporated as an actual town the year I graduated high school, before that it was a mere development named by a group of builders seeking to attract buyers.

Why the name Southaven?

It was south of a development in Tennessee named Whitehaven, right at the state line between Tennessee and Mississippi, built in the mid to late 1960s; a development the nature of which was changing during the 1970s when Southaven was created.

I will not insult your intelligence by saying why Whitehaven was named as it was, just outside the city limits of Memphis, Tennessee, in that turbulent era.

Such was the environment in which I was raised.

The year before I graduated high school, signs appeared around town telling of a KKK meeting in the grounds behind the Jaycee building, an intense irony if you know of the mission of the Jaycees.

This isn't to condemn the Jaycees, however. I want to give an indication of the tenor of the times, even in 1980, in a supposedly more enlightened age that supposedly followed in the South upon the heels of the racist 1960s.

When I was a Boy Scout, I heard Scoutmasters routinely use a word once commonly used in the South of the United states to refer to people of dark skin color, the word that I find more offensive than any curse word in the English language. A word I cannot bring myself to type, and the thought of saying aloud brings to mind the taste of shit in my mouth. The only word that brings to mind such strong negative and offensive feelings in me.

What needs to be said?

It is this:

Now, as an adult in the early years of the 21st century, I see political hay being made utilizing the apologies for the absence of condemnation of atrocious behavior towards people, unforgivable acts performed solely because of the color of the skin of those people.

I hear people using the same atrocious word in a compound with "sand" to describe Arabs because a small number of Arabs have managed to perpetrate horrific acts that resulted in the deaths of over 4000 people, deaths of people who were not solely Americans.

I see people using the acts of a few to condemn the whole of a race, of a people, of a religion, as if the acts of individuals were sufficient to convict all. If that criterion were followed, then Western Civilization, the origin of those condemning others now, would have been eliminated half a millennium ago.

I read people with a bare grasp of simple arithmetic trying to use complex, multi-layered data presented in the form of statistics to prove their cases of war, genocide, and annihilation.

I see people with less than a high school understanding of the scientific method trying to use the exaggerated statements of a press only interested in sensational headlines to disprove the assertions of scientists who have spent years studying problems and searching for solutions to those problems.

Everyone can now throw rocks at anyone, because everyone is now a self-appointed expert:

Today I made an appearance downtown
I am an expert witness because I say I am
And I said gentlemen, and I use that world loosely
I will testify for you, I'm a gun for hire, I'm a saint, I'm a liar
Because there are no facts, there is no truth
Just data to be manipulated
I can get you any result you like
What's it worth to you?
Because there is no wrong, there is no right
And I sleep very well at night
No shame, no solution, no remorse, no retribution
Just people selling t-shirts
Just opportunity to participate in the pathetic little circus
and winning, winning, winning
   -Don Henley, The Garden of Allah

And upon reading and hearing the chorus of apologists, those participating in the pathetic little circus, only interested in winning, winning, winning, I hear this song:

Big man, pig man,
ha ha, charade you are
You well heeled big wheel,
ha ha, charade you are
And when your hand is on your heart
You're nearly a good laugh
Almost a joker
With your head down in the pig bin
Saying "keep on digging"
Pig stain on your fat chin
What do you hope to find?
When you're down in the pig mine
You're nearly a laugh
You're nearly a laugh
But you're really a cry.
   -Pink Floyd, Pigs (Three Different Ones)

I have both witnessed and been subject to discrimination.

It is not a matter of politics. It is not a matter of winning.

It is merely a matter of mindless hate.

Just as are many of the issues being used by both sides, supposed fundamentals that are really peripherals, nonetheless suitable for hyping and using to sharpen their spears of their partisans.

I wish I could say "how pathetic" and move on to the adult discussions that need to occur.

Sadly, however, the truly necessary discussions are drowned out by those interested in winning, winning, winning, despite the charades they are.

Left-wing, right-wing, I don't give a fucking damn who "wins".

I just want my country to be successful.

I don't foresee success, or even survival, by following the path we are currently traveling.

Yet I do not foresee success by listening to the left-wing, because they offer no viable alternative.

It cannot be history until you stop living it.

We cannot refuse an opportunity to appear to "make points" by making hay over the atrocities we committed in the past over race.

We cannot even get over race issues even now, 30 years later.

We cannot even get over issues related to "church versus state", after over 215 years of nationhood based upon separation of the secular from the religious.

It cannot be history until you stop living it.

Race-based discrimination is not the only mindlessness I'm referring to here.

Do your own math.

When will we move on to address the real problems facing us, putting aside the "my side should win or else" mentality of internal politics that is blinding us to the external threats?

We are on the road to our own destruction, and that destruction will arise from within, just as it has done for every other seemingly strong civilization. The list is long: the Babylonians, the Egyptians, the Greeks, the Romans... and those are just the ones familiar to us insufficiently educated in truly world history, those of us in the West.

Read your history, and heed the warnings you will find, if you choose to see beyond your own partisan short-term gain.

Technorati Tags: commentary, opinion, personal, politics

Another photo from Prague...

...but not as beautiful as the cathedral photo.

This one is of the memorial to the victims of the communist regime imposed after World War II (click on any of the images to see a larger photo):

Another part of the memorial is this (I did not reduce the image size, and I apologize for the poor quality of the photo, the only way I could take it was from above to avoid a bad shadow, so the proportion is awkward):

The dedication was off to the side (again, I did not reduce the image size, it should be read clearly):

More to come soon, but it is important to note they have memorialized those who not only died, but whose lives were ruined by the regime imposed by the Soviet Union.

Technorati Tags: photos

Whither us in a time where the indefensible is defended at any and all costs?

Although I have enjoyed the Star Wars movies, I am far from thinking that George Lucas is a deep thinker, nor do I feel he is one of the great artists of our age. He accidentally touched upon a nerve at the right time, just as Gene Roddenberry did in creating Star Trek, they both provided avenues of escape from an unpleasant reality to millions who were disenchanted and disconnected with the world around them.

However, I find rather insightful and particularly relevant at the moment one quote from the final movie in the Star Wars series, Return of the Jedi, a movie I find to be the weakest of all six made to date:

You’re going to find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.
   -George Lucas, Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi

A comment to a post I wrote on how I feel the prison at Guantanamo Bay is unworthy of us as a nation was as follows:

Yeah, right on target, Jack.

Except, to qualify as POWs under Article 4 of the Geneva Convention, al Qaeda and Taliban detainees would have to have satisfied four conditions:

1. They would have to be part of a military hierarchy.

2. They would have to have worn uniforms or other distinctive signs visible at a distance

3. They would have to have carried arms openly.

4. They would have to have conducted their military operations in accordance with the laws and customs of war.

So, maybe not so on target.

And you know what? That awful, evil BushHitler even decided that the prison at Guantanamo would treat Taliban prisoners under the Geneva convention, because Afghanistan was a signatory to the convention. Bastard, isn't he?

My response is:

I am not saying we should be adhering to the Geneva Convention for ANY reason other than it is the morally right thing to do, REGARDLESS of what our enemies do or how they behave.

Otherwise, if we let THEM set the standards for OUR behavior, how are we different?

I also have never used the term "BusHitler", nor have I ever called the current President a bastard.

---

It appears that many are allowing their point of view, and their defense of it, to cloud their reason, their judgement, and their very perceptions of right, wrong, and what is honorable behavior.

I can find no other reason for this defense of behaviors that are indefensible, a defense that essentially says, "They piss on our flag, and they desecrate their own supposed holy book, so it's OK if we do it too."

When I was a child, my parents always said in response to my statements of "everyone is doing it" with a rebuke of "and if they jump of a bridge, will you do it too?"

The right-wing once fought against moral relativism, and still does when it is convenient for the advancement of their side and their agenda.

Apparently, though, when moral relativism is convenient for them, they defend it beyond all reason.

Although I describe myself as a left-leaning centrist who tries to be a moderate, I find myself in a position of explaining concepts of honor and absolute standards in response to those who could reasonably be described as at the least right-leaning.

I have in the past noted how the extreme rhetoric of our current age resembles that of immediately before the American Civil War, and what I see now only strengthens the similarities.

The "other" is demonized, even if they are fellow Americans.

The attitude of "us versus the-rest-of-the-world, with the rest of the world now including all dissenting Americans" now prevails.

I am not forecasting another Civil War such as that which we suffered upon the election of Abraham Lincoln, the infrastructure and fundamental issues are different.

However...

The intolerance, intransigence, and excessive rhetoric of the time and how what is present now so closely resembles it can teach us a lesson that I expect and fear will be ignored.

We allowed the intolerance to get so intense in 1861 that in a very literal sense, brother fought against brother in a conflict that is still the most murderous in our entire bloody history, where more Americans were killed than in any other conflict, with over half a million dead in both the North and the South.

Now, we fling similar overheated rhetoric at each other, after all that has happened in the last four years, after the deaths, after the revelations, after the fact, denying any inconvenient facts in our quest for winning.

Winning at any and all costs.

No thought as to what consequences might arise, and what costs might be too dear to pay.

I do not believe in "my side" winning at any cost, if that cost is to destroy the principles upon which my country was founded.

I believe in both honor and fundamental principles.

I have principles upon which I base my opposition to the prison at Guantanamo Bay, principles that are independent of how our enemies behave, because I do believe in absolute standards, even if I am willing to listen, discuss, and upon occasion alter my standards based upon what others believe in strongly.

Those who choose to defend immoral and dishonorable acts based upon how our enemies behave are only fooling themselves with the moral relativism they themselves claim to despise when they see it in others.

I often wonder where my country is going when I read the defense of the indefensible by those who claim to have a higher patriotism than anyone else.

I often wonder where my country is going when I read accusations of "excessive idealism" and "not recognizing reality" from those who claim to be "realists", despite their unrealistic view of the world as evidenced by the reality that has arisen in the last four years.

Am I infallible?

No, I am not, nor do I claim to be.

However, neither are those who present themselves as such, although there are many who if you read their writings appear to admit no possibility of any fallibility on their own part.

Is there a conclusion to this commentary?

No, there is not, although I wish I could find one, because it would be comforting.

Instead, we are left only with uncertainty and doubt, and I am left wondering what to think of those who I number as friends who seem to be intent upon defending what I find indefensible.

In the end, we are left only with uncertainty and doubt, the dual curses of thought...

Sorry, no comfort offered here, only questions.

Technorati Tags: commentary, fundamentals, opinion, personal, politics, quotes, some thoughts

A clarification for my readers

I recently posted on my own concept of honor, and how I feel the honor of my country has been soiled and continues to be soiled by the choice of our government to maintain the extra-legal prison an Guantanamo Bay.

In that post, I disagreed with an assertion made by another blogger, someone whom I respect immensely.

I want to make it very clear I was not saying that the Average Tobacco Chewing Joe of Cadillac Tight has no sense of honor.

ATCJoe and I have had a relative long (in blogworld time) history of tussles and disagreements that have never degenerated to name-calling or a loss of respect for each other.

I want to make clear, unequivocally, that ATCJoe is at least as honorable as I am, perhaps more so.

For my regular readers, those that I have, I fully expect you to read what ATCJoe has to say with an open mind, and if you disagree with him, you can post comments in his weblog, but be sure to have both logic and facts upon your side, because he is a smart cookie, and tolerates fools no better than I do.

I tolerate those who do not respect my friends even less than I do fools.

Technorati Tags: opinion, personal, weblogs

The Mac is back

After replacing the RAM and updating to the latest version of OS X, my Mac appears to be functional again. I now have twice the RAM I had before because I decided to go whole-hog and max out the memory if I had to swap it out anyway.

Now I'm reinstalling all my software, and unfortunately I've lost some of my registration codes. Oh, well...

Technorati Tags: weblogs

A deeply held belief in the concept of "honor"

UPDATE: For those coming here from Blackfive, I have a correction to his assertion, "Jack at Random Fate seems to believe that we're not better than those that oppose us and wants Gitmo shut down." After you read my original post below, please be sure to see my response to the incorrect statement that I place a moral equivalence between the US and the terrorists:

A correction to what Blackfive asserts I "seem to believe"

---

This has been a very difficult post to write.

It is not intended as a simple partisan screed but instead tries to describe something that strikes to the heart of my beliefs.

Those who will understand need no elaboration by the time they finish reading. Those who do not understand need far more explanation than I can give by mere text in less than a book-length dissertation on the concepts and emotions that are the foundation of what I am writing.

Let me start with the foundations before I get to the heart of the matter.

I have written recently on what it means to be a moderate, and how what I mean when I use the word "moderate" is not the same as "centrist".

In my definition of "moderate" I did not outline what they might believe other than this:

A moderate can be of any political stripe or agglomeration of beliefs. The defining characteristic of a moderate is a willingness to acknowledge that beliefs other than those held by the moderate cannot and should not be dismissed out of hand.

I did not choose to define a centrist because of lack of time. I did admit the need for additional discussion, however.

I am both a centrist and a moderate in many matters, using the definition of a centrist as someone who does not adhere to the extreme views of either the left or right wings in many issues.

However, there are some concepts upon which I could reasonably be described as extreme.

The one that lies behind the origin of this post is the concept of honor.

I was raised in the South of the United States, specifically the region around Memphis, Tennessee. I visited the battlefield of Shiloh as a Boy Scout before I was a teenager, exposed both to the rugged landscape upon which that terrible battle was fought and initiated into the tragedies that accompany any war that prompts brother to fight against brother.

Even now, the concept of honor still exists in the South of the United States, perhaps more than in the rest of our great nation, at least in my experience.

However, it is not taught formally, or even informally.

I can never recall my father ever saying the word "honor" to me.

I can never recall my father ever saying to me that I had to uphold some kind of ideal that he held.

Yet, I saw him uphold what he held as honorable.

I saw him do things that were directed towards larger ideals than his immediate gratification, or to the immediate benefit to his wife and children.

I have seen my father's pain, while not expressed in words but instead shown in other, more subtle ways, a pain of the soul caused by the betrayal of his younger brother to the honor of our family when that man disappeared, abandoning his wife and children for a secret life he had constructed.

From these lessons I have learned of a concept of honor that I cannot deny or reject, all the more so because it was taught by actions and not words.

So to me, what is honor?

It is difficult to describe in mere words, but I will try because it is truly important to get to the final point that I wish to show; the entire reason I am writing this.

Honor is the adherence to higher ideals than those of everyday life.

Honor is the adherence to higher ideals than is convenient for the moment.

Honor is the adherence to higher ideals than might be beneficial even in the long run.

Honor is the adherence to higher ideals...

If you haven't gotten the message yet, honor is the adherence to ideals beyond the self, beyond immediate gratification, beyond retribution upon those who offend us, beyond the exigencies of the moment.

So, to those of you who claim that moderates or centrists have no deeply held beliefs or ideals and only sway with the prevailing breeze, I completely and utterly refute you, because I do indeed have ideals that go beyond what is popular and what is current, and yet I am still a moderate and in many ways a centrist.

As a consequence, I am about to call out someone whom I list as a brother even though he and I have never met, because I feel he has gone against one of the ideals I thought we had in common, the ideal of honor.

Again this raises the question, what is honor?

What are these so-called "higher ideals"?

I can only describe what they are to me, but mere words cannot convey the concepts nor the deep feelings I have about them.

Honor.

There are certain lines that are not to be crossed.

There are certain actions that are unacceptable.

There are certain attitudes that cannot be held.

What are these lines, what are these actions, what are these attitudes?

Here is what they are to me:

You should always act in a way that is honorable, regardless of how others behave or act.

You should always try to respect other people, because they are human, just as you are.

You should always try to understand others, because they are human, and just as alone in the world as you are.

You should always try to avoid passing judgment independent of a jury-based court system, because you are as fallible as anyone else.

You should always remember that you are human, and you have no more and no less insight into the mind of God than anyone else.

As a consequence, a post by the Average Tobacco-Chewing Joe at Cadillac Tight disturbed me, because I had always thought that he and I shared a similar concept of honor.

The post: one called "Ditto" where in the comments I asked:

I want to be entirely clear on this:

Are you saying you don't care or not if we hold ourselves to higher standards than those (or lack thereof, rather) that we see in our enemies?

I want to be very clear if that is what you are saying, because upon first, second, and third reads it appears this is exactly what you are saying.

If so, expect a response with both barrels.

If not, I'll listen to what you ARE saying.

The reply to my query:

Go ahead and blow a gasket, Jack.

If you can look at that little girl's picture over at Dean's World, and still worry about our standards in relation to theirs, when the question involved is mishandling a fucking BOOK, and you still want to blow a gasket, be my guest.

Especially in light of this report:

All the headlines about "Abuse of the Koran at Gitmo" are absolutely accurate. Brig. Gen. Jay Hood's internal investigation has uncovered some shocking incidents. On at least six occasions, Korans were ripped up. They were urinated on three times, and attempts were made to flush them down the toilet at least three other times.

Why aren't millions of Muslims rioting in response to these defilements? Because the perpetrators were prisoners, not guards. As John Hinderaker notes on weeklystandard.com, the most serious desecrations of the Koran at the Guantanamo Bay detention facility were committed by the Muslim inmates themselves.

So they rip up, piss on, and attempt to flush their own book, then they want to piss and moan when a couple of incidents involving guards who are supervising TERRORISTS occur?

And in the meantime, they're blowing up children and flying planes into buildings.

No, I don't care about Koran "desecration". Not one damn bit.

From my reading (and Joe is free to correct me if my reading is wrong), because a few self-proclaimed Muslims have chosen to desecrate their own holy book, and because a few self-proclaimed Muslims have chosen to commit atrocities, we should feel free to act however we please towards that which is held sacred by millions of other Muslims who have not committed these acts?

This is coming from a man who appears to equate desecration of the American flag, which by NO MEANS WHATSOEVER is regarded as a religious symbol, to desecration of the Qur'an?

This is coming from a man who posted a link from Donald Sensing where it is explained how the Qur'an is the literal word of God to Muslims?

This is coming from a man who speaks out for the honor of our armed forces upon every occasion on which they are impinged?

I am sorry, Joe, but your statement of:

So they rip up, piss on, and attempt to flush their own book, then they want to piss and moan when a couple of incidents involving guards who are supervising TERRORISTS occur?

And in the meantime, they're blowing up children and flying planes into buildings.

No, I don't care about Koran "desecration". Not one damn bit.

speaks of a moral relativism that I see decried repeatedly by those on the right-wing, and is completely opposite of my concept of honor.

It does not matter how others react to these actions.

