Santa left me quite the present under the ol' Christmas tree. Without even having opened it, I could tell what it was:
milkymanchester.blogspot.com
To say I'm excited is an understatement. All that remains to be seen, of course, is whether this is truly a gift or a lump of coal. No pressure, Mr. Manchester!
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
December 26th
Now begins our official respite from Christmas music. I try not to bitch about it too much, because it's important to most people and not really any skin off my back. However, I feel absolutely no compunction when I take some time on December 26th celebrate the disappearance of Christmas carols, references, and advertisements for the next 10 months.
Bah Humbug.
Bah Humbug.
Monday, December 24, 2007
I Love TED
You may have noticed that in the list of blogs to which I link, there is a new one called "TED". TED is an awesome website, and I can't recommend it highly enough.
TED is a conference, or rather a series of annual conferences held around the world. Its name stands for Technology, Entertainment, and Design, and the conferences are unique in that there are no breakout groups or special-interest sessions. Every lecture is given to every attendee, and that's a beautiful thing. Interdisciplinary idea exchanges are, in my opinion, the key to innovation, even if not to progress.
About 150 lectures have been posted on the TED site so far, ranging from 3 minutes to 30. I've watched about 20 of them so far - I'm up to the Fs as of this posting. It's addicting.
Imagine, you can find a tirade by Richard Dawkins on the same website as the creator of the Vagina monologues. The chief designer for BMW is a click away from the Oxford physicist. Richard Branson is just a few speakers before Bill Clinton. Where else can you get such a high density of intelligence, of success and genius and experience?
It's not perfect. Some of the lectures are absolute crap, where nothing actually gets said, or where the speaker spends more time stroking his ego than explaining his work. There is this common theme, a strange fascination with indigenous cultures, as if they've been elevated by their exoticness and romanticism. Here's a thought: which is more important, the preservation of a subculture or the end of female circumcision? Not that it's a 1:1 tradeoff like that, but something about glamorizing lives of squalor just rubs me the wrong way.
In this way, the haughty concept of a facilitated idea exchange is somewhat like the era of garage bands. Free from the constraints of "normality", you get brilliance like The Ramones... but this ushers in a generation of atonal eardrum-shredding also-rans. I think that sometimes the TED conference organizers get so excited that they've booked The Ramones that they also book Jim and the Septic Tanks.
I'll confess, though, that I need to listen to the E and the D more than the T, no matter how interested in the latter I find myself. It is to my chagrin that the Vagina Monologues don't speak to me, and this communication gap isn't just because I lack the aforementioned equipment. Rather it's the use of language like "living in the body" and "my vagina needed a context". What does that even mean?! Still, if my Cognitive Science class has taught me anything, it's that there is a whole other version of the English language that I don't understand, and lectures like these are like Hooked on Phonics for the Engineering Grad.
Here are three videos that I think you should watch. They aren't the most informative of the bunch that I've seen, nor are they the most eloquent nor the funniest. What sets them apart is that they actually moved me, in a profound intellectual sense that is neither emotional nor scientific.
David Deutsch - What is Our Place in the Cosmos
Anna Deavere Smith - Four American Characters
Dan Dennett - Ants, Terrorism, and the Awesome Power of Memes
My favorite bit from the Dennett lecture is one slide that pretty well burned itself into my memory. While musing about how ideas are like viruses, in that they survive only by compelling their host to spread them to new hosts, he put up a slide that said simply the following:
the secret of happiness:
find something more important than you are and dedicate your life to it
TED is a conference, or rather a series of annual conferences held around the world. Its name stands for Technology, Entertainment, and Design, and the conferences are unique in that there are no breakout groups or special-interest sessions. Every lecture is given to every attendee, and that's a beautiful thing. Interdisciplinary idea exchanges are, in my opinion, the key to innovation, even if not to progress.
About 150 lectures have been posted on the TED site so far, ranging from 3 minutes to 30. I've watched about 20 of them so far - I'm up to the Fs as of this posting. It's addicting.
Imagine, you can find a tirade by Richard Dawkins on the same website as the creator of the Vagina monologues. The chief designer for BMW is a click away from the Oxford physicist. Richard Branson is just a few speakers before Bill Clinton. Where else can you get such a high density of intelligence, of success and genius and experience?
