Meaningless Musings

Au revoir, blogspot

2008-08-21T20:31:00.001-07:00

New digs for me, for me. Meaningless Musings has served intermittently and well for quite some time now, but I'm packing up and heading over to Monkey Song. Hopefully you will, too.

www.monkeysong.net

Cubicle man, Cubicle man

2008-07-01T21:48:00.000-07:00

And finally it came to pass, after two years of resumes and interviews and watching employment websites and wondering what was wrong with me that I was so obviously unemployable, that I resumed a full-time work schedule. I'm two whole days in now and still don't know exactly what I'll be doing once I'm up-to-speed, but I have a cubicle and a computer and a phone. (And health insurance!) My co-workers seem cool and I'm being pretty much left alone to figure things out on my own, which is sort of nice but also somewhat boring. And I'm once again within scootering distance of John, at least during the days (do you still have that old scooter, John?).

Within the month the start-up church I play guitar for will probably go to Saturday and Sunday services, which will mean I'll have work commitments seven days a week. A weird shift from the almost-completely-open schedule of recent months, but I like it. If I ever get a clearer sense of what I'm actually doing at work (and if I haven't faded back into blolivion) I'll post more about it. But now I've got to get some sleep. Work tomorrow and all.

Kangaroozies, roozies

2008-06-19T22:12:00.000-07:00

I feel like I should say something about the flood - that's certainly been the thing to post about of late (and those are just a few of the links from my fairly short blogroll (incidentally, why "blogroll"? What does that mean? Is it a reference to an old-style Rolodex, implying that you keep a list of blogs you frequent in some sort of spinny whatsit? Is it some combination of "blog" and the popular phrase "that's how I roll?" Does it somehow refer to delicious pastries, implying that one has assembled a tasty list of blogs to read? This is a term that merits updating, I think)). Not that I think I have anything to add, but as the ancient Mesopotamians said, "When the river floods, use your laptop to write a post about it."*

I live almost as far from the flooding in Iowa City as one can live and still be within the Iowa City/Coralville megalopolis. My house is in the northwest corner of Coralville, miles from the river and on some of the highest ground in town. Which means that it's disturbingly easy for me to forget the flood happened at all. Outside my house and for many blocks in any direction this week it's been a gorgeous late spring week - sunshiny and green. And yet just north of us in Cedar Rapids people are starting to be allowed back into their homes and seeing the complete devastation, and here in Iowa City many people are still forced to wonder.

It's been awesome to see the community turnout. I agree with Matt's and Jess's (the first two links up above) appreciation and admiration of the community spirit that gripped the area when we knew the waters were coming. I spent some time sandbagging and it was weird how much fun it was; how much people were enjoying the community the rising waters created. But now we're coming to the part that we often don't do so well with as people. Now comes the real work - cleaning up debris, repairing damage, and for many people rebuilding lives. It won't offer any cool areal pics that we can rally around and the work will be more complicated than just filling sandbags.

Not that I don't think we can do it. But as the waters recede the worst is yet to come.

*translation may be inexact.

It's been a while

2008-06-17T00:07:00.000-07:00

Tonight I was talking to my brother on the phone and we got on the topic of our long-neglected blogs. There was much agreement about the value of the others' blog and much bewailing the difficulty of thinking of anything interesting or worthwhile to write about. Probably not interesting stuff, but the conversation led me to surf over to my Blogger home page and I figure since I'm this far I should throw a post up. At least one post for 2008 seems in order.

Whew. That wasn't so bad.

Don't go down to the quarry

2007-10-31T18:16:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking I should post again for a while now (although I do occasionally update the CST blog, if you're for some inexplicable reason feeling that a lack of my rambling is adversely affecting the Internet), and as I sit here trying not to pay attention to the weird horror movie my roommate and his sort-of-but-sort-of-not-it's-complicated-and-baffling girlfriend are watching it seems apropos to get my cliche on and do this Halloween quiz I was sent today (here's Jaq's take on the same one).

Memes R Us!

1. What is your favorite work of horror fiction?

Hard to say. I've read quite a bit of Stephen King and enjoyed 'Salem's Lot quite a bit, but I'd have to give the nod to Poe's "The Raven" as performed by the Simpsons:

2. Who is your favorite monster?

Smaug. I'm a sucker for dragons.

3. What horror movie gives you the most chills?

I haven't seen many at all - I don't particularly care for the being-frightened experience and I have a runaway imagination - so this answer comes from a small pool. That said, I saw The Blair Witch Project in the theater and barely slept the next two nights.

4. Freddy versus Jason?

Never seen a movie with either of them (see above), so I'll say Jason because I have a buddy named Jason but no buddies named Fred.

5. Ghosts or goblins?

Ghosts. Goblins are wussy little one hit-die monsters while ghosts can only be harmed by magical weapons and age you 1d4x10 years just by you looking at them. Obvious answer, this one.

6. What is your scariest encounter with the paranormal?

One of my years at Wartburg I lived in the "haunted" dorm. There was a student at Wartburg in the... 70's, I think... who was brutally murdered and she'd lived in the dorm (indeed, in the room) I lived in. There were lots of stories that year about weird things happening in the dorm. They even brought in the campus weirdo to do a seance. My roommates and I laughed it off, though. Until one evening I was sitting in our room with Matt and Mark and our door suddenly swung open. "Hey now, Lisa," said Matt (Lisa was the ghost's name), "that's not cool. You can't just listen to our conversations."

And the door slammed shut again. We laughed about it, but we also found a reason to leave the room pretty quickly after that.

7. Do you believe in ghosts?

Dunno, I guess. Mostly no, but I do believe in the afterlife and ghosts seem like a pretty easy jump to make from there.

8. Favorite Halloween costume?

When I was a tot in Texas my dad directed The Pirates of Penzance at the local college as the fall play. That Halloween I got to be a pirate and walked around singing Gilbert and Sullivan songs and being given candy by strangers. The American dream.

9. If you had an unlimited budget, what would your fantasy costume be for this Halloween?

Interesting. A giant chinchilla, I think. And I'd stuff the suit with millions of dollars in cash.

10. When was the last time you went trick or treating?

Halloween 1996. I used to have a picture on this blog, but I think it was lost in the Great Server Transfer of '07.

11. What's your favorite Halloween candy?

I couldn't possibly choose a favorite. Anything that's neither mint nor coconut.

12. Tell us about a scary nightmare you had.

Scary spooky? I had a recurring dream when I was a little kid of being chased by a bear. Got to the point where I didn't want to go to sleep; I think I spent almost a year fairly regularly having the dream. Ironically, every time I've been in actual bear country on backpacking trips I've slept just fine.

Scary really disturbing and horrifying? A couple of times in college I had super real-seeming dreams where I was lying in a hospital bed, dying, and my parents came into the room to cheer me up by singing songs.

13. What is your supernatural fear?

I don't have any, really, but sometimes when I've been hiking by myself on the trails at EWALU at night my mind has wandered a bit.

14. What is your creepy-crawlie fear?

Claustrophobic situations. Just the thought of not being able to move my arms and legs gives me the willies.

15. Would you ever stay in a real haunted house overnight?

Maybe... there'd have to be some pretty significant remuneration involved.

16. Are you a traditionalist (just a face) Jack O'Lantern carver, or do you get really creative with your pumpkins?

Neither. I am a man completely without artistic skill, so I try to avoid subjecting pumpkins of the world to my non-talent.

17. How much do you decorate your home for Halloween?

Well, my roommate has a black cat who likes to sit in the window...

18. Do you think Halloween is too commercial these days?

No. I think Christmas is too commercial. I'm not nearly as attached to the meaning Halloween's supposed to have.

I don't understand the world

2007-05-25T01:01:00.000-07:00

Talk about a rough day for good news on the Internet.

Surfing through websites earlier tonight, I found a link to this story about Josh Hancock's father suing basically everyone involved with his son's death. Josh Hancock, for those of you who didn't follow the story, was a pitcher for the St. Louis Cardinals who was killed when he drove his SUV into a parked tow truck on a St. Louis freeway a few weeks ago. It was a horrible, tragic thing, but he was driving drunk (twice the legal limit for Missouri), talking on his cell phone, and some reports say he was high. Now his father is suing the restaurant that served him drinks and (this part boggled my mind when I read it) the tow-truck driver and the guy who was pulled over being assisted by the tow truck. The guys Josh drove into while drunk. The guys who are lucky to be alive.

Seemed like crap to me. Obviously I don't think Josh acted maliciously, but from my position as an armchair lawyer a state away it seems pretty obvious that he was at fault and that he was lucky to not have his bad choices end anyone else's life. But then I was reading through my blogroll and came across another story that puts me in a more empathetic frame of mind. Maybe Josh's dad is just being a dad and trying to do everything he can other than accept that his son is gone.

Jaq and his wife lost another child today. Only a year and a half after their son Quinn passed away at age one their daughter Fiona died on the day she was born. I have no words; I'd be surprised if anyone does. I don't have children and I still can't get my head around what it must be like to have to go on after one's gone.

Tomorrow I leave for camp and I've no doubt it will be wonderful and energizing and uplifting and healing like summers at camp have always been for me. Right now I feel almost guilty about looking forward to it, though.

Peace, Jaq (and Mrs. Jaq.). Peace, Mr. Hancock.

Cat Psychology and other oxymorons

2007-04-25T10:48:00.000-07:00

One of my roommates has a cat. She's not particularly obsessed with getting outside, but she does like to sit at the back window and watch the birds and she has the feline resistance to the idea that someone else should get to decide that she's restricted to being inside, so this morning when I got up and found our front door was wide open I assumed the worst.

So I closed the door and spent the next 20 minutes searching for her. Looking in all her favorite napping places, checking under furniture, looking outside through windows for her, and in the back of my mind dreading the possibility that I'd have to call my roommate and tell him I couldn't find her. Or that something horrible had happened out on the busy street in front of our house. By the halfway point of searching fun, I even started calling her, which is of course a pointless way to try to affect a cat's location.

Then, on circuit 14 or so through the main floor, there she was sitting on the kitchen table, which I've never seen her do before. Looking at me with (pardon me if I anthropomorphize too much here, but I know what I saw) a ha-ha smirk on her face, as if to say, "Have a nice walk around the place, moron? Now feed me."

It seems absurd to think she saw the open door, contemplated a stroll around in the great outdoors, but decided it would be more fun to mess with me instead, and yet there she was. Apparently cats love their triumphant moments.

Non-seasonal postings R Us

2007-03-21T12:47:00.000-07:00

The definitive performance of this Christmas classic. It grates on me a little that the performers are out of order, but that's a result of how many spins the CD gets every year at my parents' house. And the addition of the "Fozzie can't remember his line" bit more than makes up for it. This must've been quite the interesting challenge for the Muppet performers crew.

Not really a March post, but I just found this and I'm unwilling to wait 9 months for it to become seasonal. Enjoy!

I still feel like I'm supposed to read the blue words out loud

2007-01-11T21:00:00.000-08:00

Let's see if posts full of links are actually as much as other blogs make them seem.

Apparently the wait is almost over - the new Indiana Jones movie is officially on the way to the screen! Granted, still in the very early "we've got a script now, hooray!" phase, but on its way nonetheless. This is vastly exciting news.

Next week Scrubs will be a musical. A few of you have told me you find Scrubs generally unfunny (which is baffling to me), but from the early clips I've seen this episode is going to be possibly the coolest thing ever on TV.

Here's an interesting blend of interests of various members of my family. Way to play some real music, boys!

A new link from the blog list to the right - Welcome, Byzantium's Shores. Written by "Jaquandor," a Wartburg classmate of mine, the blog bounces effortlessly between political commentary, fiction review, Buffalo area culture, and a dandy medley of other topics. It's a really good read and he updates almost eerily often.

Hmmm.... not sure it was an Everything I'd Ever Hoped And More sort of experience, but it makes for a lot of underlined words, at least. Hard to underestimate that.

Merry Christmas to all and, you know...

2006-12-23T23:42:00.000-08:00

And so winds down 2006. Heck of a year, as far I was concerned. Finished working at the hospital (hopefully forever), went back to camp for another summer, moved to a new house, got a new roommate, did NaMoBloPo for three whole days.

And, if I'm counting right, as of this post successfully met my post-a-month goal! Woo! Cue music and dancing girls.

Blessed Christmas to you. Pax Christi Vobiscum and suchforth.

"My evening-rest and sleep to meet"

2006-11-29T19:25:00.000-08:00

Only a short post today (Caspian seems to have deemed himself dissatisfied with my work and taken back up the gauntlet anyway).

Yesterday marked one year since Jaquandor's (not his real name, obviously (although wouldn't that be cool?); he was a classmate of mine at Wartburg) infant son Quinn passed away. My thoughts and prayers with Jaq and his wife and daughter - so much unfair on so many levels. Peace.

If you'd like to read little Quinn's story, he's posted it in several parts on his blog. It's long, but I still read through it every so often.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Thanksgiving Mysteries vs. Google

2006-11-28T16:44:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving was a jolly time, it was it was. The family congregated at my parents' house, we ate too much, dealt with the crippling after-effects of tryptophan poisoning, watched a series of losses by football teams I was cheering for, and watched my parents' cat Steve try to figure out how to catch a bird-shaped Christmas ornament Mom had hung from a ceiling fan.

We also, as my family is wont to do, spent some time sitting around, instruments in hand, singing songs together. The Von Trapps we ain't, but we enjoy a little family jam session. Thanksgiving being sort of the starting gun for Christmas (except in the retail world, where September 1st (or, sometimes, St. Patrick's Day) seems to be) we sang quite a few Christmas tunes, and thence came the first of two Thanksgiving Mysteries.

"Mysteries" is probably too dramatic a word, really, but I'll push forward undaunted. We were singing the classic tune "The Friendly Beasts" and found ourselves wondering if we were remembering all the verses. We covered these four (Note - the page will immediately start playing a MIDI file of the song's tune. It's not objectionable (except for sounding like a $30 Casio keyboard), but if you're not in a place where music suddenly springing from your computer would be appropriate then be ye warned (if you listen to the song all the way to the end there's sort of a cool Easter Egg)) and sat around looking at each other for a bit, trying to remember if there was a fifth. It seemed like we'd usually only sung about those animals, but the song seemed too short. Finally we moved on and left the mystery unresolved. Until today. Today I have hied me to Google and solved the mystery. There is indeed a fifth verse:

"I," said the camel, yellow and black,
"Over the desert, upon my back,
I brought Him a gift in the Wise Men's pack."
"I," said the camel, yellow and black.

I'm pretty sure I've never heard it before, though, so I maintain that we weren't forgetting the verse, we just weren't aware of it. It doesn't seem to measure up to the lyric standard of the other four - the "ack" sound just isn't Christmassy, to my ears. Still, there it apparently is.

We also discussed what the proper word for a group of pigs was. This summer EWALU will have horses for the first time ever and I wanted to have some other group-of-animal names at my disposal so I could misuse them in place of "herd" and annoy people (only the loftiest goals for me). My aunt knew a startling number of them (I knew crash of rhinos and murder of crows and that was about it - she knew at least a dozen), but no one in the room was quite sure what a group of pigs was called. Mystery #2, and all in the same afternoon - exciting Saturday! So once again I consulted the good folks at Google (one of whom I actually know now; I greatly enjoy imagining that every time I do a search off goes my brother's friend Nick to check the Google library so he can run back to his computer and type in the answer) and found this delightful website (which plays nary a MIDI tune when opened). Apparently, pigs come in droves or herds, which is sort of boring but unsurprising (animals that people often work with groups of don't seem to get the cool names). But hogs come in drifts, parcels, or passels, and swine occasionally form sounders. Also, I note that a group of bears is a sleuth and a group of ponies a string, both of which will likely come up at our family Christmas.

Elementary, my dear Watson and whatnot.

Gauntlet up-taking

2006-11-27T04:36:00.000-08:00

The real world has caught up with Caspian, bringing his excellent run at NaBloPoMo to a halt. I'm not half the blogger he is, but in hopes that I can pull off being 13.3% the blogger he is, I shall post on each of these last four days of November and allow Caspian to claim my posts as part of his NaBloPoMo run. The technical term for this is "DuoNaBloPoMo," I believe (if one of the participants is a female deer it's "DuoNaBloPoMoDoe," and if one participant is a female deer and the other a devotee of solfege it's "DuoNaBloPoMoDoReMiFaSoLaTiDoe").

Last night I was driving from Iowa City to Decorah, and for the last hour of the drive - the bit with winding two-lane roads through hilly Northeast Iowa - I was driving in rain and fog, with visibility often not much past the end of my hood. And for most of that last hour I also had at least one car driving right up on my back bumper. I don't consider myself a tentative driver, but given the conditions I didn't think 60 miles per hour was called for; apparently that made me a jerk. Apparently the courteous thing for me to do, as a fellow resident of Highway 150, would have been to hurtle blindly through the fog, knowing that I'd be able to see turns in the road in time but trusting to the good folks at Nissan (div. of Engineering, Deer-and-Random-Detritus Proofing) for anything else that the highway might hold.

It frightened me how tempting it was to give in to that pressure, too. To make an unsafe choice (indeed, a life-threateningly unsafe choice) because someone I didn't know obviously wanted me to and was angry at me for not. Someone who wasn't even a someone - just one in a series of angry headlights off my back bumper. It made me wonder where I draw the line - apparently I'm not willing to risk my life because someone I don't know wants to get back to college a little faster after Thanksgiving break. But I know that I'm often willing to bow to group opinion when activities are being planned and I'm a limp noodle in the face of someone I know who's actively angry with me - I'll make almost any concession to end the confrontation. Where's the line? When do my decisions become my own? How different would I be if I'd grown up in a different environment? If my family had never left Texas, or I'd never worked at summer camp, or gone to a state school instead of Wartburg, or even if Matt hadn't decided to study camping ministry or Jason's girlfriend hadn't needed a ride to her scholarship application?

It's scary stuff to first think about and it's mentally exhausting even once you realize that growing up with opinions and values affected by those around you isn't something that can be avoided even if it were something that should be. Not the sort of thing one wants filling their head while descending into a valley that looks like it might well harbor King Kong as idiots blind you from behind. I usually quite enjoy the drive to Decorah; last night I was thrilled to finally get there so I could drive south instead and let the back-to-school traffic have its own lane.

Apparently I'm going back on Friday, but by Friday we're supposed to have single-digit temperatures so fog shouldn't be a problem. Good thing; I can only handle so many automotive existential crises in a week.

Ne'er thy name shall cease to be

2006-11-01T01:54:00.000-08:00

I can't remember what the Wartburg library used to be called.

These last couple of months I've gotten to go back to college, in a sense. I have several friends from EWALU who are students at Wartburg or Luther and I've spent some time on both campuses (campi?), hanging out with college students in college dorms and going to student activities events and even sitting in on a class. Talk about opening up the memory floodgates; I've been in school quite a bit since Wartburg but never in college (if I can presume to refer to them as different things - if you're just at an institution for the academics, that's school. College is the rest of the experience). During September and October I've played Frisbee in the U, sat down in Whitehouse Business Center to check my e-mail, watched TV in a Grossmann dorm room. I've listened to students wail and gnash their teeth over a professor who assigns too much reading, watched the casual dating patterns that can only survive in an environment where thousands of demographically and age-ologically similar people live within a block of each other, and been invited to participate in the college nightlife (talk about making one feel old). It triggers powerful memory after powerful memory; I maintain that my time at EWALU was the most shaping influence of my late teens/early twenties, but 62 weeks at camp can't compete with 12 semesters at Wartburg for sheer volume of memories. Mostly, I find, it's the little things that I remember and smile about. I walk through Grossmann Hall and remember the Nerf Gun wars that were so very focusing and helpful to our studies during finals week 1997, or I look at the new Student Union and think of the Frisbee Golf holes that used to be where the new construction now is. Even being at Luther triggers floods of memories - last weekend I was in Decorah to celebrate a camp friend's birthday and one of his friends proudly showed me the quote board hanging on his dorm room wall. Barely even a page long. Amateurs.

It's been a fantastic outlet for memories of a very happy time, but there has been a glitch, if you will. An annoyance. Three weeks ago I was in Waverly with a camp friend who goes to Luther. We were waiting for some Wartburg EWALU-ians to finish classes so I took him for a tour of the campus. We walked past the Bob & Sally Vogel Library and I said, "It wasn't called that when I was in school here - Bob Vogel was still the president. It was... uh..."

Complete blank. I've been trying since then to remember with no luck (I sort of expected it to come to me as I was writing this post, but alas. I think it started with an M. Mc...something?). It's driving me nuts, probably more so than is strictly warranted. I want to continue enjoying this flow of college memories and continue being thankful for what a great experience it was without having those memories marred by not being able to remember something as basic as the name of the stupid library. Any of you out there whose memories are better than mine, please chime in.

In completely unrelated news, I learned today that 2006 will be the last year that October gets to be the longest month. I think that's a shame; I always thought it was cool that my birthday month was the longest month of the year. Apparently that doesn't factor into the decision-making process of the Powers That Be, though - the Daylight Saving Time shift will be moving to November next fall so October will lose its one-hour edge and settle back into a 7-way tie for longest.

Boo.

Update 11/2 - Engelbrecht (scroll down to the "1970s")!!! Engelbrecht Library, it was it was! Man, that's a relief.

Takes the chill away fine

2006-10-12T19:18:00.000-07:00

There's a fire burning in our fireplace. I haven't lived in a house with a fireplace since 1987; I'd forgotten how it transforms a room. Fires give off a different sort of heat from a heat register - it's alive, pulsating, and it comes with neat crackly noises and a distinctive smell. Most of us, I think, have some sort of positive memory connected to firelight - candlelit dinners, campfires in the Strawberry Point area woods, Christmas singalongs around a fireplace much like ours. And maybe there's something else, too - something deeper than memory, some part of us that remembers when a fire was all that stood between us and the scary unknown. Whatever the reason, I'm certainly not fighting the appeal. It's inefficient compared to a gas furnace, I'm sure, but who expects magic to come cheap?

And on top of that, there's snow falling outside for the first time this fall - golly, but I do love this time of year.

Back to the well, yo

2006-10-09T14:28:00.000-07:00

Because we here in the Creative Ideas & Editorial Revision Department at Meaningless Musings believe in continuing with a successful idea until it's completely run its course (and even quite a bit beyond), we once again proudly present the Name That Quote game!

Standard rules apply - try to name the source and the speaker, no looking up answers. This time the quotes aren't limited to any particular genre. Some are from TV, some from movies, some from various print media, some are song lyrics. Post your answers in the comments and I'll update the post with answers as people guess 'em.