We must behave honorably regardless of how those in our custody behave, including respecting the religion held in deep faith by millions who do NOT behave as those in custody do.

Otherwise, why should they not hate us, for if we are to take the acts of individuals as condemning the entire society, then our actions at Abu Ghirab are more than enough to condemn the entire West according to the eyes of Muslims...

According to those millions of devout, non-offending Muslims the Qur'an itself and any printed versions of it are the literal Word of God...

...and you say it is OK to piss on it because a few bad actors in our custody do so.

Is that the zero-sum game you want to play?

Is a "tit for tat" mentality truly your idea of behaving honorably?

I cannot believe that it is, Joe, and I can only hope that you were speaking out of anger, for if that truly your method of thinking, then we are not the brothers I thought we were.

I may strive to be a moderate, and I may endeavor to be a centrist, but in matters of honor, I readily admit to being an extremist.

We MUST behave honorably regardless of how dishonorably our foes may act.

In this case, I am an extremist, and if we diverge on this, I truly regret it, for this is a matter upon which I will not budge.


UPDATE: Joe has responded on his own blog, and I recommend you read his response in full.

My reply in the comments to his response:

So you say it is OK to desecrate the Qur'an because a few people who call themselves Muslim desecrate it?

That is the gist of your post here and the one I linked to.

Therefore, it is OK to say that *all Christians* are evil based upon the acts of a few who call themselves "Christian".

Therefore, it is OK to say the *entire* US Army are torturers based upon the acts of a few who have been convicted in Courts Martial.

THIS is the stance you are defending.

No straw men here, none other than the ones YOU YOURSELF are presenting.

So, defend away the actions of the US Army and the Christians since you are so ready to condemn *ALL Muslims* and accept desecrations of what THEY hold holy based upon the acts of a few, but use the SAME standards as you do for the Muslims, otherwise, you can draw your own conclusions regarding YOUR honor and honesty...

Otherwise, your condemnations of desecrations of the American flag ring rather hollow...

I normally try my best to find a middle ground, but in this case, I cannot because it involves what I see to be the honor of my country.

The honor of my country does not allow for accounting of how badly our enemies behave, otherwise using any standard of equal behavior we would be beheading those in Guantanamo by now.

We must BE better than those who oppose us.

Struggling with burnout

I've been struggling with being burnt out for years now, even before I moved to France.

Dealing with the issues associated with living in a culture that is similar but also significantly different from the one I am familiar, along with the language difficulties, was a mixed blessing, temporarily staving off the worst effects of burning out, but still requiring energy every day to cope with.

Couple that with the deterioration I see in my country, which I love, and it is difficult for me to avoid the feeling of ennui that accompanies burn out.

Argh! I hate this, but we all have to recognize we are just as much emotional beings as we are logical, reasoning beings.

Sigh...

We are all human. Even if we want to overcome our human failings.

I miss my Mac

It's been a few weeks since my Mac up and died on me. I really miss it.

I have parts on the way to me here in France from the US (where they are a Hell of a lot cheaper) that I hope will fix the problem; if the problem is from another source than what I suspect then I'll have to send the laptop back to the US for repair.

If I have to do that, I'll buy another Mac laptop to replace it while I wait for the repair. Yes, I find it THAT useful and helpful in my writing.

Neither of my PCs (the desktop or the laptop that I don't use as a music player, I have two PC laptops here with me) are as comfortable to write on, either in keyboard positioning or in the force required to type.

Also,I simply like the Mac interface better.

Yes, there are PC advocates out there who proclaim that Windows is the best operating system ever, and I won't dispute their assertions as it applies to them.

For me, however, the Mac works best.

Sigh... hopefully the parts will arrive soon, and they will fix the problem.

If not, I'll just have to spend some money.

I'm off to a second viewing of the final Star Wars movie

One of the local theaters in Grenoble is now showing the version originale, so I can see it in English again.

I saw what is now termed the "original trilogy" at least twice each in the movie theater. I have seen none of the "new trilogy" more than once in the movie theater that I can recall at the moment, but this last movie is worth at least a second viewing.

So, no writing for around three hours. Hopefully I can write something when I return.

In response to some bad news...

...that I received from a friend today, I could only say this:

To some personality types (including mine), on occasion, the apocalyptic end has a seductive appeal that is almost impossible to resist in its finality, because it resolves all those uncertainties that an intelligent mind sees and understands, it resolves all those uncertainties that tear apart the heart that the intelligent mind recognizes is just as important as logic. It seems to resolve all the pain and agony...

Seems to...

The seduction of that so-called final solutions is just that, a seduction that promises far more than it could ever deliver.

The apocalyptic solution of victory or destruction seems to be the only one considered now, even by those I feel are rational in their beliefs.

Yet the fundamental truth that Pyrrhic victory is NOT better than no victory at all has not changed.

Unfortunately, we are on the path where we will all perish in the flames because it appears that many, enough it seems, no longer care if the victory is a true one or merely Pyrrhic, and instead want the fires of Hell to consume all regardless.

The Apocalypse is most often believed to be the end of days. Do we truly want to hasten that upon ourselves?

I am sorry...

...but there will be no post from me on the topic of Memorial Day, for several reasons.

First, many others have posted on it already.

Second, I just returned from a trip, and I can barely think.

Third, this holiday is celebrated in a completely different fashion on a different day here in France, and I think I would serve the general community better by posting on that rather than yet another "Memorial Day is important because of (insert favorite platitude here)" post.

Do I sound cynical? I do not mean to do so.

I would like to both challenge and expand the point of view of us all, as my point of view is challenged and expanded almost every day.

Writing a "me too" post would hardly serve that purpose.

Does this mean I do not believe in the meaning behind the holiday, even when most in the US have forgotten it in their rush to barbecue?

I do believe in the meaning, not the result.

However, the meaning is not restricted to a particular day, instead the day is reserved for the meaning, but we should never forget the meaning that we have chosen to reserve this day for.

Unfortunately, all too often we do, rarely more so than now.

Too many inputs...

...to synthesize effectively.

What am I talking about?

I am trying to write several posts at once. One on the rejection by France of the proposed European Union Constitution (or Charter, or whatever you want to call it); another on reflections of my visit this weekend to Prague, the capital of (half) of a former Warsaw Pact nation; and another on some general trends I see both worldwide and in the United States that are reflections of things I see in history; not to mention the book reviews and historical articles I have read that show some other trends that are worth noting.

All of these are intermingled with photos I have taken in both Paris and Prague in a new format that has more information, but is more difficult to work with, during which I am listening to, being distracted by and inspired with, music I recently re-ripped into high quality MP3 files from my CD collection.

I have too many inputs to synthesize effectively according to the standards to which I hold myself.

I'm just a guy with a weblog, but I do my best to present something new and unique to the world, despite the tens of thousands of weblogs out there, the millions of books ever published with the billions upon billions of words in them, in a world where over six billion are alive today and even if I am tremendously successful, I can only hope to reach far less than 0.01% and influence the thinking of even fewer.

In the face of those numbers and percentages, it is easy to lose hope, but I strive on regardless of odds or lack of inspiration.

I have often used music or images or words and phrases I have encountered as a springboard into what I write about, but now I have too much.

Pity me? Nope...

Just be patient. I'm working on it.

10 Things I've Never Done, But Intend to Do Before I Die

I was tagged by a quasi-anonymous friend with a meme.

So, remember, be careful what you wish for, including what you would like to know:

10 Things I've Never Done, But Intend to Do Before I Die (by the way, the order is irrelevant):

1) Sail around the world (yes, sail, as in a sailboat)

2) Visit Scotland and at least one distillery where I can drink myself blind, probably on my 41st birthday...

3) Run a marathon

4) Finish a novel and get it published (I've started at least 10)

5) Write an episode of a television show, or even better, create a television series

6) Learn to speak at least one language other than English fluently (the prime candidate now is French, since I'm getting a lot of practice in it)

7) Understand my own motivations well enough to convince myself I am not the biggest hypocrite on the planet

8) Be optimistic about the future of my country for more than one day

9) Learn how to accept love well enough to get married again (if you don't understand this one, be happy)

10) Have children (not likely any more, but you never know...)

I'm not nearly as dark and pessimistic as I once was...

Seriously...

You just have to believe me.

I once embraced the Black Pit of Despair, now I reject it.

Sometimes, an avoidance of defeat is all the victory we can hope for.

Self-illusions

I emailed to my Mom at her insistence a photo that I took of myself in Paris this last Sunday using the remote control of my fancy digital snapshot camera (the remote is one of the main reasons I got this particular model of camera).

Unfortunately, in the photo I look like the fat, 40 year-old man that I am.

I hate it when that happens... It's nice to have some self-illusions maintained.

Oh, well.

Time to get serious about exercising again, even if it's more difficult to weight train here in France.

Damn, I hate sweating.

Back in Grenoble

I've returned to my home away from home, and now I have to go to bed because I have a meeting tomorrow morning at work (NOTE: The timestamp on my weblog is Universal Time Coordinated, or UTC, which is currently 2 hours behind my local time).

Joy... It's a meeting with middle management. Just enough power to hurt you, but not enough power to really make a difference. Just enough technical background to think they are able to ask relevant questions, out of action long enough to need directions to the ticket office for the clue train.

Bloody Hell. I hate these kinds of meetings.

No more posts until tomorrow when I'm through with work. Next weekend looks like an improptu trip to Prague, so I best better get my PC laptop up to speed.

You really do never know what's going to happen

I saw the first Star Wars movie in 1977, when it first came out, before it had an episode number or a subtitle of "A New Hope". I saw it in in an old movie theater with a noisy film projector in Memphis, Tennessee, as a soon to be 13-year old boy whose imagination had already been caught by reruns of Star Trek.

I was fascinated by the library computer used by Science Officer Spock, and I was impressed that the military organization of Starfleet (as depicted back then) had a dedicated science division.

Star Wars was of a different genre than the science fiction presented by Star Trek, and it didn't capture my heart in the way that the movie did so many others. This is not to say that I didn't enjoy the movie, but it couldn't lure me away from the promise of things to come as shown in Star Trek, which was a future set in our universe, not a story from a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.

I now hold a ticked to see the last Star Wars movie in 2005, with a strange symmetry in that the new movie is numbered "Episode III" when the first movie I saw 28 years ago was later labeled "Episode IV". I will see it in a state of the art digital theater in Paris, France, as a soon to be 41-year old man whose life has taken paths I never imagined even a decade ago, much less when I was 12.

The computer I am using to compose this is a laptop that is more powerful than the room-sized computer I first learned to program on 23 years ago, and it can access a network that is filled with even more information than the imaginations of the writers of Star Trek dreamed of 38 years ago.

I now do research for a company that makes the integrated circuit chips behind this explosion of computer technology, and my job is to find new materials and design new structures to make the devices even smaller, faster, more powerful, and less energy-hungry. The job has taken me to an expatriate assignment in France, and I'm in Paris this weekend as part of a business trip.

Not bad for a boy whose elementary and high school education was in Mississippi (which even then had the lowest amount of money spent on education by all measures).

Now I wonder what the next 28 years will bring.

Some perspective on my views

Some have commented on how I seem to be tilting more to the "liberal" or left side of the spectrum in recent months.

As I commented in an earlier post titled "Partisan? No, principled" my recent statements are not based on an ideological reaction.

Not unless you can call ideological an opposition of those in power or those seeking power, no matter what their stated reasons are.

In this, I am like my father, but I was not fully aware of this until about 5 years ago.

When I was very young, even up until I was 18, my father taught me that respect for properly constituted authority was important.

We were both in Scouting together. When I was in the Boy Scouts, or my younger brother in the Cub Scouts, my father fully participated as an Assistant Scoutmaster.

He never explicitly told me to challenge authority, especially since more often than not he aligned himself with that very same authority.

Somehow, his rebellious streak was transferred to me, but not to my brother.

I have been the son who has moved around the country, and around the world.

I have been the son who has continually challenged the status quo, and despite continually rocking the boat, I am the son who is the most successful in many ways, not just financial or in a career, far beyond what my father ever dreamed for his children.

My father first said to me about a decade ago (and has repeated it since), "If I see most people doing something, I'll do the opposite, just because I don't trust the majority."

Odd...

We both believe in democracy.

But we both challenge the conventional thinking of the majority, and we examine the opposite path just because the majority opposes it.

A true son of the father indeed.

Not good...

I'm four aborted system installs into my diagnoses of what is wrong with my Macintosh PowerBook.

It's looking like I had a hard disk crash, and the hard disk is now a goner, belly up, non-functional, ain't working, gone to heaven, checked out, deceased, defunct, departed, done for, expired, extinct, gone, inanimate, inert, late, lifeless, liquidated, mortified, no more, not existing, offed, passed away, perished, rubbed out, snuffed out, stiff, washed up, wasted.

In other words, d-e-d...

This is very bad.

I guess I'll have to hunt down the local Apple distributor and see if they do service as well as sales.

I really prefer writing on the Mac, I like the keyboard. It's much more comfortable to me.

The euro-dollar exchange rate is going to kill me on the repair and the parts.

Ouch.

I am NOT happy.

And just after I used some new software to outline the story I'm writing. Mac-only software. The file is on the d-e-d hard disk.

Bloody Hell.

Damn...

I've had to reformat the hard drive on my Mac PowerBook.

I didn't have everything backed up.

This really sucks...

What do you do...

...when you are too old to be an "angry young man" filled with the fire of injustice and idealism?

...when you are too young to be a "bitter old man" filled with the venom of broken dreams and lost ideals?

...when you are a 40-year-old who has no children to try to make a better world in the name of?

...when you are a man who has been fighting for decades against what seems obvious to him but completely out of the question to 90% of the rest of humanity?

...when you are a man who believes in rationality and logic in a world ruled by emotion and pre-judgement where any conclusion that does not match an ideology is immediately discarded and labeled either "radical" or a "betrayal"?

...when you live in a world where every time you start to think perhaps there is something to the so-called "intelligent design" a bunch of yahoos prove to you that no rational god could have ever created a species capable of such genius and generosity is also so easily turned to committing acts of such incredible stupidity and cruelty?

...when you are a citizen in a nation where members of the legislature proclaim "The time will come for the men responsible for this to answer for their behavior" and judges feel the need to arm themselves?

...when the hypocrisy gets so overwhelming that you want to grab those practicing it by the neck and choke them because they are so foolish to not see the destruction they are wreaking?

...when the country that you love seems to be falling apart worse than even when the issue of slavery seemed to permanently tear it asunder?

...when you are both too young and too old for this?

...when you are too alone to continue the fight... too alone in more than one sense of the word?

...when you are just too fucking tired?

Technorati Tags: opinion, personal

I used it all up on one post yesterday

No wonder I can't write anything tonight.

I have a lot I want to write about, but I just can't write.

Of course, I've spent the last 4 days reviewing technical papers for their suitability to be included in an upcoming conference (this is what is known as "peer review", which you may have heard about in the scientific and technical community), and my brain is fried.

It's absolutely NO fun reading 40 technical papers in a row, most written by people to whom English is not a first language, and the resultant writing, which tends to be dry even when done by a native English speaker, becomes more arid than Death Valley on an August afternoon.

Then, I looked at my post of last night, "A Case of Identity", and I realize how fricking LONG that thing is.

I'm surprised if anyone is reading it to the end, but it's getting some attention at The Moderate Voice, where I cross-posted it.

Geez, I wrote a lot last night, but it was all in ONE POST.

I think I used up my quota of words for a while...

Technorati Tags: personal, weblogs

While trying to cope with the day, I get whapped upside the head again

While trying to cope with a world seemingly turned upside-down, with a leader of Russia lecturing the United States on the nature principles of democracy (and making sense, if not truly following those principles), and with the United States Senate passing a bill with an amendment that makes a machine readable ID mandatory for performing the most basic acts of travel, opening a bank account, and other common, everyday matters (more on this in a later post, once I can write about it coherently), I tried to distract myself by reading the biographies that WinAmp provides for the groups that come up on my random playlist generated from my music library.

In the time when I am trying to cope with a week filled with irony, I read this:

Few bands embodied the pure excess of the'70s like Queen. Embracing the exaggerated pomp of prog rock and heavy metal, as well as vaudevillian music hall, the British quartet delved deeply into camp and bombast, creating a huge, mock-operatic sound with layered guitars and overdubbed vocals. Queen's music was a bizarre yet highly accessible fusion of the macho and the fey. For years, their albums boasted the motto "no synthesizers were used on this record ", signaling their allegiance with the legions of post-Led Zeppelin hard rock bands. But vocalist Freddie Mercury brought an extravagant sense of camp to the band, pushing them toward kitschy humor and pseudo-classical arrangements, as epitomized on their best-known song,"Bohemian Rhapsody". Mercury, it must be said, was a flamboyant bisexual who managed to keep his sexuality in the closet until his death from AIDS in 1992. Nevertheless, his sexuality was apparent throughout Queen's music, from their very name to their veiled lyrics -- it was truly bizarre to hear gay anthems like "We Are the Champions" turn into celebrations of sports victories. (note, emphasis added)

There is more iron in that irony than getting whapped upside the head with an iron frying pan by an irate woman.

I lived in that time. Not that I was fooled at the time, much less now, but having it pointed out by someone else is rather jarring, even to cynical old me.

Perhaps one day I can describe the incredible dichotomy between the gay anthem versus the jock culture in the high schools of the time.

Until then just trust me. The irony is truly painful...

Technorati Tags: personal

Partisan? No, principled

Do I sound more partisan to you lately, possibly because I am disagreeing loudly and vehemently with the line spouted by your side?

Well, I am not partisan. For my explanation, first let's look at the word itself:

partisan
n.

1. A fervent, sometimes militant supporter or proponent of a party, cause, faction, person, or idea.
2. A member of an organized body of fighters who attack or harass an enemy, especially within occupied territory; a guerrilla.

adj.

1. Of, relating to, or characteristic of a partisan or partisans.
2. Devoted to or biased in support of a party, group, or cause: partisan politics.

Note that both the noun and the adjective involve being in support of some cause, party, etcetera.

I am not in support of either political party. I oppose the Republicans on principles related to both personal liberty and protecting those with little power from the depredations of those with much power; however, I also do not support the Democrats, because they are just as idiotic as the Republicans, with the additional vice of being completely unorganized on top of their lack of adherence to a philosophically consistent agenda.

In other words, the Democrats do not advocate a consistent set of principles, much less ones I believe in. Therefore, I cannot support them.

Why is what I am currently posting opposed the Republicans? It has to do with being principled, not partisan. Again, let's look at the word itself:

principled
adj.

