This is a continuation to part one, so it might make more sense to start there first.
On my drive into work a podcast was coincidentally queued up to make sure I didn't tuck this incident away and ignore it. The podcast in question was an episode of "The Anthropocene Reviewed". The premise of the show is "John Green reviews facets of the human-centered planet on a five-star scale."
Each episode has two parts. I had already listened to the bit on velociraptors and the confusion Michael Crichton created with the Jurassic Park movies, so the second half about the movie "Harvey" was waiting for me. I had actually heard John perform this episode live at PodCon in January, but now it was up in the feed for me to experience again.
In the Harvey segment John talks about when he was in his twenties and worked for Booklist in Chicago, and he was having a crushing episode of depression. Alone in his apartment, feeling unable to even feed himself properly, much less pull himself out of the tailspin, he reached out to his parents. Thankfully they were at his doorstep twelve hours later, and he would return with them to Florida to get the help he needed.
But first he had to go into work and quit. After breaking down in tears in front of his boss, the boss was quiet for a moment before telling John to consider this a leave of absence. His job would be there when he felt better.
Later in the day as he was packing up his desk he found a note his boss had dropped off after their discussion. Along with the well wishes and confidence that he would be back, he told John "now more than ever, watch Harvey."
After discussing the movie and its part in his recovery, John said something to the effect of "I hope you never find yourself on the floor of your kitchen, I hope you never cry in front of your boss desperate with pain, but I hope that if you do, you find those in your life are understanding and will give you the help you need."
Just a few hours later, I was crying in front of my boss.
He had come into my office to discuss the workload, which files to focus on, etc. At the end of this he must of recognized something, because he asked if I was doing OK. I couldn't get a word out before I was sobbing uncontrollably once again. He was kind about it, offering what he could, mostly just listening and staying with me until I had pulled the pieces back together.
I shared the story of this March day with a few people in person shortly after it happened, partly to be more open, partly to try and understand my story in the telling. They were all very kind, offering their time and support. I made it through the next month and a half of crazy work hours and now find myself with more time and energy to think. I told my boss in the moment that I didn't think counseling was the answer. It really did feel different that day, something beyond words to fix, but now I don't know. The episode was obviously primed by fatigue, recent sadness, and a few things outside myself bringing depression to the top of my mind. Was it just the dam breaking and unleashing a torrent, or was it something more chemical.
Next post we'll be back to running for a bit, but there is more to think about, more to talk about.
If you want to listen to the episode of The Anthropocene Reviewed, there is a little web player below.
Oh, and I have been waiting in line since PodCon in January to borrow Harvey from the library. I guess the movie is too old to show up on Netflix or Amazon Prime.
I get to pick it up tomorrow.
Showing posts with label podcasts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label podcasts. Show all posts
April 23, 2019
October 7, 2017
Maybe someday, maybe not
My ex-wife is engaged to be married again.
She sent me a message a while back to let me know. She didn't want me to find out about it through a mutual friend or on Facebook. We have not had much contact in the past few years, but she continues to be kind and thoughtful whenever a life event from either of us prompts a message.
Even seven-ish years down the road, the message raised a swell of sadness that had been building. It wasn't from any hope of us ever getting back together. Other than knowing she remains a caring person, I do not know much about her these days. No, the sad feeling was more a reminder of what is missing in my life, what has been gone for some time now.
I have not been in a relationship for a couple of years now. Recently I had this thing going on with someone I knew. Our friendship veered into some new territory. She did not want a relationship, and truth be told, I don't know that we would have made a very good couple, but there was some sort of spark that pushed its way through. It was ill-defined - casual but not superficial. I have never seen anyone casually before, nor have I ever had a friends-with-benefits sort of arrangement, but it was new and exciting.
Two days before my ex sent me the note about her engagement, I found out that the friend I was spending time with was now in a relationship. It was sort of a one-two punch, rejection present and past reminding me of how alone I felt, and it made me think again how that may never change.
Before you raise any arguments - yes, I know I am not actually alone. I have a wonderful family and more dear friends than would be expected of this awkward introvert. And I am thankful.
But it is not the same.
I want the belonging in one on one. I want to have one person I am hoping for when a text comes through. Someone to share moments, exciting and seemingly dull. Someone who I will make mistakes with, but who believes that although my heart is often awkward, it is always in the right place. I want a deeper connection that physical and emotional intimacy brings. And yes I want love.
But I don't know that I will ever find it again. For several years now, I have begun to acknowledge (if not accept) that I will not find love again. There is no guarantee that I would - no man behind the curtain pulling the strings or some guiding hand of fate.
I was listening to a podcast recently with an interview with Aimée Lutkin about her article (links below) where she had told her friends as much. There were the immediate objections that "but you're so pretty/funny/smart." "You'll find love when you stop looking/least expect it." "You're not trying hard enough." Her responses:
Believing this casual thing might work was probably born out of all this. There were no relationships on the horizon, and I needed to embrace any connection that made me feel more human. The resulting feelings of loss prove to me that I really miss those connections, and that something casual is not enough, a stop gap at best.
The woman on the podcast still hopes that she finds love, but that she is done wishing and waiting. It is a conscious choice to stop the feeling that her life is in a temporary state (without a partner) and that things won't truly get moving forward until this period ends. And if there is some magic spell that can be cast to make someone come to you when you least expect it, well her article may be just that.
I am not so strong to say that my life would be complete even if I never found love again, but a growing part of me wants to live my life as if it would be. To focus on what is important to my happiness and enrich connections to the people who are in my life. To find passion outside of romance. But I have not yet given up hope. I still look, if clumsily.
There is something in my life that has been taking up much of my time the past few months, which may make it easier or harder to meet someone, or it may indicate I am not ready yet.