1. "Something snapped inside of him - he was a raging lion" - Correctly identified as being from "Lambert, the Sheepish Lion," one of Disney's finest contributions to culture as we know it. It's a cartoon short that's (I learned tonight) available in its entirety on YouTube! If you've never seen it, I strongly encourage you to click that link.

2. "[name omitted because it would immediately give the source away], there's a five-day waiting period for handgun purchases." "Awww - five days? But I'm mad now!" - Correctly, if tentatively, identified as being from "The Simpsons," and more specifically Homer himself.

3. "Listen - I am your superior officer and when I tell you to maintain radio silence that means you hush!" - Correctly identified as being from "The Dukes of Hazzard," and therefore obviously (at least I assume obviously) said by Rosco, who for my money combined with Boss Hogg for one of the finest comedy duos in TV history.

4. "Her mother wasn't nearly so picky." - Correctly identified as being from "Aladdin," as the Sultan bemoans Jasmine's high standards.

5. "Ever since we've decided to adopt leaves as standard currency, we are of course all extremely rich." - Correctly identified as being from Douglas Adams's The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, in a particularly entertaining scene where the Golgafrinchams (sp?) are trying to work out economic theory on the newly-settled Earth.

6. "You will have eyes to see and for that night you'll be a bright lamp burning in the darkness." - Correctly identified as being from Peter Mayer's Jack-O-Lantern song, John's Garden.

7. "Kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty!" - Correctly identified as being said by none other than than paragon of virtue and erudism himself, Jay as he bangs on the glass of a pet shop near the beginning of "Mall Rats."

8. "Bye, trumpet player I don't know. Now I understand why your music is so sad." - Correctly identified as being from "Scrubs," as J.D. sadly moves out of the house he and Turk have shared for almost four seasons and says his goodbyes to a picture of Dizzy Gillespie.

9. "President Andrew Jackson, in the main foyer of his White House, had a big block of cheese." - Correctly identified as being part of Leo McGarry's "Big Block of Cheese Day" speech on "The West Wing"

10. "We bears all have one common dream." - Apparently recognized, but so far not identified.

11. "Superior, it's said, never gives up her dead." - Correctly identified as being from Gordon Lightfoot's "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald."

12. "I'm so smart it's almost scary. I guess I'm a child progeny." - Believe in yourself, Joel. Correctly identified as being from "Calvin and Hobbes" - click here and search for "progeny" to see the source strip.

And that wraps up the game, kids! Seems like these used to take longer... I must be picking easy quotes. Thanks for playing, happy Wednesday, etc., etc.

This is the place where I am most wanted...

2006-09-13T20:24:00.000-07:00

I first worked at EWALU back in the summer of 1993, motivated as much by the fact that I needed a summer job as by any deep commitment to the place. I'd been a camper for four summers and had some fine times (including, but certainly not limited to, an opportunity to co-referee the 1990 Grand International Trans-Global Canoe Race Extravaganza), but never seriously envisioned myself as a future counselor. I assumed my college summers would be much like my high school ones; late nights at the park across the street, the occasional evening of role-playing games in Kyle's basement, wistfully remembering the days when Silkworm could still be found in arcades. Immensely nerd-ish stuff, I'll concede, but I had the sort of group of friends that made it entirely worth missing at college. And miss it I did; my freshman year at Wartburg was at best worth a "meh."

During the spring of the aforementioned freshman year I started thinking about summer job options. Hy-Vee seemed like the most logical course - most of my friends worked there and didn't seem to fiercely hate it - but I found it impossible to get excited about that prospect. So I found myself stopping by the EWALU booth on Work At Camp Day in Buhr Lounge one February afternoon and filling out an application. And coming back later to interview (which I apparently did a horrific job of - I was very much a "We need more male counselors" hire that first year) and signing a contract when they sent me one. I still wasn't sure about the idea of being a counselor, but I never got around to pursuing any other options, so Memorial Day weekend found my dad and I on the way to Strawberry Point, he excited about his boy following in his footsteps as EWALU staff and me terrified and wondering what I'd gotten myself into. I clearly recall telling him I'd changed my mind as he slowed to turn off of Highway 3. No thanks, I'll work at Hy-Vee after all, this was a mistake, Dad. Thankfully, he was wiser than I and ignored me entirely.

I'm aware it's sort of melodramatic to say that summer was life-changing, but I stand by it nonetheless. EWALU was the first place I felt like I fit in, like I was contributing and doing the things I was supposed to do well. And those things were vastly important - I was ministering to kids, helping create a safe, fun environment, contributing to a team and being part of a community. I'd be surprised if I was actually all that good at the job that first summer (certainly I didn't fit all that well into the staff, socially) - I still needed to absorb much of what I was learning - but a tremendous amount of who I am today is built on a foundation laid that summer.

I spent six summers at camp and while they were never again nearly that life-changing (thankfully; that would have gotten exhausting) they comprised 63 of the best weeks of my life. In 1999 not being there felt like walking around sans an arm. Except that I could still clap. Over the years it got less jarring to spend summers not at camp, but I'd always get a bit wistful around Memorial Day weekend. Still, I'd had six summers - more than most people get - and I wasn't in college anymore. I didn't think about it much. Until two springs ago, when my friend Adrian decided I should come back for one more summer. He needed a health officer and was convinced I was the man for the job. It was flattering, and I was vastly tempted, but I decided to do the responsible thing and pass. I spent a week at camp as a volunteer ("camp grandpa") instead, and drove up for several other random weeknights to spend time with the staff. And I found myself getting hooked again.

I found myself back in the midst of a group of friendly, excited, Christian people who were eager to include me in their community and willing to let me be part of their experience. I got to play campfire guitar again, got to hike around woody trails again, got to be part of some of the inside jokes and watch some of the triumphs again. It was fantastic; more recharging than I could have imagined. And I was fairly burned out at both of my real-world jobs - the recharging was entirely welcome.

That fall my friend Jesse was hired as the Program Director and he immediately started petitioning me to come back for another summer. And, fresh on the heels of a summer of being sort of on staff I was much more receptive to the idea than I had been the year before. So I started making sure my finances were in order enough to make it feasible and signed a contract for summer number seven. And, of course, immediately started worrying. Would it be weird to be the old guy? Was I looking at my old summers through rose-colored glasses and creating a standard that couldn't possibly be met? Could I really afford it?

All of which fears were, of course, groundless. Camp, I'm pleased to report, is every bit as fantastic as camp ever was. More so, even, now that I'm older and more aware of my weaknesses and strengths and especially more so now that I'm comparing it with the real world instead of with Wartburg. It was recharging and empowering and exhilarating and every bit as downright dandy as it had ever been. I wish I was still there. I hope I have another summer in me somewhere down the road. If not, I'll settle for the occasional retreat (two coming up in October!) or work day (one coming up tomorrow! First time back at camp since the summer ended! Yay!); one takes what one can get, I guess.

It did pretty much kill off blogging, didn't it? Sorry about that, any of you who might have noticed. I continue to stand by my 12 posts for 2006 goal; we'll see what happens.

This is the place where I am most wanted,
Where everything I am comes from
--"Boulder River," Chris Cunningham/John Hermanson

Oh, the places you'll have been

2006-03-29T23:28:00.000-08:00

This from the crazy-what-you-can-find-on-the-Internet-isn't-it files: here's a site that'll make a customized map of what countries you've been to. Interesting stuff. Here's mine:

It doesn't seem like I should be able to claim all that red space for Canada just from a one-week backpacking trip to Banff, and I'm intrigued by how hard it is to tell that there are 6 European countries represented in that little bit of red (those from the WFWCCB's 1997 Europe tour). It's interesting to have it graphically illustrated just how well-traveled I'm really not; there's very little red on that map. It's sort of fun to look at, though, since it brings back memories of those trips and starts my mind wandering about other parts of the map I might fill in.

The site also has a "what states have you visited?" dealie. This one was harder to fill out; twice I thought I was done adding states and then noticed ones I'd missed (Texas and Illinois, for instance, apparently escaped my memory the first time around). I'm still not sure it's 100% accurate:

It seems likely to me that at some point in my youth I visited Nebraska and/or New Mexico and/or Louisiana and/or Mississippi, but I don't clearly remember visiting any of them so they're on my "I don't think so..." list and I encourage any readers who know one way or another to chime in with the authoritative word.

Even more so than the world map, this one triggers a pile of memories. My backpacking trip to Montana is right there in the string of red states stretching west from Iowa. That line down to the southeast is band tour to Florida and a road trip to Atlanta with my parents. Heck, just seeing Texas highlighted (once I remember to do so ("have I ever been to Texas? Hmmm...")) reminds me of my childhood there. Interesting stuff, if flawed for many of the same reasons as the world map (I shouldn't be able to claim all of Indiana, for instance, and Iowa, Texas, and Kansas should be somehow set apart from Wyoming).

I'd be curious to see what sort of maps other people come up with. Those of you readers with blogs should make your own where-I-been maps and post 'em (here are the links again - world map, states map). I won't call it a "meme" because I think "meme" is a silly word and I have no idea how to pronounce it, but I encourage you to nonetheless.

Thanks to those of who who've been stopping by Central Standard Blog, by the way. I assume from the average length of stay and from the amount of traffic it's been getting that it's not all people looking for this blog and startled by the new link. Feel free to chime in with comments, even if you're just suggesting something else you'd like Matt and I to write about.

And an especially huge thanks to any of you readers who might have been in Madison on the 18th for Joel's birthday; that day turned out excellent beyond the planning teams' wildest hopes and I very much appreciate all the people who turned out for my little baby brother's birthday festivities.

The days-till-summer-camp timer stands at an even 60. Huzzah and/or hooray!

There's an age-old urge to find the infinite

2006-03-01T23:47:00.000-08:00

A brief step back into the old "name that lyric!" game, just in case you were missing it...

So here I am in some new e-digs. Very exciting stuff; I hope I didn't put you out too much with having to change links or bookmarks. Honestly, I have higher hopes for Central Standard Blog remaining an interesting read than I do for Meaningless Musings - it occurred to me the other day that Matt and I might as well include those interested masses (that's (hopefully) you) in the band-related e-mail discussions we've been having for the last five years.

Anyway - if you don't mind, I'd like to delve briefly into that lamest of blogging traditions and spend some posting time talking about why I don't post more often (I know, I know - be still, thy beating heart (I accidentally used that phrase at work ("work" for me being a cardiovascular surgery ward at a hospital) the other day. Awkward!)). I find it difficult to figure out exactly what I want to do with Meaningless Musings. Blogs work best, I think, when they fit some sort of niche - some blogs are wildly entertaining (Mark's - the one linked there - is actually dangerous to read; I find it often becomes hard to breathe), others are intentionally designed to be windows into the blogger's life so that they can be means of remaining in contact with people important to the blogger, others are simply mediums for showcasing significant writing ability - a free publication mechanism. Still others are fascinating sources of interesting links that the blogger has already gone to the trouble of finding for you. And, of course, many are combinations of these - the "big" blogs that get thousands and thousands of hit a day particularly, but even among those links I provided (all but one of which are from my blogroll, and I intend to rectify that soon, Kelly) there's a great deal of crossover; any of those blogs is easily "good enough" and more than good enough to become a wide-circulation blog if it just became more widely known. I'm out of luck there, though - I lack the ability and/or extroversion and/or predilection for wide surfing required. So mostly I post because I enjoy reading so many peoples' blogs and feel like I should give something back to the Blog-a-Lee community and because enough people seem to read the posts to make it seem somewhat worthwhile. That's not really a formula for particular motivation, though, and therefore I end up with a post once every month or so. I badly missed my post-a-week goal, but I'll nonetheless boldly step forth and promise you, Faithful Reader, an average of a post a month - heck, at least a post a month - for 2006!

There isn't much by way of newsy news from the last month, so I'll summarize in a series of unconnected sentences for those of you interested in what news there may be from Charlieville: Kenosha (the event, not the town (the event's in the town, yes, but "Kenosha" as used here is a thing, not a place))'s coming up this weekend; I'll try to post some sort of recap. I've signed a contract to spend another summer in the woods at EWALU this summer, which is simultaneously exciting and terrifying - it feels like my first summer again. Again, I'll probably write more about that at some point. I'll hopefully be a Hawkeye again next fall; nothing's definite yet but indications are positive. Moving day's coming up again; after four years of not moving I'll be moving twice in 9 months. Phoo on moving, says I, but I say it without losing sight of how fortunate I am to have a fun bunch of folks to live with (and who seem to be willing to put up with having an old man around the place). The Cajee Brass almost had a reunion concert scheduled but had to cancel for want of trumpets, which goes to show that low brass is not only cooler but more reliable.

Okay, then - content-ful posts to follow (heck, I just laid out themes for a half-dozen posts). A blessed Lent to you whether or not you're interested in being Lent-ally blessed.

And they yelled as they danced, "Look around you! The Vikings must have won the Super Bowl!"

2006-01-13T00:13:00.000-08:00

Several weeks ago one of my co-workers was complaining about toe pain. Apparently the big toenail on her left foot was in the early stages of ingrown-dom and was causing her much grief. "My word," she sort of said (I'm paraphrasing in hopes of keeping this a family-rated blog), "my toe is certainly causing me more than a bit of discomfort. I wish there was an easy way to alleviate said pain."

Well, one of my other co-workers pointed out, there are doctors who specialize in such things...

"Actually, though I mean no disparagement of the medical profession in general," she didn't say but the gist was the same, "I consider doctors to be the sort of people I wish to avoid, as a general policy. In my years working as a registered nurse I've oft seen things to leave me somewhat unimpressed."

Well, said another one of my co-workers (up to this point the only one aware that this blog existed), have you read Charlie's online dealie about fixing his toenail?

I had hoped, actually, to stay out of the conversation, but there was immediate demand to see said online dealie so I dutifully pulled up this post from my early days of meaningless musing. People read it, there was general consensus that I was a big freak, and we went on with our night's work.

I never gave it more thought, until a couple of weeks ago when the same co-worker came up to me and said, "Well, I tried your toe-fixing technique."

I was completely floored - had no idea what she was talking about, at first. But indeed, as she told the story, she'd printed the blog entry out so as not to skip any steps and taken Swiss Army knife and pliers in hand and by heck done a little do-it-yourself podiatry. "It was remarkably discomfort-causing," she more or less said. "I spent some time thinking back on various events in my life that have caused me physical anguish and this experience certainly ranks high among them."

But, in the end, she concurred that the short-term discomfort of cutting into her own toe with a camping knife and then ripping part of said toe off with household pliers was absolutely worth it. She said she'd kept a copy of the post in case she ever needed to suggest the therapy to anyone else.

Which makes it seem as if this blog has actually done some good for someone. Which is, to say the least, a daunting concept.

So This is Christmas, What Have You Sung?

2006-01-04T07:26:00.000-08:00

Well hello there and a happy 2006. I hope you all had dandy holidays - I certainly did. I heart family-oriented holidays, and at least in my family there's no holiday family-er than Christmas.

Looking around Blogistan it looks as if resolution lists are the order of the day, but I'm somewhat disinclined to publish mine (other than, of course, a firm commitment of a post a day for 2006!), so instead I'll ask for your help with a Jule-ish problem that's bugged me for the last couple of years.

Specifically, today we're going to be discussing Christmas carol lyrics. There are two classic Christmas hymns that offer themselves, I think, to different interpretations. Certainly they've always caused me some confusion, anyway. Absent any way to actually ask the composer what his intentions were, I'll do it in the form of a poll (or a "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire" Ask The Audience lifeline). I'll provide the lyric in question and then the various interpretations and you cast your votes. We'll call the results canonical, so vote carefully. Choice A on each is the way I've always interpreted the lyric.

Lyric 1: Hark, the Herald Angels Sing

Hark, the herald angels sing/glory to the newborn king!

Which of these is the most accurate rewrite?

A - A shepherd says, "Hark! Lookit over there at those angels singing! Praise to this king they're singing about, whomever he may be!"

B - A shepherd says, "Hark! Lookit over there at those angels singing, 'Glory to the newborn king!'!"

C - Several angels (some of them possibly but not necessarily named Harold) sing "Hark! Glory to the newborn king!"

Lyric Two: The First Noel

The first Noel/The angels did say/Was to certain poor shepherds in fields where they lay

Which of these is the most accurate rewrite?

A - Angels, reminiscing sometime after the first Christmas, talk about how the very first Noel they ever Noeled was to some shepherds.

B - The first Noel the angels said was said to a bunch of lying-down shepherds.

Weigh in, cast your votes, help clarify things for my poor widdle brain! Your opportunity for a little civic service this fine rainy January day.

I know we're both lookin' at his belt

2005-12-27T21:28:00.000-08:00

Tonight at work I've been given the inspiring task of sitting in front of a computer from 11 to 7 without falling asleep (ah, government work), so - inspired by my recent reading of How To Watch Revenge of the Sith - I've decided to devote another post's worth of valuable blog space to discussing Star Wars. I think Mr. Yeti makes some good points (although it seems like he should learn how to spell "Anakin," "Kenobi," and/or "Lucas" before his career as an Internet Star Wars-ophile can really take off).

The thing about the prequels - and they'll always be referred to as "prequels," I think, because they're obviously dependent on Episodes IV, V, and VI (a point John made very well back when he was still blogging). If they were better movies or if they were more consistent with the original trilogy they might be called "the first three movies" or something similarly inspiring. Unless Lucas puts out another re-cut of the originals that's tremendously bad in hopes of smoothing out the disparity, though (which would be unsurprising but very very sad), I think they'll remain "prequels."

As I was saying, though - the thing about the prequels is that they're not horrible movies unto themselves. They've got very strong premises, stunning visuals, lovely soundtracks, excellent acting (Christiansen and Lloyd notwithstanding, although I think that might have been intentional - Lucas trying to justify Mark Hamill's stiff acting by presenting the idea that the Skywalkers are just awkward emoters from way back). Set in one of the great settings in the history of fiction, too - I'd say that LAFFA Galaxy ranks with Middle Earth or Narnia as an outstanding place to set a story. There was so much potential for these movies to be great - all they needed was a few good scripts and a good director. Ideally a few great scripts and a brilliant director, but I think "good" would have more than cut it. If Lucas could have let himself turn the reins over just a little - pointed out to himself, perhaps, that the brilliant premise and stunning special effects and very good basic storyline were all his and that he could still have final veto power over anything and that his name was still and would forevermore be inextricably linked to the Star Wars world so maybe it would be okay if someone else was in charge of exactly what the characters said and maybe it would be okay if someone else was in charge of exactly how the movies were put together - then these movies could have been absolutely spectacular. With the basically unlimited budget and the complete resources of ILM available they could have been the Star Wars movies that Lucas wanted to make back in the 70's and 80's. And because of that fact - because they danced so close to "incredible" but only reached "okay, maybe good in parts" - they're almost painful to watch.

Remember back when The Phantom Menace hit the theaters? Remember the immense amount of pre-movie hype? PepsiCo, if memory serves, invested over a billion dollars in advertising - everywhere you looked, it seemed, you saw Obi-Wan or Darth Maul or wee little Anakin. Every entertainment-related magazine published a Star Wars issue. Lucas demanded that theaters be compliant with his new sound system standard so theaters across the country upgraded - Phantom Menace triggered a nationwide theater ticket price hike. Inspired by the memory of what it had been like to see the original trilogy in the theaters a few years before, Star Wars geeks tingled in anticipation of a brand new chapter - especially those of us who'd been either too young or too clueless to be caught up in the magic the first time around. "Remember how AWESOME it was when we saw the digitally remastered (!) X-Wings fighting over the Death Star?!?" we giddily exclaimed. "Remember how cool the new lotsa-aliens Mos Eisley looked!?!?" Occasionally someone would say something like, "Remember how confused and unimpressed you were with digital Jabba? Remember how you couldn't figure out why on earth Lucas would put that scene in? Remember how it felt like the whole point was to say 'Hey, lookit what I can do!'?" but those people were categorically snubbed.

The lines were insane for Phantom Menace, but we were sure it was very much worth our time. I sat in the parking lot of the Crossroads 12 Theatres in Waterloo and played 3-handed 500 with Jason and Mark while we waited. There were TV camera crews walking around getting human interest "Hey, you're a geek, aren't you!" pieces and people dressed up in costumes despite the summer heat. When the line finally started moving there were people literally hopping up and down with excitement (Mark and I hopped up and down, too, but we were just mocking them). We sat impatiently through the previews, cheered when the "Lucasarts" logo appeared on the screen, cheered even louder when the immensely kick-ass first chord of John Williams's score rang through the speakers, and settled back into our seats prepared to be blown away as the cool trapezoidal blue text crawl started (some of us quietly reading it aloud, as all blue words must needs be read).

Two hours later, we walked out of the theater confused and underwhelmed. The movie certainly had Star Wars-y elements, but there were so many jarringly weird bits (no pun intended). Why had Lucas gone away from making aliens cool and/or useful to the plot characters and made them all silly instead? Did the movie's climactic ending really center around Anakin pushing the wrong button in a starship? Why oh why were there no characters in this movie that we were interested in? Where, in a nutshell, was the cool?

Nothing daunted, we decided we must have just missed something and promptly went back into the theater for the second showing (complain though I might about how disappointing these movies were, they were still Star Wars films and I'm still a Star Wars geek - I saw all three prequels twice on opening day). Same result, though; we left feeling like we'd missed something we were supposed to see.

Apparently the feeling was fairly global. Remember when Attack of the Clones came out? There was quite a bit of hooplah, but no more than any other summer blockbuster would receive. Certainly not a This Is The Only Thing Going On In The World Of Cinema-level carpet out-rolling like Phantom Menace received. And Attack of the Clones was better than Phantom Menace but still disappointing. And then Revenge of the Sith came out almost quietly - certainly compared to Menace - and had some parts that were better than AotC but some that were worse and was overall underwhelming again.

And that's it. No more Star Wars films, and I for one feel like we're still sort of owed three Star Wars films. They were breathtaking eye candy, but they weren't sagas or epics or any of the other superlatives that they were darn well supposed to be. Instead they're three very strong supporting examples of the theory that there's no more important part of the moviemaking process than the scriptwriter. Sigh.

In keeping with the rant-y theme of this post so far, I'll go through some specific points of the prequels that annoy me. All of these have probably been covered elsewhere already (some of them probably by me in my last Star Wars post), but here are a few more specific gripes with the three prequels:

>>Why oh why oh why did Lucas decide to introduce midichlorians? Why why why? The Force is possibly the single coolest idea in the entire LAFFA Galaxy setting; I can't think of another example where fantasy and sci-fi are blended so seamlessly. And there's already a great explanation of it in Star Wars: An energy field created by all living things which, Ben tells us, surrounds us, penetrates us, binds us all together, and partly controls our actions while still obeying our commands. Very nice indeed - a science-y explanation of magic, basically. Tiny little creatures in our cells? That's a horrible explanation, and it makes Ben sounds like an idiot when he explains the Force to Luke in Star Wars. Maybe he also thought midichlorians were dumb and thought he'd pretend they didn't exist by not telling Luke about them.