Based on, marked by, or manifesting principle: a principled decision; a highly principled person.

So what exactly am I saying here?

I base my objections and support upon what I believe are fundamental principles, not on which party, person, or whatever is espousing what I object to or support (within limits, if the American Nazi Party supports something that agrees with my principles, I will still denounce that party for the racist thugs they are).

Why am I writing so much in opposition to the Republicans recently?

Because they are the party in power, with the potential to do the most damage to the principles underlying our nation and system of government.

I won't waste the breath to point out the idiocies of the Democrats at the moment, because the only thing they can currently do is obstruct, and in most cases that obstruction prevents damage rather than causes it.

There is a reason why Will Rogers and Mark Twain, both famous humorists, were able to make so many cutting yet funny remarks about Congress. Take two of my favorites:

This country has come to feel the same when Congress is in session as when the baby gets hold of a hammer.
   -Will Rogers

Suppose you were an idiot and suppose you were a member of Congress. But I repeat myself.
   -Mark Twain

When you read what I write, try to find the fundamental principle I am arguing to protect and preserve from the depredations of those in power, for that is what the powerful do, erode freedoms and undermine principles.

Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely.
   -Lord Acton

It's said that 'power corrupts', but actually it's more true that power attracts the corruptible. The sane are usually attracted by other things than power. When they do act, they think of it as service, which has limits. The tyrant, though, seeks mastery, for which he is insatiable, implacable.
   -David Brin

To my mind, there is no more noble cause than to oppose the powerful and those who seek more power.

You can do the math as to why.

Technorati Tags: commentary, partisanship, personal

I'm not the only one morally exhausted

Stephen Green, the Vodka Pundit, has two announcements.

The first, he's getting burned out because the truths that are self-evident seem to not be evident to those who should be his natural allies. I can relate to his feelings directly, because I was unable to post very much last week because every time I wrote, my anger caused the posts to degenerate into the vitriolic, epithet-filled name-calling that I despise.

It's so much easier to jerk the knee instead of actually think, which is why so many avoid thinking.

For those of us who do take the time and energy think, we are exhausted dodging all those knees.

His second announcement I will leave as an encouragement to read his entire post.

Technorati Tags: opinion, personal, weblogs

Not yet back up to speed

I'm still very tired, possibly a bit burned out, so only one post today, and not one of my best written.

Hopefully, I'll have more mental energy tomorrow.

Technorati Tags: weblogs

Original posts on the way tomorrow

Sorry for posting only quotes today. I'm really tired both from work and lack of sleep (due to stress from work).

I should be back up to speed tomorrow.

Technorati Tags: weblogs

More rage...

I feel a rage growing within me. An anger I do not welcome.

As I have posted before, I was once fueled by the fury, but now I fully understand the price paid for that ephemeral energy.

So, although provided with a seeming increase in vitality, I recognize the false promise in it and find it unwelcome.

Yet I need to vent this rage somehow.

Although tempting, trying to quench it with alcohol is a cure that is worse than the affliction.

Unfortunately, since the rage arises from the seemingly deliberate actions of others to ignore the precepts of logic and the weight of evidence, a simple release is inadequate in the long-term.

But I cannot stop caring about my country, a nation based upon impossible ideals that have somehow remained current, viable, and incredibly alive despite over two centuries of assault by the inevitable frailties of humanity that destroy all that is not venal or selfish.

How do I exorcise this demon, rid myself of the inexorable conclusion that perhaps the country I love does not deserve to survive because of the blindness displayed by the heirs of brilliance unknown before those in the New World in the late 18th Century showed the world what adherence to ideals could accomplish?

How do I keep hope alive?

I do not know the answer, I can only believe in what Abraham Lincoln said in a time that to me seems equally dark, "Where there is life, there is hope."

I can only hope.

Bloody Hell...

...I staged a happy hour for folks I work with this evening after work, and the waiter at the bar decides that this is the night to bring me a free glass of single-malt Scotch.

I had already had four on an empty stomach, so number five did a serious number on me.

One more post from me tonight, and that's it. That post will NOT be a thoughtful, insightful post, either.

Sorry... I'm reasonably intelligent and capable, but I do have limits, and I recognize when I have reached mine. Five generous measures of a strong single-malt on an empty stomach is more than even I can comfortably handle.

Sadness

I was reminded of something I wrote nearly a year ago by two bloggers who were participating in the latest meme: Name two classic blog posts that deserve to be read and remembered.

Christina at Feisty Repartee linked to a post of mine, and WitNit repeated the link.

In part, what I wrote in my post:

My father was diagnosed with bladder cancer only scant days before I was scheduled to fly to France for a three year expatriate assignment. My father insisted I go to France and not stay in the United States for his surgery or the post-surgery chemotherapy. I will never forget the crack I heard in my father's voice when I called him from France shortly before he went into surgery and told him, "Thank you, everything I am is because of you, and I love you." I could tell he was happy, proud, and afraid. How could I ever forget hearing that in my father's voice?

Since that time, my father has endured chemotherapy similar to that undergone by Lance Armstrong. While my father has tried to hide from me the difficulties that this therapy has caused him, when I talk with him on the phone I can hear in his voice the pain and exhaustion, and my mother has told me of the many problems that he has chosen to not discuss with me because he does not want to "worry" me.

---

Lance Armstrong displays publicly same inner strength my father is showing now, privately. Lance Armstrong is exhibiting to the world that same inner strength that my father is quietly camouflaging by saying that things are "not so bad", an inner strength that I am not present to admire and support because my father did not want me to "miss an opportunity" or "derail my life" because of him.

What my father does not understand (and although I have told him, I will not try to teach him) is that he has given me all of my opportunities, he has laid the rails upon which I live my life. I want to be there with him, but he would feel guilty if I changed my life because of him, not realizing that it is indeed what I want, and so I must instead watch from afar in fear and hope.

So for me Lance Armstrong is a symbol of my hope, the hope that my selfish desire of being on the same planet as my father is fulfilled for many, many years.

Fortunately for me, my father seems to be recovered, but it has only been a year since his surgery that removed his bladder and prostate, and less than a year since the end of his chemotherapy.

With cancer, every year is a gift, not a given.

What was particularly poignant for me today though is that I may be seeing the back of someone as they walk out of my life.

Human connections are tenuous at best, a thin web that can tear even despite the best efforts at preservation.

How can they ever endure over an ocean, sustained only by the movement of electrons over wires?

Yet each rent is just as painful a loss whether those who depart are geographically near or far.

Whether the departure is from death or merely a parting of ways because of divergent paths, the loss is still there, and the emptiness left behind is still keenly felt.

Some voids can never be filled.

Rage

Long ago, I was filled with rage.

I was angry, and I used that fury to give me energy, to power my soul.

Every injustice I saw, every wrong, every idiocy, they all fueled me and drove me on.

Then I discovered that the vigor I thought I was getting from the anger was illusory, and instead the fires of rage were consuming me from the inside.

When I unmasked that chimera, I resolved to not allow myself to be ruled by the heart, to not fall prey to the false promises of emotion or logic, but to strive for a balance between the two.

I have spent the last eight years struggling and seeking that equilibrium. At times I feel I have found it, but then something comes along to upset the balance and I suppress an extreme emotional reaction and struggle to prevent an overly-logic-oriented response.

As is acknowledged in philosophy originating in the orient, balance is key, but it is difficult to achieve.

Unfortunately, the philosophy from the occidental side of the world does not recognize balance, but instead strains for the ephemeral ecstacy of complete, total victory of one side over the other.

But...

We need to endure the cold black night to appreciate the warm rose in the dawn of a new day.

We need the grey dearth of winter to cherish the verdant green life restored in the spring.

We need the horrid example of evil to comprehend the sacrifice made to gain the good.

We need our pain and loss, because it defines us as who we are and helps us recognize the joy.

The elimination of one diminishes the other.

Total victory is not a gain; it is a loss.

Stop a moment, and think...

.
.
.

What if both sides are needed?

What if emotion is needed to counterweigh the cold cruelty of logic?

What if logic is needed to counteract the hot reactions of emotion?

What if BOTH the philosophies of liberal AND conservative are needed to form a fair and strong nation?

Yet BOTH sides persist in their so-called strategies that are aimed at total annihilation of the other.

I see this, and my rage grows.

A rage I recognize as destructive, but cannot be suppressed or ignored any longer.

I cannot remain numb to this.

The old tinder that fed the fires inside alight again, and I cannot smother them.

The intemperate rage returns, with the same consequences and costs.

The best I can hope for is that the firebreaks I construct can keep me from being totally consumed.

They who are so ready to label those who don't agree with them 100% as "idiotarian" do not recognize that same flaw of self-destructive idiocy in themselves.

Those who don't get it don't get that they don't get it.

Boys, get out your Balzac, because this has been noted before: Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.

And Orwell laughs, for he may have been wrong in the timing, but not in the result.

Meme du jour

I was tagged by Boudicca, who says she is always curious about what is in my head.

Here is the description:

Immediately following there is a list of 24 different occupations. You must select at least 5 of them (feel free to select more). You may add more if you like to your list before you pass it on (after you select 5 of the items as it was passed to you). Each one begins with "If I could be..." Of the 5 you selected, you are to finish each phrase with what you would do as a member of that profession.

For example, if the selected occupation was "pirate" you might take the phrase "If I could be a pirate..." and add to it "I would sail the 7 Seas, dating lasses from around the world."

See how easy that is? Here's the list:

If I could be a scientist...
If I could be a farmer...
If I could be a musician...
If I could be a doctor...
If I could be a painter...
If I could be a gardener...
If I could be a missionary...
If I could be a chef...
If I could be an architect...
If I could be a linguist...
If I could be a psychologist...
If I could be a librarian...
If I could be an athlete...
If I could be a lawyer...
If I could be an innkeeper...
If I could be a professor...
If I could be a writer...
If I could be a llama-rider...
If I could be a bonnie pirate...
If I could be an astronaut...
If I were a dog...
If I were an inventor...
If I were a programmer...
If I were a genius...

Not so easy for me. I am a scientist and an inventor; it's what I'm paid for. I have been a writer (as in paid to write a book, it went out of print about 10 years ago, but it's still listed in the Library of Congress), and I still write papers that are published in technical journals. I'm now working on trying to write other stuff that I'll be paid for. I taught a class at a local university here in France, and the French use the word professeur for any kind of teacher. I probably shouldn't pick that one, either.

So...

I need five out of the list now that it has been shortened. No fair!

Well, to start, if I could be a linguist... I'd speak French a Hell of a lot better than I do now after living in France for a year. They have an expression here that French is "best learned on the pillow." Aside from any other considerations that prevent me from taking that route, relations between people are difficult enough even speaking the same language fluently!

If I were a programmer... I'd bathe a LOT more frequently than the intense programmers I've known, and I'd certainly make sure I developed social skills to go with the computer skills.

If I could be an architect... I'd take advantage of all the really interesting structures that modern construction techniques and materials allow, but I would make sure that I incorporated much of the beauty and aesthetics that were once routinely a part of any building. Too much pure functionality or cold reflection of modern life has been bad for our souls, along with making a lot of ugly buildings.

If I could be an astronaut... I'd stand up and make speeches about how we have lost our nerve, our willingness to take risks to explore. People die in breaking new ground, and we need to keep making that sacrifice else we will wither away while examining our navels. Then I'd make damn sure I was the first person to stand outside on Mars.

If I could be a musician... I'd try to write songs that express the beauty I see in people, and the sadness I feel when I see some people leave.

If I could be an innkeeper... I'd open up a bed and breakfast on the grounds of a winery where I'd make damn good wine. (This is the retirement plan, by the way...)

Some that weren't on the list:

If I could be a cartoonist... I'd try to draw and write a comic strip that captured the spirit of the early Bloom County mixed with Calvin and Hobbes. That would be good.

If I could be a sculptor... I would like to be able to sculpt what I see, especially in women. What I see isn't part of the physical world, but can be partially captured by a great artist. Ah, well, at least I am not too clumsy to type.

I may pass it on, but for now, I have too many things to do and not enough time.

Severely annoyed...

...is how I feel after getting my iPod back from repair, and having it lock up my Mac when I tried to sync, then having it go completely dead.

I had to wait a month, because I had to ship it to the US, have my father ship it to Apple, wait for the "repair", then wait for it to be returned to my father, then wait for it to get to France after my father re-shipped it.

Now... because they couldn't fix it properly the FIRST time, I have to do it all over again.

I am severely annoyed.

Some veiled clues to my sordid past...

...can be found in this quasi-frivolous list stolen from LeeAnn (I'm not sure what the answers say...).

Have you ever:
(X) snuck out of the house
(  ) gotten lost in your city
(X) saw a shooting star
(X) been to any other countries besides the United States
(  ) had a serious surgery
(  ) gone out in public in your pajamas
(X) kissed a stranger
(X) hugged a stranger
(X) been in a fist fight
(X) been arrested
(  ) done drugs
(X) had alcohol
(X) laughed and had milk/coke come out of your nose
(X) pushed all the buttons on an elevator
(X) made out in an elevator
(  ) slept in an elevator
(  ) swore at your parents
(X) kicked a guy where it hurts
(X) been in love
(X) been close to love
(X) been to a casino
(  ) been skydiving
(X) broken a bone
(  ) been high
(X) skinny-dipped
(X) skipped school
(  ) flashed someone
(X) saw a therapist
(X) done the splits
(X) played spin the bottle
(X) gotten stitches
(X) had an IV
(X) drank a whole gallon of milk in one hour
(  ) bitten someone (well, they asked for it...)
(  ) been to Niagara Falls
(X) gotten the chicken pox
(X) kissed a member of the opposite sex
(  ) kissed a member of the same sex
(  ) crashed into a friend's car
(X) been to Japan
(X) ridden in a taxi
(X) been dumped
(  ) shoplifted
(  ) been fired
(  ) had a crush on someone of the same sex
(X) had feelings for someone who didn't have them back
(  ) stole something from your job
(X) gone on a blind date
(X) lied to a friend
(X) had a crush on a teacher
(  ) celebrated Mardi-Gras in New Orleans (DURING Mardi-Gras, no... but I've celibrated Mardi-Gras at OTHER TIMES in New Orleans, and they played along...)
(X) been to Europe (ummm, I live there now...)
(  ) slept with a co-worker
(X) been married
(X) gotten divorced
(  ) had children
(X) saw someone die
(  ) been to Africa
(X) driven over 400 miles in one day
(X) been to Canada
(X) been to Mexico
(X) been on a plane
(X) seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show
(  ) thrown up in a bar
(  ) purposely set a part of yourself on fire (but I have set other people on fire... on purpose... and it wasn't a joke...)
(X) eaten sushi
(X) been snowboarding
(X) met someone in person from the internet
(  ) been moshing at a rock show
(  ) cut yourself on purpose
(X) been to a moto cross show
(  ) lost a child
(X) gone to college
(X) graduated from college
(  ) done hard drugs (other than cask-strength Scotch???)
(X) taken painkillers
(X) love someone or miss someone right now

Freudians, speculate at will...

If we refuse to accept death, how can we appreciate life?

Instead of adding yet another, gasoline-soaked log which I hold to the Schiavo fire (and this log may also be embedded with TNT), I'll instead offer these inflammatory opinions where a picture holds a thousand words (I've long wondered, for at least 30 years, why inflammable and flammable have the same meaning, inordinate and ordinate do not...).

So view and enjoy, or be enraged...

or both...

I learned the first three panels when I was in elementary school, The last panel has only become apparent to me recently:

I only truly learned about hypocrisy when I got divorced. This is the first instance that I have found that has exceeded that dark time of my life:





Do you have an opinion? Feel free to leave it in the comments, but don't count on me agreeing with you, or changing my opinion.

I have thought long and hard about this, using personal experience that will not be revealed here, for there are far more issues involved than an easy, surface analysis reveals, that same easy, surface analysis that those who are so willing to condemn a husband from afar readily undertake at no risk to themselves, believing everything they read that aligns with their prejudices, ignoring all the times they have been unfairly defamed.

Walk a mile in other moccasins...

Judge not, lest ye be judged...

Be consistent with your own philosophy.

Right to die when WE choose, not the government or someone else...

Sanctity of marriage...

Departing the old family and starting anew when becoming married (didn't think of that one, did you??? Once a marriage takes place, a NEW family is formed, the parents no longer have the same "rights" according to the anti-homosexual marriage "marriage is sacred" crowd... hypocrites they are in this matter)...

Right to make conscious, rational decisions of when to die...

Euthanasia.... (the inflammatory TNT containing log for the bonfire of the self-righteous on both sides here...)

I have nothing beyond this simple, deliberately obscure statement from my own personal experience:

While we, those who were only related to her, not the one most intimately involved, not the one whose life was the one actually affected, debated her decision and her fate...

While we talked...

While we were indecisive on something she had asked for...

While we fiddled...

While we argued over the morality, and, dear Christ, the legal implications...






She drowned in her own vomit...








Alone at night...








Alone in the night...








Alone in the dark...








Alone...








Answer me this:

Where is the "dignity and respect for life" in that?

I ask myself that question every day, and I still do not have an answer, after years of asking.

We all have our own personal demons we struggle with every day.

You have now been introduced to a few of mine, and grim as they are they are not the darkest by far.

Yet black enough they are to dim even the sunlight of a beautiful Spring day in the South of France where I currently live, if only temporarily.

Are we so ready to condemn those whom we have never met on the word of others whom we also do not know because it is easier on our conscience?

Are we so ready to say the black decision they make out of love is motivated from evil, because that makes us more comfortable in our abstract distance?

Are we so ready to damn without even an attempt at compassion?

...on life, death, and the tragedies of absolutes

I have strong feelings about the case surrounding the Schiavos, as most do. It is doubtful that any family has not had to deal with issues if not identical, at least related to those that this case raises.

My family is no exception.

These strong feelings raise a poisonous atmosphere in which people feel justified in assigning motives to the actors involved, somehow reading hearts at a distance when often we do not even truly know the heart of those with whom we share a bed every night.

I have tried to avoid adding to the turmoil of emotion, with my innate disgust from the foul stench arising from the use of emotion by the political manipulators repelling me from the thought of using the same language. However, in the process I fear I have come across cold, calculating, not recognizing the basic humanity inherent in the situation.

That is far from the case.

When my family had to deal with the related issues, I was forced to examine my feelings and thoughts; so long before the Schiavo case became the cause du jour, I already had firm beliefs and decisions made.

