February 2005 Archives

Do me a favor, if you blog or your spouse blogs, take Jennie's survey.

I just finished watching The Italian Job(2003).

This is an excellent example of the beloved gentleman thief movie genre. While the movie smacked of annoying product placement it was fun to watch. It held my interest and I loved watching the heists occur with split second accuracy, but in the end the movie didn't grab me in any special way. I'll give it two and a half stars out of four.

Due to my suggestibility, I now want to buy a Mini in the worst way, of course.

I am amazed by the minds ability to replay past events. In the course of an ordinary day, something someone says or does will bring me back seven or eight years, and I can relive an event as if it were happening today. The intensity fades over time but the emotional surge can still be quick and powerful as on the day the remembered event occurred.

The difference between the event and the remembered event is the framing and perspective offered by time. The remembered events benefit from the frame and perspective of interpretation informed both by hindsight and emotional maturity.

Maybe the gift in memory is that the wounds of the past turned out to have been pregnant with the possibilities of a future reality shaped and made possible only by the wounds we suffered. Do I then covet the wounds or glibly tell myself in the middle of crisis that "what doesn't kill me makes me stronger?" No, mostly I'm glad I lived to tell the tale, but I wish I didn't have such interesting stories.

I've been informed that at least one friend thinks I post some weird stuff and that it is very strange that people should share their thoughts on such personal subjects with such a wide audience.

Next week, I'll talk about my underwear, just for you, I promise.

The judge ruling that the U.S. Government must charge or release Padilla is both a triumph for democracy and the rule of law.

I have no tolerance for terrorists nor for Presidents who lock people up indefinitely. This notion, might explain why I savaged President Lincoln in an essay in my 9th grade civics class.

[Link courtesy of Joel, who doesn't yet have his own blog.]

I ran across the following phrase in a book review in the Minneapolis Star Tribune today.

That's a great description of a female character in a book.

Beauty is an interesting topic to me at the moment. People who saw the pictures I took of "The Gates" or heard me talk about the experience, often asked "What does it mean?" I wasn't surprised to hear this question, but I was surprised at my own reaction. While I explained patiently, sometimes at great length to people what this work of art might mean, I was often thinking to myself, "Beauty doesn't require meaning or interpretation."

This take on life, that beauty is sufficient without meaning, might seem to place me in the minority, but I don't think it does. While people can't always wrap their head around avant-garde works of art that cost $20,000,000+, they all seemed to intuitively understand the joy and beauty of sunsets and fireworks.

Note to Self: Next time I self-destruct, do it with beauty.

I am so disturbed that if you plug the phrase 'placenta lasagna' into google, you get 559 hits. Someone convince me it's a hoax. Convince me that no one eats placenta, please, I'm begging you.

I just got an email that an old friend is blogging at quarterlifecrisis/vegan chai.

Welcome to blogging. I can't wait to see you "write yourself into existence on the web."

I love the phrase "quarterlife crisis." As someone who had a doozy of a time in life when I was about 25, it's a phrase I've thought about a lot. I still don't know why that was such a strange time of life for me. I know what led up to that point, but why did it reach a crescendo so suddenly?

I've been thinking a lot about my trip to New York. Rather than write one lengthy entry about the trip, I decided I would just drop the highlights one at a time into the blog. I'll start with the reason for my trip, The Gates.

The Gates were mind blowing. They were so odd; they seemed almost alien, like they had dropped from the sky. On Monday, when I was there, it had snowed in the morning, so the gates were starkly set apart from the white landscape in ways that probably made them even more of a contrast from the rest of the park. The day was cool and very overcast. The overcast and fog conspired to hide much of the city skyline and the caused the entire landscape to take on a muted gray coloration. The muted gray tones served as the perfect contrasting backdrop for the bright saffron gates.

While it might seem obvious, the fact that the viewer actually has an opportunity to enter into the art is a very powerful and palpable part of the experience. Since you don't just go through one isolated gate you become a very real part of the art. No matter where the eye fell on the landscape, it seemed like you could spot a gate somewhere. There are so many gates, the gates actually appear to recede into an infinite distance. This sense of an infinite landscape mirrored my experience in Manhattan as well. I am used to downtown areas that end, but Manhattan just seems to keep going in every direction as far as the eye can see.

I appreciated the fact that the color was a relatively non-political color so there weren't any nationalistic overtones. The fabric was very dense and had an interesting texture to them as well. Some were wet, probably from the occasional thrown snowball. At the same time the fabric was light enough to allow them to allow light to illuminate them from behind.