Seriously, though - I can't think of a single reason why adding the idea of midichlorians was anything but dumb. Did he want to soften the blow of explaining Anakin's virgin birth by having tiny little subcellular creatures be responsible instead of a mysterious Force? Did he want a way to quantify Anakin's Force-ish badassness by letting Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan take a midichlorian count? Or - this is my personal favorite - had he made a bet with Spielberg that he could introduce one really stupid idea into The Phantom Menace and still have the top-grossing film of the summer?

>>I thought Jar-Jar was annoying, but not so much because of how he was characterized as because of the role he was given. All the important, acting-intensive roles in the old trilogy were given to humans. Yoda comes closest to breaking that, but he's really just a supporting character in the old trilogy; a way for Luke to learn more mad Jedi skillz. There's a reason for that, and it's not just because it requires a huge technology investment to make a special effect into a main character. People are used to reading emotion from other people. At best we can read broad emotions from non-humans: the dog is happy to see me. This wasp seems to wish I wasn't here. When you have a non-human in a major acting role like Lucas tried to do with Jar-Jar it doesn't work. We the audience see a special effect that's emoting, not just the emotion. Sure, Jar-Jar was annoying, but Chewie would have been just as intolerable placed in a major role like Jar-Jar's. Jar-Jar could have been cool (or at least interesting) in a supporting role, but he's not at all fit to carry a major role.

>>Why did Lucas decide Tatooine was so important? It went from, "If there's a bright center to the universe, you'e on the planet it's furthest from," in Star Wars to being the site of much of the action in the prequels. Almost every time Lucas tried to do a cute nod to the old trilogy it didn't work. Look, they're back on Tatooine! That's neat, huh? Now we can meet Owen and Beru when they were young, even though we hardly met them in Star Wars and we don't really care about meeting them again! Yippee! That sure does make hiding Luke on Tatooine seem like an idiot idea, though. At least pick a spot other than the hut right by Anakin's mom's grave and maybe change Luke's last name since we've established that Anakin Skywalker is a galactic celebrity. Far too high a price in awkward plot mechanics to pay for being able to say "Ooo... Tatooine! I remember that!"

>>While I'm nitpicking, why do you suppose the names of Sith Lords became less subtle between the old trilogy and prequels. In the old trilogy we had Darth Vader, which has a lovely evil sound to it but doesn't really mean anything. Maybe part of "invader". We also have the Emperor, but he never uses his Sith title - which we can interpret either as Lucas brilliantly forseeing his desire to have the Palpatine Is Sidious connection be all secretive and startling in the prequels or as Lucas not having thought of the idea of the Sith being ancient enemies of the Jedi and the Emperor being a great Sith Lord as well as a regular old Dark Jedi. But, to stay somewhat on track - we have Vader. Very cool, evil-sounding name. In the prequels, we add Darths Maul, Sidious, and Tyrannus and learn about former Sith Lords Darths Bane and (this one is my favorite - run out of unsubtle "this word sounds bad!" names, George?) Plagueis. Good grief. If the Emperor had successfully turned Luke to the dark side in Return of the Jedi, I think his cool Sith name should have been Darth I'mGoingToGoHurtSomePuppiesNow.

>>I've complained about this before, but I can't understand Lucas's insistence that having cameo appearances by characters from the old trilogy is cool. I think that meeting Boba Fett as a young kid works fairly well, but only because he's more of a plot device than a character in the old trilogy. If Lucas had known how he was going to use wee Boba when he made Jedi, he would certainly have had a huge, drawn-out fight between Boba and Luke where Boba expressed his lifelong hatred of Jedi. It would have been silly and a delay in the plot, but by heck it would have been a tie-in back to another movie. The touching moment 'twixt Yoda and Chewbacca in RotS was perhaps the dumbest moment in all six movies, made even more so by the fact that Lucas felt an entire scene on Kashyyyk was necessary to set it up. Both CGI Jabba appearances (in I and IV) are grating in their lameness; non-CGI Jabba was a very cool character. CGI Jabba was a joke.

Even the non-cameo crossovers were awkward. R2-D2 and C-3PO didn't need to be in the prequels. They had major roles but were still basically just "hey, I know him!" cameos. I was stunned and unimpressed when I saw them in Phantom Menace and I never changed my mind about it. If Lucas does remake the old trilogy (which I can see him doing - get rid of all the pesky actors and make the whole thing CGI) I hope Artoo at least gets to keep his ability to fly and defeat super battle droids single-handedly and whatnot.

I'm sure I could find more things to list, but this is a pretty long post (especially considering its completely meaningless content) already. If you're interested in reading further ranting-by-me about Star Wars, feel free to peruse my review of Revenge of the Sith. If I think of more particularly objectionable points I'll add 'em to this post later. I certainly encourage feedback. Disagree with me or add to the list - either way, I'd love to hear it.

On a more serious and relevant note, Happy New Year's to you all and a blessed 2006. You know, just in case I don't get around to posting again until next December.

Four thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire

2005-12-13T00:54:00.000-08:00

Well, then - that was a couple of months of not much blogging from me then, wasn't it? Sorry about that; it's a surprisingly easy habit to fall out of. I'd argue that the move and adjusting to the new living environment and my new computer keyboard and the wintry weather threw me off, but nonetheless I suppose I failed to uphold some sort of unspoked blogger-ly commitment to you my readers (both of you).

Specifically to guard against this sort of thing, I set a posting trigger for myself several months ago - a specific criterion that requires me to post when it's met. And, a few days ago, met it was, so here I am back on the blogosphere. Maybe it'll be easier to keep posting than it was to start posting again.

Nothing fancy, though. To keep me from having to actually formulate a cohesive entry, I'll once again lean on the timeless blogger's crutch of cute little bullet points. And away we go -

As far as actual news goes, the big event in my life of late is a move back to my old high school stomping grounds. I live not quite two blocks from my old high school home now - my (somewhat lame) wishes that I lived closer to John so as not to have to walk so far have been granted, sort of. If he hadn't moved away I'd lived quite a bit closer than I used to. It's odd; certainly a different sort of social setting. It's nice to be closer to work and fun to be living with a bunch of camp people (all 6 of us (7, if you count Jesse)) are EWALU alums), but I've always handled change poorly, so it's been sort of a weird transition. Mayhap I'll blog in more detail about it someday.

My social circle has seen a fair amount of job-getting and child-having of late, too, but I'll not take away peoples' chances to share their own news (Matt and Jesse, in particular, certainly have blog-worthy events to share from the last month or so. Updates, gentlemen! You can't let a blog languish un-updated for weeks at a time; that's all sorts of uncool).

As you may have noticed, I've admitted defeat in the face of spam commenters (what an odd thing spam is. I assume it's very cheap to send out spam e-mail but it can't be free and I have trouble imagining that there's any sort of return for the spammer - surely no one actually buys the products they claim to be selling. So it makes no financial sense. I'm forced to assume, then, that spam exists merely to annoy. Which is a sad thought, but at least if it's true then the spammers of the world are succeeding brilliantly; that's nice for them) and activated the annoying word-verification dealie for comments. Sorry about that - those drive me nuts, too, but I was deleting 4 or 5 spam comments a day. It should be noted that this in no way weakens my position when criticizing Jess for activating the annoying word-verification dealie on her blog.

A couple of link-ish notes to bring to your attention, too - there's a new blog linked. I found Sean Meade's blog a couple of weeks ago and have enjoyed reading through his archives. Sean's a fellow Iowa City West/Wartburg man, and from what I can gather he rarely disappoints his readers with long periods of e-silence.

Also worth noting is that Paul Cantrell has been posting some new audio clips recently. For those of you who haven't checked out his work yet or who got out of the habit during his summer sabbatical, hie thee to In The Hands and listen. It's phenomenal stuff; I stand by my earlier comparison of Paul to Vladmir Horowitz in the level of understanding he conveys in his playing. Pure Internet gold.

Here's a question I pose to those of you familiar with the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy oeuvre: when you read that the Ultimate Question of Life, The Universe, and Everything was "what do you get when you multiply six by nine?" did you notice how that product isn't actually 42? I don't ask that question to be snarky - I'd always assumed that was an intentional bit put in by Douglas Adams, either to illustrate that the question-finding program had been flawed by the Golgafrinchans pushing out the native Earthlings or to poke fun at technology or possibly just to make a silly joke or - my personal favorite explanation - assign a mathematical untruth to the fundamental question of the universe and thus illustrate how fundamentally weird and messed-up the universe is. Whatever the reason, it never occurred to me that it was purely a throw-away bit.

But then I was sitting around last week after a weekly poker game that I participate in, talking to a couple of the other players. One of them's a pastor-in-training and he commented that wearing clerical garb tends to inspire people to try to ask supremely profound questions, presumably to impress the garb-wearer. "I get a lot of 'What's the meaning of life?' sorts of questions," he said. "I usually tell 'em 42."

We all laughed appreciatively (more, I suspect, to make sure people knew we caught the allusion than because it was actually all that funny - I find people do that sort of thing a lot), and I offered the fun fact that six times nine does indeed equal 42 in base-13. I got two blank stares, so I tried to explain the math a little more, but their confusion stemmed from where I was getting "six times nine" in the first place.

Apparently they'd both read Arthur's Scrabblic question as "what do you get when you multiply six times seven?" I concede that's more mathematically logical, but it's not nearly as clever and it's not what Douglas Adams wrote - a position I spent the next several minutes trying to defend. They were both sure the book had said 6x7, and I began to think that maybe I was the one who'd misread (it occurred to me too late that that since we'd been playing poker at Greg's I could have gotten to a copy of the books in about three strides. Or gone and woken up Greg and demanded that he weigh in on the argument in about ten). It was also suggested that perhaps Adams had simply made a math error.

It's obviously no sort of big deal in any cosmic sense, but if those of you who've read the HHGG books would weigh in as to whether you noticed that the math didn't work out and - if so - what you thought Adams was trying to say thereby I'd appreciate it.

I find I almost enjoy the baseball off-season more than the on-season. I've spent a lot of time recently following the general managers' chess game as they trade players and activate players and offer players immense amounts of money. If only there was also some baseball to watch, the off-season would be ideal. If I was the sort of blogger who found myself being frustrated because I wanted to post more often I'd start a baseball blog. This year, of course, the Cubs are a mortal lock for the World Series championship.

This year, I'm pleased to report, Iowa seems to have finally remembered what December is supposed to be like. Here's to three more months of snow and sub-zero temperatures! And, hopefully, to our landlord replacing our furnace with one that's not as inefficient as a furnace is legally allowed to be!

Just in case I fall back into non-posting for another couple of months I'll say Merry Christmas and Happy New Year's now. Also happy birthday to my two holiday-birthdayed readers. If you're not doing anything Friday, stop by the Java Creek Cafe in Cedar Rapids for a Christmas Soul Hug concert. You know you like you some Christmas music.

There was lightning moving in quickly

2005-09-13T23:36:00.000-07:00

I was almost struck by lightning once. 'Twas the summer of 1998 and I was hanging out in the Trail Room late one evening with Jason when the news came over the camp radio that a tornado warning had been issued. My job as a program area coordinator was to make sure the campers and counselors in my program area got to shelter quickly and safely, which was easy enough to do - I walked the fifty yards from the Trail Room to the Outpost where the Night Campers were cooking supper and said, "Hey, Jesse, we gotta go hang out in the basement for a while."

"Tornado?" asked Jesse.

"Yep," I replied.

"I told you," said Jesse (he'd been predicting bad weather since that afternoon), and then proceeded to round up the campers and other counselors and we walked back to the Trail Room. It was very calmly and efficiently handled. No one panicked, no one was driven barefoot down a dark muddy trail by a screaming crazy woman who was telling them they needed to hurry, damn it, did they want to get killed by a tornado? Not every program area could say as much that night, but that's another story that doesn't involve me almost getting killed by a huge white bolt of electric death, so I'll not digress further.

The Night Campers settled in the Trail Room basement and we sent Jason in search of fruity and/or sugary snacks and started making Wizard of Oz jokes and singing campfire tunes. Then the radio crackled and the Explorer coordinator's voice came over it asking if anyone had gotten her campers out of SITville.

Explorers are campers who've just finished third grade; most weeks they're the youngest kids on camp. Usually they stay in the cabins close to the main lodge (allowing for "close to the lodge" jokes (was that too obscure? Anyone get that?)), but that week they'd been bumped out to the SITville cabins (so named because the Staff-In-Training usually stayed there) so the main cabins could house confirmation campers. The SITville cabins are quite a bit closer to the Trail Room than they are to the main lodge and Lisa, the Explorer coordinator, was calling to inquire if anyone Trail Room-based would be willing to go get her campers. Seemed reasonable to me, and I was generally predisposed to do nice things for Lisa anyway, so I volunteered and set forth with my trusty gray hat into the pouring rain.

To get from the Trail Room to SITville one must walk along the west edge of Pioneer Plains, a large-ish (a couple of football fields, I'd say) open area in the middle of the woods with a campfire ring where the all-camp Sunday campfire is held. I think the lightning hit somewhere in the middle of the field as I was walking along the edge.

I've been a nerd pretty much my whole life. I can intelligently discuss the mechanism by which lightning happens and cite uninteresting facts like how a lightning bolt is hotter than the surface of the sun and how that heat energy creates a thunderclap - I'll bet you all can, too. That's sixth grade science stuff. It's one thing to know how it works, though, and another thing entirely to be right next to ground zero. The flash of light was overwhelming and incapacitating by itself - the world was suddenly lit up as if a billion people were all taking my picture at once. I felt the heat wave wash over me, followed immediately by the shock wave which would eventually become a simple thunderclap once it had had more time to dissipate. It was, altogether, very much so the sort of experience for which the poets once coined the phrase "holy crap!" I dove to the ground and lay face-down for a bit in the wet grass, hoping I hadn't been blinded and trying to convince myself I hadn't been killed. And, I think, trying to protect myself from the lightning strike, although I'm not sure what sort of aftershock I was expecting.

I lay there for a few minutes until I could see again and my ears had stopped ringing and I was tired of lying in wet grass in pouring rain. Then I walked the rest of the way to SITville and rounded up the Explorers, exactly none of whom had been woken up by the thunderclap from the lightning strike that had almost Crispy Critter-ed me. The air smelled like ozone and I had a weird taste in my mouth - being almost hit by lightning is very much a five-sense experience.

The next day I went back to Pioneer Plains and looked for the giant smoking crater that must have been left behind (yes, yes, I know, lightning isn't actually a "strike" in any literal sense and the actual bolt is actually going up. Still, it seemed to me that so immense an event would have left some sort of mark), but I didn't see anything. I told the story of my harrowing incident, but it received a pretty negative response - Lisa thought I was trying to make her feel bad by making my trip to get her campers sound like an ordeal and Jason pointed out the lack of smoking crater and told me he didn't believe me (just wait 'till he almost gets hit by lightning someday - two can play the Dismissive Unconcern game, li'l buddy...). So I dropped it; I used it as a message point at a couple of Thursday campfires and looked for a crater at Pioneer Plains when I walked by but it quickly faded from my queue of Oft Told Stories. Tonight, though, a similar story brought it back to mind for me.

Tonight a good friend of mine stopped by to show me his new motorcycle, a 2002 Yamaha something-or-other model crotch rocket racing bike (not exactly this one, but the same sort). It was a really impressive machine and we admired it for a bit and I debated taking it for a spin around the block but decided not to since I don't own a helmet and my motorcycle skills aren't nearly up to handling such a powerful beast. Motorcycle-admiring apparently having made us hungry, we decided to go grab a bite at Old Chicago. He told me he'd meet me there; he hadn't taken it out on the interstate yet and was eager to experience a little high-speed riding.

I'd been waiting at Old Chicago for about 15 minutes when my cell phone rang. It was him, and he sounded quite distraught and stressed. "I've had a wreck, man; I got run into by a freaking semi!" he informed me, only afterwards also noting that he was okay. I drove out to the crash site and found him on his phone detailing the event to the Coralville police. Apparently he was just off of the exit ramp and heading into Coralville when a semi truck pulled over into his lane - the trailer hit him in the shoulder and pushed him over and he and the bike skidded off the road and into gravel, where they both slid/rolled to a stop. The bike seemed to be mostly okay, although the left side's badly scraped up. He's astonishingly-much unhurt; he has a skinned knee and a badly pulled calf muscle and a great deal of general bruising (tomorrow morning's going to be no fun at all, buddy). His leather jacket's scraped up and dusty and some of the seams are torn, but it seems to have mostly done its job and taken the brunt of the gravel-sliding. His helmet's done for - it's beaten up badly enough that it'll have to be replaced - and that's the scariest bit by far. If he hadn't been wearing it he'd at the very least have a badly cut-up face and more likely be in the hospital right now with people anxiously wondering when he's going to wake up. Or if he and the bike had slid left instead of right or not crashed right where the road's curving left they could have been under the wheels of the semi trailer.

We took him home and he took several ibuprofen and iced his calf (frozen french fries work better than frozen vegetables, I learned) and watched him alternate between marveling at how lucky he was to not be more badly hurt and agonizing over over getting 15 minutes of riding time on his new bike.

It's amazing to me how fragile life really is. So many things - many of them nothing more than simple bad luck - can pop the bubble and just like that you're done. Whatever plans you might have had, whatever things you might have done, whatever life you may have brought to other people - gone like that because you happened to be standing in a lightning bolt's way or a semi driver decided to ignore protocol about lane changes. Or a hurricane rolls through your town or a politician ten thousand miles away decides his country needs something that your country has or some of your cells accidentally mutate into super cells and kill off their neighbors or an idiot with a gun decides it will somehow help him feel better to take your life or a million million other things. It's an immensely sobering thing to think about, and being at work here in the hospital certainly isn't helping.

So here's my bloggish advice to you, which you're welcome to take or to ignore or to roll your eyes at or whatever you like: take a couple of minutes right now and think about some of the things that make your life something that you wouldn't want to lose. Take some time to really notice them, to really appreciate them, now while you can.

And always wear your helmet.

And he wants you all to sing along

2005-09-13T04:43:00.000-07:00

As you're all probably already aware, the good folks at babelfish.altavista.com provide a translation service free of charge to those who might wish to have things translated. Simply enter some text, tell the site which language the text is in and in which language you wish it rendered, and the magic little men that live in the Internet pull out their language dictionaries and scribble away until they have a translation for you. It's remarkable; the sort of thing that we take for granted now but would have seemed like magic twenty years ago.

It's not perfect, though, and particularly it's not reversible - translating into another language and then back to the orginal doesn't yield the original text. Instead, often, it yields mightily more amusing variants of the same text. For your reading enjoyment today, I've set the little translating men at altavista.com to work translating a couple of Matt Hibbard's more popularly received lyrics. Here we see that the genius of poetic composition is still beyond the realms of machines. Plus it's really funny. Particularly, I find, if you know the tune it's quite entertaining to try to sing the new lyrics. Enjoy!

Long Way Home - original quote (lyrics from our Electronic Press Kit): "Let's take the long way home tonight, the road that winds along the river, and let's leave the windows down. Let's just take our time tonight, and let the cool September air blow the hair out of our eyes."

English-Spanish-English:

"Tonight let us take the long home from the way, the way which the winds along the river and let to us leave the windows down leave to right taking our time us tonight, and lets the September air fresh blow the hair outside our eyes."

English-French-English:

"Let us take this evening the long house in manner, the road that the winds along the river and let to us leave with the windows leave us to the bottom catch right our time this evening, and leave the fresh air September blow the hair out of our eyes."

English-German-English:

"Let us long way house, the road this evening take, the hoist abandoned along the river and us let the windows leave us down fair taking our time this evening, and you let cool Septembers air the hair from our eyes burn through"

English-Greek-English:

"Take the long-lasting house of ways tonight, the street that winds at length of river and you leave the windows under precisely you take our time tonight, and leave the cool air September to blow trj'ha from our eyes."

English-Dutch-English:

"The long manner house vanavond, the way take that winds along the river and leave the windows downstairs demand only to our time vanavond, and let the cold air of September it its from our eyes blow."

English-Dutch-French-Spanish-English:

"The long one if way house, the highway tonight takes that winds along the river and leaves partly lowers the windows only demands of our time tonight, and lets to the cold air of September he his of our eyes blow."

Fun, huh? Now let's try a longer quote.

Mwah - original quote (lyrics from my webpage): "I don't know what to say or do, but I think I'm in love, in love with you. I hope that you really feel it too, I want to spend every minute with you. I know I've said it lots before, but I still think I kinda need to settle the score and let you know what all my words are for. Tell me, do you love me, I implore?"

English-Spanish-English:

"I do not know what to say or does, but think I is in love, in love with you the hope of I that you really feel it also, I wishes to spend every minute with you that I know have said he draws for before, but I still think I a little need to place the account and déjele to know for which they are all my words dígame that, you love to me, imploro?"

English-French-English:

"I what with saying or made, but I think I am in the love, in the love with you the hope of I that you really also smell it, I want to spend each minute with you that I know I said it divides into front batches, but I always I must arrange the points a little and do you let think do not know know for what are all my words say to me that, you like me, I beseech?"

English-German-English:

"I do not know, what to say or you do, but I think, I in the love, in the love with you I hope that you really believe it also, I would like each minute with you are to spend, whom I know I have said, forwards drawn by lots it, but I to still think, I the bischen notch to agree have and you inform you which all my words are for, explain you me that, her me dear, flehe I on?"

English-Greek-English:

"I don't know what in order to I say or, but think that I am in the love, in the love with you I hope that you him I really consider also, I want to pass each thin with you I know i him they have said the parts before, but think still the need kinda I to install the result and you to inform what all my words are for Tell i, me do love, do implore?"

English-Dutch-English:

"I weet to none what say if, but think am I I in love, in love with you I hope that you feel it really also, wants I each minute with you I spend weet I it the parties voordien has said, but thinks I still kindabehoefte of I the score and you to regulate what already my words for Tell knows does me let be, do you love me, do I implore?"

English-Dutch-French-Spanish-English:

"ME weet no what with the purpose of saying if, but it thinks is me in the love, the love with you I hope that siéntaselo truely also, I do not want to pass every minutes with you weet to me the parties I have said it before, but I still think for kindabeho of I the result and to regulating itself what my words for Tell know already I let be, likes me, implora."