Those decisions and beliefs were not based solely on a cold, calculated analysis of the issues, but also included the human element in larger measure than many would expect.

Even now, I know the grief of loss, the hole in life left by the departure of a loved one, the suffering of absence, the gaping void from which dampening grey pain emanates to cover everything, removing all color, quelling all laughter, blinding you to the rainbows.

We all have these crevasses in our existence, these gaps in our souls.

In the dull colorless silence, the questions arise:

What if I had chosen B instead of A? Did I fight hard enough? Did I believe enough?




Did I love enough?




That dark chasm can quickly become a black pit of despair in which to lose one’s soul.

Matters of life and death are never comfortable, and the dreaded abyss lurking always at the edge of thought yawns in patient anticipation of the eventual, inevitable encounter.

I have had those conversations in that witching hour of eventide with my former wife, conversations of life and death, of what to do if the worst happened.

Quiet but heartfelt discussions with the woman with whom I shared a bed for years, the woman whose heart I eventually discovered I did not know.

Who are we to condemn a man whom we have never met, who has spent over a decade fighting a battle that he could have easily walked away from, who spent those dark hours of the night when dawn seems but a distant hope with the woman he loved, a woman he now feels is dead in all that she was except body?

Who are we to condemn the parents of that woman? Who are we to say they should not fight as hard as they can for their daughter? Who are we to say their hope is illusory?

Who are we to judge?

Sadly, tragically, our cultural heritage is one of absolutes, one of judgments.

Despite our idealized abstract figure of justice holding scales of balance in her hand, we are not a culture of balance. Our religions are not ones of balance, but instead of the quest for a paradise that is the absolute victory of one side.

No yin and yang to be balanced.

No light and dark that need each other to exist.

No balance.

Without balance, without acceptance that insistence upon unconditionals requires destruction, we create these tragedies of absolutes such as this one now playing out, with the horror for the participants lost amidst all the sound and fury.

Life is not black and white, nor is it shades of grey; life is an infinity of colors. If we see only in black and white, in absolutes, we suffer the tragedy of ignoring the whole, of not appreciating the true beauty inherent in all life.

If we insist upon untarnished, unqualified unconditionals, then we cannot comprehend the entirety, the whole.

We cannot truly appreciate this life of which we have been gifted.

Without feeling the cold, how can we know what warmth is?

Without enduring the night, how can we see the hope in the dawn?

Without suffering the emptiness, how can we truly appreciate love?

Without comprehending the loss, how can we understand what we have?

Life is more than one side or the other.

Life is more than birth and death.

Without knowing the dull grey despair that blinds us to rainbows, how can we ever recognize the wonderful, beautiful smile that will color our days?

Photos? You want photos?

I said I'd post photos from skiing yesterday, here's one from the top of the mountain with the river valley containing both Grenoble and Crolles in the background (click on the thumbnail to get a larger picture):

Here's a photo of Grenoble from that same mountain peak. The haze/pollution in the air diminishes the detail, but if it were more clear, you could see my apartment building from here (it's really, really tiny...):

Unless we get fresh snow, yesterday was probably the last day I'll go skiing this season. The morning was really icy and cruddy on the slopes, and towards the end of the day it was like skiing on mashed potatoes (without enough butter!!!). Of course, a bad day of skiing beats a good day at work any time...

Here deep in the heart of France...

...there is a small Irish flag flying over the Garden Park just south of my apartment, visible from the window of the room I use as my office.

I went skiing today, taking the day off from work, being in temperatures around 35 degrees, then returned to around 65 degrees in town with a short drive. (a photo or two will be uploaded later...)

I'm now sitting at my desk in my apartment, enjoying a single-malt Scotch in celebration of the day (I find Irish whiskey vile...), my face tingling slightly from the sun exposure and wind-burns I got on the slopes today.

I am taking tomorrow off from work as well, to go on a long bicycle ride up the river valley here.

As I write this, I'm listening to music from my computer via iTunes.

Future shock isn't just about technology.

A decade ago, if you had asked me if I would ever live in France, be able to go snow skiing one day and bike riding (needing shorts!!!) the very next day, with the ability to listen to any of over 2400 songs at will, I would have said no.

A decade ago I was still married, although that relationship was entering it's final death spiral. I didn't know it at the time, but somehow I suspect she did because that is when she started sleeping with other men.

A decade ago I lived in Vancouver, Washington.

A decade ago, I had no clue who I was or what I wanted.

A decade ago, I had just turned 30.

A decade ago, fear did not rule the nation.

A decade ago, the stock market bubble was showing the first signs of "irrational exuberance" as it was so memorably labeled.

Now, I live in France, I am single, and at 40, I know who I am, and I am figuring out what I want.

Now, fear rules my country, and the "irrational exuberance" has turned into a so-called recovery from a burst bubble that resembles stagnation rather than true growth.

Now, for me, the last decade has been a good one of a slow climb from the Black Pit of Despair into an unexpected light, despite the pain that opened it and dominated the first half.

Now, for my country, it seems the opposite, and every time I think the idealist in me is dead, something else happens to pierce the shields of realism and experience to once again break my heart.

Apparently I am not yet fully the cynic.

Oddly connected thoughts

In learning French, I am discovering that English is a very flexible language. One of the techniques I use in my writing is to change word order to change meaning, because English grammar does not have rigid rules regarding word placement. French, at least at the level I know it now, is not quite as flexible, causing me to speculate that the French use more colorful, image evoking expressions to compensate for the smaller reservoir of words (English has more words than any other language) and lower flexibility in how those words are arranged. So, expressions that if literally translated have nothing to do with what they are describing are used quite frequently in French.

All this leads up to a thought that struck me last night, something that is worth thinking about. It shows the power of word order as well.

Many people believe things happen for a reason.

I believe there are reasons things happen.

Think about it.

Dark musings on a late winter's night

I've been privileged to make contact with many people through this weblog, some contacts distant, some closer and more personal.

In common with all near and far in both distance and personality is the dreadful loneliness that in measure small or large we as humans share.

Some few, those incredibly fortunate few, have found soul-mates that they can spend their lives with.

Most others bear the burden of being alone, even if they share what they strive to make a home with another they call a spouse.

Even though some have children that add joy to their existence, it is no substitute for an equal who chooses not only to share life together but also express it openly without fear.

A few bear the burden of being even more alone, with no company in their homes except the cold blare of a television providing a distant connection to humanity or the small comfort of the love from a pet.

We are born, and most know the love of our mothers soon afterwards, with a tragic number never knowing that love.

We all die alone, because even if surrounded by family and friends, we go into the unknowable without companions.

And in between?

That is what is lightly referred to as "the human condition" by the cognoscenti who study literature or philosophy in abstract terms, and "the human tragedy" by those who feel more than they think.

Regardless of how it is labelled...

We are all uniquely alone. No one else is in our heads.

Completely alone.

Remember that the next time you want to spew vituperation upon someone who has written something you find intolerable.

Remember that the next time the person you work with whom you cannot stand walks by looking sad.

Remember that the next time you see a beggar at the stoplight.

Remember that the next time you see the joy in your child's eyes at seeing you.

Remember that the next time you see something so beautiful it takes your breath away.

Remember.

In the end, we are all alone together.

What I'm listening to now

Here is the best new song I've heard in a long while, especially considering it comes from someone only 20 years old...half my age...ouch...

"Life's like an hourglass nailed to the table"

"No one can find the rewind button now..."

I thought I was the only person who thought these things at 20 years old.

I'm still haunted by those thoughts 20 years later, but now intensified by the regret that only age knows.

Breathe (2am) - Anna Nalick

2am and she calls me cause I'm still awake
Can you help me unravel my latest mistake
I don't love him, winter just wasn't my season.
Yeah we walk through the doors so accusing their eyes
Like they have any right at all to criticize
Hypocrites you're all here for the very same reason...

Cause you can't jump the track
We're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass glued to the table,
No one can find the rewind button girl
So just cradle your head in your hands...
And breathe, just breathe
Whoa breathe, just breathe

May he turned 21 on the base of Fort Bliss
Just today he sat down to the flask in his fist
Ain't been sober since maybe October of last year...
Here in town you can tell he's been down for while,
But my God it's so beautiful when the boy smiles
Wanna hold him but maybe I'll just sing about it...

Cause you can't jump the track
We're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass glued to the table,
No one can find the rewind button boys
So cradle your head in your hand...
And breathe, just breathe
Whoa breath, just breathe

There's a light at the end of this tunnel you shout
Cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
And these mistakes you've made
You'll just make them again
If you'll only try turnin' around

2am and I'm still awake writing this song
If i get it all down on paper it's no longer
Inside of me threaten' the life it belongs to...
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary screamin' out aloud
And I know that you'll use them however you want to...

But you can't jump the track
We're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass glued to the table,
No one can find the rewind button now
Sing it if you understand...
Yeah and breathe, just breathe
Ohho breathe, just breathe
Ohho breathe, just breathe...

I've been told more than once that it's beautiful when I smile...

And more than once I wish I hadn't been sober since October of last year, or the October of 10 years ago...

An interesting day

This morning, around 8:30, when I was walking from one building to another at the site where I work in France, I could hear the booming of the artillery they use to deliberately instigate avalanches in the ski areas nearby before the slopes open for the skiers. It was interesting to hear the distant echoing booming as I looked at the morning sun rising over the snow capped southern Alps, with wispy clouds clinging to the peaks and an intense, beautiful blue sky above...

It was a shame to turn away and go back to work.

Then, this afternoon, I attended a meeting with the US Ambassador to France. He was at our facility to tour it and discuss with our management what we needed to press France to change so that doing business here is a bit easier. He did not have to take the time out of his schedule to meet with all of the expatriates from the US (not just those from my company, but also those from another, non-US-based company in our alliance here) and listen to our concerns and answer our questions, but he did choose to do so.

There were questions not only about mundane concerns such as reciprocity on drivers licenses but also on the possible effects from the seemingly imminent lifting of the embargo by the European Union on military sales to China. While the answers were all those that strictly followed the administration line, and were couched in terms one would expect from a diplomat, the gesture of making the time in his schedule speaks well of this particular Ambassador. Not forgetting the "little people" means more than it first appears, even if nothing truly meaningful comes out of it.

But then again, at times I like to take the optimistic, non-cynical viewpoint just to remember what it was like, long ago before my idealism broke my heart...

Why blog?

Recently, the only person I have inspired to start their own weblog asked the question, why do you blog? I'm a bit late answering, not the least because I've been busy working on patents for my real world job, my lectures and exams for the graduate-level class I've been teaching, and also because I live within less than an hour of driving from Olympic class snow skiing.

I do want to respond to her question, even if my response is less than satisfactory in my eyes, especially since I haven't been linking to her recent blog noir efforts, nor have I responded to her emailed question of if I am interested in participating in a sequel.

They may forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel.
   -Carl W. Buechner

Well, let's start with the infamous blog-novella. I'm sure I'm being too harsh, as I always am in any endeavor in which I participate, but I was disappointed in it, and not the least in my contribution. I think I can do better than what I contributed, but unfortunately I feel I cannot commit to anything on a definite schedule right now because I have a lot of things going on with the job that pays the bills and justifies my living in France, so I don't want to agree and then give a half-assed contribution. I need the limitations of the format and the pressure of a deadline to write, however, so I'm in a bit of a dilemma.

The only man who never makes a mistake is the man who never does anything.
   -Theodore Roosevelt

I write because I need to write. Those who write, understand, those who do not, will not understand.

I'm not trying to be obscure, it is just something that takes thousands of words to describe, and even after the thousands of words, the resulting "understanding" is insufficient.

Even then, for those who might understand, is this caveat:

The older I grow the more I distrust the familiar doctrine that age brings wisdom.
   -H. L. Mencken

I have been told more than once I have an "old soul". I seem to always understand things said by people who are decades older than me. I have had men more than twice my age say to me, "You are the first person who I really feel understands what I am saying. Do not forget it."

What do you do with that responsibility?

I haven't found a satisfactory answer to that question yet.

Despite that, though I hate to admit it, I'm a little boy at heart. Due to circumstances I won't go into here, I had to grow up long before my time, and I never had a chance to be a little boy. The little boy in me sometimes seems a lot like one of the sons of another blogger, Boudicca, of Boudicca's Voice, who posted something her son said that I had to write about, because it resonated so strongly with me. In the end, for me, it all comes down to this:

Sometimes in my head, I cry for us all.

My weblog is the only way I can try to show other people that I think we may be on the wrong path, that we need to consider other options, that black and white aren't the only choices.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
   -William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), Hamlet, Act I, Scene 5

Until the last half-decade of my life, I've been an observer rather than a participant in this humble-jumble collection of human lives we call society and humanity. Being a student of history, a specialist in seeing patterns in seemingly incoherent data, and an outside observer of the human race, as outside as possible for any person who shares the same genes as that species, anyway, I feel I am in a unique position to comment on many things.

I have learnt silence from the talkative, toleration from the intolerant, and kindness from the unkind; yet strange, I am ungrateful to these teachers.
   -Kahlil Gibran

Ultimately, even though I'd love to get the hits that other bloggers get, and even though I don't think too much of those who choose to commit suicide rather than fight things out until the bitter end, I have to say that I agree with this:

I'd rather be hated for what I am than loved for what I'm not.
   -Kurt Coban

My weblog is a way of showing myself that I am who I am, and if I'm not loved, at least I am putting myself out there for people to throw rocks at.

Why do I blog?

Do the math...

Skiing this morning...

...was outstanding.

I was able to make first tracks in powder where I sunk up to my thighs, and that was when I was moving! If I had stopped, I would have sunk down to a level where the snow would have been making body parts I don't WANT cold VERY cold...

All I had to do was point the skis downhill and go, no turning needed. Snow flying everywhere and that wonderful floating sensation that I've only had skiing in deep powder.

Sometimes, life is very, very good.

Not good

I don't know if I have terrible allergies, or if I'm coming down with a cold.

All I know is that I have little energy, my muscles ached a while yesterday, and I'm having to blow my nose so frequently that I fear the apartment will be waist deep in used tissues soon.

Yuck...

Either way, I'm going skiing tomorrow... damn it!!!

Since I don't have time to write anything...

...I'll participate in the meme du jour:

bold the states you've been to, underline the states you've lived in and italicize the state you're in now...

Alabama / Alaska / Arizona / Arkansas / California / Colorado / Connecticut / Delaware / Florida / Georgia / Hawaii / Idaho / Illinois / Indiana / Iowa / Kansas / Kentucky / Louisiana / Maine / Maryland / Massachusetts / Michigan / Minnesota / Mississippi / Missouri / Montana / Nebraska / Nevada / New Hampshire / New Jersey / New Mexico / New York / North Carolina / North Dakota / Ohio / Oklahoma / Oregon / Pennsylvania / Rhode Island / South Carolina / South Dakota / Tennessee / Texas / Utah / Vermont / Virginia / Washington / West Virginia / Wisconsin / Wyoming / Washington D.C /

Go HERE to have a form generate the HTML for you.

Note that there are no italics in there. France wasn't on the list...

Sometimes simple turns of phrases say more than paragraphs

Boudicca has had a rough week:

We were on our way home tonight from a soccer meeting. From the back of the car I hear Son#3 (Bones) say… “Mom… sometimes in my head, I cry for you.”

Me: What? Why do you cry for me?

Bones: Because I love you so much, I don’t want you to ever die.

Me: Oh. So when do you do this crying in your head thing?

Bones: At snack and play. (That would be in school.)

Well the whole conversation went downhill from there. I am just NOT the person they should be coming to when they are having some sort of spiritual crisis. I don’t know the answers. At all. I wing it and I do OK, but its going to come back to haunt me.

There were questions about how my grandmother died 2 years ago. Then questions on how THEIR grandmother died 5 years ago. Then what is a stroke? What is old age? Why doesn’t God protect us from disease? And on and on it went… and I just answered all the questions very matter of factly, but then… but then… I had two little sobbing boys in the back of my car. Son#1 was just listening, but Sons2 and 3 were now melting into two small salty puddles.

I was aghast.

I pulled in the garage and when I got out of the car, Bones hung around my neck, as if I were going to spontaneously combust right then and there and leave this earthly existence. Son#2 wasn’t doing much better. Imagine my husband’s surprise when in we walk and two of them are crying messes.

Blech. Sometimes the questions they ask are too deep for me. What fits right in my head would not fit in theirs. I need to just defer all these questions to their Dad.

There's more, but you should go read it at Boudicca's Voice. Even this short excerpt should fully explain why I read her regularly.

Two sentences struck me deeply. The first:

What fits right in my head would not fit in theirs.

Something we could all do to remember anytime we are speaking to anyone. Just because it fits our head, our preconceptions, our ideas, our beliefs, our biases, does not mean it's the right answer for everyone.

The second:

...sometimes in my head, I cry for you.

Out of the mouths of babes come words expressive and poetic. That simple phrase conveys something that I feel that has always been too complex for me to describe adequately until now.

Sometimes in my head, I cry for us all.

Just a guy...

I am who I am.

Not entertaining.

Not enlivening.

Not a comedian.

Not someone who creates joy.

Just a guy.

I would like to be entertaining.

I would like to be creative and enlightening.

I'm not.

I'm me.

C'est la vie...

Tired

I have many things I want to write about, but in the course of researching and writing justifications for patents, writing the lectures for my class in Chemical Vapor Deposition, and running my experiments in making integrated circuits smaller, faster, and more functional, I don't have much energy left to write.

Thank God I'm not a parent. Those who are and can still find the energy and creativity to write for weblogs (or do ANYTHING else other than collapse at the end of the day) have my profound admiration.

Notice those linked above are all women. Yes, they are stronger than men in the ways that count in the long term.

Old computers, like old hand tools, can have fond memories associated with them

A recent online article in the "Circuits" section of The New York Times describes how you can set up a Mac Mini to cohabitate with a PC using the same monitor, mouse, and keyboard, and how to network the two computers together.

This brings to mind a computer I had seemingly ages ago, set the wayback machine to the days of 1995, a Macintosh PowerPC 6100/66 with the PC card (ignore the horridly ugly monitor in the link, I had a nice, speaker-free Apple Monitor that had been on my old Macintosh LC system, which is still functional). The PC card had a full PC computer on it (a 80486DX2 with 32Mb of RAM, a LOT in those olden days), and used a "container file" on the Macintosh hard drive for permanent storage. The Mac could read and write to the PC hard drive container, and the two systems shared a CD-ROM drive quite well, thank you.

