At about 8:30 this morning, FedEx finally granted me deliverance from my travel trials. See you on Sunday.
Monthly Archive for September, 2005
Well, tomorrow morning I am heading off to London. I won’t be updating my blog for a few days, so I thought I’d catch up on a bunch of things to tide y’all over. So, recently in my life…
In Hope, Indiana they have this sweet thing called the Hope Ride. It’s a bunch of people getting on bicycles and riding some distance, up to 100 miles. And they pay a little money and collect donations, and all that goes to a local food bank.
I donated some money, like $11 plus whatever they took out of my $28 registration fee, but that’s really not why it was totally sweet. It was totally sweet because I got up at like 5am to drive up there with my friends Kristy and Josh and my new friend (and Kristy’s old friend) Colleen. I met Colleen at Adam’s party but I totally forgot about it. Anyway, it was just insanely fun because A) it was boy-girl-boy-girl, which is just a great dynamic (but of course C and J are in love with other people, so there was no goddamn scheming which plagues other boy-girl-boy-girl scenarios). B), they had great food lined up every 15 miles or so–wheat thins and those sterile $0.19 brownies you get at 7-11 and gatorade and everything in between. And C) we rode 60+ miles, which just makes you feel great.
Did I mention the root beer floats and pancakes and awesome weather? No? Well, there was that too. Plus cool t-shirts and a mug that says Wedgie Ride ‘05 or something, but I think Kristy mentioned that on her blog already.
So that’s one thing. Another thing is that I gave a talk at the i-Light symposium up in Indianapolis last week. That involved basically a week or two of large amounts of stress coupled with large amounts of procrastination, and medium amounts of highly productive work. I spent two weekends ago working on the computer game I wrote for the table, optimising it so it actually runs smoothly with a million sheep on the screen, and so that you can actually interact with it even when everything is going nuts.
Then I ran a few people through the study, coordinating schedules and double-booking at all that fun jazz. But people came in and finally used this thing that I’ve been working on for half a year, which was gratifying.
Then I took the videotapes and watched them a bunch of times and tried to pick out some pearls of wisdom, and made a presentation and some slick video footage and then after a frantic night of preparation trucked up to Indy and give my talk and then slid back down in time for Hofstadter class at 2:30.
People seemed to like my talk… the session chair and one of the other presenters stayed behind afterward and had a bunch of questions for me. People laughed while I was speaking and paid attention, and I think I convinced them that I was doing something interesting, if basic. So that felt good even though it was crazy and frantic.
Friday night I cooked some indian food and had some friends over… I made a Matar Paneer, an Aloo Gobi, a simple Dal, a kind of whole wheat flatbread, and some cucumber raita. I think it was perhaps a little spicy for some people, but it seemed to go over well. And what do I care, I had some friends over, I spent the afternoon cooking delicious food, I drank some wine, and it just capped my week in the most perfect possible way.
After some glorious sleeping, I went for a great run and then went to Kristy’s for the bonfire. The run was great because it was fast, and I don’t normally run for speed. I like to set a pace, and then go for distance, because then all I have to do is NOT STOP, and I feel like crap even if I am stumbling along. If I have to push myself constantly, I often forget to, or just don’t feel like pushing anymore. Anyway, I digress. So, I went for this run, and it was nice.
The bonfire was really fun. I brought the leftover wine from Friday because I was in a wine kind of mood, and we roasted marshmallows and we stayed our ridiculously late and it was generally a fun time. It was one of those parties that anyone could walk into and say “this is pretty cool”. I mean, sitting around a bonfire on the farm drinking red wine.
But enough of that. What else has been happening?
Oh, I spent this whole week running around like a chicken with my legs cut off, hemmorhaging money to try to get a passport so that I could go to London. In the end I had to push my flight back 24 hours, which means I didn’t get to fly out with kate and I am going to miss all the fun tomorrow, but at least I’ll be able to go. Assuming FedEx gets here before 10:30 like they said they would.
Yesterday, in addition to being publically embarrased by Marty (well, I agreed to it) I presented some of my ideas for my capstone. I think the responses were ranged between “that’s interesting, but you need to think about X” to “it’s been tried. you’re not doing anything new.” to “what the f are you talking about?” I definitely need to work on my explanation of what exactly I am talking about. But that’s what I was trying to figure out.