Podcast link: Why Oh Why episode 17: Alone Forever
Article by Aimée Lutkin: When Can I Say I'll Be Alone Forever?
She sent me a message a while back to let me know. She didn't want me to find out about it through a mutual friend or on Facebook. We have not had much contact in the past few years, but she continues to be kind and thoughtful whenever a life event from either of us prompts a message.
Even seven-ish years down the road, the message raised a swell of sadness that had been building. It wasn't from any hope of us ever getting back together. Other than knowing she remains a caring person, I do not know much about her these days. No, the sad feeling was more a reminder of what is missing in my life, what has been gone for some time now.
I have not been in a relationship for a couple of years now. Recently I had this thing going on with someone I knew. Our friendship veered into some new territory. She did not want a relationship, and truth be told, I don't know that we would have made a very good couple, but there was some sort of spark that pushed its way through. It was ill-defined - casual but not superficial. I have never seen anyone casually before, nor have I ever had a friends-with-benefits sort of arrangement, but it was new and exciting.
Two days before my ex sent me the note about her engagement, I found out that the friend I was spending time with was now in a relationship. It was sort of a one-two punch, rejection present and past reminding me of how alone I felt, and it made me think again how that may never change.
Before you raise any arguments - yes, I know I am not actually alone. I have a wonderful family and more dear friends than would be expected of this awkward introvert. And I am thankful.
But it is not the same.
I want the belonging in one on one. I want to have one person I am hoping for when a text comes through. Someone to share moments, exciting and seemingly dull. Someone who I will make mistakes with, but who believes that although my heart is often awkward, it is always in the right place. I want a deeper connection that physical and emotional intimacy brings. And yes I want love.
But I don't know that I will ever find it again. For several years now, I have begun to acknowledge (if not accept) that I will not find love again. There is no guarantee that I would - no man behind the curtain pulling the strings or some guiding hand of fate.
I was listening to a podcast recently with an interview with Aimée Lutkin about her article (links below) where she had told her friends as much. There were the immediate objections that "but you're so pretty/funny/smart." "You'll find love when you stop looking/least expect it." "You're not trying hard enough." Her responses:
- Pretty/funny/smart guarantee nothing, if maybe expanding your pool of applicants.
- I have stopped looking for years. how much more can I not look?
- Let me show you all the apps and all the advice I have already tried.
Believing this casual thing might work was probably born out of all this. There were no relationships on the horizon, and I needed to embrace any connection that made me feel more human. The resulting feelings of loss prove to me that I really miss those connections, and that something casual is not enough, a stop gap at best.
The woman on the podcast still hopes that she finds love, but that she is done wishing and waiting. It is a conscious choice to stop the feeling that her life is in a temporary state (without a partner) and that things won't truly get moving forward until this period ends. And if there is some magic spell that can be cast to make someone come to you when you least expect it, well her article may be just that.
I am not so strong to say that my life would be complete even if I never found love again, but a growing part of me wants to live my life as if it would be. To focus on what is important to my happiness and enrich connections to the people who are in my life. To find passion outside of romance. But I have not yet given up hope. I still look, if clumsily.
There is something in my life that has been taking up much of my time the past few months, which may make it easier or harder to meet someone, or it may indicate I am not ready yet.
Podcast link: Why Oh Why episode 17: Alone Forever
Article by Aimée Lutkin: When Can I Say I'll Be Alone Forever?
March 16, 2014
Like a real Gomer
Work, already busy, has transitioned into the crazy season. The first tax deadline is tomorrow, and April 15th is now just 30 days, 9 hours and some odd minutes away (not that we're counting). My brain is full, and my body rather weary. It is surprising how physically smoked you can feel sitting at a desk for twelve hours a day. Many days I think I was less wiped out when working construction all day.
Things became more difficult when we had one of our staff resign unexpectedly last week. When you are a team of four, that creates quite an impact, especially at the busiest time of year. It will be for the best in the end, but the next month is looking pretty ugly for those of us remaining.
The long hours don't leave much time to get out for a run these days. I can still count on a run Saturday mornings, and a bike ride on Sunday, but those mid-week three milers are getting tougher to fit in. I am fortunate that my apartment has a treadmill I can use since I am getting home long after dark. Still, it has been getting tougher to talk myself into a run after getting home after 8:00. But I said I would, so I really try.
Who did I commit to? My trainer, my friends, my family? No, I committed to a podcast, a website, a community. The podcast, "Marathon Talk" runs a challenge for January through March called "Jantastic". You commit to a certain number of runs in January, add in a determined long run in February, and shoot for a goal time in March. It is set up as motivation to keep active over the winter months when most of us lose our mojo. Unfortunately, it comes at the busiest time of year for me, but of course it is also when I need to clear my head the most.
I failed to get in either mid-week run this week. Beyond the work drama, I have been fighting some flu-like junk in my chest, so I thought it best to falter in the short term in order to make it to the finish line. I was still far from 100% Saturday morning, but I headed out for five miles before going into the office.
I took with me another great podcast, "Two Gomers Race a Triathlon". I have written about them here before, but the podcast is about a couple of guys who are trying to do something outside their comfort zone, maybe a little bit scary, to improve themselves and maybe add a few years to their lives. The started out by tackling half marathons, then a couple of full marathons, and now their first triathlon.
As the title implies, they don't take themselves too seriously. They share their journey as they try to figure it all out, without editing out their failures or freakouts. There have been stumbles, including getting hit by a Smart Car, but they always make it to the start line eventually.
It is funny how much of a community some of these podcasts create. Not all of them are this way. Though I love "This American Life", "Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me" and "Stuff you Should Know", these feel more like shows I tune into. Podcasts like Two Gomers and Pheddipidations feel more like friends I run with, something I am part of. The Gomers call their listeners "The Gomer Nation" and I think I am Gomer #8.