There was a sprinkling of volunteers in the park, who would answer questions and flip the fabric back if it got tangled around the gate in the wind.

The experience left me feeling very contemplative. I was with traveling companions, which made the experience a little strange for me as I felt like I had to engage in conversation or think about what they wanted to do or which direction they wanted to walk. The companionship I had on my trip with Larry, Eric and Rachel was hands down the best part of the trip and I loved the great times we had. At the same time I would have been happy to spend the day quietly walking without having to worry about anyone else. It's not out of selfishness, but rather having the time to really drink in the scene and stop when I wanted to stop, without worrying if I was bugging anyone else.

There were a ton of people walking in the park, including the actor Ben Stiller, who was pointed out to me by my compatriots. I loved people watching especially the people taking photographs. I took quite a few pictures of people taking pictures, which I call meta-photography.

Although my tickets were quite cheap, and my lodging was free, I've never spent so much money on art. When I look back at the trip, it was worth every penny and I would gladly do it again. The more I think about the trip the happier I feel about it.

Don't forget to check out the photos of the gates, if you haven't done so already.

It will take me a while to completely digest my whirl wind trip to New York City. It was an amazing trip.

While I digest my thoughts about the trip, feel free to look at some of the photos I took.

General New York photos

The Gates

The People I went with.

Recently, I had a full body massage. This was a first for me. I had two shiatsu massages in a massage chair a few years back. Both of those previous experiences were negative for me; it felt like someone was poking me repeatedly. I didn't feel any better afterwards than I did before.

The massage I had most recently was awesome. It was initially a little odd as the masseuse was both my acquaintance and the close friend of my wife's. I got to Jean's house and she escorted me to a basement office, which was equipped with a professional massage table. I was instructed to disrobe to whatever level I felt comfortable, after she left the room, and then I was to lie under a sheet. That moment, where she gave me those instructions felt odd. This experience was 100% professional and therapeutic mind you, but having this conversation with someone who I have a much more formal (and non disrobing) relationship was disconcerting initially. I followed her instructions and waited.

She came back in the room and started in on my shoulders. It was fabulous. She is a relatively small woman, but I learned that she is very strong and gave all my muscles a thorough going over. I felt fabulous afterwards. I can't remember feeling as relaxed as I did after my massage that night.

Two weeks later, she sends me a thank you note. I got a thank you note for laying there and grunting like a happy pig. How fabulous is that?

I'll be going back for more guaranteed.

I feel like somehow humanity has failed Koko somewhere along the line.

If it was even close to the month of April, I would have never believed this.

[Courtesty of b^2]

imagination

Just try it, I can't explain it. I don't even know why it makes me smile, it just does. If you can't smile, if you can't understand the joy, then you probably can't understand me.

Good news. My friend Larry at work found a super cheap flight to New York City. This means I am going to see The Gates at Central Park. Special thanks to Eric, who has agreed to let me sleep on his floor. While it was a cheap fare, it's by far the most money I've ever spent to see a work of art. I can't wait. Don't worry, I'll take my camera and blog about it.

The flickr slide show is awesome.

I think that there is a little too much breathless talk about how revolutionary blogs are. The hype feels too much like the late nineties. Pretty soon blogs will be said to cure the intractable ills of mankind like poverty, hunger, distribution of wealth, and providing justice for all.

That said, Peggy Noonan did write an interesting piece in the WSJ today, though that caught my attention. It's pretty clear that she gets blogging, at least the political/journalistic sort of blogs.

I found the following quote compelling.

I identify with Christopher Reeve's reaction. Some days, when I am reading some especially well written blog post, I am shocked that there was no charge for reading writing that good.

I had a similar reaction when I first came across the GNU manifesto and started using Free Software. I couldn't believe something so good could be free.

I had never seen Bourne Identity until this last weekend. I had seen Bourne Supremacy last summer and enjoyed it, but everyone said the first movie was better.

Since I recently signed up for a trial membership at netflix, I thought that I should see Bourne Identity and make up my own mind.

I thought the first movie was not quite as good. I liked the love interest, and thoroughly enjoyed the European scenery, but in the end the story wasn't all that satisfying to me. Perhaps it was because the unfolding plot of the first movie was essentially blown for me during the second movie. I did really enjoy the car chases and the cars driving the wrong way down the road sequence.