It's not perfect. Some of the lectures are absolute crap, where nothing actually gets said, or where the speaker spends more time stroking his ego than explaining his work. There is this common theme, a strange fascination with indigenous cultures, as if they've been elevated by their exoticness and romanticism. Here's a thought: which is more important, the preservation of a subculture or the end of female circumcision? Not that it's a 1:1 tradeoff like that, but something about glamorizing lives of squalor just rubs me the wrong way.
In this way, the haughty concept of a facilitated idea exchange is somewhat like the era of garage bands. Free from the constraints of "normality", you get brilliance like The Ramones... but this ushers in a generation of atonal eardrum-shredding also-rans. I think that sometimes the TED conference organizers get so excited that they've booked The Ramones that they also book Jim and the Septic Tanks.
I'll confess, though, that I need to listen to the E and the D more than the T, no matter how interested in the latter I find myself. It is to my chagrin that the Vagina Monologues don't speak to me, and this communication gap isn't just because I lack the aforementioned equipment. Rather it's the use of language like "living in the body" and "my vagina needed a context". What does that even mean?! Still, if my Cognitive Science class has taught me anything, it's that there is a whole other version of the English language that I don't understand, and lectures like these are like Hooked on Phonics for the Engineering Grad.
Here are three videos that I think you should watch. They aren't the most informative of the bunch that I've seen, nor are they the most eloquent nor the funniest. What sets them apart is that they actually moved me, in a profound intellectual sense that is neither emotional nor scientific.
David Deutsch - What is Our Place in the Cosmos
Anna Deavere Smith - Four American Characters
Dan Dennett - Ants, Terrorism, and the Awesome Power of Memes
My favorite bit from the Dennett lecture is one slide that pretty well burned itself into my memory. While musing about how ideas are like viruses, in that they survive only by compelling their host to spread them to new hosts, he put up a slide that said simply the following:
the secret of happiness:
find something more important than you are and dedicate your life to it
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Lies that are Worthwhile
Yesterday was my mother's birthday. Happy Birthday, Mom!
As of two weeks ago, the plan was to go out for dinner. With my brother staying in St. Louis after his finals, it would be up to me to buy a gift and give it to her at dinner. It was a good plan.
Then my dad got clever. With a series of surreptitious phone calls, he invited a few dozen of my mom's friends to the house for lunch. He demanded secrecy, covering his tracks as well as possible. All of the champagne and balloons and catered stuff would be stored at a friend's house. My mom would never see it coming.
The key in this plan was to ensure that my mom would be home and presentable for her surprise party. Normally, Saturday is gym and chores day, and she would've probably tore our heads off if we blindsided her completely. This is where I came in.
I had to lie to my mom. In retrospect, the story I concocted is just on the wrong side of implausible - a party in Monroe, carpooling with Aaron and his girlfriend, stopping by the house for about a half hour (not long enough to eat, but long enough to make sure that the house was put-together) for no particular reason. The hardest part, though, was that it was lying to my mom.
I'm not saying this with the deference of a mama's boy. Rather, it is the fact that I had to lie to a woman who is way, way smarter than me or my dad. In the end, she knew something was coming, but the magnitude of the surprise was a surprise in and of itself.
That was the small lie.
The big lie was actually easier to tell, because it was just so unforeseeable. My brother, who was planning to stay in St. Louis through winter break, informed me mid-week that he would be driving to Jersey in time for mom's party. It was so devious, so fantastic, that nobody saw it coming.
At lunch with my dad on Thursday, I could only shrug when the subject of my brother came up. Anything more verbal than a grunt would seem rehearsed and see-through. I'm a terrible liar.
The payoff was on Saturday. Unfortunately, I had to miss the arrival of the first guests, so I cant say exactly how shocked my mom was. When my brother pulled into the driveway, though, and my dad's expression went immediately pallid... well, that was special.
I went into the house first, and as my mom came over to hug me, she noticed my brother. A woman whose picture appears in the dictionary next to the word "proper", my mom was reduced to cursing when she realized what was going on. She said "Shit". It was awesome.
So, I've been waiting to blog about this for a week now, but couldn't, for fear of ruining the surprise. I hate lying, but man oh man, sometimes it's worth it.