But I digress.
I was out on my run yesterday, listening to the episode where they were finally getting their bikes for the triathlon. They had been riding stationary bikes so far, waiting out the winter and trying to raise money. Steven had mentioned a month earlier that he had contacted a local guy who buys and sells used bikes. Steven told him he had this stupid cruiser bike he wanted to trade in, hoping to get some sort of road bike. Except that he pronounced "stupid" as "stAWpid" in this great, self-depreciating, Wisconsin accent.
I rarely write in. I am more of a listener, reader and lurker. Occasionally though, I feel like I need to thank these podcasters for all they do, creating content and community, all for free. I had written in to Pheddipidations to thank him for motivating me to get back out on the road when I was feeling at my lowest. It was strange to hear him read my letter in a later podcast, reinforcing this feeling of community. When I laughed out loud to "stAWpid" a couple of weeks ago, I dropped a line to The Gomers letting them know how funny I thought it was, and hoped the the bike seller who laughed as well cut him a deal on the bike swap.
Yesterday, Steven had finally made the swap and traded in his cruiser for a "vintage" touring bike. As he started the story, he emphasized how "stAWpid" his cruiser seemed now, and then said, "That was for you, Sean Day." I have to say, it made my day. It was like hearing your name at mile 22, when the marathon has just about beaten you down. It gives you a burst of energy, one I really needed yesterday after a long week. I laughed out loud once again, and actually raised my arms in some sort of victory display.
Like a real Gomer.
Things became more difficult when we had one of our staff resign unexpectedly last week. When you are a team of four, that creates quite an impact, especially at the busiest time of year. It will be for the best in the end, but the next month is looking pretty ugly for those of us remaining.
The long hours don't leave much time to get out for a run these days. I can still count on a run Saturday mornings, and a bike ride on Sunday, but those mid-week three milers are getting tougher to fit in. I am fortunate that my apartment has a treadmill I can use since I am getting home long after dark. Still, it has been getting tougher to talk myself into a run after getting home after 8:00. But I said I would, so I really try.
Who did I commit to? My trainer, my friends, my family? No, I committed to a podcast, a website, a community. The podcast, "Marathon Talk" runs a challenge for January through March called "Jantastic". You commit to a certain number of runs in January, add in a determined long run in February, and shoot for a goal time in March. It is set up as motivation to keep active over the winter months when most of us lose our mojo. Unfortunately, it comes at the busiest time of year for me, but of course it is also when I need to clear my head the most.
I failed to get in either mid-week run this week. Beyond the work drama, I have been fighting some flu-like junk in my chest, so I thought it best to falter in the short term in order to make it to the finish line. I was still far from 100% Saturday morning, but I headed out for five miles before going into the office.
I took with me another great podcast, "Two Gomers Race a Triathlon". I have written about them here before, but the podcast is about a couple of guys who are trying to do something outside their comfort zone, maybe a little bit scary, to improve themselves and maybe add a few years to their lives. The started out by tackling half marathons, then a couple of full marathons, and now their first triathlon.
As the title implies, they don't take themselves too seriously. They share their journey as they try to figure it all out, without editing out their failures or freakouts. There have been stumbles, including getting hit by a Smart Car, but they always make it to the start line eventually.
It is funny how much of a community some of these podcasts create. Not all of them are this way. Though I love "This American Life", "Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me" and "Stuff you Should Know", these feel more like shows I tune into. Podcasts like Two Gomers and Pheddipidations feel more like friends I run with, something I am part of. The Gomers call their listeners "The Gomer Nation" and I think I am Gomer #8.
But I digress.
I was out on my run yesterday, listening to the episode where they were finally getting their bikes for the triathlon. They had been riding stationary bikes so far, waiting out the winter and trying to raise money. Steven had mentioned a month earlier that he had contacted a local guy who buys and sells used bikes. Steven told him he had this stupid cruiser bike he wanted to trade in, hoping to get some sort of road bike. Except that he pronounced "stupid" as "stAWpid" in this great, self-depreciating, Wisconsin accent.
I rarely write in. I am more of a listener, reader and lurker. Occasionally though, I feel like I need to thank these podcasters for all they do, creating content and community, all for free. I had written in to Pheddipidations to thank him for motivating me to get back out on the road when I was feeling at my lowest. It was strange to hear him read my letter in a later podcast, reinforcing this feeling of community. When I laughed out loud to "stAWpid" a couple of weeks ago, I dropped a line to The Gomers letting them know how funny I thought it was, and hoped the the bike seller who laughed as well cut him a deal on the bike swap.
Yesterday, Steven had finally made the swap and traded in his cruiser for a "vintage" touring bike. As he started the story, he emphasized how "stAWpid" his cruiser seemed now, and then said, "That was for you, Sean Day." I have to say, it made my day. It was like hearing your name at mile 22, when the marathon has just about beaten you down. It gives you a burst of energy, one I really needed yesterday after a long week. I laughed out loud once again, and actually raised my arms in some sort of victory display.
Like a real Gomer.
February 14, 2014
Valentine's Day
It is just another Friday, really, but it started off well. I walked out the door, still greeted by my reversed Welcome mat.
My apartment has interior hallways, and one time after they vacuumed, they set my Welcome mat in reverse. I have decided to leave it this way. Now the world welcomes me every morning, and it starts me off on the right foot.
Anyway, as I left the parking garage, there were two deer walking across the road to the grassy area near my building. I had just reset my phone, so there was no chance for a photo, so I just paused and stared at them for a moment. They were still, but ready to move if I did. So I didn't. I eventually drove on, my heart rate down just a bit.