Her me dear, flehe I on indeed. Couldn't've said it better myself.

I drove through the night last night

2005-09-09T11:35:00.000-07:00

It was hard to find a lyric for this post. Seemed odd to pick one that focuses on the until-3:30-a.m. drive back from Madison instead of the concert that brought us there, but by heck the lyric game is firmly established as the new thing that is cool. Anyway - here's a picture of me from yestereve:

I've already blogged nostalgic about how I wish the Storyhill-listening experience could be what it once was, so I won't go over that ground again (unless there's interest, I guess; I am getting to the point of being desperately short on blogging ideas). They're not blow-your-eyeballs-out-of-the-back-of-your-head amazing anymore, but still good enough and more than good enough to make 7 hours of driving completely worthwhile. Plus, I've put enough Storyhill Nerd groupie time now that they know me and I get to hang out with them before and after the show and discuss things like how lame NACA is and John's new CD project (Psalms set to music).

I'll let the picture fill in the other 814 words.

Half of what I say is meaningless

2005-08-24T08:10:00.000-07:00

Far more than half, obviously, but I figured in light of the protest over the last post I'd pick a less obscure lyric for this one's title. It's Mostly Unrelated Thoughts With Bullet Points time again, kids! Yay and yay (and yay)!

Monday night Matt and I played one of the most fun concerts we've played in our time as CST, made all the more fun by the fact that we fully expected it to be at best an okay show. We were playing for the Coralville Farmer's Market, which generally means a couple of people are actually watching but mostly you're providing background music for the shopping multitudes. So we didn't concern ourselves overmuch with details like determining a set list or showing up early to set up or run through anything; we were expecting a low-key hour and a half or so of running through some tunes.

Instead, though, the show turned into a little EWALU reunion by the Aquatic Center. By the time we were half an hour into our set there were 10 former EWALU staffers there, covering all the summers from '93 to '05 between them. Several people Matt and I hadn't seen for a very long time, too - if only for that it would have been a really fun evening. But on top of that we were playing for an audience that was (or at least seemed to be) really familiar with and into our music, and that's sort of an unusual treat for us; we're usually playing for a few close friends and several people who have no idea who we are. It's a lot of fun to have people singing along (and at least a couple of those attendant could have taken over vocal duties on most of our songs, I think). Sort of reminded me of the crowds at Legends when Storyhill would come to Waverly, although that's probably a bit over-hubristic. So thanks very much, if any of you concert-goers read this blog - the evening turned into quite a treat for Matt and I.
Un-cool-ly, I was trying to sing the whole time through a badly scratchy throat that I've been dealing with for about three weeks now. If I had any symptoms other than coughing and voice raspitude I'd think I had bronchitis, but I'm sure it's just some sort of persistant cold probably exacerbated by fall allergies. It sucked immensely Monday night, though - my high range was a full fifth lower than it usually is and a lot of the CST repertoire requires me to use the far upper end of my vocal range. Yet another reason it was good the audience was already familiar with the music, I guess. By the end of the show I could barely talk. Then yesterday morning I had my full range back and I thought I'd come up with a new miracle cure - Having trouble with losing your voice? Force yourself to sing for two and a half hours anyway! But now it's as bad as it's ever been again, so apparently my career as a miracle cure inventor will need to wait a bit longer yet.
Also un-cool-ly (indeed, far more un-cool-ly), for the last several months I've also had a great deal of trouble convincing my left hand that playing guitar is fun. Now, I'll admit that the left hand doesn't have a very glamorous job in the guitar-playing process. It doesn't get to actually make any noise or execute fancy flourishes like the right hand does, it just gets to press down thin metal wires, which is apparently unpleasant enough that it requires developing thick callouses to deal with. It starts out as the primary hand - beginning guitar players focus exclusively on the fretting hand - but eventually gets pushed back to secondary importance as the guitarist realizes that the right hand is the one actually making the music. So I'm not saying I don't empathize, but I think my left hand's passed beyond merely dissatisfied and into active rebellion and I find that uncool. For a while the hand was just fatiguing more quickly than it used to, but then it decided that wasn't a strong enough message and starting throwing in the occasional shooting pain across the back of the hand (only when I was playing guitar, though - apparently that's the thing that angers it most). Just this last summer it threw complete lock-ups into the mix, wherein my left fingers just sort of freeze for a while (that's only happened twice, thankfully). Now I certainly won't claim that the guitar-playing world at large would experience any sense of loss if I gave into my hand and stopped playing, but I sort of enjoy it so I hope that eventually my hand and I can come to some sort of accord. I've considered buying a left-handed guitar and learning to play that way to placate my left hand, but I'm afraid that would just make my right hand angry at me instead.

I hope Mom still never reads this blog...
Allow me to point your attention again to the NEW LINKS over in the LinkyList on the right. I notice that no one has yet written a review for Folksinging or Second Whisper and that people are reading the CST forum but not chiming in (or starting threads - really, people, anything at all you'd like to talk about). C'mon - putting your opinions on the Internet is fun! Particularly I'd be interested in hearing your thoughts on the Folksinging issue on the forum.
This is a really well-written blog entry. I completely agree, Carrie. Hooray for the passing of summer weather!
It wasn't all that long ago that it was very simple being a Hawkeye football and Cubs baseball fan. You entered the season prepared to take deep satisfaction in whatever the team was prepared to offer. "Well, we lost 9 games - but remember when we almost beat Michigan?" "No team in the history of the game blew more leads in the ninth inning than we did this season - but wasn't it fun to watch Sosa hit 66 home runs?" Now both teams have become teams that are expected to do well, and I find that emotionally problematic. The Cubs are having an entirely Cub-like season this year, but because they were supposed to have the best pitching staff in the Major Leagues and a save-the-world caliber manager and therefore win the National League Central and make it to the World Series I'm very disappointed in how the season's gone. Once upon a time Derrek Lee's breakout year would have been good enough for me. The Hawkeyes are being picked in at least the top fifteen by every poll that's been released, and therefore I'm already primed to be disappointed if they don't make it to (and win) another New Year's Day bowl game. Anyone have any suggestions for some consistently underachieving sports teams I can root for?
And finally, an amusing anecdote from my workplace. The computers on the inpatient units at the UIHC are out in places on the floor where people often walk by and can see the screens, and apparently there was an issue recently where a patient's family member walked by a computer that had been left with a browser window open to some sort of women-in-swimwear-oriented website. They found that inappropriate and said as much to someone in the administration, and so in typical University fashion swift and decisive action was taken - a screen saver was put on all the computers reminding staff to (and I quote) "Restrict surfing to offensive or objectionable websites."

I search in vain for a closing quip to top that.

There are things you can't hear until you find a place where there isn't any other sound

2005-08-17T03:25:00.000-07:00

A couple of business items before I get down to the business of musing. As a compromise between accomodating those of you who've requested another "name that quote" game and those of you who've mocked me for using "name that quote" games as a way to duck having to actually write some sort of interesting content, for the remainder of my posts in 2005 (I've got 38 to go if I'm going to meet my once-a-week goal - yeep. I may have to Jason Fox my way through some of them) - or at least until I get tired of playing - the post title will be a lyric from either a Central Standard Time or a Storyhill or a Beatles song. You, oh Gentle Readers, get to play the name-the-lyric game with every post while still having something content-ful to read every month and a half or so! Exciting, exciting stuff; let it not be said we here at Meaningless Musings don't try to provide our readership with what it's asking for. Plus I just got to list CST with Storyhill and the Beatles, which I found immensely cool.

Also, you may notice there are a few new links over in the list-o-links to the right. Central Standard Time's music is finally available for purchase through a medium less cumbersome than printing out an order sheet, mailing it in with a check, and waiting for several weeks for us to remember to mail you your CD - Second Whisper and Folksinging are both available for sale through CD Baby. It remains to be seen, I guess, whether that'll actually translate into significantly more sales, but certainly it should simplify the process; I've bought a dozen or so CDs from CD Baby and been extremely impressed with how quick and easy to work with they are. If you'd be so kind, Matt and I would appreciate it much if you'd click on the links, check out the site (thus increasing our traffic, which CD Baby uses to help determine which of their albums are popular and therefore worth recommending), and write a brief review or two. And, you know, if you feel moved to actually buy a copy...

There's also a link to the new Central Standard Time discussion forum. I'm immensely curious to see how this turns out; I stumbled across it last night as I was looking through the administration page for our website to see what sorts of nerdly programming dealies (that's the technical term) the site supports with an eye towards putting a guestbook on the site. All that was required was to activate the forum page - it's part of the package deal we're paying for through the web hosting company. So stop on by and sign up for a username. It's very low-impact; they ask for an e-mail adress and your name and a username. I'm assured that none of it will ever come back to haunt you as spam, but if you're nervous there's no checkup system to assure that you're entering a valid e-mail adress or name. Let's see if we can't make it an interesting discussion forum. Any topic's free game, although I suppose Matt and I should probably reserve the right to censor anything egregiously offensive.

Thanks muchly. We now return you to your regularly scheduled post.

This is the first week after the end of summer camp up at EWALU (an aside here, just because this misspelling seems to be gaining credibility and if you can't rant about something like this on your own blog what's the point of blogging in the first place? Somehow the word "EWALU" has lost its identity as a cool acronym and is being widely misspelled "Ewalu." This is nothing short of wrong and should be fiercely mocked whenever you come across it. Thanks) and for the first time in seven years I feel a very strong, sharp sense of loss with the passing of the summer. I wasn't on staff this summer but I was around as much as possible. I spent a full week as a camp grandpa and another half-week after my whitewater(ish) rafting trip with Mark and a couple more isolated Wednesday nights, soaking up the experience of being back in the middle of a camp summer and trying to be helpful where I could. It was very weird for me to be at camp without a clearly defined role; I'm sure I ended up being in the way more often than I was actually helpful and I had to constantly ignore Rule 7 from The Introvert's Handbook ("Always assume people don't want you around") or I never would have interacted with anyone, since I didn't have any responsibilities that could provide initial interactions. It was painfully awkward and yet still completely worth the social discomfort. I'd forgotten how astoundingly, wonderfully, downright freaking awesome summer camp is. Being back out in the woods and singing the old songs again and watching the counselors with their kids and spending time with the kids myself and watching the magical social environment that a Christian community of college students creates was as energizing and recharging for me as it ever was. More so, even, since I wasn't coming to camp from a college environment that was almost as neat-o; I'm sure I drove the staff nuts talking about how much I'd missed being there.

This summer's was a very good staff, too. Extremely extremely good. Remarkably, they're also almost all first-year staff; a big crew of long-timers all finished their tours of duty last summer and turned things over to a bunch of rookies. Hopefully this group will end up being the next group of long-timers, because they're a really impressive bunch of Bible camp staffers.

And now the summer's over. If I go up to camp tonight I won't get to see the mime and hang out and watch Jesse play guitar with the summer staff at the Wednesday night all-camp campfire (Jesse had no problems with feeling awkward as a non-staffer being at camp - or at least he didn't let them stop him from jumping right in, if he did. I was immensely jealous of that) and sit around the remnants of the fire afterward talking until far too late. If I go up tomorrow there won't be a hoedown to play for. The staff is on their way back to college, and I don't even get to do that. Instead I'm back at work now, sitting in a clean, air-conditioned building with people who've all showered in the past 24 hours and who would look at me like I was crazy if I broke out into a song about what sorts of sounds a little green frog might or might not be expected to make. I'm also back in a world where what I do is more important than who I am and a world where the job is only done because of the money. The real world, I know, but it doesn't make me miss the one I was around any less. Greg's latest post describes the feeling very well, I think. And much more articulately.

On the other hand, though, I certainly didn't come away from my sort-of summer empty-handed. In just the few days I was there I made some new friends, learned a bunch of new camp songs (most of which I wouldn't replace any of the old catalog with if I was planning a worship service at camp (which I'll be doing in only a month and a half - yay and yay!), but a few of which were pretty catchy), got as close to a tan as my Norwegian heritage will allow - and re-learned a lot of things about myself that EWALU taught me once and I'd started to forget. Being an EWALU staffer is the one thing in my life that have no hesitation about saying I was good at. For four summers I was one of the leaders on staff and I got to go to bed at night knowing that I'd been part of making the campers' experience that much better. Even though there are only a few people around the place that remember those summers and even through the awkwardness of not really having a role it was still immensely good for me to be able to slip back into some of those old mental pathways. My attitude here at the hospital is much better (although I'm sure this place will grind me down again, given time), I've gone from thinking I'd probably resign as a youth director this fall to being extremely excited to try again to build the program and do some effective ministry in spite of the bureaucracy. I wake up smiling these days; I didn't do that back in May. If that's what a total of maybe a dozen days at camp as a non-staffer can do for me, I definitely need to figure out a way to log summer #7 on staff one of these soon-upcoming years. And maybe #8 and #9.

Smarmy, yes, but it's exciting stuff for me. I'll post more details of my vacation trips sometime later on (I have, after all, 38 more posts to post before Greg's birthday); this one I wanted to be more about the end of summer. If anyone from this summer staff is reading this, thank you for letting me be part of EWALU again. And I hope you're planning on being back in 2006.

Zzzz?

2005-07-08T02:08:00.000-07:00

Little to say today, but being the dedicated blogger I am I persevere and post even though said post may be uninteresting. I'll do the old snippets bit, but avoid using the bullet points so it doesn't look like a snippets post. Cagey, no?

I have been woefully derelict in not hitherto noting that there's a new blog linked over in the Links O' Blogs section to the right. Welcome to the blogging world, Hibby!. I stumbled across his blog quite by accident - as many of you probably already know, if you click on the "view my complete profile" link on a Blogspot page you're taken to a page where (if the blogger's filled in his/her personal information) there's a list of the blogger's favorite books/music/movies/etc. The listed items are links, and if you click on one you're presented with a list of everyone else who's listed the same thing. I clicked on "Central Standard Time" on my profile a couple of weeks ago to see if anyone else had listed us as "Favorite Music" and Matt's profile popped up, along with mine and a grand total of one other person (two, now - hi, Carrie!). Apparently CST isn't huge in the blogosphere, but at least we're plenty fond of ourselves. Anyway, Matt's blog is quite interesting reading and now that he's no longer a secret blogger by all means add him to your daily readin' blogs.

Here's a little free summertime advice from me to you - if you find yourself needing surgery or other significant medical care, try like heck to avoid having your hospital stay be in July. May and June are far away the best months for hospitalization, but even August is far far better than July. Why? Because July 1 is New Residents Day - the day every year when first year residents become second year residents and second year residents become third year residents and - this is the scary bit - med students become first year residents. After a lifetime as students, the paralyzing responsibility of holding a patient's life in their hands is thrust upon new residents, as well as one of the most punishing work schedules in any field of employment. Often they acquit themselves very nicely, but nonetheless in my experience the beginning of July at a hospital tends to look like an episode of The Keystone Cops. Entertaining, to be sure, but not the sort of "Yes, I do know how best to keep you alive" care most people prefer from their hospital experience.

On Sunday I leave for a week at camp - Jesse and I are off to be Camp Grandpas at EWALU for a week. I have mixed feelings about it; on the one hand I'm beside myself with excitement at the thought of being back in the midst of the summer camp experience, but at the same time I'm terrified that I'm about to be the weird staff alumnus (and "grandpa" is an apt term - there are counselors on staff who were campers of counselors who were campers of mine. In a society of colleg students, 30 is really old) who can't stay away but doesn't fit in, either. I have so many strong, defining positive memories of EWALU - it would be horrible to have my most recent experience be a negative one.

Overall, though, I'm mostly excited. I think a little anxiety about the week being a horrible experience might be a good thing - not only will it help keep me from being too exuberant about being there (and therefore annoying), but lowered expectations, as Calvin teaches us, make it that much more likely that they'll be exceeded. Besides, one way or another I'm committed so I might as well enjoy myself. Jesse and I leave Sunday morning (in separate cars - Jesse's not a carpooler, for reasons that have never been completely clear to me) for camp. And if any of you are in the Strawberry Point area on Friday, CST will be playing a "We Just Can't Leave" concert at 7:30 in - or possibly out in front of; we haven't decided - Cedar Lodge.

It'll be interesting to see how I adjust to being cut off from the world for a week. It never used to bother me when I was there for a whole summer, but that was before e-mail and discussion boards and blogs and it was back when I was gone for the whole summer instead of just a week. On the upside, I won't have to hear about how the Cubs are doing. Here's hoping the forecasts are wrong and it'll be 80 degrees all next week! Happy mid-early July, everyone!

RIP Corky, 12/93-7/05

2005-07-05T12:47:00.000-07:00

I have no experience with this. In my entire life I've bonded with exactly one pet, and this morning she had to be put down. I can't get my head around the idea that she'll never again announce someone at the door, or put her head on my leg and beg to be petted, or sit at the top of the stairs and wait for the garage door to open so she'll know her people are home and her day can begin. I'm completely blindsided by how much this hurts.

I have clearer pictures, but none that show her smiling like this one does so I'm prepared to put up with the grainy quality and poor exposure. Rest in peace, girl. I wish I'd gotten to tell you one last time you were a good dog.

"Just a dog" my ass. The angels in heaven will forevermore know when their clothes are finished drying.

Why don't we just call ourselves, "The Band You're About To Hear?"

2005-06-28T14:32:00.000-07:00

Fair's fair - since Mark went to the effort of making a quiz about me, I've compiled for your quiz-taking pleasure the Mark DeVries challenge. Check the scoreboard to see how your Markish knowledge compares with the masses at large.

And on with the musing...

A week and a half ago (sorry for the anachronistic post) was originally supposed to be a CST concert night, but the show was cancelled when the Uptown Bill's scheduler guy (who, for the record, is both an extremely friendly guy and a tireless champion of live music in Iowa City - I don't mean to say that what happened was anything other than a mistake) realized that he'd booked two acts for the same night. The other act had gotten their contract in before we got ours in, so we were bumped. Not a big deal, I guess - the Uptown Bill's shows are always fun but rarely very well-attended - but it's frustrating. We have enough trouble trying to find places to play without having shows disappear. We'll get rescheduled, I'm sure, and I understand that mistakes happen, but it still sort of eats.

On the upside, though, it left me with a free Saturday night for the first time in quite a while. I got to watch the Cubs get whipped by the Yankees, play through my Storyhill songbook (Mary on the Mountain, after umpteen playings, is starting to fall under the fingers), catch up on some reading, and spend a little time ruminating about CST-ish-ly things.

Matt had some interesting thoughts on his blog about the cancellation. I'll quote the pertinent bits here:

On a completely unrelated note, I was disappointed today to find out that Charlie's and my upcoming show this Saturday night had to be cancelled due to a scheduling conflict. It seems the venue was double-booked, so we were left out in the cold. Ah, well. That sort of thing has happened to us a few times now. It's not the best feeling when we're told, "Yeah, you were on the schedule, but someone else wanted to play that day, so what could we do?" Granted, one of the other times it happened we were bumped for a pretty big name act, so I really couldn't blame the venue. This time, though, not so much. Some band I've never heard of. To be fair, they've likely never heard of Central Standard Time (our band, I mean, not the time zone).

And so it goes with CST. One day we might feel poised to take the music world (or at least the local market) by storm, the next we might feel ready to put away the guitars and sound equipment and call it quits for CST. I don't think we'll do that anytime soon. We do so enjoy performing and playing together, and it's really a pretty easy hobby to keep up, so I guess there's no real reason for us to quit. I certainly don't want to quit. I hope Charlie doesn't want to quit. I hope there are a least a few people out there who would be disappointed if we ever quit.

Matt and I rarely discuss CST in any sort of where-are-we-going-with-this sense. We've exchanged hundreds of e-mails about how to get more shows and about how frustrated we often are with ourselves for not playing more but we very rarely have Where Are We Going With This Band Thing, Anyway? conversations. We both shy away from the tremendous amount of work that would be involved in moving up to the next level - which would be a locally-touring, concert-every-other-week-or-so band. And the level beyond that - a full-time-job, nationally touring band (which is still several steps down from a nationally-known, played-on-the-radio, making-the-band-members-fistfuls-of-cash level) - is basically unworkable. Neither of us can afford to quit our jobs and hope the band starts paying for itself and Matt has quite a bit tying him to the Iowa City area.

So where do we want CST to go? The model, of course, has always been Storyhill (which makes them laugh - "You want to do this?" John said to me when I expressed our dream of being Storyhill II to him. "Man, you seem brighter than that."). I can't speak for Matt - since, as noted above, we haven't really talked about this much - but I would be deliriously happy to be playing Storyhill-type concerts, even if they were only once a month and didn't take us to exotic locales. If people were as interested to hear what we have to say with our music as I am to hear them that would be so incredibly neat that I can't even find words for it. That seems like a lofty goal, though, since Storyhill (who are immensely more talented than we are to start off with) built their fan base with several years of full-time touring, with all the musical solidification and copious new material that comes along with it. CST being almost certain to never be a full-time touring act it's probably best to put thoughts of Storyhill-ic success out of mind.

So where does that leave us? I honestly don't know - like Matt said, sometimes it seems like we're on the verge of taking the local market by storm, sometimes it seems like we might as well stop pretending we deserve to be paid for performing. We've averaged a show a month for the last year and a half, and there's no reason we can't maintain that average pretty much indefinitely. I'd like to (and I'm pretty sure Matt would like to) push beyond that a little and set ourselves up in the local college act circuit and maybe travel out West at least a couple of times, but I've no idea how to take that next step. We experimented with having a friend be a booking agent for a while, and that was going very well until he got tired of it and moved on to things that interested him more (we'd be interested in trying again, if anyone would be interested). We went to NACA and so far haven't had any return on that investment. Once upon a time, we were sure that success was just a matter of waiting for people to start coming to find us. We're past that, but still not sure how to get to a point where venues will start calling or booking right away because they know people will come out to hear us.

You need to approach the task of self-promotion as a musician with a fair amount of hubris, and that's hard for Matt and me both. While still disciplining yourself to refine your product and continue producing new songs, you need to approach concerts and booking contacts projecting a "wait'll you hear this!" vibe. Not arrogant, necessarily (at least not in the folk music genre), but confident. As I once described the Storyhill experience, throw the music out at the audience and dare them not to like it. We're getting better at that (we don't apologize to audiences before songs anymore, generally) but it's sort of a Catch-22: confidence both comes from and leads to success.

So where will CST be in five more years? I'd guess probably where we are right now; playing a show a month or so and wishing we were playing more. Maybe (hopefully) that's pessimistic - certainly 'twould be divine to have the band be a significant source of income - but barring significant lifestyle and/or personality changes on Matt's and my part I think CST will probably stay more or less on the plan it's established. On the other hand, to answer your question, Hibsy-Wibsy, I've no plans to quit.