As of two weeks ago, the plan was to go out for dinner. With my brother staying in St. Louis after his finals, it would be up to me to buy a gift and give it to her at dinner. It was a good plan.
Then my dad got clever. With a series of surreptitious phone calls, he invited a few dozen of my mom's friends to the house for lunch. He demanded secrecy, covering his tracks as well as possible. All of the champagne and balloons and catered stuff would be stored at a friend's house. My mom would never see it coming.
The key in this plan was to ensure that my mom would be home and presentable for her surprise party. Normally, Saturday is gym and chores day, and she would've probably tore our heads off if we blindsided her completely. This is where I came in.
I had to lie to my mom. In retrospect, the story I concocted is just on the wrong side of implausible - a party in Monroe, carpooling with Aaron and his girlfriend, stopping by the house for about a half hour (not long enough to eat, but long enough to make sure that the house was put-together) for no particular reason. The hardest part, though, was that it was lying to my mom.
I'm not saying this with the deference of a mama's boy. Rather, it is the fact that I had to lie to a woman who is way, way smarter than me or my dad. In the end, she knew something was coming, but the magnitude of the surprise was a surprise in and of itself.
That was the small lie.
The big lie was actually easier to tell, because it was just so unforeseeable. My brother, who was planning to stay in St. Louis through winter break, informed me mid-week that he would be driving to Jersey in time for mom's party. It was so devious, so fantastic, that nobody saw it coming.
At lunch with my dad on Thursday, I could only shrug when the subject of my brother came up. Anything more verbal than a grunt would seem rehearsed and see-through. I'm a terrible liar.
The payoff was on Saturday. Unfortunately, I had to miss the arrival of the first guests, so I cant say exactly how shocked my mom was. When my brother pulled into the driveway, though, and my dad's expression went immediately pallid... well, that was special.
I went into the house first, and as my mom came over to hug me, she noticed my brother. A woman whose picture appears in the dictionary next to the word "proper", my mom was reduced to cursing when she realized what was going on. She said "Shit". It was awesome.
So, I've been waiting to blog about this for a week now, but couldn't, for fear of ruining the surprise. I hate lying, but man oh man, sometimes it's worth it.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Selected Nats Pics
Other teams may have ridden their bikes faster... but none of them had as much character!
5am at the New Brunswick Train Station,
where a supposed crack dealer told us to "F*** 'em up!"
Rich, Andy, and DK were excited about the monorail
Mark and FroJoe shared the monorail-related enthusiasm
FroJoe was all tuckered out,
and the terminal seemed like as good a place as any
for napping
We roll as a team,
and that includes minivan safety precautions
Joe is the epitome of style
The ice cream made its way into the hot tub
Not to be outdone, DK sported the sunglasses at night
enough hot tub pictures.
Kate brought, and was generous with, her espresso maker.
Thank you, Kate. So much.
Kate would later take 3rd in the U23 race.
Kate is fast. So much.
DK reveled in the ludicrous conditions.
This section was not good for Mark's hip, or dignity
It was too icy for barriers. This was a cyclocross
Mostly we tried to hang out by the heater,
either in the beer tent or the Verge truck
Thanks, Verge!
Conditions demanded that we spend some time outdoors,
chipping ice off our bikes with plastic brushes
Goodbye, Kansas.
May I never see you until next year's Nats
where a supposed crack dealer told us to "F*** 'em up!"
and the terminal seemed like as good a place as any
for napping
and that includes minivan safety precautions
enough hot tub pictures.
Thank you, Kate. So much.
Kate is fast. So much.
This section was not good for Mark's hip, or dignity
either in the beer tent or the Verge truck
Thanks, Verge!
chipping ice off our bikes with plastic brushes
May I never see you until next year's Nats
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Brilliant or Obnoxious? I can't decide
If it's a joke, then it's obstructing (at least at a glance) 10% of the Starbucks' tiny lot.
If it's serious, then I think I'm missing something.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Toes Update
My race ended on Sunday at 10:20am.
I got in a warm car on Sunday at 3pm.
It is currently Tuesday at 11am.
My big toes are still numb.
Should I be worried?
I got in a warm car on Sunday at 3pm.