In other words, I had a desktop computer with two fully functional CPUs in it, one running Windows 3.1/DOS, and one running Mac OS 7 (eventually OS 8, and then OS 9, but upon installing OS 9 I lost access to the PC card because that support was dropped).

I still own that computer, and it's still fully functional. When I return to the US, I plan to reinstall Mac OS 8 on it so I can have my old 486 DOS PC access again. I played many games on that PC that will not work on modern systems (the game Privateer from Origin Systems was my favorite, but there were several iterations of Wing Commander and a few wargames I played on it as well) that I sorely miss revisiting upon occasion.

So, we're now repeating history, but this time, we have a big box (the desktop PC) and a small box (the Mac Mini) sharing a keyboard, mouse, and monitor but NOT a hard disk, whereas a decade ago we had a single mid-sized box sharing the keyboard, mouse, monitor, hard disk, CD-ROM drive (a disadvantage sometimes...), and in many cases, printers.

I had two fully functional computers for the price of about one and a quarter of the sum of two systems of comparable capability.

I think I may pick up a Mac Mini and a USB/monitor switch-box the next time I'm in the US so I can set up the dual system described in the "Circuits" article. I miss my old 6100/66. That was a GOOD system that did everything I wanted. It was the first system I used to get on the World Wide Web. It was so cool at the time to be able to look at web sites from Europe! Now the prosaic nature of the web (notice the lack of capitalization now...) has diminished that magic, at least for those who have no memory of the time before it was so easy.

On perspective and turning points

I mentioned briefly earlier this week that I was ill. What I did not give were the details. I've been piecing things together, and doing some other thinking, for reasons that will soon become clear.

I had food poisoning from some sunny-side up eggs I had cooked for myself Saturday night (comfort food for me). I was ill early Sunday morning. The toilet in my apartment here in France is not in the same room as the sink and bathtub/shower, it's in a small room off the hallway that leads to my front door. The geography here is important, because in that hallway I had some empty bottles that I was going to be taking out to the recycle bin (they require glass recycling here). I awoke early Sunday morning rushed to the toilet to get ill. After my body finished thinking it was getting rid of the poisons and I felt I could leave the toilet, I stood up to go wash my face. I got up too fast for my heart which was racing more than I was fully aware, and the world faded to black.

When I awoke, I was on the floor and I heard some kind of sound, which I now realize was me, moaning. As I had fallen, I hit those bottles on the floor, and I now have a cut on my nose and right eyebrow. It took me a while to piece the chain of events together, needless to say I wasn't entirely coherent Sunday morning with both being sick at my stomach and having a blow to the front of my head. At first, I thought I had hit the radiator in the hallway, but the neat ring shape of the cut on my brow indicated otherwise.

An inch farther to the right, and that bottle might have gone through my eye-socket into my brain.

No big skiing accident with my life flashing before my eyes, no spectacular story, just a simple combination of circumstances that added together to a "might have been" that is far more chilling than each and any of the individual, prosaic links in the event chain leading to the key chance of life versus death.

Death is usually this prosaic, unremarkable and unremarked, despite our desperate wish for some meaning, despite the happy endings Hollywood sells.

So for the last few days, I've been thinking about what would have happened if that inch farther to the right was not a "might have been." Even if I wasn't killed instantly, it may have been a few days before someone would have checked up on me. I could have bled to death on the floor.

Perspective and turning points seem very relevant to me right now.

I am doing some thinking, thinking that will remain private...

---

NOTE: Comments to this post are turned off. I'm not looking for expressions of sympathy or horror. I'm working my way through what happened.

Some trends that may affect the computer you can buy in 2012

For some perspective on the challenges of my job this page, which is part of a larger description of past trends and future evolution in microprocessor development, give a reasonably good description of the problems I am trying to overcome.

I recommend reading the entire article, which is part one of a series on "The Quest for More Processing Power".

What is interesting is that I didn't see really any note in the parts I skimmed regarding how in the next few years we will be undergoing a transition from where process technology (which is the way we actually make the microprocessors, using different processes to put films down and selectively remove them to make the transistors and the wires that connect them together) and the improvements in the process technology are paramount in the increase of capability of microprocessors to where the design of the microprocessor itself becomes the key to continued increase in processing power.

Most of the improvements in electronics (specifically processing and memory capacity) have been due to improvements in process technology. In my career, which started in 1991 when I was working on state of the art technology of the time, we have gone from the thinnest layer we make (which happens to be the heart of the transistor, and the part that I have consistently worked on) going from a thickness of roughly 9nm (a nanometer is 1E-9 meters, a meter is a wee bit over 3 feet long, and nano, or 1E-9 is 1/1,000,000,000, so a nanometer is 1/1,000,000,000 of 3 feet... atoms on average are about 0.5nm apart) to about 1.5nm. Atoms are roughly 0.5nm apart (not all are that distance apart, but it's close enough and it makes the math easier), so we have gone from the thinnest film being 18 atoms thick in 1991 for the absolute state-of-the-art, to about 3 (yes THREE) atoms thick for the current state-of-the-art microprocessors.

Think about it, 3 atoms. There's not much room left for this film, is there? Admittedly, there are some ways around it, notably changing the material used, but I've been working on that project for the last 5 years, and no one has the answer to which material to use yet.

Also, another key part of the transistor is the length of the gate. The gate is what is controls whether the transistor is "on" or "off", in other words, a "1" or a "0" in the binary signals used in MPUs (MicroProcessor Units). That gate length has gone down to where it is in the range of 100 atoms across.

Again, think about it, 100 atoms.

So, this change in primacy from process technology to design techniques for improvement in performance is not only expected but almost inevitable unless we come up with some breakthrough in either materials or fundamental structure of transistors.

I don't see this truly watershed transition really recognized widely.

As an FYI, the stuff I work on now will go into production around 2011 or 2012, which means I have a reasonable view of what will be available around 7 years out.

There are a lot of wide-ranging effects that will arise out of this transition. I may write on them later, but for now, to sleep, perchance to dream, but hopefully not and instead an all too brief visit with the bliss of an inactive brain.

Choices (part III)

In our lives we are continually confronted with choices.

Some choices affect only ourselves.

Some choices affect those we care about.

Some choices have ramifications beyond all those we might imagine.

Some choices resonate for centuries after they are made.

We all have to live with the choices we make, looking at ourselves in the mirror in the morning upon awakening, deciding if the person we see there is worth continued existence.

I make that decision every day of my life upon looking in the mirror.

Some days, that decision is not as easy as some optimists would think.

In the final analysis, as people like to refer to, we have to live and die with the choices we have made, for on our deathbeds there is no other appeal than whatever deity we have chosen to cast ourselves and our ultimate fate to.

Choices...

We all make them, even when we think we are postponing them. Although Hollywood is terrible at describing ultimate outcomes, see Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade for the consequences of "choosing poorly."

Choices...

Every day.

Every minute.

In the end, what do they all add up to?

Ultimately, the sum is our choice...

Consider that when you make your choices.

Song meme...

There are some who are trying to get me involved in a song meme going around right now.

No insult intended, but I won't participate, other than to say this:

There is a reason why I will always remember the song "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel, and it is both happy and sad, pleasant and melancholy, good and bad...

Do not ask me more.

Some things should remain as they are, private.

Futility

In an odd synchronicity that likely does not merit close examination, upon reading recent posts by Aaron Swartz on his life as a college freshman, I see many of the same feelings I had when I started college over 23 years ago. I'm sure the emotions stirred up within me are not in small measure affected by the music I am listening to, a random playlist of my highest rated songs on iTunes. Music from that time in my life 23 years ago, music from only last month, music from all times in between, randomly chosen based upon ratings I gave it without any further thought than if I once liked the song. It makes me wonder if the new technologies which increase the interconnectedness of us all (weblogs, email, etc.) and increase our access to music, news, video, and any other media help those who feel disconnected from the rest of humanity any less lonely.

I doubt it, after reading what Aaron has to say. He seems to have many of the same thoughts and reactions I did 23 years ago.

There are still times, even now, I feel disconnected from the human race, even after 23 years past that first shock of college, 23 years of heartache and heartbreak, 23 years of meeting different people and learning to understand them even if they didn't think like me, living in five different places on two continents, spending a significant amount of time on three different continents, learning new things both related and unrelated to my job, discovering technology and science not known by anyone before and telling the world of these new things in conferences and technical papers, 23 years of relearning lessons first learned thousands of years ago in eons of heartbreaks repeated.

Years of personal turmoil, years of wars, years of incredible growth in both economics and technology, years of change that make movies and novels of even 10 years ago seem as "quaint" and "outdated" as a certain individual in our current government labeled the Geneva Conventions.

Over two decades...

Twenty-three years is slightly over half my lifetime ago, and 23 years from now I will be eligible for retirement (assuming no radical changes in the law...). Yet... I'm still 15 years too young to be called "middle aged".

I recently posted a quote:

Only age understands regret.
   -J. Michael Straczynski

While I fully accept my mistakes, and I understand that at every point I made the best decisions I could given both what I knew and understood at the time leavened with what wisdom I had earned, regret still haunts my darker hours like the ghosts of those loved and departed haunt any gathering of old friends. That simile may be peculiarly apt in my case for reasons to difficult to describe here. Regret unmerited, but felt all the same.

Will I be able to withstand the regret after another 23 years?

This last December, a person very important to me sent me an email. The person who wrote this message is a poet, a very good one in my opinion. I've often thought of posting some of her poetry here, but I don't want to presume she would want it, and I haven't ever asked (no, I don't know why...). The entire email she sent:

subject: saw the worst thing yesterday...

there was a struck deer in the roadway... he was rocking back and forth and trying to get up.

unfortunately, his back was broken.

futility.

Some days, this encapsulates life for me, for I see and understand.

Thousands, perhaps millions, every day, of tragic vignettes that have no larger meaning beyond what those who witness them give. Witnesses who are all too mortal themselves.

Lives lost...

Visions erased...

Dreams shattered...

People forgotten...

Hearts broken...

Hopeless striving...

Broken-backed...

Unwitnessed...

Unremembered...

Never ending...

Always forgotten...

And so it goes...

Futility

.
.
.

Then, my stubborn streak kicks in, and I refuse to give up, regardless if the entire universe and even God are all against me.

Though there are times I wished I could, I cannot give up.

I don't know why.

Oooooooooouuuuuuuuuuch....

I went skiing for the first time in a couple of years today.

I'm really, really, really, REALLY out of condition, so exerting myself at a high altitude isn't really a good idea, especially since I just celebrated the end of my 40th trip around the sun.

(An aside here, the French can't believe I weigh 185 pounds, they needed to know to set my ski binding release correctly... Apparently, to them I don't look fat, and since all Frenchmen are skinny [I can't find shirts that fit in the shoulders, and let's not even mention the pants...] I'm supposed to weigh around 145-150 pounds. I haven't weighed that little since I was in high school, over 20 years ago. No wonder the French surrender all the time, they're too damn skinny to fight...)

Despite being out of condition, and two years out of practice, I managed to complete several expert-level runs today (they label them a bit differently here, green to blue to red to black rather than green to blue to black to double-black in the US) and I only had one fall where I lost a ski, and that was on the first run of the day. I managed to do several runs on black (double-black in the US) in an avalanche zone (apparently they're a bit more casual about that here... given the number of avalanche remains I saw from the ski lifts, and the number of people I saw ducking under the barriers to the runs closed because of the avalanche risk) without wiping out.

Staying vertical all day after my first run (on an expert trail) is a Good Thing.

Unfortunately, it took its toll.

The aspirin and single-malt Scotch are starting to kick in now, so the pain is easing, but tomorrow is going to be the biggest bitch I've had to deal with since I got divorced.

.
.
.

I have plans to go skiing again Saturday.

Annoyances

OK... so... the light bulb in my floor lamp burned out about a month ago. It's been about 9 months since I bought it, so no problem, buy another one.

The new light bulb just burned out after an all too brief lifetime of four weeks, and I haven't bought a plethora of lights to account for the fact that apartments here in France have very few fixtures left when the previous tenants move out. It's now dark... and I had to buy a space heater today to account for the fact that the heater in my apartment went out and I cannot get someone here to fix it until next week. I don't muck with gas and electricity in the same appliance, especially when all the warnings are written in French. This has not been a good week on the infrastructure front for me.

I'm sitting here typing this by the light of my flat panel monitor. The only portable light I have is a desk lamp I use to keep the kitchen lit enough for me to make sure I'm not cooking the cat when I'm fixing my dinner.

To say I'm annoyed at the light burning out after a month of use is putting it mildly. Unfortunately, I do not have the words to express my annoyance properly in the local language. I'll have to resort to what they would say across the Channel:

Bloody Hell...

It is winter...

...so I'm not going to complain about the cold outside, but unfortunately, the heater in my apartment here isn't working. It's a single unit that heats water for regular use on demand and heats water that is circulated in the radiators to heat the apartment. I accidentally let the pressure in the radiator loop drop below the recommended range, and the safety mechanism kicked in and stopped the burner from tripping on to heat too little water. Now that I've refilled the loop, the burner still does not trip on, so the only time I get heat is when I run hot water, because the same burner is used to heat the radiator loop and the regular water.

Brrrrr...

It's in the upper 20s outside right now, and in the upper 50s in the apartment. Time to go buy an electric heater until I can figure out how to fix the heater or get someone here to look at it.

...on objectivity and centrism

As can been seen from following the links in the post below, I irked someone by appearing to say that I'm loftily objective while failing to truly be so.

Since I am not the "big-blogger" he is, I cannot hope to win any pissing match with him and his legion of sycophants. However, I will respond in my forum against accusations that I believe are unfair. For example, the apparent belief by Rob that I say I am absolutely objective, when I cannot recall ever saying I am truly objective.

Do I try to be objective?

Yes.

Do I succeed at being objective?

No.

No one is perfectly objective.

I like to call myself a "centrist", not in the least because I despise the thoughtlessness of ideologues, but also because I do constantly strive to look at the data and choose what I perceive to be the best course based upon both my fundamental principles and what I see to be the "common good".

Let me provide some perspective. I work as a scientist. I prefer to call myself a scientist because both my undergraduate and graduate degrees are in Physics, although in the course of my undergraduate career I ended up taking the same number of engineering courses as people with a bachelors degree in electrical engineering. I do medium to long-term research in new materials and structures to be used in VLSI and ULSI integrated circuits for one of the top ten semiconductor companies. I have been with this company for almost nine years, and technology I have worked on is in PalmPilots, cell phones, Apple computers, printers from too many manufacturers to list, pagers, network routers, and any number of other applications. I have four issued patents (that I can definitely recall, there may be one or two I've forgotten), four additional patents currently submitted to the US Patent and Trademark Office, and I have had over 35 publications in technical journals and conferences.

It is a key part of my job to review data with as much objectivity as possible in order to extract out the meaning in that data. Unfortunately, at the scale that I work, the data is not clear and concise. Instead, we are forced to seek small trends hidden within a lot of noise. I have a talent, developed or natural, of being able to look at a large amount of data and extract out trends that are not immediately apparent. This ability has led to my success and to the patents and papers I have to my credit.

It is a key part of my job to be objective in looking at data. Do I always succeed?

No.

No one is perfectly objective.

However...

I do succeed at seeing the actual trends within the mass of noisy data more often than not, even when the data points to a conclusion that is not in alignment with my hypothesis and my bias.

This is why my company was willing to pay all the money needed to move me to France.

Let me provide some additional perspective on how I view the world. A while back, I wrote "I see relationships between quantum mechanics, the pre-election video released by Osama bin Laden, the apparent divide between the Red States and the Blue States, the reaction in blogworld to the retirement of Dan Rather, the controversy over the Marine shooting an apparently surrendered man in Iraq and the reporting of the incident, other aspects of the ongoing fighting in Iraq, the opposition of France to almost every US foreign policy, the election in Ukraine and the consequent increased visibility of the attempt by Vladimir Putin at establishing a Russian version of the Monroe Doctrine, and several other threads in the tangled skein of the world." So much time has passed that it is difficult for me to find the relevant links that would allow me to show how all these disparate things can be related, so instead I will try to give a better idea of how I view the world. Since some seem to take deliberate offense to what I write, it seems useful to show how just because I say "this is wrong" doesn't mean I have not considered all the factors, nor does it mean that I am completely opposed to whatever point of view doesn't perfectly align to what I am saying.

That is the irony. In a recent post I included the following quote:

Thanks to TV and for the convenience of TV, you can only be one of two kinds of human beings, either a liberal or a conservative.
   -Kurt Vonnegut

As is implied in what Vonnegut says, there are more than two kinds of thinking, more than only left or right, more than liberal or conservative, as the media like to pigeonhole everything. It brings to mind something from the immortal bard, Shakespeare, who wrote:

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
   -William Shakespeare (Hamlet at I, v) (in another irony given what prompted this post, in a post defending Rob, who is now choosing to attack me for my views...)

However, as unwilling as the extremists in any part of the political landscape are willing to admit:

In real life, unlike in Shakespeare, the sweetness of the rose depends upon the name it bears. Things are not only what they are. They are, in very important respects, what they seem to be.
   -Hubert H. Humphrey

A brief aside here, I use quotes from others because although I want to develop myself into an excellent writer, there are so many ideas and concepts that were so well stated by others that the quotes convey my meaning far better than anything I could write using more words, so as any good writer does, I plagiarize, but at least I give credit where I know who to credit (or blame...).

So, how does quantum mechanics relate to all of this?

One of the fundamental principles of quantum mechanics is the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, which states that you can know the position or the velocity of a particle to any precision, but you must pay the price of a corresponding loss in precision of knowledge of the other factor. This has profound implications, because our minds are inherently set up to believe in the clockwork universe of Newtonian Physics, where if the variables can be known to any precision, we can absolutely predict the outcome of any action. The uncertainty principle resulted in the realization that at very small scales, the exact position or momentum (velocity) of any particle cannot be known to the ultimate precision that our clockwork-universe minds demand.

In other words, quantum mechanics predicts "clouds of probability" where an electron (or other particle) of a certain energy or speed can be found. This has been shown to be true endlessly, and it was one of the principles that resulted in the development of both the fission and fusion bombs (each of which I have the technical knowledge to construct, if not the materials). The math used to solve the equations needed to build either the fission or fusion bombs was relatively simple enough to be figured out on an old computer that is not even 0.1% as sophisticated as the computer you are using to read this right now.

A $10 pocket calculator is now sufficient to do the minimum of math necessary to build an atomic bomb.

Frightened yet????

I had to understand and reproduce all of this work before they would give my my Master of Science degree in Physics.