Not so much of a coherent or get-to-a-point-ish blog entry; that's largely because I don't have many clearly organized thoughts on this topic. Anyone with any thoughts and/or expertise on the subject please weigh in - I'd very much like to hear from you. And, again, if the idea of being a booking agent has always appealed, let us know.

Canyonero!

2005-06-16T23:07:00.000-07:00

My skills at transitions are pretty anemic on the best of days and tonight I feel particularly mentally listless so I'll fall back on the time-honored Unassociated List Of Hopefully Somewhat Interesting But At The Very Least Space Filling snippets. Cheery-o and whatnot!

There are a couple of new blogs on the List-o-Blogs to the right. Mark and Carrie (who chose one of my favorite quotes of all time as her blog title - yay, Carrie! Wissmanized, I suppose it would be: "Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies enjoy bananas"...). Interesting reads, both - they're only two posts in, each, and they've already covered economic theory, the angst involved in trying to figure out where the time's gone, and theories on Biblical interpretation. Welcome to the blogosphere, kids! Come and waste time with us!

I learned earlier tonight that John Hermanson (of Storyhill/Chris & Johnny, Alva Star, and Olympic Hopefuls fame) is, in addition to being a busy performer and running a profitable studio, the music director at his church in the Twin Cities. He's working on liturgical music, which seems very appropriate to me; a lot of his music has a worshipful feel to it (Boulder River and Absaroka Air are the first two that jump to mind). Talk about living the dream; between him and Rich Bruxvoort-Colligan I'm optimistic that there's money to be made for people interested in trying to be part of the church music and folk music worlds at the same time. Of course, I'm not worthy to hold either of those guys' picks, but it's a big country; there must be some un-staked-out territory out there somewhere.

The mystery of Exactly What Happened To Adam Kamp After He Left Oregon was resolved yesterday when I walked into the new Mongolian barbecue place in Coralville and there he was, dining with his family. He's living in Moose Lake, which he describes as being "two-thirds of the way from Minnesota to Duluth." Seems to be doing well, although we didn't get a chance to talk for long.

Over this last week I've gotten reacquainted with an old friend when my copy of X-Wing: Collector's Series came in the mail. Ah, the many hours I whiled (piddled?) away in Jason's room back on Clinton Ground North saving the galaxy from the Empire, receiving accolades from the Rebel High Command, and generally being cool. The graphics (even in the updated-for-not-so-much-DOS Collector's Series) are dated, but the gameplay and storyline are still first-rate, and programs like Kali make multiplayer much simpler than in days of yore (when you had to call someone else's computer directly or fill out punch cards full of 1's and 0's and mail 'em to the other player).

Summer camp is underway at EWALU, and even though it's been seven years since my last summer there it's still weird for me. Seems like when summer starts I should be heading off to the woods; I wonder if that will ever go away. I'm going to be a volunteer for a week in July, which is exciting but a very nerve-wracking prospect. I want to be part of a summer camp experience again, but I'm not at all interested in being the weird staff alum who can't let the place go. Nifty, isn't it, how almost any experience can be turned into a frightening prospect if you just go looking for things that might go wrong?

This was pointed out to me by Mark (I think), but I was so amused by it I simply must post it here - isn't Obi-Wan's line in Revenge of the Sith, "Only the Sith deal in absolutes!" funny? If Anakin had just replied, "Only the Sith?" it would have made up for the whole "This is a drag" series of horrid one-liners in Attack of the Clones

From the Fun Things One Can Find Out On The Internet file we have www.quizyourfriends.com. You can make a multiple-choice quiz about anything at all and have it out in cyberspace for people to take. Fun stuff - here's mine. It's a variety of questions pulled from high school, college, and camp; I guess I'll be a little surprised if anyone can get 'em all, but I sure do encourage you to try! Check out the scoreboard to see how you did. Certainly gives one a little more respect for teachers putting together multiple-choice quizzes; it's hard to think of three wrong answers for each question. Of course, this time of year I have basically no sympathy for teachers at all, but that's a whole new tangent that I'll not go down here.

Snippets R Us. Coming soon - Meaningless Musings Quote Fun, Part III (or perhaps III)! Since I'm sure I won't post again before Sunday, Happy Father's Day to my dad and any other fathers (or you two fathers-soon-to-be) out there.

"A kilogram of flesh" sort of breaks up the iambic pentameter, I guess

2005-06-08T02:27:00.000-07:00

A couple of quick other-peoples'-blogs related notes before I carry on with the uninteresting substance of this post (this week, a rant!).

Last week I had the interesting new experience of having mine be someone's blog of the day. Bill found my blog searching for the Peanuts strip I used in last month's the comic strip nameaquote game and dropped me an e-mail. Fascinating, entertaining guy and his is a fascinating, entertaining blog (linked over on the bloglist on the right). He's a church musician (check out his website - I'd love to put together a group like Fly By Light someday), a fellow adult ADD-ian, and his kids must have scriptwriters working for them. Spend some time perusing the archives on his site - very much worth your time.

In other blog-ish news, tomorrow will mark the unveiling of Jesse Klosterboer's new blog, which will be focused on discussing the sort of fundamental life issues that his mind gravitates towards like no one else I've ever met. Sounds like it will be a very cool format - Jesse will lay out his thoughts and feelings about the issue du jour and then (in theory, at least) the comments will be a lively discussion and everyone will end up having learned something new and having been exposed to new thoughts and viewpoints and generally better people. I'll add a URL to my URList as soon as Jesse sends me one.

And on to the rambling nonsense - this week, Meaningless Musings takes on the metric system!

I was first introduced to the idea that the metric system is fundamentally better than the Old English system (the one we generally use now - feet and ounces and quarts and miles and whatnot (it's also commonly called just the English system, but to avoid sounding like I'm talking about how they measure things in Britain (which, to make things more confusing, I sort of am - but they have their own super-quirky system with stone and crumpets and things) I'll use the longer name)) in sixth grade. Miss Koshatka was talking to our science class (I don't believe it was anything fancier than just "science." Maybe General Science or Really, Really Basic Science or something. We were just sixth graders, after all, and not sixth graders in a world-class school district by any means) and she explained to us how horribly backwards and wrong the U.S. was to not yet have switched over to the metric system. All of Europe uses the metric system! she told us. It's so much better! It's easier! It's more fun! It goes with any color pants! We must must MUST all start using the metric system and we must do so NOW or we might as well just let the Enemy march right in!

Obviously I exaggerate a little, but the basic idea that we were somehow functionally lacking as a nation because of our choice of measuring systems really hit me. Wow, I thought, I hadn't realized I was doing anything wrong. So for the next few weeks I dutifully learned about grams and kilograms and meters and liters and corrected my parents when they used Old English units and generally tried to be a good little 11-year-old citizen.

Over the rest of my academic life I've heard the same spiel again and again, albeit never again with nearly as much political rhetoric: the Old English system is fundamentally inferior to the metric system. The U.S. is doing itself a disservice by stubbornly resisting change, but certainly the day is just around the corner when we'll open our collective eyes and beat our yardsticks into plowshares and join the global community. I really don't think I've ever had a science teacher since Miss Koshatka fail to make some variant on that speech, and every time I hear it I think it's more ridiculous than the time before. Let's examine some of the arguments for metricizing, what say?

The main argument (indeed, I don't think I've ever heard the "We suck 'cause we're not with the times, measuring-stuff-wise" argument made without this point being front and center) is that unit conversion is very easy with the metric system. 1000 meters in a kilometer makes it very easy to determine that there are 3879.24 meters in 3.87924 kilometers, or - if you really want to have some fun - 387,924 centimeters! 30 milliliters is 0.03 liters - or 30 cubic centimeters! One minute is... well, still 60 seconds. They didn't mess with that.

Being the good little sheep (na-na na-na na-na-na-na - Leader!) that I was, it took me years to question the intrinsic value of those easy conversions, but once I started thinking about it, I realized that I was often having a strong "who cares?" reaction. 1.7 kilometers is 1700 meters? Who cares? I can't think of a single thing that I would ordinarily measure in kilometers but need to also know in meters, or vice-versa. The two units are used in totally different reference frames - it's 160 kilometers to Waverly, she's 1.8 meters tall. Easy though it is to convert in my head and say it's 160,000 meters to Waverly and she's .0018 kilometers tall, those numbers are meaningless unless they're converted back. In fact, I think the metric system suffers from not having a sub-meter unit bigger than the centimeter (indeed, I wonder why the decimeter isn't ever used for just that reason). Feet and yards are both in that convenient Gets Used Every Day range where even though the conversion is a mentally taxing three feet to a yard they're still both useful. More so than, say, the easily-converted-betwixt nano- and micrometer.

Same thing with weights. 1000 grams in a kilogram? Great! Who cares? Things are either grams or kilograms; it's nifty but not useful that the conversion's easy. Liquid measure is sort of muddled since the soda companies have familiarized us with liters (trying, no doubt, to save us from intellectual Purgatory. Bless them), but again I'm not convinced that the cup-pint-quart-gallon system is worse than the milliter-liter one. Just like with feet and yards, allowing a measure to be twice another instead of a thousand times more than another creates several units all within a practical, useable range. I am sort of surprised that gasoline companies haven't figured out yet that people would probably think gas at 90 cents a liter was a steal, though.

My favorite, though, is the Old English vs. metric temperature comparison. With temperature the metric system loses its ace - there aren't kiloCentigrade degrees (I guess those'd be 1000 degrees, though) - and so to maintain the moral high ground the boiling and freezing points of water ("Boiling and freezing points at STP," it was once explained to me by a high school science teacher, which made me sad for us as a society but was pretty funny) were set at zero and 100 degrees. This, of course, is the only logical way to set those numbers. Two of my science professors (one at Wartburg, one at Kirkwood) have waxed rhapsodic on this emminently logical choice. How Herr Fahrenheit must be rolling in his grave to think that his temperature system has random numbers like 32 and 212 as the state-changing points for water!

Good grief. And also who cares?

The freezing point of water is absolutely an important temperature in daily life - at least in daily winter life up here in the Midwest. But I don't know of anyone who had trouble as a child remembering that 32 degrees is where water freezes. I'd wager that anyone who did would probably have trouble remembering zero as a freezing point, too. The boiling point of water is important in various culinary arts like making raman noodles or macaroni and cheese, to be sure, but it certainly isn't something one needs to know the temperature for. I've never used a cooking thermometer when boiling water; I put some water in a pot and put the pot on a stove and when it's no longer Not Boiling Yet then I assume that it's boiling. Couldn't care less whether that happens at 100 degrees or 212 degrees. I think there is logic in the Kelvin system - setting absolute zero as the zero point - but absolute-zero-like temperatures being pretty much exclusively the realm of research facilities and Eau Claire, Wisconsin it's an impractical system for most of us.

I'll concede that zero and 100 are handy reference point temperatures, but I think that's just another argument for the Fahrenheit system. Zero degrees Fahrenheit is a reasonable cutoff temperature between tolerable and really freaking cold. Zero degrees Centigrade is just freezing - chilly, to be sure, but not necessarily even heavy coat weather (at least here in Iowa). Zero degrees Fahrenheit and temperatures below are temperatures not to be trifled with. On the other end, 100 degrees Centigrade is far past lethally warm; it's a useless number for daily use. 100 Fahrenheit is the high-end cutoff between tolerable and intolerable. So without meaning disrepect to my learned professors, I'd argue that setting zero and 100 at the endpoints of tolerable functioning temperatures makes more sense than setting them at the freezing and boiling points of water. Let the water molecules use Centigrade in their little water molecule communities.

Obviously, I don't want to hold us back from achieving intellectual glory, but I'm unconvinced that being able to quickly calculate how many dimes could be laid on end between here and Chicago is the key to clearing the path. Next time you hear the We're Hopelessly Behind The Rest Of The World speech, roll your eyes at the speaker for me, okay?

I hope I didn't steal Jesse's first idea for a significant concept for discussion with this post...

Last night I got to hear my mother sing again

2005-06-07T20:15:00.000-07:00

(Apologies to Janis Ian for the post title.)

Last night at S.T. Morrison Park in Coralville Dave and Bette Rod performed in concert for the first time in five years. 'Twas a wonderful show; they played music by artists ranging from Gershwin to Storyhill and played it with the polish and relaxed ease that 34 years of singing together brings. The crowd - which was just Laurel and me at first - steadily grew and it was great fun for me to watch people who knew them from work stunned at this new side of them. A great show on its own merits, no question about it.

For me, personally, though, it was even more - it took me back to listening to those songs ring through the house when I was a little kid, to the times I saw them play at church and at coffeehouses, to how exciting it was for me when I was finally able to sit and play along with them. And therefore it took me back to the sandbox in the backyard at 960 Sowell and riding on the tractor with cousin Dwight and croquet in the backyard on S. Kentucky Court and the pool at Heatherwood Valley Apartments and racing up and down the stairs in Chippewa Falls and painting flats on the stage in Wupperman Theater and recording radio shows in the basement on Keswick Drive and the exciting ambulance ride to the hospital in Des Moines and that weird little pretend oil derrick and a thousand other memories that are so fundamentally part of who I am that I never consciously remember them unless something triggers them. I could barely open my eyes, the air was so thick with memories - but I could surely hear just fine.

On Sunday Matt and I will be sharing the stage with them and that will be fun, too, but what a blessing and treasure it was to spend a couple of hours just listening. Joel, I wish you could have been there, but I'll bet you can still pretty easily close your eyes and call the sounds to mind.

"Mad About Me"

2005-05-25T05:53:00.000-07:00

**Edit 5/28/05 - If you'd rather not read this whole post, check out Joel's excellent two sentence one.

Well, I'm still not convinced this is any sort of a quality review, but I'm not sure reading over it more times will help anything, either, so here is my review of Star Wars, Episode III - Revenge of the Sith. I welcome your thoughts on the film. Particularly if you can talk me out of some of mine.

I came into Star Wars geekery fairly late in life. I saw Return of the Jedi in the theater and remember thinking it was sort of cool but a little hard to follow. Certainly it wasn't the life-changing experience a first Star Wars viewing apparently is for most people. John tried through high school to get me into the movies but, again, I guess I just wasn't yet ready to handle that level of advanced coolness. I was conversant with them; I knew the plots and the major plot twists and could tell Jabba the Hut from Wicket the Ewok on sight, but that was it.

When I finally did enter into life as a Star Wars geek, though, I did so with a vengeance. Sometime during my sophomore year of college it clicked, and now I'm one of those uber-nerds who's no fun to play Star Wars Trivial Pursuit with (as are most of my friends - makes for very boring games. "Who wants to go first? Okay, you win."). I've watched the movies a couple of zillion times, read the novels, played the role-playing game, bought a couple thousand of the CCG cards, etc., etc. I'm one of those people who knows the "stats" for the various ships and debates how actual dogfights would go. The kind of person who agonized with friends over Luke's direct attack with the Force on the Gamorrean guards at Jabba's Palace ("but that's a Dark Side point!"). The kind of person who gets why the title of this post is a Star Wars reference. It's a proud, if often poorly-dressed, club and I'm honored to name myself among its nerdly ranks.

I mention this by way of building up to (and providing a reference frame for) my thoughts about Revenge of the Sith. I've seen it twice now (both times on Opening Day) and I'm torn. I want to love this movie - it's the film that ties the new trilogy and old trilogy together, a fan's chance to see the battle that created Darth Vader in all his black-caped COPD-ish glory, the last Star Wars movie there'll ever be (unless Lucas decides to make more, but I'd be surprised if he does) - and there is certainly a great deal there to like, but there are many things wrong with this movie, too. I've tried a couple of times now to put together my thoughts in a coherent review-y fashion and I find the challenge a bit much for me, so I'll use the time-honored blogger's cheat of making a list of my thoughts on the movie. These are the things which I found noteworthy; some good, some bad. There are quite a few spoilers, too, so if you're hoping to see the movie sans expectations better to hold off on reading this post (and I apologize for already ruining the surprise that Vader becomes the Vader we know from episodes 4-6).

On the upside (I want to start out with a good point about the film), it was visually spectacular. Lucas has an excellent feel for visuals and this movie - as Star Wars has since 1977 - pushed the limits of what can be done on-screen. The settings were rich and detailed, the CGI characters almost believable, and the climactic lightsaber duel between Anakin and Obi-Wan was, quite simply, awesome. On the other hand, though...
The script, on the other hand, was awful. Really really putridly bad. Lucas's dialogue has always been a bit clunky, but faced with the challenge of portraying complicated emotional things like going to the dark side (and all the little battles with discipline and control that entails) or developing a love story he just falls flat on his face. The Anakin/Padme love story is absolutely critical to the plot of the movie. Anakin's love for Padme (which he's always just sort of had - none of the three prequels have bothered to explain it any further than that - but that's pretty common in films and not an indictment of the film unto itself) is both the one emotion he can't control that keeps him from attaining complete Jedi focus and it's the direct reason he voluntarily opens himself to the dark side, "nobly" accepting that any price is worth paying if it brings him the power to save her from dying in childbirth. Lucas knows that, you can tell he knows it, but he has no idea how to put it onscreen, so he settles for just having them say it over and over. Anakin talks about how he can't lose Padme and Padme either says horrendously cheesy lines like, "Those days by the lake on Naboo, where all there was was our love," or demands that he not shut her out. Twice during the film they have that conversation - Something's bothering you/It's nothing/Don't shut me out! They don't seem to get along very well, really - they haven't since the big sister-little brother relationship in Phantom Menace. Makes one wonder where the deep love that will almost single-handedly bring down the Republic is. I generally find Natalie Portman quite a good actress - in fact, I think she single-handedly saves Attack of the Clones's love story from being similarly horrible - but there's nothing she can do with this one. Hayden Christiansen is just in over his head. His job is to have smoldering eyes (especially at the end...) and be angry and generally look hunky, and he does those things well but none of them really forward any emotional development. It's sort of sad, really, that Vader becomes a much better emoter in the next movie when James Earl Jones takes over the vocal acting even though he no longer has any ability to have facial expressions.

Lucas also isn't funny but seems to think he is. To steal an idea from Ain't It Cool News, one line like "Boring conversation anyway" would have gone far towards saving the script. It wasn't as horrid as the C-3PO "comedy" bits in Attack of the Clones, but still some very poor and quite forced humor.

And while I'm discussing the script, I know that Anakin becoming evil was a foregone conclusion but still it would have been nice to have some sort of build-up to it. It's very sudden, jarringly sudden - one minute he's aghast at having been part of Mace Windu's death, the next he's off to the Jedi Temple to carve up some little kids. Some sort of transition would have been nice. In the novelization of the movie, it's made clear that Anakin's only able to defeat Dooku by tapping into his inner anger, which apparently he's been fighting with for his whole life. He learns that using the pent-up rage he still carries from a childhood as a slave and from watching his mother die can bring him great power. I want to make a "great responsibility" joke here, but I'll restrain myself.
The characters in this movie just aren't interesting. Lucas seems not to realize that viewers are much more interested in watching characters they like do something somewhat cool than they are in watching characters they don't care about do something spectacular. Stephen King is an extremely rich man because he's figured this out as a horror writer - his novel's aren't scary because the monster is especially icky, they're scary because a character that you the reader are invested in is frightened. Friends became the most successful (financially, at least) sitcom ever in spite of only average writing and acting because they made people interested in the characters. Lucas doesn't seem to get that, at least not with the three prequels. He'd rather have one-dimensional characters do visually stunning things. There isn't a Han Solo anywhere in these prequels - no character who we're really interested in seeing develop and grow. Instead we have Anakin, whose whole character is to be moody and act like a petulant teen. We have Palpatine, who should be a fascinating character but just becomes weird and annoying as soon as he reveals himself as Darth Sidious (I actually heard someone gasp with surprise in the theater when he told Anakin he was a Sith Lord. I hope it was sarcastic). The closest we get is Obi-Wan, and that largely due to Ewan McGregor's exceptional work.
Swinging back to a positive, the story itself is very good - better than the story of the orginal trilogy. The way Palpatine manipulates himself into Emperorship (that arc carries over all three movies), the don't-mess-with-prophecy plotline that sends Anakin to the dark side, the Chosen One prophecy, and the Clone Wars themselves (which are just part of the aforementioned Who Wants To Be An Emperor? plot) - all very good and very nicely intertwined. For all his staggering weakness as a scriptwriter, there's no denying Lucas's genius as an idea man.
The very odd way Lucas ignored realism - particularly as it applies to time - bothered me a great deal. I'm willing to accept basically any premise in the realm of science fiction or fantasy, but I find inconsistency within that premise very annoying. Starships that travel the galaxy? Okay. Mysterious Force that allows people to have amazing powers? No problem. Sound transmission in outer space? You betcha. But once your framework is established, stick to it, for Pete's sake! Star Wars has established that hyperspace travel isn't instantaneous. The Millenium Falcon is renowned for her speed, and yet there's time for people to hang out, play some holo-chess, and generally be cool on the Tatooine-Alderaan route. Anakin and Padme have time to kick it in the cargo hold of their freighter on the way from Coruscant to Naboo. And yet in this movie Lucas ignores that and has Coruscant (the capitol planet where the Senate offices and Jedi Temple are located) and Mustafar (the volcanic planet where Anakin and Obi-Wan throw down - which is clearly stated to be on the Outer Rim - half a galaxy away from Coruscant) located close enough that travel's basically instant. After Palpatine senses Anakin's in trouble (which is after he's had his legs cut off and started to catch fire from the red hot molten magma), he hops in his shuttle and is at Mustafar in time to save him. That kind of breakdown in consistency drives me nuts. Also, the whole film seems to take place over maybe a couple of weeks, and yet when Anakin hugs Padme early in the film he apparently doesn't notice that she's almost full-term pregnant with twins. I know guys are stereotypically unperceptive, but that seems a bit much.
There's also weak continuity with the old trilogy. I know that's unavoidable to a degree, but it still grates. In Return of the Jedi, Luke asks Leia if she remembers her mother and she replies, "Just a little bit. She died when I was very young." The second part is so very true - she dies when Leia's minutes old - that the first part seems implausable at best. Also Lucas's decision to make R2-D2 and C-3PO part of the prequels (an inexplicable decision at best) opens up all sorts of questions. Why doesn't Obi-Wan remember them when he meets them again in A New Hope? Where do Artoo's jet boosters go? In Revenge of the Sith he takes on 2 super-battle droids himself; where does that combat ability go? Now that we know that Yoda is the galaxy's premiere lightsaber warrior, why doesn't he just go with Luke in The Empire Strikes Back? Was the entire Kashyyyk scene put in just so we could meet Chewbacca a little bit early? Since Vader knows Beru and Owen Lars and it's been made clear that (at least early on) he still feels a great deal of attachment to his old life, is it really unlikely that he might come back to visit his mother's grave and note with surprise that the blond-haired kid on his way to Toshi Station for power converters has his old last name? These are all little things, but many of them would have been avoidable if the droids hadn't been in the prequels and Anakin hadn't been originally from Tatooine. There are some very cool nods to the old movies - Bail Organa and Yoda coming through the same door onthe Tantive that Vader would later stride through on Tantive IV (the blockade runner captured at the beginning of A New Hope) was a neat scene. Obi-Wan picking up Anakin's lightsaber as he leaves so that he can give it to Luke in A New Hope was a neat scene. The Death Star framework with a young Tarkin standing there was a neat scene. Creating an entire scene so that Yoda can say the word "Chewbacca" was lame. Having Padme name the babies with her dying breaths was lame - anyone who couldn't pick up on who the kids were over the course of the six movies needs a good old-fashioned dope slap anyway.
There's some forced (no pun intended) awkwardness because of the transition to the old trilogy, too. Not as big a deal, but while I'm ranting I'll go ahead and mention it. Obi-Wan and Yoda obviously have to leave and go into hiding so that things can wait for the old movie gang to show up, but still it's pretty hard to defend within the framework of the film. "The Galaxy needs us now more than ever! Quick, let's go build huts!"
I read the novel before I saw the film, and perhaps that affected my enjoyment level - took away any suspense and made it harder to get lost in the film. I don't know. There are certainly some things better explained in the book than on the screen, though. For instance, the reason Anakin is so thrown when he's told he won't be a Master is that he's already learned about Darth Plagueis and his ability to forestall death. He wants access to the Jedi records to learn this secret for himself, but only Masters can study records of Sith Lords. He sees being a Master as a way to save Padme - his driving ambition through the whole movie - and when that's suddenly pulled away from him he snaps. He's not (entirely) just being a whiny little kid who thinks he's cool enough for the big-boys table. For instance, Dooku is betrayed by Palpatine; his battle with Anakin is just a way for Palpatine to put Anakin into a fight where he needs to tap into his anger to win. Dooku thinks he's going to help bring Anakin to the dark side. For instance, the reason that the Jedi Council sends away Yoda - their most powerful Master - on a mission to Kashyyyk is to try to lure out Darth Sidious. (And to let Yoda say, "Chewbacca." Grrr...) For instance, the entire reason the Clone Wars were fought was so that Palpatine could have at his command an army of clones to attack the Jedi; clones have no emotions about their orders, so there's no warning for the Jedi to pick up on. For instance, the reason Yoda runs away from Palpatine is that he suddenly figures out the secret to defeating the Sith (this time he had it, and he knew it was right and that no one would need to be nailed to a tree...) and knows that if he loses the secret will die with him. Since he's losing already he runs off instead.
And finally, this may be a nitpick-ish point, but I'm stunned and aghast and amazed and even a little surprised that they didn't get James Earl Jones to do Vader's voice. Certainly plenty disappointed. The entire Kashyyyk storyline could have been scrapped to clear up budget room, if need be. All they had to do to make Vader's first lines sound like the Vader we grew up with was have him phone in three or four sentences; instead we get a Vader that sounds like someone wearing one of those voice-modulating plastic masks. I have to assume that Jones was unavailable or (perish the thought) unwilling; Lucas went to such over-the-top lengths to include every tie-in to the old trilogy he possibly could, including having the same actors inside the R2-D2 and Chewbacca costumes. I could even have forgiven the Principal Skinner "Nnnoooooooooo!!" if it had just been Vader's voice doing the no-ing.