It was OK, but nothing that will change my life.

A few links to online tools for making graphics. I especially like the label maker.

• Label Maker
• Candy Heart Maker

A close friend of my wife's is quite the chef and has put up a super nice food related web site, North Woods Kitchen.

I am especially fond of her Crock Pot Steak Diane which I have eaten many times, it freezes really well if you like to make things ahead.

In the last few years I've grow very accustomed to using IM for both work and personal communication. I'm generally online a majority of my waking hours. I recently read a post, by Danah Boyd on the different kind of IM usage that neatly framed up the usage patterns I have experienced.

My stance is that IM is a valuable presence tool. I am "on" all day long. I not available to have a day long conversation, any more than you can stop by my office and stay for an entire day. Being present to my colleagues in India makes a huge difference in my effectiveness. I have tried to explain this to people who are entering into software development that spans geographic boundaries. Some people just don't seem to get it; they can't handle the idea that someone might message them and they don't have time to respond at just that moment. The same person knows exactly how to send a caller away from the office door, or how to ignore a ringing phone.

The odd thing about me is that I have no desire to carry a cell phone. A cell phone is simply another tool for being always on, that isn't terribly different from an IM client. Somehow the cell phone feels like more of a burden to me. I suppose the price of IM also plays into this decision. Would I use IM if I had to spend an extra $40 per month to use it?

So while Monica blogs about the riotous daffodils in London, I was greeted by the most beautiful snowfall of the year. The snow coated every branch of every tree like some artist had carefully applied fondant to a gingerbread scene. It was so warm most of the snow on the branches was gone by noon, but it was gorgeous while it lasted.

On many occasions I have sped through forests where every corner revealed a scene like the one in the photos above. In my mind, there is very little better than driving through snow covered woods, knowing you have a crackling fire, a soft bed, and someone you desire waiting for you at your destination.

It's Matthew's birthday today! Here are a few pictures from the weekend celebration.

Matthew will be five tomorrow. He was born on a Monday, and his birthday falls on Monday again this year.

He is such a great little guy. He loves being read to, playing with K'Nex & Legos & Duplos, and playing games like Uno & Trouble. In the summer he is a superb insect & amphibian wrangler. Much to our surprise, he even caught a live bird bare-handed last fall.

It's been amazing to see him grow from a tiny baby, through toddler-hood, and on to being a polite, thoughtful, creative, imaginative, precocious little boy.

I am so proud of him and I love him dearly.

It was five years ago this coming Saturday that my Grandmother passed away unexpectedly. She died the same day that pictures of Matthew arrived in the mail. She never saw them.

Grandma was the story teller in my extended family. She loved telling stories about her life. When I was very young I loved her stories. When I was a teen-ager the stories became un-cool and repetitive. By the time I began to appreciate them again, she was starting to forget them.

What can I tell you about her?

She had a horse named Beauty, she loved to dance when she was young, she won poetry contests in high school, the first time she kissed my grandfather all the lights in town turned off, her father beat her mercilessly, she carried herself with a sort of regal elegance, she loved Lucille Ball, she wore high heels very late into life, she was always cold, she loved to laugh, she liked word games, she was the quintessential pastor's wife and she loved her husband dearly.

I miss her.

Matthew and Jeannie stayed home, and didn't attend the funeral. Neither of them was in any shape to travel and I didn't want to risk either of them with the trip.

I gave the eulogy and her body was committed to the cold, sandy soil of the cemetery outside of town, where so many other family members are buried.

Matthew appears to have inherited her story-telling gene.

I asked the author, of the previously referenced how to slice things in the kitchen link, how to slice a mango. He responded with a link to "Basic Knife Skills", which has pictures and instructions for dealing with mangoes about 3/4 of the way down a very, very long page.

Perfect, I can't wait to try it.

Really nice diagrams of how to cut up things in the kitchen. i wish they showed mangos.

[Link Courtesy of Dave's Picks]

I was out for a walk around Langton Lake in Roseville over the lunch hour today. When I asked one of my co-workers for more detail about an interesting dream he happened to mention in passing, he responded with "No, you'll just blog about it."

Moi, I would never do that ... or would I.

So I'm not going to New York, thanks to a last minute change of plans. I'm very happy to be in town for Matthew's birthday and Valentine's Day of course, but I feel a little disappointed at not being able to see "The Gates." Maybe I'll get a poster.