Here is another thing to contemplate. I score between 145 and 165 on IQ tests, depending on the test, how much sleep I've had, and how much Scotch I had the night before the test.

Which means that I do well on standardized tests...

It also means I understand the fundamentals of quantum mechanics, statistical dynamics, and on a larger scale, how the world works, and not only when statistics are applied. Ask me again why my average return on my investments has been over 13% for the last 10 years.

In the end, learning both quantum mechanics and statistical dynamics changed the way I view the world. I no longer view anything as black and white, as right or wrong, as any kind of certainty.

Everything is indeterminate, with what we call "the collapse of the wave function of probability" determining the outcome of any experiment. There are any number of thought experiments (Schrodinger's cat, for example) and real-world examples (the double-slit experiment) that show the truth inherent in the uncertainty principle.

How does this relate to the larger scale world, the world not affected directly by the small scale required by the uncertainty principle?

No one, no matter how well informed, can fully know all the factors that go into any situation.

So, in the end, all situations, whether on a personal scale or something that affects thousands or tens of thousands of people, has its own uncertainty associated with it.

You can discuss "moral clarity" all you want, but there is no absolute "moral clarity", because as long as there is more than one single human being existing on this planet, there will be more than one view of morality.

Are all views of morality equal? That is a moral judgment in and of itself, is it not?

So, if you are willing to say, "my way or the highway", then that means you are willing to accept the solution arrived at by the Nazis, that is the final solution, destruction of all who do not believe as you do.

You're not a Nazi, you say? Therefore, you must have some kind of accommodation to those who do not believe exactly as you do then...

Which therefore leads to the realization that you cannot say that your morality must triumph above ALL OTHERS to the extermination of those who do not believe as you do.

This ain't rocket science.

So, ultimately, the "probability cloud" of moral behavior collapses in each individual case to what is believed by those affected directly or those involved through a recourse to public institutions.

This is how everything is related to quantum mechanics.

Regardless of whether the trooper who shot the person in the mosque in Iraq was justly in fear of his life and safety or not, he will have to live with the consequences of his decision for the rest of his life, and how he himself deals with those consequences may have little or nothing to do with what the Marine chain of command ultimately decides was reasonable for the situation. It is his perception of events that will determine the course of the rest of his life.

Taking the life of another human being is rarely a trivial thing, and in this case, I doubt the man involved thought it was trivial or will ever forget his decision.

If you can't deal with this kind of moral relativity, you don't deserve to be called an "adult".

Do the questions I ask in reaction to the televising of his decision detract from the ultimate rightness or wrongness of his decision? No, they do not. However, those of us who sit comfortably in our homes need to fully understand the daily, hourly, and instantaneous decisions made on our behalf by those who have volunteered to give up so much of themselves to serve a greater good, the defense of our country, and in many cases, the defense of our society, in addition to those made in reasonable defense of their own lives.

Broadcasting the effects of our asking this of these good men and women, even to the effect of showing those men and women in a less than absolutely perfect light, is also an integral part of our responsibility in knowing and understanding what we are asking. We MUST know what we are asking them to do.

Does this mean I am saying the sacrifice is too great?

No, it does not.

If you are so simple-minded to think so, you do not deserve to be called an "adult".

Questioning the reasons behind asking for that sacrifice is an obligation of those making the request, an appreciation of that sacrifice that is NOT a denigration of that sacrifice, nor is it saying it was not "worth it", despite what the distorted lenses of some might cause them to read of anything that does not at first appear to be in complete lock-step with their views.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

I don't claim to be perfect, nor perfectly objective.

I DO TRY to step outside of my own head and perspective, constantly, something that those who like to throw rocks are all too hesitant to do.

I wrote in another post, "It is the falsehoods masquerading as truth that fear the light of scrutiny." If your beliefs cannot stand to be questioned, are they really worth the mindless allegiance you give them?

Angry

I think one of the reasons I haven't really been able to produce anything I've felt was worth posting is I'm angry. Very angry.

Angry at what I see in the world right now.

Angry at what I see the government of the United States doing.

Angry at what I see other governments in the world doing.

Angry at what I see in blogworld where apologists are justifying things that are, to put it simply, wrong.

Angry.

A reader and fellow blogger once wrote to me to "Do something just for me, just once. Rant about something selfish, not humanitarian in the least, and poorly research it! Pleeeeze... It can be totally nonconsequential."

I'm tempted to rant, the problem is it's not "nonconsequential"...

I'm angry.

The few who have seen me angry, truly angry, will understand when I say I do not like to loosen the leash I hold tightly to that emotion within me.

I'm very angry.

At first, I thought this feeling arose out of jet lag, out of being tired from my return to France, and out of my realization that for the first time in two decades I have a place I think of as "home" and immediately upon that discovery having to leave that place.

Unfortunately, it's not that simple. It never is that simple for me.

Then again, few things in the world are as simple as they first appear, but the complexities are usually ignored. I cannot ignore them, that is not my nature. You could say it is my curse.

But I'm still angry.

Still jet-lagged...

...and it still sucks.

I hate being tired like this. It affects how I look at the world. When I was well-rested in the US before I returned to France, I was very energized, posting and writing at a furious rate, and felt ambitious about how much I could accomplish in the next year.

Now... tired, out of sync with the local clock, and generally out of sorts, I wonder if even my blog is like a broken pencil...

pointless...

I'm sure I'll be better after a few more days, but I really hate feeling this way.

Changing time zones is no fun

I'm seriously jet-lagged from my trip back to France. I'm pretty groggy and not sleeping well when I try to sleep at night.

Hopefully, I'll be over this in the next day or so and can think a bit more coherently.

Key lesson of the day...

...pun intended.

Love is where you find it. Embrace and enjoy it.

Sometimes being so rational isn't so good

My cat is relaxing on the couch next to me. Every now and again he reaches out a paw and rests it on my chest, appearing to gain some reassurance that I'm still with him here after my two week trip to the US away from him.

I know he has a brain smaller than my fist, and given what I understand about the nature of the universe, complexity, and thought, I doubt he really has the same level of sentience and emotional cognizance that humans do, but it would be nice to have the illusion that he really does have some affection for me. In reality, he just is happy for another presence in the apartment, the fact that it is me has little or nothing to do with it, for how can a cat really know about me.

Illusions can be pleasant sometimes. Since I live alone here in France, surrounded by people I can barely communicate with, a connection with another living being is important. Any true connection with a cat is a chimera though, and my mind will not let me forget that it is indeed an illusion.

Too bad it's not in my nature to ever believe in them...

---

NOTE: The definition of chimera I'm using is the second entry, third definition on dictionary.com.

On the road...

...in Dallas, the departure of my flight to Paris delayed by an hour, giving me time to have real American food one last time before I return to France.

Boy, hot dogs taste good with bloody marys.

Generosity of spirit

In a post for the recent Spirit of America fundraising campaign, I wrote about the generosity that Americans are known for around the world.

The world knows the people of the United States, not the government but the people, as remarkably generous. Even during the height of tensions between the US and Iran, every time there was an earthquake in the region, the people of the United States contributed to relief efforts. Any time there is any kind of natural disaster in the world, the people of the United States are in the forefront in contributing money and other forms of aid to the stricken region, regardless of past or present enmity.

This is the generosity of individuals, generosity of material means.

This generosity is nothing to sneeze at and will add to the good in a world that has more than enough evil.

Ultimately, though, it is easy to be generous with money.

True generosity is generosity of spirit, which is far, far harder to achieve.

The generosity of spirit I speak of is not the trite "love all mankind" that is the mantra mindlessly repeated during this time of the year.

The generosity of spirit I speak of is not giving of yourself until you have nothing left for yourself.

The generosity of spirit I speak of is not denying your nature or your humanity.

What is it, then?

Generosity of spirit is recognizing the humanity of everyone.

Generosity of spirit is avoiding the laziness of labeling and taking the time to look at the heart of matters.

Generosity of spirit is opening your mind to the thoughts of others, even when you do not agree with them.

We are all human. We all have to eat to live. We all have to sleep to stay sane. We all suffer from the same curse so eloquently allegorized in the story of the Garden of Eden and the Tree of Knowledge and have the need for our lives to have some meaning, some external recognition that we are important.

Generosity of spirit recognizes this common need, this essential emptiness we all share that can only be filled by others. The very recognition of this need satisfies it and assuages the loneliness that is so central to being human, yet this recognition is often the most difficult to give and requires a true effort of will.

The single biggest way we can do good in this world is to take the time to try to understand those we regard as our worst enemy and recognize in them the same humanity that exists in ourselves. Evil arises out of the refusal to see enemies as human. Does the world really need more of this evil?

Drive...

When I was married, I used to go out for a drive every Christmas Eve, alone. I started this when I was in graduate school in Arizona. Christmas in Arizona I suspect is much like Christmas in Australia, you’re running the air conditioner and hoping that the reindeer don’t drop out of the sky from heat exhaustion.

We lived in Phoenix, which is in the center of a huge plain called the Valley of the Sun, ringed by mountains. Over the eons that eroded into the giant basin and created a flat-bottomed valley that has occasional isolated, craggy, rocky mountain peaks rising from the almost perfect flatness like islands of rock in a sea of dust. This creates a huge hothouse effect from the inversion layers that form in the giant valley. Oddly, sometimes the air is crystal clear, usually immediately after the hot air in the valley finally breaks free from the imprisoning cooler air above. This happened one Christmas Eve, so as I drove through the night through one of the Indian Reservations I could see for miles. The Reservations had almost nothing built inside them, so even though they were on land that was at the same level as the rest of that flat-bottomed valley, some of the best views of the area could be found there.

Isolated houses were on the Reservation, and in the distance where the darkness seemed impenetrably dense I saw a small house, what we would call a shotgun-shack in Memphis, and it had red, green, blue, and yellow lights strung along the eaves. The house was isolated, nothing nearby, all alone in the night.

Years later, we lived near Portland, Oregon. One Christmas Eve, I played my “game” that I enjoyed along the narrow two-lane highway that crawled halfway up the cliff-edge on the north side of the Columbia River Gorge. I had a high performance all-wheel-drive sports car, and I enjoyed taking it out on that narrow, twisty road and take all the turns at a minimum of twice the recommended maximum speed. The 35mph turns started to be a bit touchy, but the real challenge was in the 40 and 45mph turns at 80 and 90mph.

The gorge is relatively narrow upriver of Portland, but widens out again after 40 miles or so, where a dam has been built, and a bridge across the river slightly further upstream. My route typically was to drive on the narrow winding highway on the north side (we lived north of the river), cross the bridge, and then take another narrower and even more serpentine highway on the south side. The highway on the south side had several places to stop that were at waterfalls fed by streams that arose from glaciers on Mount Hood and springs in the mountains near the base of Mount Hood. One of my favorite places in the world is Latourell Falls, where I would stop at midnight, park, and walk the quarter of a mile through the dark woods to the base of the waterfall.

Another Christmas Eve, I took a route that landed me on an interstate highway. I stopped at a truck stop to pick up a soda, and I saw the truckers eating their Christmas Eve Dinners in the truck stop cafe. There was an odd camaraderie in their isolation, each alone at their own table, or sitting on stool at the counter, with at least one stool between them, but none seeming to feel lost. They smiled at the waitress and bantered back and forth with her at midnight on Christmas Eve in a truck stop 50 miles from anywhere.

Even after my divorce, when I began to visit my parents for Christmas again, I still felt a need to go out alone for a drive on Christmas Eve. One year there had been an ice storm, the most common kind of “white Christmas” experienced in Memphis, and heedless of the danger I went for a drive. It was midnight on Christmas Eve, I had a bigger risk of getting run over by a reindeer than encountering another car. The ice storm had started early in the day, and with their customary intrepidness, drivers all over Memphis had abandoned their cars to walk, showing just how afraid of frozen water they are. When else can you get Americans to choose to walk when they could drive? As was typical in ice storms, the weaker branches of trees had broken under the extra weight of ice, creating a sad vista in tree-rich Memphis.

Even people who are not misers have ghosts of the past that haunt them.

The best Christmas music of all time?

A Charlie Brown Christmas by The Vince Guaraldi Trio, the soundtrack to the TV special, especially the tune Christmas Time Is Here (the instrumental version).

To me, it has just enough wistful sadness evoking childhood past and rememberence of innocence lost and magic faded.

---

Full disclosure: If you click on the link and choose to buy that CD, I get a referral bonus at no additional cost to you. Capitalism at it's best!!!

Once upon a time...

...I wanted to be the ultimate Heinleinian hero, or perhaps a Master Keaton (those who know, know...), but now at 40 years old maybe more a Mito Komon...

...or ultimately, simply as a man who did more good than he did evil...

Somehow, somewhere along the line, I became someone who seems to be viewed as somewhere between a hyper-intelligent James Bond and the ultimate nerd...

Read on if you dare or care about the ramblings of a semi-drunk blogger writing his stream-of-consciousness...

...keeping in mind what Ghandi said, "Whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it."

Regardless, I'm alone by my choice except for my cat, despite having more than a few volunteers to "ease my loneliness" (sorry to those out there, it is not intended as a slam, but I can't find a better but still concise way to express it..)

Where do I go from here, since I live in France for the reasonably foreseeable future?

I could say "only The Shadow knows", but it seems I am The Shadow to most folks...

Those who haven't forgotten him, that is...

The loss of memory is the curse of civilization, and the ultimate death...

Which brings to mind something I have wanted to say to those who try to excuse the torture perpetrated by the United States in Guantanamo and Abu Ghirab (not to mention sending prisoners to nations where torture is used as a matter of everyday routine...):

The acts which expose the feet of clay of the hero, of whom is expected better, cause far more damage than the acts of those who the world already knows are evil.
   -John M. Grant (that is, me...)

Yes, by God, I'll quote myself since I think it's important enough!!!!

I watch the French music television (which unlike MTV still shows music videos), but all I see are pathetic attempts at saying something original in time to music on topics that were already old when Shakespeare wrote Romeo and Juliet. It is positively laughable seeing people barely out of their teens sing about love and loss from my 40 year old vantage point...

Then I see Eminem's video for Just Lose It and see that satire is not completely dead...

Then in browsing iTunes for Just Lose It I run across Lose My Breath by Destiny's Child, a tune that has an infectious, irresistible Brazilian rhythm (which reminds me curiously of the drum rhythms from when I was in high school marching bands...) that I wish I would cause in someone and then when I do, I fear it... Ain't the Internet grand?

Stream of consciousness becomes cognitive dissonance turns into cognitive dissidence which will hopefully collapse into oblivion before the night ends...

This ain't art, it ain't even blogging...

It's bullshit.

---

Forgive the tone of this post. I realized during my 3 hour long meeting with the CEO of my company today that I am now swimming in deeper waters than I have ever tread in before, and I need to either become one of the sharks or be consumed by them. I am soothing this realization with a liberal dose of the best single-malt Scotch currently in production because my supply of the best single-malt ever made is still in my house in the US...

I grew up too soon...

...and yes, there is a whole story behind this that you will likely never hear...

I miss playing with train sets.

Are you sure you want to know?

I've had more than one person ask me "What exactly is it that you do for a living, anyway?"

An article at CNET News describes the technology I work on. It is in the context of what Intel is planning, but the entire semiconductor industry is working on similar technology as Intel so it applies to my work as well. It's getting more and more difficult to make the devices that go into IC chips faster and more efficient, but it's my job all the same.

Disparate threads of thought are not necessarily unrelated

I've been trying to pull together several seemingly unrelated threads of thoughts out of inchoate contemplation and weave them together into a tapestry showing how these radically different ideas and events form a coherent picture, a picture that can warn and guide us.

It hasn't been easy...

I see relationships between quantum mechanics, the pre-election video released by Osama bin Laden, the apparent divide between the Red States and the Blue States, the reaction in blogworld to the retirement of Dan Rather, the controversy over the Marine shooting an apparently surrendered man in Iraq and the reporting of the incident, other aspects of the ongoing fighting in Iraq, the opposition of France to almost every US foreign policy, the election in Ukraine and the consequent increased visibility of the attempt by Vladimir Putin at establishing a Russian version of the Monroe Doctrine, and several other threads in the tangled skein of the world.

Hopefully, I can get this pulled together before the beginning of next week, which is going to be a very busy at work for me.

This is really starting to hurt my pocketbook

Ouch!

The euro surged to a new high against the U.S. dollar for the fourth straight day Friday, although the greenback rose off its low point.

The euro hit an all-time high of $1.3329 in Asian trading on comments, later retracted, that China was cutting back on its accumulation of dollar assets.

I'm paid in dollars, and I spend in euros here in France.

When I moved here, it was roughly $1.15 for a euro. So, I've basically had a not-insignificant pay cut...

Thanksgiving

Today is Thanksgiving in the United States. Here in France it is just another day.

For some, it is a day of warm memories and joy to be with loved ones. A day of relaxation, a day to watch football games, a day to enjoy the bounty that is not truly appreciated for the gift it is, even on a holiday dedicated to giving thanks.

For others, it is just another day.

The banality of our bounty causes us to seek meaningless contests played out on a perfectly manicured, level field shielded from the elements by a huge dome; we mesmerize ourselves in a feeble attempt to overcome the lethargy of surfeit, to somehow satisfy the fundamental drive towards the hunt and struggle for survival imposed on our rational minds by animal instinct.

Elsewhere in the world, it is just another day, and in more places than we realize the day that dawns is another day of struggle for survival, a struggle for food, a struggle for shelter, a struggle to hide from others who seek to kill them, a struggle played out on a rugged field that is tilted towards death with no instant-replay review. Just another day.

The sudden shiver from the cool that accompanies a sunset on a perfect late-summer day warns of the approach of winter. The images we turn away from, the images that flicker past on the news stations as we surf the channels for more artificial stimulation, the nightmare visions made real of starvation, of cruelty, of inhumanity, of murder and blood and death, what do they warn of?

Today is Thanksgiving in the United States. In the rest of the world, it is just another day.

Bloody Hell...

...my favorite place to eat in Austin has burned down (it happened in late October, but I'm just now hearing about it).

Damn... I hate it when this happens.

A photo from Greenwich

Here's a photo I took of the Cutty Sark for my father.





Sadly, the ship is deteriorating, and they are having to take donations to try to modify the supports in the dry dock to prevent the hull from getting distorted.

A brief complaint

The %$#@^&*+=&*%$#@ exchange rates are killing me!!!!

We've reached $1.30 per euro!!!

I'm paid in dollars.

I'm spending in euros.