So what do I think overall? I think that there are enough significant flaws in the film that if it wasn't a Star Wars flick I'd probably dislike it quite a bit. But the fact that it is a Star Wars film, and that it tells a bunch of very significant story bits about characters I'm quite invested in, brings it back up quite a bit for me. It's a bad movie, but it's a bad movie with the Force and with lightsaber battles and with Anakin becoming Vader and scored by John Williams and that makes it a much less bad movie. Of the six Star Wars films, I'd say it's second from the bottom - not nearly as much Jar Jar as Phantom Menace saves it from last place. But I'll still buy it when the six movies finally all come out on DVD, and I'll sit down with my friends and we'll watch all 13 hours of the movies and we'll try to get lost again in the galaxy long ago and far, far away.

Hey, a movie (is there any way to stop it?) starring everybody - and me!

2005-05-17T02:33:00.000-07:00

(The title of this post is an extra-credit sixteenth quote. And correctly identified as being from The Great Muppet Caper, sung by the entire cast (with "is there any way to stop it?" plaintively intoned by Sweetums))

Well, since the comic strip quotes game seemed to be well-received, let's play a little At The Movies with Meaningless Musings. Just like before, name where (which movie) the quote came from and who said it (actor or character or both). Also like before, these are all quoted from memory so they might be a word or two off, which on the upside might make them harder to Google. And speaking of Google, if you get the answer from a search engine I commend your resourcefulness but that's cheating so please refrain from posting those answers (there will, of course, be exactly no repercussions or investigations - those sorts of things solidly KFI at 1). Also also like before, feel free to post your answers as comments or e-mail 'em to me, as you prefer.

**Edit 5/20/05 - for the last four un-guessed quotes I've added a second quote from the same movie. Happy guessing!

**Edit 5/23/05 - #11 is apparently a bit too obscure (that or everyone's Googled the answer already). The quotes were from The Secret of My Success, one of my personal favorites back in high school but hardly a runaway blockbuster hit. There's a new #11 from a different movie for your guessing enjoyment.

And away we go --

1. Just fly casual. - Correctly identified as being said by Han Solo in Return of the Jedi. I love that line. "Keep your distance, Chewie... but don't look like you're keeping your distance."

2. There he goes to write the hit song, "Alone in My Principles." - Correctly identified as being said by Lenny Haise in That Thing You Do, perhaps the best movie no one's ever heard of. If you haven't seen it, make a point of doing so ASAP; classic stuff. I could easily have just used 15 quotes from this movie alone.

3. Well, I say it with a great deal of charm. OR There are 200 pairs of eyes on you and they're all wondering two things - who's that girl and why is she dancing with the President? - Correctly identified as being from An American President. The first quote's said by Lewis Rothschild (Micheal J. Fox) by way of explaining how he gets away with his system for dating - all plans are soft until confirmed 20 minutes beforehand. The second quote's said by Sydney Ellen Wade (Annette Bening) as she's dancing with the President.

4. And X never, ever marks the spot. - Correctly identified as being said by Indiana Jones (apparently Harrison Ford quotes are generally known) in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Indy's face when X does indeed mark the spot later in the movie is absolutely priceless.

5. Is that a lot? - Correctly identified as being said by James Tiberius Kirk in Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home. The crew, having traveled back in time to nineteen eighty-something to find a humpback whale and thereby save the world (a plot device which somehow works very nicely) needs money, so Kirk goes to a pawn shop to sell a pair of glasses given to him by McCoy. The shopkeeper offers him $100, and Kirk - not knowing anything about money and certainly nothing about 20th century exchange rates - offers this bon mot.

6. He's a very clean man. - Correctly identified as being said by Paul McCartney (and many other people (primarily the manager guy whose name I can't remember - the Brian Epstein of the film (the one Lennon keeps calling a swine))) in A Hard Day's Night, which was the first movie to ever be released for sale in digital form.

7. Seize the fat one! - Correctly identified as being said by Prince John (Peter Ustinov) in Disney's Robin Hood. For my money, the funniest scene in all of cinematic history - when "On Wisconsin" kicks in and Lady Cluck charges across the field I can never keep from laughing hysterically.

8. Then him... then me. OR It will turn out well. (How will it?) I don't know. It's a mystery. - Correctly identified as being from Shakespeare in Love, perhaps my favorite movie ever. Certainly the film I've spent the most on theater tickets for. The first quote is said by Mr. Fennyman (Hugh was his first name, I think) over and over as he rehearses his role as the Apothecary in Romeo 'n' Juliet. "'Such mortal drugs have I, but Mantua's law is death to any he that utters them.' Then him, then me," if memory serves. The second quote is said several times by Philip Henslowe and once by Lady Viola.

9. If you were waiting for the opportune moment - that was it. - Correctly identified as being said by Captain Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean.

10. You know the hot tip I told you about? Nobody told the horse. OR When the circulation bell starts ringing, will we hear it? - Correctly identified as being from Newsies. The first quote's said by Racetrack, one of the Newsie gang (played by the actor who played the sidekick on Doogie Howser, M.D.). The second quote's part of a musical number sung by Jack (aka Cowboy), played by Christian Bale (who'll soon be donning the Batman cape in theaters everywhere). And, I should note in case Emily reads this blog and decides to catch me on a technicality, later said by the chirpy little kid whose name I can't remember - Davy and Sarah's little brother.

** Edit - Ah, heck, this is fun. Five more -

11. I would offer up the proudest prayer a boy could think of: Lord, make me a great composer. - Correctly identified as being said by Antonio Salieri in Amadeus, one of the most intensely well-done movies I've ever seen. I've learned that I need to consciously and intentionally limit my viewing of this movie, even though I love the soundtrack and the storyline and the writing and acting are simply spectacular. The theme of looking up from a Purgatory of mediocrity, just close enough to truly know how far away you are, strikes just a little too close to home for me. Which is, of course, a different post for another day. Congratulations, and thanks for playing!

12. You're a Sikh Catholic Muslim, with Jewish in-laws? - Correctly identified as being said by Edward Norton (playing Father Brian Finn) in Keeping the Faith.

13. You will refer to me as "Idiot," not "You Captain!" - Correctly identified as being said by Lone Starr (two r's? Really? I didn't know that) in Spaceballs. I'd heard rumors once upon a time that Mel Brooks planned to get the new Spaceballs movie into theaters before Revenge of the Sith came out, but he's certainly running out of time.

14. Nonsense. I have not yet begun to defile myself. - Correctly identified as being said by Doc Holliday in Tombstone, after it's suggested to him that perhaps 30 consecutive hours of drinking and playing poker is a bit excessive.

15. Thank you for the cookies. I can't wait to toss them! - Correctly (if belatedly and, we assume, with Internet assistance) identified as being said by Julius (Governor Schwarzenegger) in Twins.

Acronymicon

2005-05-15T00:00:00.000-07:00

Before I go on with the actual post-y content of this post, let me first offer you this link for your surfing enjoyment. The store just went online yesterday; I can't decide whether I think it's absurd or wonderful. Most likely a healthy dose of both. Remember, though, nothing says, "I love you" on Memorial Day like a coffee mug!

We now return you to your regularly scheduled musing already in progress...

Four years ago, when I first started working at a hospital, I was excited to learn all sorts of fancy new medical terms and concepts. I did, but more than that I learned that true medical-speak involves never actually saying any of those fancy terms. I've never been part of a more abbreviation-intensive subculture; almost never are actual medical terms actually said. The medical world would like you to believe that's because we so often deal with situations where those extra fractions of seconds can be life-or-death, but that's nonsense. I'll bet even Chicago emergency rooms aren't nearly as excitement-packed as ER portrays - certainly 99% of the routine in a hospital is, well, pretty routine. My theory is that the abbreviations serve two purposes. They're much faster to write than the full words are - doctors and nurses do a tremendous amount of writing in charts and on flowsheets and on their hands and their scrubs and whatever other surfaces are handy; the sort of time savings one gets by replacing, say, "electroencephalograph" with "EEG" adds up quickly. They're also, unto themselves, meaningless. "Electroencephalograph" has all the sub-word-pieces in it you'd need to figure out more or less what it means - some sort of picture of electrical stuff in the head (or maybe Electric Head Picture, which would be, I think, an outstanding name for a band). "EEG" means nothing unless you already know what it is; if you're not in the know already it offers you no clues. Sometimes they make it harder yet by using abbreviations that use letters not in the original word - "EKG" for "electrocardiogram", for instance (the German word has a k (and probably a lot of ch's and some phlegm) in it; it's not completely random).

Whatever the reason, though, the use of abbreviations is absolutely ubiquitous and becoming comfortable with them is almost like learning a foreign language. Tonight at work, for instance, I wrote this on my clipboard about a particular patient: "CABG pod4 c ioCVA, JP, MT-s. RSW, Uc2, NPO - NGF." Another fellow was, "CADx4, MM, ¯INR, UAL, GD-NAS, GM ac&hs." In fact, looking over my whole clipboard - notes on 16 patients - I see only one word written out. Apparently I don't know the abbreviation for "pneumonia". Whatever I may think about the practice of expressing oneself without using any complete words, I certainly seem to have embraced it, which leads me to thinking about other abbreviations I've used in the past. I can think of three that I think you, Gentle Reader, might be able to productively incorporate into your vocabulary, and in the spirit of e-helpfulness I'll go ahead and tell you about them.

First up is "RSS". This has its own meaning now in the Internet world, but I have no idea what that meaning is (I'm quite sure at least two of you readers could enlighten me, if you were so inclined...). It seems to have something to do with tracing how someone found a particular website, or perhaps with tracking electronic paths back to someone's computer so their credit card information can be easily stolen. Fancier blogs all seem to have RSS feeds, so apparently an RSS is something you feed. It probably even stands for something cool, too, but again I've no idea.

I came up with my own "RSS" acronym back when I was a columnist for the Wartburg College student newspaper. I wanted to conclude my columns with some sort of actual worthwhile information and I thought doing a weekly poll might be fun, but I quickly learned that actually polling people is quite tedious. Plus you generally get a more or less 50-50 split unless your question is designed to create decisive results ("Is it okay to eat live kittens?" for instance). So I decided that instead of doing a regular poll every week I'd develop a whole new style of polling. Thus was born the Rod Simplified Survey, or RSS.

To conduct an RSS, find someone and ask them a question (or, in absence of anyone else, just ask yourself). Then project their response out to a demographic represented by your polling sample. For instance, if a professor expressed his opinion that the Wartburg tradition of Outfly was silly that could be reported as, "This week's RSS reveals that 100% of professors are in favor of doing away with Outfly." That's boring, though - better a result like, "100% of men ages 31-74 are firmly opposed to college students ever having days off," or "All people who live now or have ever lived in the state of Iowa..." or whatever Whatever the result, the key is that the results are 100% conclusive. The RSS allows polls to take a definite stand on something, and they're not, in the strictest sense of the word, inaccurate.

I know I didn't actually make up this system of polling, whatever I may have let myself believe. Professional polling companies have been making the data fit the results for years. It became a popular part of the column, though - people would occasionally stop me on campus and ask if they could be my polling sample for that week. I often think it would be sort of funny to have a little "RSS" link (like those fancy blogs do) on my website, but instead of having it link to whatever technical stuff a real "RSS" link links to, it would instead open up a page full of RSS results. That is to say, polls indicate that 100% of people who've ever used a computer think it would be funny.

Later, in my immediate-post-graduate years, I developed (in conjuction with some friends) the RTI and KFI, both scales for determining how desirable a particular action or event is. The RTI is the "Rod Tastiness Index," a 1-10 scale to determine how tasty ("tasty" in the holistic sense, not just basic food-and-drink yumminess) something is. A 10 would be the Cubs winning the World Series or holding your newborn child for the first time or Airwolf finally coming out on DVD - something of that sort. A 1 would be listening to the lead singer from Rascal Flatts singing opera or having to amputate your own leg or realizing that while you've spent an hour feeling around for the watch you dropped into an outhouse it was in fact just on your other wrist. The usage is to treat it as a verb - things RTI at some number, which can be any real number between 1 and 10. "How was your day at work?" "RTI'd at about a 5.4." Or you can just cite the number: "Didja check out this website?" "Yeah. Maybe a 3.2." Or, to revisit my earlier example, being able to buy CST stuff online RTI's at 8.6, at least.

The KFI is the "Kammerer Far Index," a boolean scale (expressed as either a 0 or a 1) to determine whether or not something's far. Again, this isn't "far" in the strict sense of distance but rather whether it's just too much work to contemplate. Things are either far or almost far, and since there isn't the range of possibilities that there are with an RTI, expressing something's KFI is usually just a matter of saying, "far," (or, in rare cases, "that's far," although the "that's" is generally considered too much extra work) or simply, "eh," (That's a short-e "eh" like in "then" or "den", not the Canadian long-a "eh") if something's KFI is 1 (if it's 0, then you just agree to do whatever task you've just rated). For instance - "Hey, can you help me move all my furniture into my new fourth-floor apartment?" "Sorry - far." Or, "Should we sit down and spend the evening talking about our feelings?" "Eh." Things that are ones on both the RTI and KFI scales are, obviously, about as undesirable as can be.

Movie trivia's coming soon; thanks to everyone who played the comic strip quote game. Now it's time to sleep the day away, which will be at least a 7.9.

Who wants to play a game?

2005-05-07T04:45:00.000-07:00

Okay, boys and girls, let's play a game of "Name That Quote." I have assembled for you a list of 10 of my favorite comic strip quotes of all time - quotes that forced me to stop reading because I was laughing so hard. Your challenge is to identify the strip in which the quote was said and the character who said it. There are, therefore, 20 points possible.

You're welcome and encouraged to post your answers as comments in a spirit of convivial work-together-ness, or if you'd rather e-mail your answers to me that's certainly fine too.

These are all quotes from regular in-the-paper comic strips (nothing tricky), although five of the strips quoted are no longer being made. Also, all these quotes were entered from memory - I'm 99% sure they're accurate, but there might a slight wording difference.

Good luck!

1. Yes, Santa Claus, there is a Virginia. - Correctly identified as being said by Howland Owl in Pogo. It's the punch line conclusion to a huge stretch of strips where the Okefenokee gang notices there's a Georgia in the USSR and freak out that somehow the Soviets have stolen it. With Christmas coming, they fret, what if Santa Claus goes to Georgia's new location and ends up getting lost and assuming that the rest of the Southeast is just gone? Pogo compilations are hard to find, but absolutely worth the effort and money, especially if you've never read the strip before; in my opinion the best comic strip ever in the paper.

2. Who the dickens is Dan Fogerburp?!? - Correctly identified as being said by Opus in Bloom County, a proud product of Iowa City. Opus is freaking out because his fiancee Lola tells him she has a tattoo of Dan Fogelberg.

3. You stupid darkness!! - Correctly identified as being said by Lucy in Peanuts. "I have heard it is better to light one candle than to curse the darkness," says Linus to Charlie Brown. "That's true," replies Charlie Brown, "although there will always be those who will disagree with you." The third panel is Lucy standing out in the night yelling.

4. I just like to say "smock." Smock smock smock smock smock! - Correctly identified as being said by Hobbes in Calvin & Hobbes.

5. I am the master of all window treatments! - Correctly identified as being said by Bucky Katt in Get Fuzzy (while on a catnip binge).

6. If Jon's socks are in this drink... where is the ice? - Correctly identified as being said by Garfield in Garfield, which spent many years being only somewhat funny but has massively rebounded of late and is often the funniest strip in the paper on a given day these days. "My feet are cold." Classic stuff!

7. Clearly, J.R.R. Tolkien never played D&D. - Correctly identified as being said by Jason Fox in FoxTrot.

8. What if the Hokey-Pokey really is what it's all about? - Successfully evaded identification. Said by Jeremy Duncan in Zits. Jeremy's sitting around his room with his chum Hector and apparently thinking deep life thoughts.

9. They can make me do it, but they can't make me do it with dignity. - Correctly identified as being said by Calvin in Calvin & Hobbes. Calvin pitches an enormous fit about bathtime and then in the final panel grins merrily at the reader and says this line.

10. Car! - Correctly identified as being said by a random cow in The Far Side (no website for this one - here's why). I'll bet many of you have seen this one - a bunch of cows are standing around all bipedal-ish in a field and one of them yells, "Car!" In the next panel (sort of - The Far Side didn't really use panels) they're all standing around on all fours like regular cows. Then in the last panel they're standing upright again.

"The problem with not knowing what you're talking about is that it's hard to know when to stop" - Tommy Smothers

2005-05-05T02:39:00.000-07:00

Time for me to make use of that time-honored and generally-accepted blogger's technique of discoursing aimlessly about an assortment of things-on-my mind and arranging them as a list. To muse meaninglessly about various whatnot and suchforth, as it were.

Yesterday evening, I found (through a link on Greg's blog) a flash version of the old Infocom Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy game. Ah, the many hours I spent on the old Commodore 128 trying to figure out the puzzles contained therein - not the least of which was just trying to figure out what it was you were expected to figure out. The new game seems to be exactly the old one, only with some nifty illustrations and without the frequent 45-second pauses while the disk drive chugs away. So far I'm on the Heart of Gold and zapping myself around to various out-of-body experiences that have, I've no doubt, some sort of significance but which I can't solve the connected puzzles for. Basically, in other words, exactly where I was 15 years ago. There's a link to the game in the links section off to the right - if you used to play the game, I think you'll greatly enjoy taking another crack at it (the site lets you save your game (just type "save" at the command prompt (you know, like you used to))). If you've never played, you should definitely check it out. The site also has the new radio re-recording of HHGG, which I haven't yet spent any time at all persuing, so excited was I to find the interactive, but which is, I'm sure, very nifty as well.
There are a few new links (and a few renamed ones - I went ahead and changed all the blog titles to the actual names of the blogs instead of the bloggers' names) over in linkyland to the right. Aside from the HHGG interactive game there's Greg Nichols's blog "heckuva far" which I was pointed to a couple of weeks ago by "Air" Jesse Klosterboer and which I've quickly become quite attached to. If you haven't checked it out yet, click the link and spend some time reading through Greg's archives - he's extremely good at this blogging thing. Also, my name is in bold capital letters in the first post right now and I think that's cool. There's also been a cycling in the "send an e-mail to..." link. Pat McAlpine's given way to Jason Martin-Hiner (née Hiner)'s stepped in. And so goes the inexorable force of progress, coupled with my restless-little-kid need to keep tweaking the template.
Stepping into ranting mode for a moment, I've been astounded (naívely, probably, but astounded nonetheless) over the last few months at the amount of TV time the Michael Jackson trial's been getting. I work night shift at a hospital so I generally get a pretty good sampling of nighttime TV going from room to room and if I didn't know better I'd think that the trial had somehow become actual news because the defendent is extremely famous and extremely weird (I'm not sure which is more important). Please don't misunderstand me - if he's guilty he did a horrible thing and I hope he's force-fed his own toes; there is no excuse for that sort of crime. My bewilderment comes from the fact that it's more interesting when a person who's famous does something (and he hasn't been convicted of anything) wrong. I remember being in American History back in 10th grade and listening to Mr. Harms proudly talk about how America has never had a monarchy. I think he was wrong - Hollywood's our royal family. We afford them a silly and extravagant life but by heck we get to watch them live it.
Continuing in ranting mode, but on a completely different tangent - I'm so very tired of seeing the word "alright." There is no such word. None. It's a lazy misspelling of "all right" (or perhaps the last name "Albright") that's become commonplace because we're a society that's lost sight of the fact that "wrong" can simply mean incorrect so we hesitate to call anything wrong. I know it's in the dictionary, but I find myself unimpressed with that argument -conversationalisms have very much established themselves as dictionary-worthy (Exhibit A and B).