Regardless a bunch of people stayed late to keep talking about it for at least a half an hour. And I think in my meeting with Yvonne I started convincing her it was an interesting topic. She gave me some good advice and things to read, and I think I’ll be well on my way when I get back.
Unfortunately, there are already two crises lined up: I have to give a lecture (most likely) on Monday in social informatics. And on Thursday I am leading class in Structure of Information Environments. So I’m going to go ahead and try to start working on these things ahead of time. AKA on the plane. I am hoping that the freshness of recent freneticism will cause me to be more pre-emptive.
Anyway, that’s a bit of catch up. I have to get my laundry finished up, get my bags packed, and perhaps finish my painting. All of you who sent me your address I’ll try to send a card to, but I won’t be checking my email much over the break. And I might disable the comments so that I don’t get all the comment spam.
Hey there friends. I would like an excuse to write you, so please email me your mailing address some time before tomorrow evening so I can send you a postcard from london. Send it to erik@snowedin.net.
Just got back from a mid-night run around the pond. I am dripping. The ground was wet and the moon was covered in clouds so I had to run slowly and carefully. The trail was littered with lightning bugs stuck in the mud like fallen stars. The back of my neck was lit up with the rush of danger… danger of falling, of encountering another human being, of getting lost. My feet sank into the mud, the thocks and sloshes gently rapping at my ears, the smell of dirt and leaves awakened by the rain. As I stopped to walk down to the shore, I stood on a rotting log to look out across the water, nearly flat in the still of the night–just a gentle ripple reflecting the purple haze of far off civilization.
Most of us leave our senses at home when we go to work in the morning. Our ears don’t hear the jangle of phones ringing, and our eyes don’t see the beehive of cubicles, we only see and hear deadlines and comprimises. Sometimes we need to step outside of our normal lives to really see and hear and smell and taste again.
There are a lot of things I do on the computer automatically, mostly procrastinatory things. I can very quickly open up a web browser and pull up my email and a variety of news sites and blogs. Or open up the form to add a new blog entry. It’s automatic. But there’s one page I pull up that, when I think about it, is a little weird.
It’s this page.
I pull it up a lot. I guess partially, it’s to see what new Texas Hold-Em sites are out there that I can check out. Partially it’s to see if there are any new comments on here, but not really–I find about those via email. So why do I do it? I’ll give you a hint: I do it before I am about to get up from the computer.
This is a riddle I only solved today. The answer is that checking out my weblog before I get off the computer is looking in the mirror to check my hair before I walk out the door. I want to know, “how do I look this week?” Am I pathetic? Am I interesting? Am I fake? Am I vulnerable?
And it’s strange this week. I’m reckless, broken, contemplative, and creative. Looking at myself in the mirror has a big effect on what I write next. This entry is more closed, less inflammatory, and trying to be a little more insightful than the last. I’m at the GAP getting a new shirt because I think the one I am wearing is a looking a little ragged.
I just booked my rental car for tomorrow with Campus Car Rental or whatever the hosana they are called. Do you like that use of the hosana? I like it. In the highest.
It was nice, the girl on the phone was very Mom and Pop, and totally not a Nazi. She didn’t even ask if I was under 25. Score. Also, it was only like $25 plus insurance. She even asked if I was a smoker, which may indicate that I’ll get a car that doesn’t stank. The car I got from Enterprise last time smelled like the Marlboro Man had gone all Jihad and used it for a suicide bombing.
I just thought I would write those two paragraphs so half of you get offended and the other half think less of me for writing like a 14 year old.
Praise be.
Today on 10th Street my shoe fell off while riding my bike. I slowed down, pulled up on the curb and ran back to get it. A hippie in a van shook his head empathetically.
Tonight on Allen Street, I fell off my bike entirely. I don’t even really remember how it happened, but I was going very slowly and somehow my bike got twisted around and I was heading for the ground. My brand new helmet took a little bit of a blow, but my head is fine. The contents of my bag took a four foot dive for the pavement. Papers were scattered, my laptop was lying in the rode, and my iPod was somewhere in the mess. I untangled myself from my bike, in mild shock.
I quickly tossed my wrenched bike on the grass and then grabbed handfuls of stuff to toss in with it. I kicked off my shoes, and pulled out my iPod and walked down the block. The night sky was nice.
I had been avoiding riding my bike while listening to music (dangerous and all) but I said to myself, “christ, if I fell off the bike without music, I might as well enjoy the next fall to some good tunes.” Faulty logic, probably due to excess brain juices.