This really sucks.

harumph!!!!

...

OK, I'm finished complaining for now...

Scary...

They're repeating in French the statement made by the Palestinian delegation that visited Arafat today, and I can understand what they are saying.

Okaaaaaaaaay...

I guess I have learned some French along the way.

Being monolingual my entire life until now (except for speaking Geek, but that's different), it feels really weird to understand another language.

D'OH! I really, really, really should learn to say "no", even in French...

I've agreed to teach a course at a local university starting in January. I haven't taught anything formally in about 15 years.

I won't be getting any extra pay for this.

I probably won't be getting any extra anything for this.

What the Hell was I thinking?

An unusual year for me

I'm reading stories on many blogs of how they went out and voted today. I voted almost a month ago by absentee ballot.

I'm actually experiencing autumn this year, which is a stark contrast to Austin, which has two seasons, bloody-freaking-hot and not-hot.

Yesterday was a holiday here, and I didn't realize it until I made it to work and saw no cars in the parking lot. It was like one of those dreams you have, but fortunately I wasn't nekkid...

I was shopping in the grocery store here in France, and they have some flunky using a PA system to announce specials, but instead of reading from a script, he's just making it up as he goes. It's rather surreal, especially since I only half-understand the announcements (my French is getting better, but it's not THAT good yet).

My birthday was a little over a week ago. This is the first year I didn't have numerous friends scheming trying to throw a surprise party that I didn't figure out to the last detail beforehand. Instead, I spent it alone in Greenwich, standing on the prime meridian and looking at the telescope they used to observe star transits and improve navigation methods. (photos of the Cutty Sark on the way, sorry, no photos of the telescopes, they didn't allow photos)

I've managed to visit five countries other than the United States this year, and I set up housekeeping in one of them.

I was told today by my French teacher that I understand spoken French very well, much better than those who have had twice as many classes as I have. That surprised me, especially when I went shopping yesterday and the cashiers said things to me that I completely missed.

All in all, an unusual year.

On a pilgrimage of sorts...

...I made sure I visited this place when I was in London:

If I had to name the single largest influence on my life, this would be it. Don't know what I'm referring to? The clues are all here:

A day of ill omen?

October 24

Not only my birthday, but United Nations Day, and even more ominously, Black Thursday, the beginning of the Great Depression.

Something to think about....

A click of the hand on the clock...

...and suddenly, I'm 40.

At least I'm currently in a country where I can understand the language (except for some Welsh and Scots, and certain regions of London... they're speaking English, but I understand French better than the English they speak...).

Well, here's to surviving another trip around the sun.

I'm a happy camper

I've had my first drink of Dr. Pepper in over 6 months.

Those who know me will understand....

Countdown V

Only 4 days until I turn 40.

Yikes!!!

I leave for England tomorrow morning. I'm packing and preparing now. It'll be nice to spend several days in a place where I can communicate with reasonable certainty that I didn't accidentally just call myself something obscene...

Countdown IV

Only 5 days until I turn 40.

Yikes!!!

Countdown III

Only 12 days until I turn 40.

Yikes!!!

Countdown II...

Only 17 days until I turn 40.

Yikes!!!

AND I've gotten a LOT more grey hair in the 6 months I've lived in France.

Yikes!!!

Countdown...

Only 22 days until I turn 40.

Yikes!!!!!

I never thought I'd be living in France on my 40th birthday. Odd the turns life can take, ain't it?

How incredibly odd...

This is probably because the iTunes playlist I have going is playing several songs in a row from the early to mid 1980s, but I find myself wondering what my ex-wife would think of me as I am now, not as I was when we met 22 years ago, or who I was a bit over 8 years ago when we finally divorced.

I have no desire to even see or even speak to this woman again, ever...

Odd the thoughts that arise late in the evening like ghosts from the past, tormenting us with possibilities.

Taking a break

I've just been told I make "holier than thou" remarks by someone I think highly of in blogworld.

I didn't see how any remarks I made could be interpreted that way, so it's obvious I need to look at myself and what I've been writing.

I'll return to posting once I figure out if and where I have gone wrong.

It's amazing...

... I can still get goosebumps, watching a DVD of a Peter Gabriel concert, listening to a song I've heard a thousand times before, but the change of tempo he makes for live performances creates an entirely new song, familiar but new and haunting.

I saw this man in concert the first time in 1982, the summer after my high school graduation. I drove from Memphis, Tennessee to Washington, DC, on a Saturday to see the concert Saturday night, then drove back to be at work Sunday evening. I was young, stupid, and poor, I needed the money.

The second time I saw Peter Gabriel in concert was 21 years later, in the summer of 2003 when my parents visited me in Austin. It is funny how time passes without notice; I could have fathered a child and had him come of age in that period. Time is unkind to most, and seemingly ignores others, until like Dorian Grey or the house of Usher he comes to take his toll with a vengeance. I have seemingly been ignored, Gabriel has paid his toll, you can hear it in his voice and see it in his face.

This second time I went to a Gabriel concert was in Dallas, a shorter drive this time, when my Mom insisted that my brother and I go to the concert together during their visit with me in Austin. I think she had an idea that my brother and I would talk during the drive and magically come back liking each other. He and I still don't really like each other. We have an acknowledgment that we are brothers, we can rely on each other as needed, but we don't like each other. We are too different, each from the other, and nothing with ever change that. Some chasms are never bridged, no matter how many "a very special episode" of sitcoms show seemingly irreconcilable gaps crossed, no matter how many happy endings Hollywood bolts onto stories that are best left with ambiguous or painful denouements.

Sad? Possibly...

True? Yes...

Regrets? No...

@#$%&*!!!!!!!

I switched from Quicken to MS Money because Intuit (the makers of Quicken) kept upgrading the software and not making the files backwards compatible, so I couldn't run the 2003 version of the software (which came with the computer) on my laptop and the 2002 version (which I paid for) on my desktop and just copy the same file back and forth. This attempt at getting me to spend more money with them caused me to switch to MS Money.

Now, I'm having several issues with MS Money. Repeating online bill payments are skipping months for no apparent reason. Downloaded transactions are not showing up in the registers for review, and now I cannot access the online BillPay from within the software, although I was able to last week. I've followed all of the cryptic instructions on the "support" web site to no avail. The instructions involve making corrections to some Internet Explorer settings, which does not make me happy given all the security issues with IE.

I bought this software and set up the online bill pay so I would be able to handle my finances better from France. This software is instead making it worse. So, I have a choice, I can pay Intuit despite their abusive tactics of making files not backwards compatible just so they can get people to pay more money, or I can try to deal with all the issues with MS Money.

Damn it...

Well OK then...

This is post number 1000 (not counting the early incarnations of Random Fate on BlogSpot/Blogger and the Pmachine publishing system I tried when I first moved to my own URL).

I'd like to do something special for my thousandth post, but the only thing I've been asked to do by more than one person is post a photo of me. Since some folks just can't make do with their imagination (which is almost always better than reality), here's a photo from this past May:

(you want it bigger? are you nuts? go ahead, click on it then...)

That's my favorite laptop (among the three I took to France with me. Yes... I'm a geek) in the photo with me, the computer I do the most writing on, along with my new couch in my apartment in downtown Grenoble. Since this photo was taken, I've gotten my hair cut shorter and I've trimmed the beard to where it's MUCH shorter. I'm working on losing weight, but I'm not there yet.

I doubt I'll ever have a permanent photo on my site like some other bloggers. I'm about to pay for a site design, and I don't think I want my mug messing up the graphics here, which I hope to improve from my home-grown logos.

Insignificant memories are evoked when you least expect them...

A video on the French version of MTV (well, they actually play music videos, so perhaps they're not "MTV" but instead what MTV used to be) with a woman singing some song in French that has something to do with the movie The Day After Tomorrow (since they show at least 30 scenes from the movie in the video, while showing the singer in front of a window with water being sprayed on it... pretty pathetic in terms of "art") reminds me of something that happened way back when I lost a lot of weight in the midst of my divorce.

I was about 30 pounds lighter and 7 years younger than I am now. I was told I looked like Dennis Quaid, which was better than what I was told a few months before that when I weighed a bit more and had let my hair grow a bit too long, when I was told I looked like Chekov from the original Star Trek.

At least I don't look like Randy Quaid... not even now, after the weight gain and additional years (and far more milage than I ever expected). To avoid the inevitable question that I'm sure at least one particular reader will leave in the comments, I'm not sure who exactly I look like now... I'm working on losing some of the weight I've gained during the move to France and my subsequent reduction in weightlifting and exercise time, but I'm not getting rid of the beard I grew after the "Chekov" and "Dennis Quaid" comments. I'm not going bald or that grey, so Sean Connery is out.

Well, the best I can say is that I look like me... Now, I need to get celebrity status so then folks will wonder who looks like I do.

A final thought before bed tonight...

From the English version of the 2004 Tour de France web page:

Lance’s impact on cycling is now even more complete. Beyond the fact that he won a world title in his first year as a pro, or his tribute stage victory to Fabio Casartelli in the 1995 Tour, or the numerous events which have since unfolded, Lance will be remembered as the first to win the race six times. He is a cancer survivor and an inspiration to many. He suffers the criticism of others and thrives on the motivation that offers. He is insecure yet strong enough to respond. He is a man who rides a bike for his job. And he just happens to love the work he does.

Some things just have to be done, not said.

Cancer survivor.

Hope to others.

What else can be said other than he is human, but despite that he overcame all obstacles in his way....

And the point is????

I am listening to "Constant Craving" by k.d. lang.

I am watching a documentary on BBC International narrated by Michael Palin, who is doing a fine job, but it is somehow sad to me to see how some of the Pythons have moved on to other pursuits, ones that are not as creative.

My cat is sleeping on the back of the couch, next to my left shoulder, as I relax in my biker jersey and biker shorts, after ironing some of the clothes I will need next week, not having taken a shower after my two hour bike ride today, which was nothing compared to even the "easy" ride of the Tour de France riders today, on the twentieth stage of that race, which is generally regarded as a "promenade" but is still over 163km (over 101 miles for those of you who are non-metric).

I turn 40 in exactly three months less one day.

I am disheartened by the complete lack of civility I observe among many of my fellow citizens towards those who do not think as they do. The extremists are having a heyday, and those who say, "Hold on, let's look at this" are being drowned out by the "if you're not with us, you're against us" from BOTH extremes.

I love my country, but I hate what I see happening in it. I saw the divisiveness even before I moved to France, and the distance (and perspective that goes with that distance) I have now only adds to my concern.

Now, "So Like Candy" by Elvis Costello is playing.

Time, ever the creeping enemy, stealing our youthful vigor, darkening our idealism, urging us to complacency, is pushing inexorably on.

My father has his last chemotherapy shot this coming week; the end is in sight, but he sounds so old now when I talk with him on the phone now. Even up until last year, he was so young looking, many thought he was my older brother. Now, according to my mother, because he won't tell me, he is losing his hair and looks very frail.

Is it any wonder Yeats appeals to me now?

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

What is next, another terrorist attack that kills thousands? Altering the course of the Presidential election, altering the course history might have taken if that attack did not occur?

One of my interests, before, was in alternate histories. The paths our world might have taken if certain key events did not happen, such as what would have happened if Corporal Hitler had been killed in World War I, what would have happened if Winston Churchill had been Prime Minister of the United Kingdom instead of Neville Chamberlain in 1938, what if George McClellan had won the election of 1864, what if Lincoln had not be assassinated in 1865... Somehow, the spice in that speculation was dulled by the events of September 11, 2001.

A fitting ending, "Who Wants To Live Forever" by Queen....

I have always tried to see the "other side" on political issues, in the same way that I try to examine all sides of prevailing hypotheses in my profession. It appears that instead people want to read those who rant and rave the opinions that align with theirs, not be challenged to actually consider if their opinions are valid.

Why do I write for this weblog? I'm not sure, because often it has caused me more trouble than what rewards arise from it. I have around 20 regular readers, assuming my calculations are right, possibly 30. Do I have much influence at all, even among this small group? I doubt it.

Stubborn being that I am, however, I will persist, I will continue, in the hope that one day through that 20 or 30 who come back to read me I will influence more...

Why is Lance Armstrong important to me?

Ironically enough, even though my posts on Lance Armstrong have had very little "value added", they have garnered me more visits that even my most recent submission to the Bonfire of the Vanities.

In recognition of this and in apology, I should at the very least write about how Lance Armstrong and his victories mean a lot to me. Armstrong is a cancer survivor, you see, of testicular cancer that had metastasized into his brain.

My father was diagnosed with bladder cancer only scant days before I was scheduled to fly to France for a three year expatriate assignment. My father insisted I go to France and not stay in the United States for his surgery or the post-surgery chemotherapy. I will never forget the crack I heard in my father's voice when I called him from France shortly before he went into surgery and told him, "Thank you, everything I am is because of you, and I love you." I could tell he was happy, proud, and afraid. How could I ever forget hearing that in my father's voice?

Since that time, my father has endured chemotherapy similar to that undergone by Lance Armstrong. While my father has tried to hide from me the difficulties that this therapy has caused him, when I talk with him on the phone I can hear in his voice the pain and exhaustion, and my mother has told me of the many problems that he has chosen to not discuss with me because he does not want to "worry" me.

Many have accused Lance Armstrong of using drugs to attain the magnificent victories in the Tour de France he has gained since his cancer diagnosis. What these small-minded people do not understand is the incredible pain that chemotherapy induces. Not a short, sharp pain soon relieved, but an unremitting agony that is no less for lacking in acuity, a pain overlain with the fear of death that always accompanies the diagnosis of cancer, no matter how mild a case, an agony and fear that my father is currently enduring silently, as he has endured all the trials in his honorable life.

Once a pain and fear like that has been endured, mere physical pain from exertion means nothing...

Lance Armstrong does not use drugs to overcome the pain of his ascents in the Alps, or of his almost superhuman efforts in uphill time trials. He uses the inner strength he discovered when undergoing treatment for his raging cancer.

Lance Armstrong displays publicly same inner strength my father is showing now, privately. Lance Armstrong is exhibiting to the world that same inner strength that my father is quietly camouflaging by saying that things are "not so bad", an inner strength that I am not present to admire and support because my father did not want me to "miss an opportunity" or "derail my life" because of him.

What my father does not understand (and although I have told him, I will not try to teach him) is that he has given me all of my opportunities, he has laid the rails upon which I live my life. I want to be there with him, but he would feel guilty if I changed my life because of him, not realizing that it is indeed what I want, and so I must instead watch from afar in fear and hope.

So for me Lance Armstrong is a symbol of my hope, the hope that my selfish desire of being on the same planet as my father is fulfilled for many, many years.

They got me...

...those French germs, that is. This is the first time I've been sick with a cold in quite a while, years actually. Sadly, my regimen of Scotch consumption apparently didn't work in repelling or destroying these sneaky bastards.

I did miss a few days of having Scotch there this week, hmmm.....

Well, anyway, I'm a bit achy, and I have a sore throat along with nasal drainage causing the said issue with the throat. I don't have a thermometer to take my temperature, and they only sell aspirin in tiny packages here that you have to ask for from the pharmacist, not just pick up a mondo-sized bottle of 500 pills off a shelf, so I'm rationing my meagre supply. Hopefully I won't go all feverish and hallucinatory and start posting pictures of my feet or something.

Heroes, part deux

D'OH!!!

How could I have forgotten Samuel Clemens on my list of personal heroes? He's sitting there on the right starting at me from my weblog every day...

Heroes

Unlike LeeAnn, I haven't seen Shrek 2 so I'm not suffering from any earworms, but I really liked her idea of listing heroes so here's my list (the order is pretty arbitrary after #1):

1. my Dad
2. Abraham Lincoln
3. Benjamin Franklin
4. Ulysses S. Grant
5. Richard Feynmann
6. Thomas Jefferson
7. John Glenn
8. Galileo Galilei
9. John Scopes
10. those who serve in the Armed Forces to defend our country

Who are your heroes?

Another part of my childhood is departing...

I know the show was cheesy, but Star Trek was a big influence on me during my childhood, and Scotty as Chief Engineer (along with Spock, when he was the Science Officer) of the main reasons I went into Physics and got to where I am today...

James M. Doohan, the actor who played Scotty on the '60s "Star Trek" TV series, has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, his agent confirmed Tuesday.

Doohan, 84, was diagnosed with Alzheimer's "within the last couple months," agent Steven Stevens told The Associated Press.

He said Doohan is in the beginning stages of the disease, a progressive neurological disorder that afflicted former President Ronald Reagan, who died June 5.

Doohan, who lives in the Seattle suburb of Redmond, also has suffered for some time with Parkinson's disease, diabetes and fibrosis, the latter due to chemical exposure during World War II when he was a soldier in the Canadian military, Stevens said.

One of Doohan's sons, Chris Doohan, of Thousand Oaks, California, said the Alzheimer's diagnosis stemmed from his father's increasing loss of short-term memory.

"His longterm memory seems to be intact," said Chris Doohan, 45. "If you ask him how he got his role on 'Star Trek' or (about) D-Day, he can talk for an hour about that. But if you ask him what he had for breakfast," he can't say.

The son said he couldn't say how his father took the news, because he doesn't get up from California to Washington very often. For now, he said, the family is paying more attention to his Parkinson's and diabetes.

Stevens said he last saw Doohan in January in Los Angeles when the actor made a cameo appearance in the upcoming horror film "Skinwalker: Curse of the Shaman."

"He didn't have any energy and he seemed very frail. But as soon as they yelled 'action,' he was the same old feisty Scotty," said Stevens, who has represented Doohan for 28 years.

Doohan's career spans more than 50 years, but he's best known for his role as the USS Enterprise's affable chief engineer, Lt. Cmdr. Montgomery "Scotty" Scott, in the original 1966-69 "Star Trek" TV series.

He's also appeared in several "Star Trek" movies.

Doohan has lived in Redmond for almost a dozen years with his wife, Wende. They have a 4-year-old daughter and two older sons, and Doohan has four children from a previous marriage, Stevens said.

Doohan is scheduled to receive a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame August 31.

He plans to attend a three-day "Star Trek" farewell convention, August 28-30, in Hollywood, Stevens said. All surviving members of the original Enterprise crew are scheduled to attend, including William Shatner, who played Capt. James T. Kirk, and Leonard Nimoy, who was Mr. Spock.

Yet another veteran of World War II is heading for the long night. This a man who has lived a remarkably full life and is now entering a long, slow decline, so in the wide view this is a minor tragedy compared with the death and destruction rampant in the world. However, it is a reminder to all of us who grew up with the first real, inspiring science fiction series that mortality is a part of life, and unlike the Hollywood movies, there are not always happy endings.