I've no problem with new words or new usages of old words (obviously), but is just an accepted misspelling. "All ready" and "already" mean different things, "all most" and "almost" mean different things, "all bum" and "album" mean vastly different things. As soon at "alright" thinks of its own thing to mean I'll cheerfully accept it. Until then it gets filed away with kat and occashun.
I found an upside to the Cubs' penchant for disappointing tonight. I had the lovely and alas-none-too-rare joy of working with a patient who was determined that I would be as miserable as he felt. I try very hard to keep in mind that people in the hospital are generally at their worst overall and therefore not to be judged harshly - but this guy was a jerk. He was actively rude all night to me and the nurses; comments like, "Boy, they don't work very hard at teaching you how to do your job, do they?" and, "So you lost your way getting here?" A real winner all around. I was in his room at about 3:45 in the morning checking his blood pressure (which, I was told, I did incorrectly in a variety of ways) and noticed he was watching a replay of yesterday's Cubs/Brewers game.

"Watching the game?" I asked.

"Trying to!" he sneered at me (I kid you not, the man was like a parody "Man Who Is Mean" from a sitcom). "Can you finish what you're doing and get out - it's tied in the bottom of the ninth!" Then he turned back to the TV, "Come on, guys! It's the [colorful adjective] Brewers! You can win this, you [colorful... plural pronoun, I guess]!"

"Didn't you see this game when it was on earlier? Novoa's going to walk in the losing run in about ten minutes."

Ah, those good old reliable Cubbies.
A couple of days ago I did some mixing/editing on the working draft of Matt's new song "Simple Life," and since then it's been running through my head quite a bit. I'm pretty sure both of you readers have heard it (I can post an mp3 if there's interest); it's a song about leaving the pace of life behind and creating a simpler one, told with the unforced rhymes and invitingly simple tune that Matt excels at (someday that man's going to be famous, and I intend to be clinging to his coattails for dear life). Particularly, I'm intrigued by the bridge: "This life that I'm living's all taking, no giving/And I feel like I'm driven by money and greed/I'll pack up these horses and make my divorces/From unhealthy courses and go plant some seed." All taking, no giving. The standard complaint about the hectic pace of life is that it's give, give, give with no time left for oneself, but I think Matt's right - it's generally the opposite. We don't have time to give of ourselves because there are so many other things to get done, so we end up taking. We count on friendships to stay on course without direct maintenance, we treat people as if they were just their jobs because we don't have time to do more. There's not room, not time for giving in this me-centric culture.

It may well be that Matt just needed the end of the first line to rhyme with "driven" and so flipped the words from their standard usage. I prefer to think it was intentional because the line is absolute genius as written and I enjoy thinking of myself as a bandmate of a fellow who writes lyrics like that. Whatever the origin of the line, though, I think it's something that bears some thinking about. Is my life all taking, no giving?

This was probably a bad thought to follow up my work story with. Hmm...

And thus concludeth my thoughts (I'm impressed with myself for having even this many). Thanks, as ever, for stopping by.

If you multiply in base-13, 6x9 does indeed equal 42

2005-05-04T00:48:00.000-07:00

If you'll pardon my unleashing my (never all that well-contained) inner geek for a post, it's time for At The Movies With Charlie. On Friday I saw The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and immortalizing my thoughts on the experience seems like as good a way as any to continue plodding towards my post-a-week goal for 2005.

A disclaimer - this review contains a spoiler or two, so if you're planning to see the movie and hope to see it without pre-expectations, best to put off reading this post. Once you have seen it, though, I'd very much love to know what you thought.

I was first introduced to the Douglas Adams novels the movie is (sort of) based on back in junior high. My brother had a copy of the first one, I think, and I read the other three (at the time there were only four books in the trilogy (or at least I only knew of four)) courtesy of the Northwest Junior High library. I was (and still am) entranced by the way Adams played with language, his way of putting bits of sentences into other sentences, his absolutely wonderful gift for dialogue. I spent hours and hours and hours in junior high writing my own Douglas Adams-ish (I wish I could call them Douglas Adams-esque, but I don't think I can justify that) fiction, typing fiercely away on FREDwriter as my friend John typed away alongside me. Between the two of us we must have turned out hundreds of pages, much of it admittedly dreck but still a tribute to how influential the man was. John somehow taught himself to write well through those hours and hours of developing a voice and practicing transforming thought into text; I missed that part, but I think I got more of my dreck written than he did (quantity was key. Every day we'd check in as we were leaving the lab to see how many pages had been tacked on to our works). Someday I hope to find those old Apple II disks and figure out a way to transfer the text thereon to a word processor; that would be a delightful look back at who I was lo those many years ago.

All of which is quite off-topic; this is At The Movies, not In The Junior High Computer Lab. Last Friday I went with John, Mark, Carrie, and Jason to opening night. The reviews I'd read ranged from lukewarm to scalding, so I was a little nervous. The previews that ran before the movie included the new Herbie the Love Bug film and Chicken Little, which should have tipped me off to what sort of audience they'd made the film for, but I completely missed that red flag. The film itself... well, the film was "almost". Allow me to elucidate -

The film almost got Adams's universe. Hitchhiker's is set in a universe that doesn't share the standard science fiction assumption that for sentient life to reach the stars they must have solved the problems that humanity's struggling with. It's not completely ubiquitous but certainly present enough to acheive cliche status - the star-faring worlds have done away with racism, dictatorships, petty wars (what wars there are are usually either against some other society that's achieved star travel through oppression and despotism and allowing homosexual marriage and other obviously-society-destroying things or against an insurgent group inside the society that's led by a brilliant and charismatic but warped and evil madman), and often with the idea of money. The bit in Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home where Kirk has dinner with Hot Cetologist Lady (Gillian? Help me out here, Star Trek faithful; it's been a long time) and then can't pay because they don't have money when he comes from is a classic example. In Adams's world society has just expanded out into a larger setting but kept all of its basic weirdness. The universe is a parody of the real world - sometimes literally. The filmmakers didn't quite get that; rather than put us into basically a weirder Mos Eisley setting they hustled us around between basically exotic locales and settled for having the Vogons (the major bad guys in the movie, but not the book) be a running joke about bureaucracies.

They almost got the Adamsian style of dialogue. Douglas Adams is one of the greatest writers of funny dialogue (indeed, I can't think of a legitimate challenger) in the history of the English language. The wordplay back and forth betweeen his characters is wonderful, and a major part of his novels. I'm completely at a loss as to why a filmmaker would say to himself, "Well, we're making a movie based on this book with outstanding dialogue; we'd better be sure to change a bunch of it!" But change it they did. Not completely rewrite it, not always - usually just change it. For instance (and forgive me if I miss a word or two here, I'm doing this completely from memory):

From the Book:
Arthur: "Where are we?"
Ford: "We're safe."
Arthur: "Oh, good."
Ford: "We're on a [I forget the exact wording. "Vogon Ship" but more descriptive]."
Arthur: "Ah. This is obviously some new usage of the word 'safe' that I wasn't aware of."

From the Movie:
Arthur: "Where are we?"
Ford: "We're safe."
Arthur: "Oh, good."
Ford: "We're on a [again, I forget exactly]."
Arthur: "FOOOORRRRD!!!"

Apologies for the inexact quoting, but you get the idea. They would almost use an exchange straight from the book but then change the punch line into something lame-o. It was weird, and very puzzling to me. The only thing I can think of is that they were aiming the film at a younger audience and thought that Adams's humor might be inappropriate in a movie version of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (read that sentence again if you missed the sarcasm).

They almost picked a target audience. I expected the film to either be aimed at the hard-core fans - sort of like the newer Star Wars movies or the second and third Lord of the Rings films: if you don't understand the world you're watching the film certainly isn't going to bother to explain it to you - or at people basically unfamiliar with the . Instead it was a very weird combination of the worst of both. There were jokes aimed at the in crowd that were probably just confusing and annoying to those who haven't read the book - simple ones to fix, too. Explain why they're carrying towels! There was also a staggering disregard of the book's plot that indicated to me that the filmmakers themselves might not have read the book - certainly not aimed at HHGG devotees. I've never seen a movie adaptation that changed the plot more than this one - the characters' goals, the routes they took to reach those goals, and the exciting conclusion were all very different. Plus they of course had to add a love story.

They almost got the characters right. Arthur I liked quite well, Trillian was fine, Ford was okay. Zaphod was a disaster - they took an interesting character and made him an annoying idiot. I've heard that he was supposed to be a parody of Dubya, which is all well and good (certainly it defends some of the characterization choices), but certainly doesn't help make the film timeless. Marvin drove me nuts; they played him as the funniest part of the books, and while he was certainly entertaining the movie shouldn't have been about him any more than the books were.

The special effects were breathtaking (although, strangely, they opted to avoid dealing with Zaphod's extra head and arm by having his heads arranged vertically and his arm always under a cloak (until they're just taken away)), but they seemed to be the focus of the movie. I have trouble understanding why moviemakers these days are willing to spend millions and millions on special effects but not to spend money on a top-notch scriptwriter. The film was partially Adams's work (I'm not sure to exactly what degree) but somewhere along the line it lost his vision. Worth seeing for the sake of watching a HHGG movie, but really only almost worth the ticket price even then.

* Endnote - I found the frequent necessity of using the possessive of "Douglas Adams" bothersome. Strunk & White tell me, though, that when a non-plural word ends with an s the "'s" ending is correct, and far be it from me to argue with the Charlotte's Web dude himself.

Raise your hands, now - how many people here have, at one time or another, eaten the sandbox?

2005-04-26T02:40:00.000-07:00

'Twas an interesting weekend. Matt and I played our first concert in quite a while on Friday night (which was a post-worthily interesting event unto itself; I'll either post separately about that sometime soon or put it off until it seems like there's no point and never get around to it (ah, the blogger's dilemma)) and I got to see my first cantate worship service on Sunday morning. This post, though, is about the sandbox game.

"The sandbox game" is a classic Sesame Street sketch. Bert and Ernie are hanging out in their possibly-legal-in-Massachusetts-but-obviously-not-set-in-Texas apartment and Ernie tells Bert about a great new game he's invented. "I'll say 'I one the sandbox,' Bert, and you say, 'I two the sandbox' and so on," he says. Bert eventually says "I eight the sandbox" and hilarity ensues. It's classic Bert and Ernie; Jim Henson and Frank Oz at the top of their game. I've always loved that sketch, but unfortunately I've never gotten anyone to fall for it (my brother Joel obligingly claims to have eaten the sandbox every so often, but I'm pretty sure he's not actually fooled).

Which brings me back to last weekend. On Saturday several of us headed down from Waverly to Waterloo to enjoy a tasty steak dinner, and my little buddy Connor decided he wanted to ride with me (which I thought was interesting, because back when I still had my Cavalier he refused to ride in it. Apparently even at 5 1/2 he had a keener sense of what constitutes automotively uncool than I did. Or maybe he just didn't like purple). Connor's the closest thing I've got to a nephew - we're not related, but I've been around for his entire life, and I feel a certain affectionate protectiveness towards him that I imagine is somewhat uncle-ish. He's a couple weeks shy of six years old and has that age's characteristic conversational hyperactivity in full measure - for the first ten minutes of the trip I got a running monologue on what he thought about Sunday School and how long he expected his current pair of shoes to last and what he would name a particular field if it was given to him to christen ("Connor's Field") and some embarrassing slip of the tongue his dad had made that morning (alas, I didn't catch it exactly and Connor has no rewind button) and a recount of the path he'd taken chasing his aunt's dog around her apartment while a piano was being moved in. I responded with the occasional "oh, really?" and "wow - awesome!" and whatnot of that sort, but honestly I was only half paying attention. Then he mentioned that he'd recently taken a counting test at kindergarten and won some sort of acclamation for his grasp of ordinal sets in the low three digits and an idea suddenly occurred to me.

"Counting, huh? You're pretty good at counting?"

"What? Yeah. The teacher was talking about how we needed to learn to count backwards, too, and I was all 'whatever'. Then my friend said we should go play with the kickball and I..."

"Okay, but let's not actually leave counting just yet. Do you want to play a game, buddy?"

"What? Okay, whatever."

"Hooray! Here's the game - I'll say 'I one the sandbox' and you say 'I two the sandbox' and so on until we... run out of numbers, I guess."

There was a part of me that was trying very hard to point out to the rest of me that the sandbox game actually comes to sort of an unkind culmination - "Ha ha! You ate the sandbox!" might not be a Dr. Phil-approved thing to say to a 5 year old. I couldn't help it, though; the prospect of actually seeing the game work was too much to pass up. To his credit, Connor really was very good at the game, and 'twas only a few moments before I turned to him with a (friendly, I like to think) grin and said, "You ate the sandbox? Really?"

I was torn. The moment was all I'd hoped it would be (those who find that lame are welcome to start their own blog and only write about things that are actually cool. I'll be happy to link to it from mine), but Connor clearly wasn't impressed. He looked confused for a minute - sat with his mouth open, still ready to claim he'd tenned the sandbox and unsure what exactly had happened - and then sat back in his chair and was quiet. He didn't look sad, really, but he was certainly very subdued, which is a red-flag Something's Wrong signal with him. I was trying to figure out what to say to him and trying to decide how uncomfortable my chair in Hell was likely to be when he turned to me and said, "I've got a game now."

"Okay. How does your game wor..."

"I say 'I one the sand' and you say you two the sand and then we count up."

"But... that's just my game without the word 'box', buddy. You've got to change more than three letters. That's the rule."

"What? Oh." There was a long pause as he sat with his chin on his fist like a tiny little Thinker in denim. "Okay - here's my new game. I say 'I one the horse' and you say 'I two the horse' and we count up."

I was still unconvinced that the horse game was a sufficiently large departure from the sandbox game to merit it being called a new game, but I felt like I wasn't in any position to refuse. Connor took a second to count through to himself and make sure that starting on one would ensure that I was the one who'd actually eat the horse and then started things off. I hope that all of you have a chance to make someone as happy as I made him when I said "I ate the horse". I thought he was going to give himself a tiny little aneurysm; he had a victory dance and everything. And watching him dance I realized that I'd been owned by a five year old. Owned at my own game, no less. Sort of made checking "Fool someone into saying they'd eaten a sandbox" off my life accomplishment list seem a little less significant.

We had about 15 minutes of driving left at this point, and in that 15 minutes I think I was reminded that I'd eaten a horse about seventeen million times. Jim Henson's genius lives on, I guess. When we got to the restaurant, Connor ran up to his dad and said, "Okay, Dad - here's the game. You ate a sandbox and then... wait - how does it go?"

I can only hope that I've at least planted the seed and that someday Connor, too, will appreciate the sandbox game sketch for the genius that it is. Until then - hey, Joel! I one the sandbox...

"Come and NACA my door"

2005-04-16T23:23:00.000-07:00

That was the theme for the 2005 Northern Plains regional conference of the National Association for Campus Activities last weekend (catchy, although I got a little tired of humming the Three's Company theme song to myself. Next year's is something along the lines of "Swing your partner to and fro, off to NACA we will go," since it'll be in Cedar Rapids and Iowa is of course the center of the square dance universe). 1300 students and staff advisors from campus activities boards in Iowa, Wisconsin, Minnesota, the Dakotas, Montana, Nebraska, and Wyoming came to the Mayo Civic Center in Rochester, Minnesota to spend a four-day weekend being courted by performers. And had you been one of those students walking around the marketplace you might have happened past a booth for Central Standard Time, nestled in between booths for a company that provided clowns and clown gear and another that did booking for hypnotists and magicians - and maybe three, four booths down from Peppermint Records where you could book Storyhill. Imagining for a moment that you stopped to see what exactly "Central Standard Time" could do for you as a campus activities person, you would have gotten to talk to Matt and I, who would have struggled with trying to define how we sound (Simon and Garfunkel-ish was the comparison we used most often, although that's certainly not dead on (and more than a little presumptuous). Anyone with good ideas about how to describe the Central Standard Time sound to someone who's never heard us, please send 'em my way), asked you about the role acoustic music plays on your campus, offered you a promo CD, talked about how cool it is that said CD is dual-media, asked you to sign our mailing list, and wished you a pleasant weekend. Hopefully you'd have then immediately gone to find the other campus activities people from your school and told them they needed to - indeed, they must - book CST and do so quickly, although if that happened we never found out about it.

'Twas certainly an interesting weekend. Matt's and my expectations were ever so high going into it - we wouldn't have been surprised at all to leave Rochester with a dozen shows booked and confirmed. Indeed, we spent some time discussing what sort of limit we would set for too many shows so we wouldn't overextend ourselves. Pitiful, yes, but to our credit it only took us about half an hour to figure out how naive we'd been. Then we went through a period of despondence as we thought about the $1000 we'd spent to come to Rochester and not gain anything substantial from the trip, but we got over that pretty quickly, too, as we talked to campus activities people who seemed interested in us (particularly because we were there instead of an agent - there weren't many performers in the room) and took promo CDs and left contact information. So far we don't have a single show on the books, but we have over a dozen strong maybes, and we certainly don't need all of those to turn into shows - not even close - to make our money back. And next year people will remember us from this year and be more inclined to take us seriously.

And if nothing else, it was really neat to do such a "we're really a band" thing. Central Standard Time will never be a full-time job for Matt or me; neither of us are in a position to pull up stakes and tour nationally. Every time we do something band-ish, though, it's a little piece of my childhood dream of being a professional band-in-be-er (specifically, being John Lennon (no reason to aim low, after all)) coming true. I still remember when we recorded our first CD - no studio or processing or effects or anything fancy like that, just two mikes and two guitars run through a mixer into a DAT. I can barely stand to listen to it now, but it hardly ever stopped playing back in May Term '96. A couple of years later we played a concert on campus for 100 people. Horrible sound system, still quite an unpolished stage presence, but we were playing our songs and people were listening and clapping for us - it was one of the biggest rushes I've ever gotten. Last weekend we went to Rochester and met with campus activities people and networked with other performers and handed 'em CD's and referred them to our Electronic Press Kit and discussed fees and stayed in a really crappy hotel with a bed that almost took off one of Matt's fingers. It was a step towards a next step, and even if nothing comes it that's exciting unto itself.

Meaningless redecoration

2005-02-23T23:38:00.000-08:00

As you've probably already noticed (if you're one of the three regular readers of this site), we've changed the look here at Meaningless Musings again. I may not be a regular poster, but by heck I get bored with layouts quickly. Mostly I like how little wasted space there is with this format - once you're past the top part of the page with the links the whole screen gets used for text. Obviously, a strong argument can be made that said text just turns around and wastes the space again, but at least I'm not wasting your valuable monitor resources to just create blank space.

There are also a few new links over on the right-hand side of the screen, and for your Thursday reading enjoyment I thought I'd go through 'em and give you a few details on why they're there and why you might be interested. Gripping stuff it certainly isn't, but my understanding of blogosphere etiquette is that quantity always trumps quality. So away we go, starting with the blogs -

Untested Ideas - My little brother Joel's blog. Joel's a computer programmer in Madison, Wisconsin and his blog has the distinctive flavor of computer competence - lots of little sub-links and a clean, polished format. He assures me that's nothing to be impressed about; that he just used some bloginating software that anyone could figure out, but I remain stubbornly impressed. So there.

Joel's perfected the art of writing interesting blog entries that aren't long-winded; little snippets, often no more than a sentence, that make some thought-provoking point. A remarkable feat and certainly one I've no delusions regarding my ability to duplicate. It's also certainly worth perusing the rest of his site for some of his other writings - one of which was published in the Wartburg Trumpet lo these many years ago.
The Three-Ring Circus of E. Rod - Not that I'm in any place to criticize those who don't post regularly on their blogs, but I think it's a shame that my sister Emily seems to have moved on from a short-lived interest in the hobby. She's quite a good writer (which only makes sense - after all, both of our parents are quite good writers; she no doubt inherited it) and I, for one, quite enjoyed the window into her thoughts. Love, luck, and lollipops indeed!
In the Hands - This site is a treasure. An absolute gold mine. If Paul's not getting a million hits a day then I'm disappointed in us as an Internet community.

Paul Cantrell was a college chum of Joel's at Macalester College in St. Paul, Minnesota. The two of them and their roommate Nick (at least I'm 90% sure his name was Nick...) were the aces of the computer science department - Joel tells me that when they were all three walking together other computer science majors were required to genuflect as they passed by - and, as with Joel's, there's a very professional polish to the look of the site. The content, though, is what should draw you there.

Paul's a pianist and a bit of a music philosopher and last September he started a music blog to make his work accessible to the cyberworld at large. Every Tuesday and Saturday he posts an mp3 of a piece that he's recorded - sometimes things he's written himself, sometimes a work by another composer (often Romantic-era, although there's the occasional Bach. No Mozart yet, though - sigh), sometimes just an improv that he recorded whilst creating. The recording quality is very good - here's an explanation of his approach to home recording (worth reading if you've any interest in the art) - and the music itself is breathtaking. Paul reminds me of Vladimir Horowitz, the Russian-born piano virtuoso. He doesn't quite have Horowitz's chops (or if he does he modestly declines to showcase them), but there's an understanding of the music that brings to mind Horowitz's Encores (a recording everyone, whatever their taste in music, should own at least one copy of). Paul isn't interested in just playing the notes - he's playing the music around the notes. Corny? Possibly - but take some time to listen to his stuff, and especially to the pieces he's written himself; you'll hear a level of expression and depth of interpretation you rarely hear from a piano. Paul also offers philosophical musings on the nature of music and there's a link to the music blog he writes for MPR.