It is currently Tuesday at 11am.
My big toes are still numb.
Should I be worried?
Two quick photos from Nationals
photo courtesy of velonews
I swear, I didn't even know until I saw this picture on Mark's blog that I was wearing that hood
photo courtesy of Ralf
Monday, December 17, 2007
Things That Don't Matter
Dirty Clothes
well, honestly, i knew this was going to be the case going in, but it's still a little shocking that so much clothing could get so dirty over 3 days. a big part of it is the fact that i like to be warm. warmth, in a kansas winter blizzard, comes from layers, and so i wore, and rewore, and rewore, everything i packed. this got a little stinky, but that rates so low on my care-o-meter that i'm surprised i even typed it.
i did overpack, though, and so i was left with some clean underwear and t-shirts. foolishly, i guess i expected that my clean clothing would be wearable during the coming week as i packed my bags on saturday night. on sunday, though, i raced, and then i spectated... with (good but not great) beer. my fingers went numb, and not "ooh it's chilly" numb, but "i wonder if i'm doing permanent damage?" numb. when the race bags became carryons, all of my muddy clothes and boots and gloves got tossed in with the clean stuff.
do. not. care.
Damaged Bicycle
our efforts to pre-ride the course on Saturday morning were cut a little short, leaving us about 20 minutes to roll around. 20 minutes was all it took for our bikes to get properly screwed, and we each spent more time trying to clean the bikes than we'd spent riding them. every bit of mud that got flung up from the course had ended up frozen to the brakes, the rims, the derailleurs, the cables. frozen solid. as it snowed sideways, we chipped away at the mud with plastic brush-handles, and the mud eventually fell away.
i was a little skeptical of charlie's technique. he actually took a screwdriver to his rims to clean off the braking surfaces, which struck me as a little risky. stabbing a bike with sharp metal is silly, but stabbing a centimeter from the tire is just loony. charlie, as usual, knew what he was doing, and it turns out that i did not.
i left just enough mud on my rims that the snow was able to accumulate. by sunday morning, i had a good quarter inch of ice every couple of degrees around the circumference of each wheel. the bike would not roll, let alone brake smoothly, and i had 60 minutes until my race.
in desperation, i borrowed a hammer from the verge guys. i took an f'in hammer to my bike. i'll tell you what, there was no ice left on that bike just a few minutes later... nor was there much paint. also, to prevent further mishaps, i soaked that puppy in WD-40. lord knows how much damage i did.
SOOOO do not care.
Results
everyone got pulled out of the collegiate race. i would've liked to do more laps, but i am not as fast as jamey driscoll, or even as fast as captain chaz. on the one hand, this isn't the elite race, and goddammit i wanted to ride, but on the other hand, you want to keep the race safe.
now, i don't think it's too much to ask that when pulling people, the officials make some effort to keep track of who is where. these results are straight-up wrong. that said, it was an unforgettable race, and is there really a difference between 69th (which i'm pretty sure i got) and 101st (where they scored me)? no there is not.
words cannot describe how little i care.
what a weekend! i am all chapped lips and tired eyes and smiles. mostly smiles.
well, honestly, i knew this was going to be the case going in, but it's still a little shocking that so much clothing could get so dirty over 3 days. a big part of it is the fact that i like to be warm. warmth, in a kansas winter blizzard, comes from layers, and so i wore, and rewore, and rewore, everything i packed. this got a little stinky, but that rates so low on my care-o-meter that i'm surprised i even typed it.
i did overpack, though, and so i was left with some clean underwear and t-shirts. foolishly, i guess i expected that my clean clothing would be wearable during the coming week as i packed my bags on saturday night. on sunday, though, i raced, and then i spectated... with (good but not great) beer. my fingers went numb, and not "ooh it's chilly" numb, but "i wonder if i'm doing permanent damage?" numb. when the race bags became carryons, all of my muddy clothes and boots and gloves got tossed in with the clean stuff.
do. not. care.