I'll be in Manhattan next week for business. I've never been to New York before. New York in general and Manhattan in particular are so enshrined in my consciousness from movies, music, television and books it's going to be thrilling to experience it in person.

If anyone has any suggestion for my short trip, drop me a line or leave a comment.

I'm definitely going to check out The Gates which is an art project opening at Central Park.

The Gates is exactly the kind of art I've come to really enjoy lately. This installation is by design short lived, beautiful, and has no specific purpose beyond its own beauty.

Art like this reminds me of what it is to be human. It reminds me of fireworks and the brief after image of the pyrotechnics you see when you close your eyes. It reminds me of summer and summer love. It reminds me of poetry that no one writes down. It reminds me of a fabulous joke that no one can remember the next day and which even if recalled wouldn't be the same. it is the swirling of dresses and the feet of dancers moving to a tango. It reminds me of a kiss, though fleeting is long remembered. It reminds me of you.

It also reminds me of some poetic verses from the bible on the topic of human mortality.

I've always thought there is a kind of beauty and artistry in short lived but exquisite creations like this. For similar reasons I've always wanted to see a Mandala Sand Painting. I've always wanted to see one of these in person, particularly at the moment when they sweep it all up.

Saturday Jeannie and I went to see a live performance of A Prairie Home Companion at the Fitzgerald Theatre in St. Paul. The show was great. It was a lot of fun to see this radio show, which I've listened to for so long, performed in person. If you've never had the pleasure of seeing Garrison Keillor in person, you really should see him. My favorite quote from this love themed show was this.

After the show we headed over to the St Paul Grill for a nice quiet dinner. The earliest reservation I could get was 8:30 P.M. so we sat in the bar until our table was available. The bar was full; the only place to sit with room for two together was a table for five. I figured someone might sit down with us, which would be fine with me, as I like meeting interesting people. A few minutes later a threesome composed of elegantly dressed women, asked us if they could sit with us.

After a little small talk I learned that I had the pleasure of sitting with the mayor of Burnsville, Elizabeth Kautz and city council member Teresa Daly who recently ran for congress, albeit unsuccessfully, against incumbent congressman John Kline. It was fun to have even a relatively short conversation with such interesting and passionate people.

When I fired up iTunes today, I discovered a new feature of the music store. Called iTunes Essentials, it's like a list of really cool songs in a particular genre, by a particular artist, or related to a certain theme, for instance "00's Alternative Rock", "Stevie Wonder", "70's One Hit Wonders" or "Valentine's Day Alone."

The title of one of these collections caught my eye, "Gay Pride: Girls". I clicked on the link to check out what the "girls" might like. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that I share a remarkable musical affinity with demographic targeted by this Essentials Collection.

I've been accused of liking girl music; it turns out that perhaps what I really like is music that girls who like girls like. This explains a lot.

Here is an interesting first person account of Iraqi Out-Of Country Voting.

I love voting. I hope this election forms the basis of a democratic and peaceful tradition in Iraq. I hope it wasn't propaganda.

That's why I blog. I'm looking for my tribe.

That answer is so much more appealing to me than admitting that I am powerless over narcissism.

Earlier this year some friends gave birth to their very first child. The child is beautiful and healthy and the parents are adjusting well. When I saw them last Sunday, they showed off the baby and mentioned they were seeking a "new normal."

I didn't laugh or tease them about that concept. But inside of my head, I thought something like this.

"You're looking for normal? Say goodbye to normal. Normal just took a holiday and left no forwarding address or itinerary. Normal didn't say goodbye. Normal left in the middle of the night. I think I saw normal with your favorite pillow and your nicest suitcase. Normal, won't be sending you a postcard. Normal won't bother to call you collect on Mother's Day. Normal is gone. Normal also ran up your phone bill before leaving. You'll be more likely to find D.B. Cooper and Jimmy Hoffa pulling espresso at your local Starbucks, than to find normal again. If normal were locked in a turkish prison and you were the only one who could get him out, you still wouldn't get a call. The sooner you accept this and stop your denial and bargaining the sooner you can move on with your lives."

Of course, I had the decency to not say anything like this.

The good news is that in twelve months they might have feelings like this posting by Heather B. Armstrong that will make you forget your flirtation with normal. The quote below, from the very last paragraph of Heather's post, resonates with my experience of parenting.

Sometimes I get aggravated by the sheer amount of stuff I own.