Not a block later, I reached the apartment office where they were handing out donuts and coffee. The managers had mentioned this a couple of weeks ago, but one small bonus of a bad memory is you get to be surprised more than most. I hadn't even left the complex, and a Valentines Day with no expectations was starting off well.
I reached for the iPod to choose a podcast to listen to on the way in to work. I had seen this great Google Doodle when I turned on the computer to catch up on things over breakfast.
When you click on each candy heart, you are treated (treated, ha!) to a different short story about love produced by Ira Glass and This American Life. The doodle changes each day, but I think this (link) is a more permanent one so you can check it out whenever you wish. I only had time to click on two of them before heading out, but This American Life was on my mind when I reached for the iPod, and I found a Valentine's Day episode waiting for me.
The intro segment was a repeat of the segment I wrote about six years ago in a post Never tell me the odds. In it, the authors present a picture of what a long shot it is to find your special someone, with a spin on the Drake equation. When I originally heard and wrote about the story, I was part-way through marriage counseling that would ultimately fail. Even though I don't subscribe to the theory that there is only one person out there...the odds were long back then, and now, well...
That said, Valentine's Day is not a bummer. Sure, it would be wonderful to have a special someone in my life again, but I still feel like a not-ready-for-prime-time-player. I am caught between feeling like I am and would be a better partner, and being unsure that I have enough to give just yet. So I am not really looking. Of course, so many of these stories seem to say that it that is exactly when you find love.
But what are the odds of that?
My apartment has interior hallways, and one time after they vacuumed, they set my Welcome mat in reverse. I have decided to leave it this way. Now the world welcomes me every morning, and it starts me off on the right foot.
Anyway, as I left the parking garage, there were two deer walking across the road to the grassy area near my building. I had just reset my phone, so there was no chance for a photo, so I just paused and stared at them for a moment. They were still, but ready to move if I did. So I didn't. I eventually drove on, my heart rate down just a bit.
Not a block later, I reached the apartment office where they were handing out donuts and coffee. The managers had mentioned this a couple of weeks ago, but one small bonus of a bad memory is you get to be surprised more than most. I hadn't even left the complex, and a Valentines Day with no expectations was starting off well.
I reached for the iPod to choose a podcast to listen to on the way in to work. I had seen this great Google Doodle when I turned on the computer to catch up on things over breakfast.
When you click on each candy heart, you are treated (treated, ha!) to a different short story about love produced by Ira Glass and This American Life. The doodle changes each day, but I think this (link) is a more permanent one so you can check it out whenever you wish. I only had time to click on two of them before heading out, but This American Life was on my mind when I reached for the iPod, and I found a Valentine's Day episode waiting for me.
The intro segment was a repeat of the segment I wrote about six years ago in a post Never tell me the odds. In it, the authors present a picture of what a long shot it is to find your special someone, with a spin on the Drake equation. When I originally heard and wrote about the story, I was part-way through marriage counseling that would ultimately fail. Even though I don't subscribe to the theory that there is only one person out there...the odds were long back then, and now, well...
That said, Valentine's Day is not a bummer. Sure, it would be wonderful to have a special someone in my life again, but I still feel like a not-ready-for-prime-time-player. I am caught between feeling like I am and would be a better partner, and being unsure that I have enough to give just yet. So I am not really looking. Of course, so many of these stories seem to say that it that is exactly when you find love.
But what are the odds of that?
February 9, 2013
However
I was listening to the Grammar Girl podcast on the way home today. The subject was the word "however", and whether or not it is acceptable to start a sentence with it (spoiler alert, it is).
She started with a couple of examples where there is little dispute, instances where the word is not used as a connector with a meaning of "nevertheless" or "but". The times you can use "however" to start a sentence without causing a ruckus is when it means “to whatever extent,” or “no matter how.”
For some reason, the two examples she gave made me pause the recording and write them down.
She started with a couple of examples where there is little dispute, instances where the word is not used as a connector with a meaning of "nevertheless" or "but". The times you can use "however" to start a sentence without causing a ruckus is when it means “to whatever extent,” or “no matter how.”
For some reason, the two examples she gave made me pause the recording and write them down.
“However beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results."
~ Winston Churchill
“However bad you think you’re going to be in that room, not being there is worse.”
~ Dr. Foreman from the TV show House
August 10, 2012
This American Life, live and cut short
This American Life is one of my favorite shows. It appears each weekend on Public Radio, but I never much listened to it until I started downloading podcasts a few years ago. Each week, they brings us several stories based (often loosely) on an overarching theme. The storytelling ability of the show's contributors is what really makes it special. They can take seemingly mundane topics, and relate them in such a way that you understand their hidden significance. Some stories are profound, some funny, some remain somewhat mundane, but I am always glad I tuned in.
The show has been on the radio for some fifteen-plus years, and part of the appeal is that it in fact, on the radio. The storytelling becomes more compelling because of the format. They have to describe things in such a way as to capture your imagination and make you "see" it for yourself without the aid of visuals. There was apparently a tv show for two seasons on Showtime a few years ago, but more recently they have done three "live" shows that are broadcasted to movie theaters around the country. Matt and I went to the most recent one back in May.
I didn't know exactly what to expect. The regular show relies so heavily on the spoken word, would we just be watching people speak? Would this add anything to the experience? The theme of the show was "Invisible Made Visible". There were a few presentations that were typical of the regular radio show, but seeing the facial expressions and mannerisms of these people you have heard but never seen, added to their stories. Just being in a theater full of people, instead of alone on a run, also made the laughter come a little easier. Tig Natoro's well-told story of repeated run-ins with 80's pop musician Taylor Dayne was more entertaining by seeing her tell it.