Damaged Bicycle
our efforts to pre-ride the course on Saturday morning were cut a little short, leaving us about 20 minutes to roll around. 20 minutes was all it took for our bikes to get properly screwed, and we each spent more time trying to clean the bikes than we'd spent riding them. every bit of mud that got flung up from the course had ended up frozen to the brakes, the rims, the derailleurs, the cables. frozen solid. as it snowed sideways, we chipped away at the mud with plastic brush-handles, and the mud eventually fell away.
i was a little skeptical of charlie's technique. he actually took a screwdriver to his rims to clean off the braking surfaces, which struck me as a little risky. stabbing a bike with sharp metal is silly, but stabbing a centimeter from the tire is just loony. charlie, as usual, knew what he was doing, and it turns out that i did not.
i left just enough mud on my rims that the snow was able to accumulate. by sunday morning, i had a good quarter inch of ice every couple of degrees around the circumference of each wheel. the bike would not roll, let alone brake smoothly, and i had 60 minutes until my race.
in desperation, i borrowed a hammer from the verge guys. i took an f'in hammer to my bike. i'll tell you what, there was no ice left on that bike just a few minutes later... nor was there much paint. also, to prevent further mishaps, i soaked that puppy in WD-40. lord knows how much damage i did.
SOOOO do not care.
Results
everyone got pulled out of the collegiate race. i would've liked to do more laps, but i am not as fast as jamey driscoll, or even as fast as captain chaz. on the one hand, this isn't the elite race, and goddammit i wanted to ride, but on the other hand, you want to keep the race safe.
now, i don't think it's too much to ask that when pulling people, the officials make some effort to keep track of who is where. these results are straight-up wrong. that said, it was an unforgettable race, and is there really a difference between 69th (which i'm pretty sure i got) and 101st (where they scored me)? no there is not.
words cannot describe how little i care.
what a weekend! i am all chapped lips and tired eyes and smiles. mostly smiles.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
En Route to Nationals
Oh man. No cleverness in this blog post, I'm far too all-over-the-place. I just submitted the final project for my Cog Sci class, for which I had to start from scratch on Tuesday night. As you can imagine, that was more than a bit of a challenge, but here I am, still alive.
Somewhat fortunately, the team's flight to Kansas City was canceled due to weather. This gave me time to finish the paper now, rather than in Kansas. On the other hand, the scrambling that ensued, especially on the parts of Mark and FarmerAndy, was more stress than we'd anticipated.
Interesting factoid:
Under stress, an inert material like steel or glass has one of two options. It can bend like elastic, returning to its original shape once the stress is gone. Otherwise, it can deform like plastic, reorganizing on a molecular level so that it's never the same as it once was. Eventually, under enough stress, the material will fail.
Under stress, a biological material has these same options. However, after failing, (most) living tissue begins to regenerate. You need an X-ray just to tell if a bone has ever been broken. Scars are even harder than the original skin. Muscles actually need to be torn in order to grow.
My humongous laptop doesn't fit in my carry-on, so I'm leaving it at home. Maybe I'll borrow a laptop to blog from the Midwest, maybe I won't. I'm bringing my notebook, though, so I'll keep writing, and you'll just have to be patient.
I'm also bringing enough clothing to overheat an Eskimo. F'in Kansas in f'in December, I'll tell you what.
P.S. Welcome back, GI Mark
Somewhat fortunately, the team's flight to Kansas City was canceled due to weather. This gave me time to finish the paper now, rather than in Kansas. On the other hand, the scrambling that ensued, especially on the parts of Mark and FarmerAndy, was more stress than we'd anticipated.
Interesting factoid:
Under stress, an inert material like steel or glass has one of two options. It can bend like elastic, returning to its original shape once the stress is gone. Otherwise, it can deform like plastic, reorganizing on a molecular level so that it's never the same as it once was. Eventually, under enough stress, the material will fail.
Under stress, a biological material has these same options. However, after failing, (most) living tissue begins to regenerate. You need an X-ray just to tell if a bone has ever been broken. Scars are even harder than the original skin. Muscles actually need to be torn in order to grow.
My humongous laptop doesn't fit in my carry-on, so I'm leaving it at home. Maybe I'll borrow a laptop to blog from the Midwest, maybe I won't. I'm bringing my notebook, though, so I'll keep writing, and you'll just have to be patient.
I'm also bringing enough clothing to overheat an Eskimo. F'in Kansas in f'in December, I'll tell you what.
P.S. Welcome back, GI Mark
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