So I untwisted my bike, snapped my breaks out of the bicycle spokes, and rode home with Spiritualized on repeat.
Thinking about going to New Hampshire for a week with Modest Mouse. Thinking about going to see some jazz with someone. Probably neither will happen. Maybe both will.
I have been searching for a musical antidote to my emotional ailments with little success lately. I’ve tried The Arcade Fire, DeVotchka, Badly Drawn Boy, Radiohead, and a few others, but every one of them puts me in a place I don’t want to be.
Last night I was chatting with someone, and they said “good times”. In my head I started singing in falsetto “the good times are killing me…” and something clicked and I rediscovered my Modest Mouse collection. I listened to the song, and it helped, but I kept listening to other stuff. Because of the rain I slept at the office, with my headphones on and “The Shining” (Badly Drawn Boy) on repeat. The maintenance guy woke me up… he needed to vacuum the room, and I think he thought I was a wyno. So I rode home, stopping at the grocery store, and went into the kitchen.
In my no-sleep early morning haze I put the headphones back on and spun my shiny new iPod to Modest Mouse, and…
yes. This is it.
Ice-age, heat wave… can’t complain.
If the world’s at large, why should I remain?
Walked away to another plan.
Gonna find another place, maybe one I can stand.
I move on to another day,
to a whole new town with a whole new way.
Went to the porch to have a thought.
Got to the door and again, I couldn’t stop.
You don’t know where and you don’t know when.
But you still got your words and you got your friends.
Walk along to another day.
Work a little harder, work another way. (listen)
Last night was pretty cathartic overall. I had some wierd experiences. A friend started IMing me and I, for some reason, mistook her screen name for Niamh’s and started talking to her as if it was Niamh. This lasted for several minutes before I realized what was going on. It landed somewhere between surreal and truly f’ed up.
It was mostly just me talking about what I’ve been up to, so it’s not like it was wierd in that respect. I don’t even think my friend knew anything was up. But damn.
I also spent a long time talking to Sarah about renting a cabin on a lake in New Hampshire for a week. This is an idea I’ve been thinking about for a few weeks now… renting a ratty old cabin on a middle-of-nowhere lake where we can go swimming and canoeing, and have campfires and generally get the f out of civilization for a while. I’m not sure I can really make this happen, but god it would be good for me.
Is it allowed to skip a week of classes to go sit on a lake for a week?
I just found another long lost song that is doing me well…
I feel safe, I feel warm
When you’re here, then I do no wrong
I am cured, when I’m by your side
I’m alright, alright
I am safe, when I am with you
And I feel warm, if you want me to
I am cured, when I’m by your side
I’m alright (listen)
things tumble as they fall. it’s not even possible to control that, unless you are some sort of skydiver. and especially not if you are a paper cutout from a cereal box.
aren’t there armies of others like you, lined up on the ground down there? other little people, cut out of the back of boxes of Kix or Corn Flakes? how did they get down there without dying? how can you get down there without dying?
it sucks when you are made of paper. you flap and you tumble and you crease and you tear and you shred. it can be terrible. of course when you stop to think, you notice the other paper cutouts falling nearby. but they are no better off.
you’d think you could get together with those, the cutouts up here with you, falling and tumbling and creasing. but the spinning is so fast, by the time you try to do something, your ass is where you head was, your middle is folded in half and whipped around to the side. a cowboy off a box of Raisin bran flaps by your arm. a beautiful girl off of a box of Special K slams into you head on, and you spin wildly out of control. paper cuts tear your face, flurries of movement cloud your existence, and then …
… you stop for a moment. the air pushes back up at you. molecules align like irrigation canals flowing around your little paper body. your little paper mind forgets where it was. you see the throngs below, and almost feel like you are there, safe with all of them, tall, creaseless and free.
but with the passage of the moment, the air tears at you again, returning you to your rightful turbulence. such is the way of paper dropped from a plane. a long spinning descent is the card you were dealt.
I had a wonderful birthday: thanks to everyone for the wishes, the gifts, and he company.
Right now I’m listening to music I haven’t listened to in a while.
A french horn and a cello talk. The road hums underneath them. Headlights fly by in the opposite direction.
How do pieces of a puzzle feel sealed in a box that may never be opened? And how do they feel when they are snapped into a jagged ring only to be given up on and returned to the box, clinging to whatever neighboring pieces they can?
Feeling like a puzzle piece between couch cushions.