But the show made use of the added video ability and the "live" aspect of the theater. There was an audience participation section with the band OK Go. Theater goers were asked to download a free app to their phones ahead of time. There were four different versions randomly sent to each person's phone. As the band played in Chicago, there was a cascade of colored symbols on the theater screen telling us when to hit our colored keys. The phones produced sounds of hand bells and across the country we all played our own live version of the song. Simple but entertaining.
The opening two segments of the show were about a man who is blind. He travels quite a bit for work, and the first section described how easy it is to get lost in a hotel room. As he described how he walks around the room, feeling his way to a picture in his head, the theater screen showed a drawing of the room he was creating. He could not find the phone, even after several passes, so as strange as it sounded, he assumed there simply wasn't one in the room.
Then the phone rings in the middle of the night, on a table he knew was empty before. When he tried to return to bed after answering the call, and walks straight into a wall, he wonders where exactly he has woken up. It turned out there was an alcove in the room, on the opposite side of the bed, with a matching coffee table (this time with a phone). The drawing of the room made it easy to understand the assumption he had made that the wall simply continued straight to enclose the rectangle of the room, and shed a fraction of understanding what his life without sight is like.
The second section has the author walk out on stage to tell another story. In it he talks about trying to explain blindness to his young daughter. In one moment he is walking across a rural campus, where it is not unusual to see wildlife, bears in particular. He has his daughter on his shoulders, and when she says "Bear", he calmly high tales it in the other direction. When she says it again and again, with increasing tension, he is soon zig-zagging in all directions unsure of the road to safety. It takes him some time to realize she has simple dropped her Teddy Bear. There are other moments of confusion, mistaken identity, and the eventual understanding over a cookie.
The section that most benefited from the theater live show was about the life of a woman, Vivan Maier. She was this solitary, somewhat cantankerous woman who worked as a nanny. She kept her private life hidden from everyone, though she did not welcome many to seek it out. She may have gone largely unnoticed into history if she had been able to pay her storage bills. Her effects were auctioned off, and some pieces found their way into thrift shops. This is where John Maloof discovered her photos. Thousands of them.
The photos are primarily street shots of New York and Chicago, shot in black and white. She seems to capture in these random photos, the stories of the cities and their people. In her photos, the beauty of the everyday comes through. Yet it appears she never showed any of the photos to anyone. This invisible life and talent only came to light after her death, and a fortunate discovery in a thrift shop. As the story of her life was told during the show, several of her photos appeared behind Ira on the movie screen. Although the story about Vivian, and the way her photos came to light was very interesting, it would not have translated nearly as well to the radio. In fact, this segment of the show did not appear in the eventual radio rebroadcast.
Why am I finally telling you about this show some three months later. Because of one of the presenters, David Rakoff. His story was told live, on stage in act three. In it, he describes a recurring dream he has. It is simple, and I suppose expected when you know his story. He had recently had a tumor removed from behind his collar bone, and in the process, nerves were severed. Although this relieved him of the intense pain he had been experiencing for a number of years, it left him unable to use or even feel his arm. In the recurring dream, his limp arm floats up into the air as if buoyed by air and light.
He goes on to talk about his experience and all it has meant to him. For some reason, it is the segment that I remember most vividly from the show. It is mostly him speaking, and it would (and was) translated to radio, but there were parts of it that felt important for you to be there with him while he spoke. Indeed, there is one section toward the end that Ira has to simply describe to the audience. In that section, David dances gracefully across the stage, recalling the fluid movement of his youthful life when he felt less heavy.
David Rakoff passed away last night, ultimately losing his battle with cancer. I had just heard another piece of his on This American Life a week ago. It was a clever bit of writing in the persona of Dr Seuss, but I will always remember him for the performance I was fortunate enough to see three months ago. It was rebroadcast on the radio a few weeks after the live show, and if you would like to hear what we saw, you can find the segment here. Click the small arrow just underneath the photo to begin play.
Update - In honor of Mr. Rakoff, This American Life has now put the video of his performance up on YouTube.
The other acts that made it to the radio, including the blind man in the hotel room and with his daughter, Tig Nataro's Taylor Dane encounters, and the thoughts that run through David Sedaris' head while standing in line waiting for coffee, can be found here. Vivian Maier's story and wonderful photos can be found here.
Rest in peace, David.
The show has been on the radio for some fifteen-plus years, and part of the appeal is that it in fact, on the radio. The storytelling becomes more compelling because of the format. They have to describe things in such a way as to capture your imagination and make you "see" it for yourself without the aid of visuals. There was apparently a tv show for two seasons on Showtime a few years ago, but more recently they have done three "live" shows that are broadcasted to movie theaters around the country. Matt and I went to the most recent one back in May.
I didn't know exactly what to expect. The regular show relies so heavily on the spoken word, would we just be watching people speak? Would this add anything to the experience? The theme of the show was "Invisible Made Visible". There were a few presentations that were typical of the regular radio show, but seeing the facial expressions and mannerisms of these people you have heard but never seen, added to their stories. Just being in a theater full of people, instead of alone on a run, also made the laughter come a little easier. Tig Natoro's well-told story of repeated run-ins with 80's pop musician Taylor Dayne was more entertaining by seeing her tell it.
But the show made use of the added video ability and the "live" aspect of the theater. There was an audience participation section with the band OK Go. Theater goers were asked to download a free app to their phones ahead of time. There were four different versions randomly sent to each person's phone. As the band played in Chicago, there was a cascade of colored symbols on the theater screen telling us when to hit our colored keys. The phones produced sounds of hand bells and across the country we all played our own live version of the song. Simple but entertaining.
The opening two segments of the show were about a man who is blind. He travels quite a bit for work, and the first section described how easy it is to get lost in a hotel room. As he described how he walks around the room, feeling his way to a picture in his head, the theater screen showed a drawing of the room he was creating. He could not find the phone, even after several passes, so as strange as it sounded, he assumed there simply wasn't one in the room.