Every recording on his site is available for free download - pieces recorded specifically for In the Hands and live concert recordings. I've never found anything like it online. It's - I'll say it again - a gold mine, a treasure with a URL. It's apparently not paying the bills, though (recording music and offering it free to anyone interested in enjoying it must not be as lucrative as it sounds), so In the Hands recently became a user-supported project. Click the link, listen to his stuff, and give serious thought to Paypalling a buck or ten Paul's way. And if you have a website with a links section, add a link to Paul's site - even if his music isn't your cup of tea, the work he's doing deserves as much recognition as we the Internet-at-large can muster.
What, You Too? - In the spirit of international Internet relations, I invite and encourage you to check out this blog from Germany. Jess started her blog (or "blog" auf Deutsch) as a way to regain a sense of connection to her friends and family back on this side of the Atlantic and she's taken to blogging like a fish to water (or something less cliche - I'm a little sleepy right now). What, You Too? is updated frequently - often more than once a day - and stories range from tales of her angst over a job that, shall we say, isn't ideally suited to her temperment to stories about a rice cooker that apparently doesn't make hamburgers; it's a "here's what's on my mind today" sort of blog and a very well-done one.

Jess also has dived into the "find other interesting people who blog" aspect of the blogging life, and she's compiled a set of links to other interesting places the blog-reading-ly inclined might wish to visit.
Jaunty Thoughts - Here is that rare gem - a blog written by someone who can really really write. John was my best friend through high school; together we coasted through to mediocre grades while reassuring each other that we were brilliant and spending most of our time writing and making up new silly voices (the whole story is far past the scope of this single paragraph). Now he's a professional writer (ironically in the education field) and he's been churning out prose for most of the last 30 or so years of his life. The blog is basically a "here's what's been going on recently" accounting updated about once a month and aimed mainly at John's family and friends, but he has such a wonderful knack for turns of phrase and the storytelling voice that it's a delightful read anyway. He started his blog when he put together a website to feature pictures of his (at the time unborn) son, and over the last year the blog's become less of the focus and the pictures more. They're awfully cute pictures, though - if pictures of infants are your thing be sure and stop by. Little Thomas'll be one next Friday, and there's a place on the website to send messages (birthday greetings, perhaps) to the little guy. Who will, if the movies on the website are any indication, likely reply, "boom!"

My secret hope (or, more accurately, my secret-until-I-posted-it-on-the-Internet-for-anyone-to-read hope) is that now that John finds himself with less free time for blogging he'll start uploading some of his other writings (and maybe even writing new ones - ah, to read once again of Nicholas St. Paul). Until then, there's poetry, pictures, and movies in addition to the blog. *Exciting update - apparently, John actually reads this blog, for there are indeed old writings to read. Check out The Vault!
The Daily Aneurysm - I found Jim Bartlett's site through a link on John's. This is a political website, and an extremely well-done one; Jim must put hours into researching and reading before he posts (which he does almost every day). Even if you don't agree with Jim's politics (which are strongly liberal), you should check it out - the writing is very good, the points generally well-defended and fairly presented, and there's a lot to be learned. Plus he has a pile of links (including one to me!) for those interested in finding other, similar blogs.
heckuva far (greg's online ramblings) - Greg Nichols is one of my friend Jesse's roommates, although it seems like I should have met him long ago - he's a fellow EWALU-an (proof of how quickly camp moves on, I guess). Wonderful fellow - I generally find that entering new social territory ranks somewhere between being bitten by a puma and having teeth extracted on the things-that-are-fun spectrum, but Greg, Jesse, and their other roommate Matt have created a space that even I don't feel awkward or unwelcome in (they keep telling me to stop knocking and just come in, though. Yeah, right). I'd happily include a link to his blog just for that, but this is a really excellent blog. Greg's a very good writer and he has a tremendous gift for having his stories come to a point, so that the reader gets an equal dose of interesting story and thought-provoking point. Plus he's another computer person (studying for his PhD at Iowa in, I believe, Federation Starship Mainframes) so his site has that slick professional look that I so envy. No way to comment that I can see, though, which is a shame.

I suspect that his URL is an allusion to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, but that's just a suspicion.

Thus concludeth the list of blogs. Now on to the other links!

Central Standard Time - Central Standard Time is me and Matt Hibbard, playing tuneful tunes on our guitars. This is the official group website, where one can find lyrics, ordering instructions, contact information, some pictures, a performance list, and the CST Trivia Challenge. There's also a hidden link to various other interesting content, which so far (as far as we know) no one has been able to find.
My website - a project mostly stalled out partway through, this is my online HTML workbook. I had some online space since I get Internet access through Earthlink so I set out to put together a webpage and teach myself HTML along the way. It was partially successful - I learned a lot of HTML - but mostly all I worked on was my old blog, which I stopped adding to when I signed up on blogspot. There are a few interesting bits in the CST section (my lyrics page offers some comments and musings about some of the songs, for instance, and there's a video of Matt and I playing), but mostly it's still a work in progress that I rarely work on. Also - sort of along the same lines as my comments about Joel's and Paul's blogs - you can absolutely tell by the layout that I'm no kind of computer expert.
VITP discussion on Consimworld - This link is mostly there for my benefit. I often visit the Victory in the Pacific (a military simulation board game about the naval battle between the US and Japan in WWII) discussion board on Consimworld (a website dedicated to various things military simulation board game-y). The URL for the VITP thingy is impossible to remember and scrolling through menus to get there is far, so when I'm at another computer and away from my bookmarks I can just type in my site's URL (much easier) and click that link.

On the subject of VITP, though, there's a weekend-long tournament coming up in a couple of weeks which I'll be attending and no doubt blogging about - I always write up a report on the happenings; might as well post it here.
Send Jason Martin-Hiner an e-mail! - My li'l Cubs fan buddy Jason Martin-Hiner enjoys getting e-mail, and here's a helpful link with which to fire some his way. As before, eventually this link will be changed so you can e-mail someone new! Exciting stuff, these Meaningless Musings.
Andre LaFosse - Andre was a high school friend of mine who lives in L.A. now and makes his living as a guitarist. He was a phenomenal player in high school, and since then he's earned a performance degree from CalArts and spent another 12 years practicing. His chops have chops that have chops that are better at guitar than I'll ever be. It's incredible to listen to. His interest is in new ways for the electric guitar to express itself, too, and he's done some very interesting work with looping over the last several years. There are downloadable samples on his website and if you're intrigued ordering instructions, too, as well as a very interesting and well-written blog about his merry adventures in L.A. and some nifty pictures.
The Chicago Cubs - What can I say? It's gotta be this year. Or maybe next year. Certainly not more than several years from now.
Storyhill - These guys are my favorite band ever. Theirs was the music of my college and camp experience, the music many of my friends were married to, the music that inspired Matt and I to make music of our own. Their songs are full of evocative imagery and beautiful harmony and clever lyrics and some of the most singable tunes I've ever heard. Outstanding stuff, wonderful stuff. If they're ever in your area make sure you go see them (this site is often more up-to-date with tour schedules). Listen to some of their stuff here and then buy yourself some CDs!
The WFWCCB - Ah, fond memories of tours and concerts and recitals and whatnot. I hope your life has included some experiences of feeling like you were part of a group that really did something well and that wanted you to be there like I had with the Wartburg band.
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy interactive text game - It's difficult to express how excited I was to find this online (thanks to Greg for providing the link. I spent many an hour playing this game on the old family Commodore 128, and never did mange to figure it out. It's a little creepy that it runs so much more smoothly now over the Internet with graphics added than it used to, but I'm not complaining.

And there you have it. My little road map to some interesting byways off of the information superhighway. Turned into a longer post than I originally intended, but that's probably good; it'll help my guilt over how long it will probably take me to post again.

To steal a sign-off from my sister - love, luck, and lollipops!

Hey there! Hi there! Ho there! She's as happy as can be! In the d-i-a-c-o-n-a-l ministry!

2005-02-17T23:42:00.000-08:00

A couple of Sundays ago I went up to Waverly to watch the service of consecration (or maybe Service of Consecration; I'm not sure if it's a proper noun or not) for my friend Jess. What, you ask, is consecration? I'm not 100% sure myself (other than knowing that it's not the same as circumcision - talk about your embarrassing malapropisms), but I'll try to explain. The Service of Consecration (or maybe service of consecration) is the process by which one becomes a diaconal minister in the ELCA. "Diaconal minister," if I understand correctly, is sort of a new designation. Obviously it's closely tied to the word "deacon," but I think that deacons are generally thought of as being basically Ernest Frye (the guy Sherman Hemsley (of Lois & Clark: the New Adventures of Superman fame) played in Amen): the guy who sets up chairs and makes sure the candle wicks are trimmed and generally takes care of the church building. Diaconal ministers have a much more interesting and exciting role. The idea (indeed, from what I've learned, the catchphrase) is that they serve where the church meets the world. While a pastor is ordained into the ministry of word and sacrament and generally serves a congregation in a role that's theoretically primarily spiritual and theological, a diaconal minister is consecrated into the ministry of word and service and generally ends up working with an organization, dealing with social justice issues and bringing the work of the church outside of the sanctuary walls.

At least that's my understanding of it - a lot of which is lifted directly from the sermon preached at Jess's consecration. Here's Jess's explanation from her blog, and here's an explanation from the ELCA web page, both of which are far more informative and lucid. It's interesting stuff, I think, and I find it very exciting. To me, this is a formal statement by the ELCA that we understand that the church can't stay inside church buildings and still do the work we're called to do. A diaconal minister has to jump through basically every hoop an ordained pastor has to - these aren't lay volunteers who are just using the church to find projects to work on, they're men and women with the same level of theological training and formal church support the clergy has. I think that's downright nifty, and I'm proud to be able to name a good friend of mine among their ranks.

It was a delightful weekend, too - several people I hadn't seen for years were in town for the consecratin', the sermon was based on Micah 6:8 which is the foundation verse for one of the finer campfire songs to ever grace the woods of southeast Clayton county (I've had the tune in my head pretty much ever since), and Dr. Kleinhans got a chance to make fun of me for how long I was a student at Wartburg, which always seems to make her happy. I find that almost any event which triggers Wartburg memories ends up being a lot of fun (it's a shame admissions can't sell that - that's what you pay the extra $15,000 a year for).

On an unrelated note - I'm not sure I got the "Hey, Hi, Ho" in the title of this post in the right order. I was, alas, never a Mouseketeer. Anyone more familiar with the tune who wants to correct or affirm me feel free.

Do-it-yourself podiatry

2005-01-06T22:15:00.000-08:00

For the last several years, my toes and I have had, at best, a strained relationship. They don't like me and I don't particularly like them, but without them my sandals would fall off and without me they'd never get to see interesting new places so we put up with each other. A few months ago, though, they went too far.

The story goes back to the summer of 1998 when I accidentally dropped a lawnmower on my foot (I know, I know, everyone has a "dropped a lawnmower on my foot" story). I was working at summer camp, and I was supposed to take a bunch of little kids on a hayride but the camp tractor still had the lawnmowing attachment on the back (looked sort of like this). When I disconnected it, it fell onto my foot - caught me right on my left big toenail. I'm fairly sure that's the most pain I've ever been in; I was completely incapacitated for a few minutes (and the close proximity of the camp pool made it impossible to let loose with any really cathartic language).

That toenail fell off a few days later, but apparently my toe was still mad at me because when it grew back it never really grew back connected to the toe and it fell off again about a year after that (meanwhile, I also lost my right big toenail after a kid from my youth group stepped on it during a heated game of "Try to Knock Mark DeVries Over with Sofa Cushions". Youth ministry is dangerous stuff). The third time seemed to be the charm, though - the toenail looked a little weird but seemed to be functional. Until last May.

Last May the inside edge of the toenail started growing down into my toe. Apparently the toenail had gotten sick of dealing with me and had decided to just remove my toe so it and the toenail could go be happy on their own. I couldn't help but admire its initiative, but I didn't want to give up my toe. After a month, it had become painful to put on shoes (not often a problem for me since I'm a devoted sandal-wearer, but I have a shoe-requiring and walking-intensive job) and every so often I'd catch the toe on something and have an entrant in the running contest to beat having a lawnmower fall on my foot for "most painful experience ever". Clearly, something needed to be done. I talked to some friends and co-workers and they all told me to go see a doctor, who would cut away the part of the toenail that was digging into my toe and leave me with an oddly-shaped but no longer painful toenail. Most of that sounded fine, but it seemed silly to me to pay someone else to cut part of my toenail off when I had plenty of cutting implements handily available to me. And so, Gentle Readers, I present for your personal edification Charlie Rod's Handy Guide to Do-It-Yourself Toenail-In-The-Toe Amelioration. All you need is a Swiss Army knife and a pair of pliers. I personally vouch for its effectiveness.

Step One - determine how much of the toenail you'll actually need to remove. I chose to cut so that the toenail looked more or less symmetrical - one side goes a little ways into the toe and one doesn't, but it doesn't look all that odd. Take the awl extension on your Swiss Army knife and gently score a guide line into the nail.
Step Two - cut the rest of the nail through along the guide line. This is the tricky bit (although still certainly not requiring four years of med school to figure out); it's going to be impossible to cut through the nail at the same time along the length of your cut, so you're likely going to have your knife slip down fairly often as you get past solid keratin and to parts that are already cut through and end up slamming the blade into the toe beneath (and the flesh beneath your toenails is extraordinarily wussy stuff, ridiculously oversupplied with pain receptors). My advice is to go very slowly and try to cut up from underneath the nail whenever you can. The trickiest bit here is the most proximal (closest to the foot) part of the nail. There will likely be quite a bit of blood and, if your toe is like mine was and has been ingrown for a while, probably some pus and interstitial fluid, too. If it helps, keep in mind that step three sucks far more than step two. Also, you can't really stop once you've already cut most of your toenail loose.
Step three - once you've cut through the nail along the guideline (or at least mostly cut through - if there's a little left it'll pull free on step four), lift the cut-off bit of nail up from the new edge you've just made (so that it sort of resembles a tiny drawbridge pulling away from the main nail) and cut underneath. There's a bunch of connective tissue there that you need to detach from the nail before you pull it loose. This step is really quite horrid; it's astoundingly painful to turn the new little nail-fragment in the flesh of your toe, and that sensation is magnified by the knowledge that the whole thing is being voluntarily, consciously done. Also, again, if you're doing this in the first place your toe is probably already badly inflamed and sore from the ingrown toenail that you're about to fix. Cutting the connective tissue, on the other hand, doesn't hurt a bit, so at least there's that.
Step four - finally, once you've got the connective tissue cut loose, grab hold of the little toenail piece with a pair of pliers (it'll be far too slick to grab with your fingers) and apply steady, firm pressure straight up (perpendicular to the line your toe makes) until the front of the nail clears your toe - it'll look sort of like a tiny, white, bloody battleship. Then pull straight forward and out it'll come. The sense of relief at finally being done with the whole remarkably unpleasant process will only be exceeded by wonder at how much better your toe suddenly feels.

And that's today's handy tip. If any of you ever have reason to try it, please let me know - I'll be curious to see if your experience varies from mine. I'll try to post again fairly soon so that this entry doesn't stay at the top of the page for overly long.

Somebody fetch that man his fiddle!

2005-01-02T23:37:00.000-08:00

At some point it becomes sort of silly for a blogger to start every post with an apology for how long it's been since the last post. I'd hoped to post on Saturday and thereby start a tradition of one post every third major holiday, but the weather conspired against me. Still, it's 2005 - a new year, full of new beginnings. I'll go ahead and promise at least a post a week average for the year (some would say I have as good a chance of maintaining a post a minute for the year, but since this is my blog those some can just keep their pessimism to themselves). Dave Barry's retired now, after all; the world needs someone else to write about nothing in particular and hope people are entertained by it.

I'm not a politically-minded fellow, overall, and I'm aware the election was over two months ago, but I think I'd be remiss if I didn't say anything, so if you'll pardon me a moment or so on the soapbox, I'd like to make and then try to defend the following statement: I'm really quite frightened by what this election showed me about us Americans.

I think Bush's administration has made some horrible decisions. I'm generally more Republican than anything else in mindset, but I lost Dubya a couple of exits back. The economy has nosedived and we as a country seem to still cling to the idea that our resources are still better spent lingering in the Middle East trying to achieve goals which are apparently vitally important but which no one seems to be able to articulate. This isn't World War II and smashing the evil Nazi empire, this is turning a child that we're finally fed up with over our knee and then sitting him down to explain why what he did was wrong and how he can do better in the future - while he keeps kicking us in the knee. I'm just a 30 year old from Iowa, but it seems like they don't want us there and we don't want to be there and no one can figure out a common solution.

But that's not what bothers me about the election. I disagree with most of the things I've been aware of Bush having done and I become increasing more convinced that he's just a little too dumb to be the leader of the free world, but if he'd been elected because a majority of my fellow Americans felt otherwise I could have lived with that. Every President has had masses of people who strongly disagreed with his politics, and I'll bet every President got some votes because people were more afraid of his opponent's politics than they were of his. As long as the American people are choosing a President, I think the system we have in place is a very good one.

This time, though, I don't think all of us were electing a President. I think a large block of voters was essentially acting as a call committee, trying to choose a pastor to lead us. And that's frightening. I don't begrudge people their strong feelings on gay marriage or stem cell research or anything else - indeed, I think a healthy debate can only do the country good. But holy cow gee whiz what the fleebing flop - the President shouldn't even be the moderator of that debate. He certainly shouldn't have any input into the discussion. Not as the office, anyway. George Bush can have all the opinions he wants; President Bush should focus on keeping the dollar from dwindling away to nothing and figuring out a way to keep American boys and girls from dying so he can feel like he's finishing something his father started and if he finds himself with extra free time on his hands maybe even playing some golf at Camp David.

I was talking about his to a friend of mine, and he said "Government can't make itself a moral police," which I think is a lovely sentiment but unfortunately untrue. Examples of governments making moral decisions on behalf of citizens abound - Nazi Germany, the Spanish Inquisition (didn't expect that one, did you?), and the Taliban, just to name a few. There are only two ways to instill morals - teach by example or punish those that don't comply. Governments only have one option open to them.

Especially ironic is the fact that Dubya's a Republican. This idea of federalizing morals is much more the sort of thing one generally associates with the left. We're cutting taxes because the American people know how to spend their money better than the federal government does! But we would like to add a few caveats - no spending it on gay weddings, or investing in stem cell research, or speaking out against the United Church of America, which is proud to accounce that Reverend Bush is back for four more years! Alleluia, yip-yip yee-ha!

I'm a little frightened by Bush's politics, and I have very little confidence in his ability to lead, but mostly I'm terrified by what it signifies for the future of this country that he wasn't elected on any of those points.

I'll step off the soapbox now. Apologies if I've offended or (probably more likely) if I've lost anyone with my random-connections-of-thoughts composition style (in my defense, it's almost 7:00 a.m. now and I've been up since yesterday). Three holidays from now... see you all in July!

There were two "Dukes of Hazzard" theme songs...

2004-10-31T02:15:00.000-08:00

...a fact that apparently most people don't know. Indeed, a fact that apparently one is something of a freak for knowing. Most people know (or at least immediately recognize) Waylon Jennings' "Just Two Good Ol' Boys" that was the theme for the Friday evening program, but the theme song for the Saturday morning cartoon is apparently less well-known. I'm curious to see if my co-workers' categorical denunciation of me as Sir Freak-a-Lot based simply on my being familiar with the cartoon's theme song is wildly unfair or merely somewhat unfair - if you know it, post a comment to that effect. Joel, if you read this blog, I'll expect you at least to know the tune.

Anyway, to get back to the self-involved musings that are the stuff of the blogosphere - I turned 30 last Thursday. 30. Thirty. The big three-oh. The first of the birthday milestones that are traditionally not looked forward to (as opposed to, say, 21 or 16). I find it to be not all that different from not being 30, so far. As with the previous 29, there was no dramatic transformation on birthday morning. I don't feel any different or look any different. Still, there's certainly more self-reflection involved with one's 30th birthday. I'm likely well over a third of a way through my life now - a sobering thought. I'm past my prime years to be a professional athlete, older than any of the Beatles except Ringo were when the band broke up, past the life expectancy of 3/4 of the lifeforms on Earth. My little baby sister's almost 21, kids graduating from high school this year were born the year I started junior high, Tuesday's will be the 4th Presidential election I've been able to vote in. It's quite a daunting thought.

It's also traditionally a time to take stock of oneself, and I'll be (and often am) the first to say that in many ways they've been 30 years of underachieving and non-accomplishing and generally taking up space and oxygen. I'm sure I don't want to see a list of what all my high school classmates are up to these days - the handful I know about depress me plenty. I'm told that one of my obligations as a new 30 year old is to look back over my life and be disappointed at all the things that aren't there, and I find I have little trouble doing so.

At the same time, though, as I look back it's staggering to me how much is there. I've been incredibly fortunate in the number of really close friends I've had (I've heard it said that a person's lucky to have one really good friend in their life; I can easily name a half-dozen), and in the family I was born to. I've watched the sun set over the Canadian Rockies, stood on the stage at the Cavern in Liverpool, and fallen asleep in a canoe drifting down the Turkey River. I've stayed up until sunrise talking to a new friend and driven an hour and a half at 2 in the morning because an old friend needed to talk. I've played a concert listened to by an international radio audience, eaten some of the finest grilled cheese Eastern Iowa (if not the world) has known, and stood next to some of my closest friends on their wedding days. It's easy to let myself get frustrated and disappointed at where I am at 30 years old, but I can't think of much I'd change about how I got here.

I'm not suggesting we all stand around the campfire and sing the chorus of Poems, Prayers and Promises (although if anyone's interested, I'm in; I love a good campfire), but more than anything that's where my birthday ruminations have led me - it's not as much where you are as how you got there.

Welcome,blog, to your new home!

2004-10-27T23:34:00.000-07:00

It seems a little silly, really, for me to move this blog over to a dedicated blogger's website. Some of the blogs that blogspot.com hosts are really insanely impressive, maintained by people with a level of talent and dedication and an amount of available time that I can only marvel at. My blog has so far been basically a sad little hack blog and there's no reason to assume that trend will suddenly change.

This new site does offer several advantages over the direct-to-HTML system I was using before, though, and I hold faint optimism that it might actually help me be a more prolific poster. It takes away the extra steps involved in posting through an editor - no writing extra code (granted, it was only a few lines of code, but still), no opening up the FTP server and uploading. I can blog from any computer hooked up to the Internet and save unfinished drafts. Considering that the whole service is free, it's really quite a good deal. Plus, the site looks better than the old one did, and - perhaps most importantly - it allows you, Gentle Reader, to comment on posts. I look forward to seeing responses to posts (I acknowledge that I may have to post responses myself... lame, yes, but I'm prepared to do that if necessary) and I'm curious to see how many people actually read the drivel I clutter up the Internet with.

Maybe it'll be a short-lived experiment that I decide I'm not happy with, but for the time being, at least, welcome to the new home of "Meaningless Musings." The goal, once again, is a post a week, but I'm not foolishly optimistic.