I've been thinking about "stuff" lately as an old friend is moving this week and she has to pack and unpack it. When I move or even think about the effort involved in moving, I get aggravated thinking about all my stuff.

The same aggravation arises when I go camping and spend a few days existing with nothing more than what can fit in my pack or pockets, I am overcome by a desire to throw away everything I own when I get back home. All the stuff at home is weighed in my mind and registers as "too heavy". I think "Why do I have all these spoons, each person in the family only needs one?" Needless to say, I don't actually toss or burn everything, mostly because I am the only one in my household who really likes living out of a backpack.

On most days, I like my stuff right up until the point I have to maintain it, move it, feed it, care for it, and enslave myself to it.

So when I saw this, I was blown away. I can't even imagine living like this. I own nothing compared to this person.

Even though I can now smugly congratulate myself for not being "that bad" this house scares the pants off me. It makes me want to toss some stuff prophylactically.

Nothing I said about stuff applies to "my precious".

I finally got the iPod I've been dreaming of. I like to call it "the precious". It's phenomenal, with only a few nits. Syncing with multiple computers isn't quite as simple as I would expect it to be. I also want to know why it is so difficult to delete music? It seems like an easy feature to implement.

Now that I've got an iPod, I've been checking out podcasts. Some of these "shows" are terrible beyond belief, others are quite good. Once I find some podcasts that are consistently good I'll put some links up.

So I went to see Bowling For Soup, the much-blogged Texas joke-rockers.

Disclaimer: I don't see much live music. I especially don't go see live music at all-ages shows in small clubs, so your mileage may vary.

Here is a list of personal firsts associated with the show or at least the venue last night.

Crowd Surfing

I didn't actually participate in this, but there was a lot of it and it was close by. I was fascinated by this expression of pure rock and roll love. Larry offered me a boost up, so I could crowd surf. This caused the girl standing behind him to back away with a scared wide eyed look.

Hosed Down

Periodically, throughout the show, the security staff would squirt the audience with what looked like a garden style device for spraying pesticides. I hope it was water.

Teeny-boppers

I don't hang out with teenagers, and really haven't since high school. In this crowd, I felt really old. I wasn't the oldest person at the show, but it was obvious I was encroaching on the kids' territory just a little bit. There were parents at the show who drove their kids to the show and appeared to just endure the show.

Cell Phones Lighters

Everyone had cell phones, well everyone except me. During a rock ballad, people used their cell phones as mock digital lighters to express their solidarity with the band. People also took a lot of pictures with their phones. Given the quality of cell phone photos I have seen taken in well lit locations, I have to think that these aren't going to be hung in a museum for posterity.

Moshing

I've seen moshing plenty of times. This was the first time I joined in a little. Mostly I enjoyed shoving the moshers back into their little pit of whirling dervishness.

Reading during the show

There was a woman, who sat in the 21 and over section, and read through the entire show. I'm quite sure she had driven her children there. I talked to her for a minute, since I was dying to know what book could be so enthralling as to engage her when there was so much noise in the room. The book was "The Kitchen Boy"

So how was the music?

I really like the main act. The first two acts, MC Lars and Riddlin' Kids were simply endurance tests. The best thing about the first two acts was that for the first time in my life, I was quite confident that I could have done better than the performer on stage. American Hi-Fi, the third band was ok. They knew their own songs and had a much tighter sound. I could imagine listening to one of their songs on the radio and not turning the station.

Bowling for Soup, on the other hand, had a great sound. They played mostly from their last two albums, "Drunk Enough to Dance" & "A Hangover You Don't Deserve", with a few older songs thrown in. They also threw in the classic rocker, "Sweet Home Alabama" crafted to remove the bit about actually loving the governor.

They were very expressive on stage, especially the lead guitar player Eric. Eric bugged Larry (the only person to go to the show of the 40 odd people I invited) to no end, but I thought his odd hand motions and movements were inspired and rather funny.

The band constantly joked on stage. Most of it was rather low-brow as one might expect but there were a few gems mixed in. A few times BFS stopped mid way through a rocking song to crack a few jokes. This was cute the first time, but the gag wore thin after a while.

All in all I really enjoyed it. It was especially fun to see the band with an enthusiastic audience who could sing along with most of the songs. I would probably see them again if given the option.

No matter how much I liked the music, I am in no hurry to go to another all ages show at a club. I am a fan of quiet conversation. Having to shout in the ear of the person next to you can make the evening seem long.