Then the phone rings in the middle of the night, on a table he knew was empty before. When he tried to return to bed after answering the call, and walks straight into a wall, he wonders where exactly he has woken up. It turned out there was an alcove in the room, on the opposite side of the bed, with a matching coffee table (this time with a phone). The drawing of the room made it easy to understand the assumption he had made that the wall simply continued straight to enclose the rectangle of the room, and shed a fraction of understanding what his life without sight is like.
The second section has the author walk out on stage to tell another story. In it he talks about trying to explain blindness to his young daughter. In one moment he is walking across a rural campus, where it is not unusual to see wildlife, bears in particular. He has his daughter on his shoulders, and when she says "Bear", he calmly high tales it in the other direction. When she says it again and again, with increasing tension, he is soon zig-zagging in all directions unsure of the road to safety. It takes him some time to realize she has simple dropped her Teddy Bear. There are other moments of confusion, mistaken identity, and the eventual understanding over a cookie.
The section that most benefited from the theater live show was about the life of a woman, Vivan Maier. She was this solitary, somewhat cantankerous woman who worked as a nanny. She kept her private life hidden from everyone, though she did not welcome many to seek it out. She may have gone largely unnoticed into history if she had been able to pay her storage bills. Her effects were auctioned off, and some pieces found their way into thrift shops. This is where John Maloof discovered her photos. Thousands of them.
The photos are primarily street shots of New York and Chicago, shot in black and white. She seems to capture in these random photos, the stories of the cities and their people. In her photos, the beauty of the everyday comes through. Yet it appears she never showed any of the photos to anyone. This invisible life and talent only came to light after her death, and a fortunate discovery in a thrift shop. As the story of her life was told during the show, several of her photos appeared behind Ira on the movie screen. Although the story about Vivian, and the way her photos came to light was very interesting, it would not have translated nearly as well to the radio. In fact, this segment of the show did not appear in the eventual radio rebroadcast.
Why am I finally telling you about this show some three months later. Because of one of the presenters, David Rakoff. His story was told live, on stage in act three. In it, he describes a recurring dream he has. It is simple, and I suppose expected when you know his story. He had recently had a tumor removed from behind his collar bone, and in the process, nerves were severed. Although this relieved him of the intense pain he had been experiencing for a number of years, it left him unable to use or even feel his arm. In the recurring dream, his limp arm floats up into the air as if buoyed by air and light.
He goes on to talk about his experience and all it has meant to him. For some reason, it is the segment that I remember most vividly from the show. It is mostly him speaking, and it would (and was) translated to radio, but there were parts of it that felt important for you to be there with him while he spoke. Indeed, there is one section toward the end that Ira has to simply describe to the audience. In that section, David dances gracefully across the stage, recalling the fluid movement of his youthful life when he felt less heavy.
David Rakoff passed away last night, ultimately losing his battle with cancer. I had just heard another piece of his on This American Life a week ago. It was a clever bit of writing in the persona of Dr Seuss, but I will always remember him for the performance I was fortunate enough to see three months ago. It was rebroadcast on the radio a few weeks after the live show, and if you would like to hear what we saw, you can find the segment here. Click the small arrow just underneath the photo to begin play.
Update - In honor of Mr. Rakoff, This American Life has now put the video of his performance up on YouTube.
The other acts that made it to the radio, including the blind man in the hotel room and with his daughter, Tig Nataro's Taylor Dane encounters, and the thoughts that run through David Sedaris' head while standing in line waiting for coffee, can be found here. Vivian Maier's story and wonderful photos can be found here.
Rest in peace, David.
September 22, 2011
Connections, virtual and real in the running community
This was originally a guest post on the World Wide Festival of Races site.
---
It is now less than three weeks until The Worldwide Festival of Races (WWFOR). I will be running for the third time this year, taking on the marathon event in its inaugural running. The WWFOR is a virtual running event in its 6th year, bringing runners from around the world to run “together”. It reminds us of our connection to each other and our love of the sport.
I ran my first WWFOR half marathon back in 2008, shortly after finding the Pheddipidations podcast. I ran it again in October of 2009 at a time when I needed everything it supports. I was going through my divorce, selling the house I could no longer afford, and I had pretty much stopped running. I needed inspiration. I needed connection. I needed a swift kick in the butt.
When I ran the Worldwide Half Marathon, I ran by myself, but not alone. I not only ran with the 1160 worldwide participants that had signed up for the WWFOR, but also with my friend Sean who was running the Long Beach Marathon two states away. We ran along the same ocean, and shared messages of encouragement and photos of victory. The event not only kick-started my return to running, but it also helped me to find the strength to keep moving forward when I wanted to be standing still.
I was out on a 12 mile run a couple of weeks later, and was listening to the latest Pheddipidations podcast. I had written an e-mail to Steve Runner the night before the race, thanking him for his podcast, this event, and what it meant to me this time around. As I ran along the path, I was surprised to hear him read my letter on the podcast. It was pretty weird to hear my words, spoken by someone else, come through the headphones. My words about why I was running, while I was running. Virtual and real were intersecting.
As the miles ramped up for marathon training this year, and running low on podcasts to listen to, I have gone back to some of the episodes produced before I became a regular listener. On my 20 miler this weekend, I listened to episode #69, Steve's experience at the 2006 Marine Corps Marathon. It turns out we were running together earlier than I thought.
The 2006 MCM was my first marathon finish. It is possible that Steve and I ran next to each other at some point as he narrated his path around our nation’s capitol, inspiring more to follow in his footsteps. It was incredible to listen to the race again as I pushed through my 20 miler five years later. The joy of crossing that finish line for the first time was made real once again.