Much sadness...

Too close for comfort?

From a personality quiz I found via Baldilocks:

20 Questions to a Better Personality

Wackiness: 40/100
Rationality: 56/100
Constructiveness: 56/100
Leadership: 78/100

You are an SRCL--Sober Rational Constructive Leader. This makes you an Ayn Rand ideal. Taggart? Roark? Galt? You are all of these. You were born to lead. You may not be particularly exciting, but you have a strange charisma--born of intellect and personal drive--that people begin to notice when they have been around you a while. You don't like to compromise, but you recognize when you have to.

You care absolutely nothing what other people think, and this somehow attracts people to you. Treat them well, use them wisely, and ascend to your rightful rank.

The other types that I came close to because of the middle of the road Rationality and Constructiveness scores? They are:

SRDL -Mob Boss

SECL - Politician

SEDL - Dictator

They each have aspects to them that people have claimed they see in me. After reading them, though, I begin to wonder, is this really a good thing?

Hiatus

If you haven't noticed, I'm taking a short hiatus from posting. I should return relatively soon, but in a few weeks I'll be going to Italy for a wedding, so posting will irregular at best for a while regardless.

C'est la vie...

Hiatus

If you haven't noticed, I'm taking a short hiatus from posting. I should return relatively soon, but in a few weeks I'll be going to Italy for a wedding, so posting will irregular at best for a while regardless.

C'est la vie...

A quote that applies to me...

I'm afraid, all the time, afraid of what I might do if I ever let go.
   -Michael Garabaldi (from Babylon 5, by J. Michael Straczynski)

A quote that applies to me...

I'm afraid, all the time, afraid of what I might do if I ever let go.
   -Michael Garabaldi (from Babylon 5, by J. Michael Straczynski)

Life is short, and the night is long...

I am working on a full response to the post by The Lone Wolf discussed below, but once that is up, I'll be taking a break from reading most of the weblogs I have followed recently and take a hiatus from posting political commentary.

There's just too much hatred being posted without a second thought to consequences. Life is short, too short, to deal with the bile and vitriol being indiscriminately spewed by others. I'll continue to post, likely less frequently than recently, but I'll be carefully screening who I choose to read.

Life is short, and the night is long...

I am working on a full response to the post by The Lone Wolf discussed below, but once that is up, I'll be taking a break from reading most of the weblogs I have followed recently and take a hiatus from posting political commentary.

There's just too much hatred being posted without a second thought to consequences. Life is short, too short, to deal with the bile and vitriol being indiscriminately spewed by others. I'll continue to post, likely less frequently than recently, but I'll be carefully screening who I choose to read.

Bloody hell...

I move to France, and for those who are extremely important to me, things fall apart...

Sigh...

I wonder at times. I've been extremely lucky, but in the end, how much of a role does luck truly play?

Sigh...

It's not fair making these kinds of judgments. I'm not in their shoes; I'm not having to deal with their issues, with their pressures, with their fears.

Sigh...

I know that I can only control MY own behaviors, but I still wish I could shield those I love from all the bad things that happen to them.

Sigh...

Well, there it is...

Bloody hell...

I move to France, and for those who are extremely important to me, things fall apart...

Sigh...

I wonder at times. I've been extremely lucky, but in the end, how much of a role does luck truly play?

Sigh...

It's not fair making these kinds of judgments. I'm not in their shoes; I'm not having to deal with their issues, with their pressures, with their fears.

Sigh...

I know that I can only control MY own behaviors, but I still wish I could shield those I love from all the bad things that happen to them.

Sigh...

Well, there it is...

101 Recommended Books

Here is the list that I've seen in several places of the 101 great books recommended by the College Board (those wonderful folks that are responsible for the standardized college admissions tests like the SAT). I'm a bit behind on this relative to some others. The list is in the extended entry.

I noticed a trend while working on this list. Since I had gone to school in Mississippi, there were not many books on the list that were actually required, and I have read many of the books on the list on my own, with no class requirement, so the ones in BOLD I have read, and the ones with an asterisk* I have read voluntarily:

Unknown - Beowulf

Achebe, Chinua - Things Fall Apart

Agee, James - A Death in the Family

Austin, Jane - Pride and Prejudice

Baldwin, James - Go Tell It on the Mountain

Beckett, Samuel - Waiting for Godot

Bellow, Saul - The Adventures of Augie March

Bronte, Charlotte - Jane Eyre

Bronte, Emily - Wuthering Heights

Camus, Albert - The Stranger

Cather, Willa - Death Comes for the Archbishop

Cervantes, Miguel de - Don Quixote*

Chaucer, Geoffrey - The Canterbury Tales

Chekhov, Anton - The Cherry Orchard

Chopin, Kate - The Awakening

Conrad, Joseph - Heart of Darkness*

Cooper, James Fenimore - The Last of the Mohicans*

Crane, Stephen - The Red Badge of Courage

Dante - Inferno

Defoe, Daniel - Robinson Crusoe

Dickens, Charles - A Tale of Two Cities*

Dostoyevsky, Fyodor - Crime and Punishment

Douglass, Frederick - Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass

Dreiser, Theodore - An American Tragedy

Dumas, Alexandre - The Three Musketeers*

Eliot, George - The Mill on the Floss

Ellison, Ralph - Invisible Man

Emerson, Ralph Waldo - Selected Essays

Faulkner, William - As I Lay Dying

Faulkner, William - The Sound and the Fury

Fielding, Henry - Tom Jones

Fitzgerald, F. Scott - The Great Gatsby

Flaubert, Gustave - Madame Bovary

Ford, Ford Madox - The Good Soldier

Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von - Faust

Golding, William - Lord of the Flies

Hardy, Thomas - Tess of the d'Urbervilles

Hawthorne, Nathaniel - The Scarlet Letter

Heller, Joseph - Catch 22*

Hemingway, Ernest - A Farewell to Arms

Homer - The Iliad*

Homer - The Odyssey*

Hugo, Victor - The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Hurston, Zora Neale - Their Eyes Were Watching God

Huxley, Aldous - Brave New World*

Ibsen, Henrik - A Doll's House

James, Henry - The Portrait of a Lady

James, Henry - The Turn of the Screw

Joyce, James - A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

Kafka, Franz - The Metamorphosis

Kingston, Maxine Hong - The Woman Warrior

Lee, Harper - To Kill a Mockingbird*

Lewis, Sinclair - Babbitt

London, Jack - The Call of the Wild

Mann, Thomas - The Magic Mountain

Marquez, Gabriel Garcia - One Hundred Years of Solitude

Melville, Herman - Bartleby the Scrivener

Melville, Herman - Moby Dick*

Miller, Arthur - The Crucible

Morrison, Toni - Beloved

O'Connor, Flannery - A Good Man is Hard to Find

O'Neill, Eugene - Long Day's Journey into Night

Orwell, George - Animal Farm

Pasternak, Boris - Doctor Zhivago

Plath, Sylvia - The Bell Jar

Poe, Edgar Allen - Selected Tales*

Proust, Marcel - Swann's Way

Pynchon, Thomas - The Crying of Lot 49

Remarque, Erich Maria - All Quiet on the Western Front

Rostand, Edmond - Cyrano de Bergerac

Roth, Henry - Call It Sleep

Salinger, J.D. - The Catcher in the Rye

Shakespeare, William - Hamlet

Shakespeare, William - Macbeth*

Shakespeare, William - A Midsummer Night's Dream

Shakespeare, William - Romeo and Juliet

Shaw, George Bernard - Pygmalion

Shelley, Mary - Frankenstein*

Silko, Leslie Marmon - Ceremony

Solzhenitsyn, Alexander - One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich

Sophocles - Antigone

Sophocles - Oedipus Rex*

Steinbeck, John - The Grapes of Wrath

Stevenson, Robert Louis - Treasure Island

Stowe, Harriet Beecher - Uncle Tom's Cabin

Swift, Jonathan - Gulliver's Travels*

Thackeray, William - Vanity Fair

Thoreau, Henry David - Walden*

Tolstoy, Leo - War and Peace

Turgenev, Ivan - Fathers and Sons

Twain, Mark - The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn*

Voltaire - Candide

Vonnegut, Kurt Jr. - Slaughterhouse-Five

Walker, Alice - The Color Purple

Warton, Edith - The House of Mirth

Welty, Eudora - Collected Stories

Whitman, Walt - Leaves of Grass

Wilde, Oscar - The Picture of Dorian Gray

Williams, Tennessee - The Glass Menagerie

Woolf, Virginia - To the Lighthouse

Wright, Richard - Native Son

As I've commented before, I'm not as well read as I'd like to be. That's why there are so many on the list that I've read without the requirement of a class. In Mississippi, we were fortunate to have an English teacher, much less have Literature teachers.

101 Recommended Books

Here is the list that I've seen in several places of the 101 great books recommended by the College Board (those wonderful folks that are responsible for the standardized college admissions tests like the SAT). I'm a bit behind on this relative to some others. The list is in the extended entry.

I noticed a trend while working on this list. Since I had gone to school in Mississippi, there were not many books on the list that were actually required, and I have read many of the books on the list on my own, with no class requirement, so the ones in BOLD I have read, and the ones with an asterisk* I have read voluntarily:

Unknown - Beowulf

Achebe, Chinua - Things Fall Apart

Agee, James - A Death in the Family

Austin, Jane - Pride and Prejudice

Baldwin, James - Go Tell It on the Mountain

Beckett, Samuel - Waiting for Godot

Bellow, Saul - The Adventures of Augie March

Bronte, Charlotte - Jane Eyre

Bronte, Emily - Wuthering Heights

Camus, Albert - The Stranger

Cather, Willa - Death Comes for the Archbishop

Cervantes, Miguel de - Don Quixote*

Chaucer, Geoffrey - The Canterbury Tales

Chekhov, Anton - The Cherry Orchard

Chopin, Kate - The Awakening

Conrad, Joseph - Heart of Darkness*

Cooper, James Fenimore - The Last of the Mohicans*

Crane, Stephen - The Red Badge of Courage

Dante - Inferno

Defoe, Daniel - Robinson Crusoe

Dickens, Charles - A Tale of Two Cities*

Dostoyevsky, Fyodor - Crime and Punishment

Douglass, Frederick - Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass

Dreiser, Theodore - An American Tragedy

Dumas, Alexandre - The Three Musketeers*

Eliot, George - The Mill on the Floss

Ellison, Ralph - Invisible Man

Emerson, Ralph Waldo - Selected Essays

Faulkner, William - As I Lay Dying

Faulkner, William - The Sound and the Fury

Fielding, Henry - Tom Jones

Fitzgerald, F. Scott - The Great Gatsby

Flaubert, Gustave - Madame Bovary

Ford, Ford Madox - The Good Soldier

Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von - Faust

Golding, William - Lord of the Flies

Hardy, Thomas - Tess of the d'Urbervilles

Hawthorne, Nathaniel - The Scarlet Letter

Heller, Joseph - Catch 22*

Hemingway, Ernest - A Farewell to Arms

Homer - The Iliad*

Homer - The Odyssey*

Hugo, Victor - The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Hurston, Zora Neale - Their Eyes Were Watching God

Huxley, Aldous - Brave New World*

Ibsen, Henrik - A Doll's House

James, Henry - The Portrait of a Lady

James, Henry - The Turn of the Screw

Joyce, James - A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

Kafka, Franz - The Metamorphosis

Kingston, Maxine Hong - The Woman Warrior

Lee, Harper - To Kill a Mockingbird*

Lewis, Sinclair - Babbitt

London, Jack - The Call of the Wild

Mann, Thomas - The Magic Mountain

Marquez, Gabriel Garcia - One Hundred Years of Solitude

Melville, Herman - Bartleby the Scrivener

Melville, Herman - Moby Dick*

Miller, Arthur - The Crucible

Morrison, Toni - Beloved

O'Connor, Flannery - A Good Man is Hard to Find

O'Neill, Eugene - Long Day's Journey into Night

Orwell, George - Animal Farm

Pasternak, Boris - Doctor Zhivago

Plath, Sylvia - The Bell Jar

Poe, Edgar Allen - Selected Tales*

Proust, Marcel - Swann's Way

Pynchon, Thomas - The Crying of Lot 49

Remarque, Erich Maria - All Quiet on the Western Front

Rostand, Edmond - Cyrano de Bergerac

Roth, Henry - Call It Sleep

Salinger, J.D. - The Catcher in the Rye

Shakespeare, William - Hamlet

Shakespeare, William - Macbeth*

Shakespeare, William - A Midsummer Night's Dream

Shakespeare, William - Romeo and Juliet

Shaw, George Bernard - Pygmalion

Shelley, Mary - Frankenstein*

Silko, Leslie Marmon - Ceremony

Solzhenitsyn, Alexander - One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich

Sophocles - Antigone

Sophocles - Oedipus Rex*

Steinbeck, John - The Grapes of Wrath

Stevenson, Robert Louis - Treasure Island

Stowe, Harriet Beecher - Uncle Tom's Cabin

Swift, Jonathan - Gulliver's Travels*

Thackeray, William - Vanity Fair

Thoreau, Henry David - Walden*

Tolstoy, Leo - War and Peace

Turgenev, Ivan - Fathers and Sons

Twain, Mark - The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn*

Voltaire - Candide

Vonnegut, Kurt Jr. - Slaughterhouse-Five

Walker, Alice - The Color Purple

Warton, Edith - The House of Mirth

Welty, Eudora - Collected Stories

Whitman, Walt - Leaves of Grass

Wilde, Oscar - The Picture of Dorian Gray

Williams, Tennessee - The Glass Menagerie

Woolf, Virginia - To the Lighthouse

Wright, Richard - Native Son

As I've commented before, I'm not as well read as I'd like to be. That's why there are so many on the list that I've read without the requirement of a class. In Mississippi, we were fortunate to have an English teacher, much less have Literature teachers.

Following the trend, an arbitrary list of favorite musicians and groups...

So I've now seen this listing of one musical group or musician for each letter at a couple of places, so I thought I'd do it too since my commentary on how we got here has been completely ignored (well, not completely, Stevie said some really nice things about me and mentioned that post in particular, thanks Stevie!!!). I picked more than one choice for some letters, to Hell with any rules:

A- Paula Abdul (hey, a vice from my younger days, I like Fiona Apple and Tori Amos too)
B- Kate Bush (Beethovan)
C- Elvis Costello (or Johnny Cash or Sheryl Crow)
D- Devo (who can forget Whip It???)
E- Elvis (he only needs one name, and besides, I wanted P for Pink Floyd, also Melissa Etheridge)
F- Fleetwood Mac (another vice from my youth)
G- Peter Gabriel (Garbage)
H- Don Henley (almost John Lee Hooker)
I- can I buy another vowel?
J- Billy Joel
K- King Crimson
L- Gordon Lightfoot
M- Sarah McLachlan (Alanis Morissette, Mozart)
N- I'm at a loss for this one...
O- Carl Orff
P- Pink Floyd
Q- Queen
R- The Rolling Stones (The Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Red Elvises)
S- Bruce Springsteen (Stravinsky)
T- Pete Townshend
U- U2
V- Vangelis (Suzanne Vega)
W- The Who
X- is there anyone who starts with X?
Y- Yes (they haven't aged very well, though)
Z- Warren Zevon

The list of 101 recommended books is next...

Following the trend, an arbitrary list of favorite musicians and groups...

So I've now seen this listing of one musical group or musician for each letter at a couple of places, so I thought I'd do it too since my commentary on how we got here has been completely ignored (well, not completely, Stevie said some really nice things about me and mentioned that post in particular, thanks Stevie!!!). I picked more than one choice for some letters, to Hell with any rules:

A- Paula Abdul (hey, a vice from my younger days, I like Fiona Apple and Tori Amos too)
B- Kate Bush (Beethovan)
C- Elvis Costello (or Johnny Cash or Sheryl Crow)
D- Devo (who can forget Whip It???)
E- Elvis (he only needs one name, and besides, I wanted P for Pink Floyd, also Melissa Etheridge)
F- Fleetwood Mac (another vice from my youth)
G- Peter Gabriel (Garbage)
H- Don Henley (almost John Lee Hooker)
I- can I buy another vowel?
J- Billy Joel
K- King Crimson
L- Gordon Lightfoot
M- Sarah McLachlan (Alanis Morissette, Mozart)
N- I'm at a loss for this one...
O- Carl Orff
P- Pink Floyd
Q- Queen
R- The Rolling Stones (The Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Red Elvises)
S- Bruce Springsteen (Stravinsky)
T- Pete Townshend
U- U2
V- Vangelis (Suzanne Vega)
W- The Who
X- is there anyone who starts with X?
Y- Yes (they haven't aged very well, though)
Z- Warren Zevon

The list of 101 recommended books is next...

More photos are up on my "photoblog"

I've posted some photos from a hike I took yesterday near Crolles, where the site is that I work in France. We had the day off on Thursday because it was a French national holiday. There's another holiday coming up very soon. I'll end up having over 40 days off this year combining holidays and vacation. Holy cow...

More photos are up on my "photoblog"

I've posted some photos from a hike I took yesterday near Crolles, where the site is that I work in France. We had the day off on Thursday because it was a French national holiday. There's another holiday coming up very soon. I'll end up having over 40 days off this year combining holidays and vacation. Holy cow...

A thought that has struck me just now...

The number one thing that attracts me to a woman is her smile. Not her physique (including the traditional "T and A"), not really her intelligence (within limits, if she's as thick as a brick, the smile only carries her so far), but if she has a beautiful smile, she can fall short in every other area of what I would list as "the most attractive woman in the world to me".

I wonder... How common is that?

A thought that has struck me just now...

The number one thing that attracts me to a woman is her smile. Not her physique (including the traditional "T and A"), not really her intelligence (within limits, if she's as thick as a brick, the smile only carries her so far), but if she has a beautiful smile, she can fall short in every other area of what I would list as "the most attractive woman in the world to me".

I wonder... How common is that?

Something I don't entirely like about myself...

I'm an incredibly vicious and mean bastard if you piss me off, and I end up lashing out at those I care about the most, because they are the only ones who can truly hurt me and make me that angry.

Sad, isn't it?

Something I don't entirely like about myself...

I'm an incredibly vicious and mean bastard if you piss me off, and I end up lashing out at those I care about the most, because they are the only ones who can truly hurt me and make me that angry.

Sad, isn't it?