When I run the WWFOR again this year, I will be running it at the Long Beach Marathon on October 9th. I will again be running virtually with runners from around the world, and I will also be running alongside my friend Sean, in the place he ran “with” me two years ago.
Connections are made, relationships are formed, virtual becomes real. We all run together.
Enjoy the taper, and have a great run.
---
It is now less than three weeks until The Worldwide Festival of Races (WWFOR). I will be running for the third time this year, taking on the marathon event in its inaugural running. The WWFOR is a virtual running event in its 6th year, bringing runners from around the world to run “together”. It reminds us of our connection to each other and our love of the sport.
I ran my first WWFOR half marathon back in 2008, shortly after finding the Pheddipidations podcast. I ran it again in October of 2009 at a time when I needed everything it supports. I was going through my divorce, selling the house I could no longer afford, and I had pretty much stopped running. I needed inspiration. I needed connection. I needed a swift kick in the butt.
When I ran the Worldwide Half Marathon, I ran by myself, but not alone. I not only ran with the 1160 worldwide participants that had signed up for the WWFOR, but also with my friend Sean who was running the Long Beach Marathon two states away. We ran along the same ocean, and shared messages of encouragement and photos of victory. The event not only kick-started my return to running, but it also helped me to find the strength to keep moving forward when I wanted to be standing still.
I was out on a 12 mile run a couple of weeks later, and was listening to the latest Pheddipidations podcast. I had written an e-mail to Steve Runner the night before the race, thanking him for his podcast, this event, and what it meant to me this time around. As I ran along the path, I was surprised to hear him read my letter on the podcast. It was pretty weird to hear my words, spoken by someone else, come through the headphones. My words about why I was running, while I was running. Virtual and real were intersecting.
As the miles ramped up for marathon training this year, and running low on podcasts to listen to, I have gone back to some of the episodes produced before I became a regular listener. On my 20 miler this weekend, I listened to episode #69, Steve's experience at the 2006 Marine Corps Marathon. It turns out we were running together earlier than I thought.
The 2006 MCM was my first marathon finish. It is possible that Steve and I ran next to each other at some point as he narrated his path around our nation’s capitol, inspiring more to follow in his footsteps. It was incredible to listen to the race again as I pushed through my 20 miler five years later. The joy of crossing that finish line for the first time was made real once again.
When I run the WWFOR again this year, I will be running it at the Long Beach Marathon on October 9th. I will again be running virtually with runners from around the world, and I will also be running alongside my friend Sean, in the place he ran “with” me two years ago.
Connections are made, relationships are formed, virtual becomes real. We all run together.
Enjoy the taper, and have a great run.
August 21, 2011
How they get to you
There are widgets and programs that will tell you all sorts of information about your blog or website. How many people visit each day, how much time they spend reading, where they're from, and how on earth they got to my little cul-de-sac of the internet.
I don't obsess or even pay that much attention to the reports, but I will check them out every couple of months out of curiosity. Most of my readership are returning visitors, and not surprisingly they are concentrated in Washington and California. And no I don't know who you are, just vaguely where you are from.
But there are the random folks that pop in because they have typed in some sort of search term into Google and I show up in the results. It might be my comments on the Pearl Izumi ad campaign, my ride reports on the STP or RSVP, or simply following a link to a picture of the University of Washington logo I grabbed from someone else.
But there is a post that consistently ranks above all others in bringing new people to the blog. It is something I wrote more than two years ago, and it doesn't have any buzzwords or pictures that would pop up regularly in a web search. It turns out that all the traffic is coming from a a link on a therapy site.
I figured I would re-post it here, and in the next installment let you know how things have changed in the past two years.
---
If you don't observe them, do irritating people disappear?
One of the podcasts I have been listening to intermittently is Zen and the Art of Triathlon. I am several episodes behind, but I caught a good one this week called "Quantum Spinach". One of the pieces was using quantum theory to talk about difficult people. It went something like this...
He started with two ideas from science. First - scientists have observed that matter is actually 99.9999....% empty space. There isn't much of anything in between all the atoms, neutrons, electrons etc. Second - according to quantum physics, observation affects reality.
Then he paired the above observations with dealing with difficult people. He makes the point that difficult people are only difficult to you a small percentage of your time. He gives examples of neighbors who flick cigarette butts out on their sidewalk. The amount of time in his life that he sees the cigarette butts is .0001% of his life. The rest of the time, he isn't experiencing those difficult people.
Of course many folks let these sorts things bother them for a much larger portion of their lives. Back to the observation of matter, you are observing the problem it as if it were 100% solid, when in reality, the real matter only occupies .0001% of the space. The goal of course is to not let such a small thing ruin your day.
To reinforce his point, he relays a story of two monks encountering a beautiful lady at the edge of a stream. The lady is in a bit of distress and needs to get to the other side of the stream for some reason. So one of the monks picks her up in his arms and carries her to the other side, where he sets her down and receives a quick kiss on the cheek.
The two monks continue walking. It becomes apparent that the second monk is furious, smoke practically coming out of his ears. He can't contain himself and finally has to say something. "How can you have done that? We are supposed to stay away from women, yet you carried this woman across the stream." The first monk says, "you know, I put her down miles ago. You are still carrying her."
That is what you are doing if you let someone continue to irritate you, or you let one thought dominate your mind. You continue to carry something that should have been set down a long time ago. And of course the frustration you carry around, the difficult person probably isn't thinking twice about. Why should you be the person suffering?
I don't obsess or even pay that much attention to the reports, but I will check them out every couple of months out of curiosity. Most of my readership are returning visitors, and not surprisingly they are concentrated in Washington and California. And no I don't know who you are, just vaguely where you are from.
But there are the random folks that pop in because they have typed in some sort of search term into Google and I show up in the results. It might be my comments on the Pearl Izumi ad campaign, my ride reports on the STP or RSVP, or simply following a link to a picture of the University of Washington logo I grabbed from someone else.
But there is a post that consistently ranks above all others in bringing new people to the blog. It is something I wrote more than two years ago, and it doesn't have any buzzwords or pictures that would pop up regularly in a web search. It turns out that all the traffic is coming from a a link on a therapy site.
I figured I would re-post it here, and in the next installment let you know how things have changed in the past two years.
---
If you don't observe them, do irritating people disappear?
One of the podcasts I have been listening to intermittently is Zen and the Art of Triathlon. I am several episodes behind, but I caught a good one this week called "Quantum Spinach". One of the pieces was using quantum theory to talk about difficult people. It went something like this...
He started with two ideas from science. First - scientists have observed that matter is actually 99.9999....% empty space. There isn't much of anything in between all the atoms, neutrons, electrons etc. Second - according to quantum physics, observation affects reality.
Then he paired the above observations with dealing with difficult people. He makes the point that difficult people are only difficult to you a small percentage of your time. He gives examples of neighbors who flick cigarette butts out on their sidewalk. The amount of time in his life that he sees the cigarette butts is .0001% of his life. The rest of the time, he isn't experiencing those difficult people.
Of course many folks let these sorts things bother them for a much larger portion of their lives. Back to the observation of matter, you are observing the problem it as if it were 100% solid, when in reality, the real matter only occupies .0001% of the space. The goal of course is to not let such a small thing ruin your day.
To reinforce his point, he relays a story of two monks encountering a beautiful lady at the edge of a stream. The lady is in a bit of distress and needs to get to the other side of the stream for some reason. So one of the monks picks her up in his arms and carries her to the other side, where he sets her down and receives a quick kiss on the cheek.
The two monks continue walking. It becomes apparent that the second monk is furious, smoke practically coming out of his ears. He can't contain himself and finally has to say something. "How can you have done that? We are supposed to stay away from women, yet you carried this woman across the stream." The first monk says, "you know, I put her down miles ago. You are still carrying her."
That is what you are doing if you let someone continue to irritate you, or you let one thought dominate your mind. You continue to carry something that should have been set down a long time ago. And of course the frustration you carry around, the difficult person probably isn't thinking twice about. Why should you be the person suffering?
March 7, 2011
Listening, learning and loving it
If there is one thing I am thankful to Apple for in their quest for magical-device world domination, it is podcasts. No, they didn't invent them any more than they invented music, but their device and store have made listening to them about as easy as possible.
I have been listening to podcasts for a couple of years now. During marathon training months, I burn through podcast episodes, and now with a one-hour commute, I was running out of podcasts and subscribed to more. Then work slowed down and the podcasts began to pile up. Somehow, this thing I enjoyed so much became this looming obligation or chore to get through. Something had to give, and it was the podcasts. I whittled down the list to only ones I really look forward to hearing. I still listen to about 20 of them regularly, but many are short and only post once a week or so.
One of the ones I am enjoying the most is a recent find. It is called Writing Excuses. Three published authors get together about once a week to discuss a variety of topics. The topics are interesting and helpful, and they don't take themselves too seriously. The tagline is "Writing Excuses: Fifteen minutes long, because you're in a hurry, and we're not that smart" if that gives you some idea. The latest year is on iTunes, but I have been downloading the earlier seasons from their website.
The episode I listened to today was season 2, episode 19 "Do Creative Writing Classes Help?". Toward the end, one of the authors was speaking about his college experience. He only took a few credits during his last quarter, and regrets not doing what his friend did. The friend took 18 credits his last quarter, even though he needed only four to graduate. He filled up the other hours with a machine shop class, a pottery class, and others that had nothing to do with his major.
When asked why, he said that he had an opportunity to take classes worth thousands of dollars in the private world, for much less on campus. The authors went on to recommend pursuing many interests in order to bring a wealth of experience to your writing. But the story made me think of something different.
I did the same sort of thing during my last quarter in college. I was pursuing a business degree and focusing in on accounting. By taking the accounting route, my courses were pretty much determined for the last two years. During my last quarter, I had to take about 18 credits in order to graduate. Three of the classes had to be in accounting, but I finally had some leeway to chose two elective classes. I ended up taking an American Indian Studies writing class and a poetry class. They were great, and boy did I look forward to them after the 400 level accounting classes.
And then I thought about the discussion a friend had last year on gifts vs talents, the pursuit of bliss and what might be holding us back. You can follow the link to the discussion, but he made the distinction between talents and gifts by saying something like, "talents are something you are good at, where having a 'gift' means you are both good at it and it brings you fulfillment".
I am good at math, have an interest in business, and am skilled in the organizational structure reflected in accounting. But I think during that last quarter of college I knew that I would find bliss elsewhere. I don't know that I have a gift at writing, but I'm excited to learn more, and I do find fulfillment in it. I would love to get paid for my bliss, but I need to pursue it no matter what.
I have been listening to podcasts for a couple of years now. During marathon training months, I burn through podcast episodes, and now with a one-hour commute, I was running out of podcasts and subscribed to more. Then work slowed down and the podcasts began to pile up. Somehow, this thing I enjoyed so much became this looming obligation or chore to get through. Something had to give, and it was the podcasts. I whittled down the list to only ones I really look forward to hearing. I still listen to about 20 of them regularly, but many are short and only post once a week or so.
One of the ones I am enjoying the most is a recent find. It is called Writing Excuses. Three published authors get together about once a week to discuss a variety of topics. The topics are interesting and helpful, and they don't take themselves too seriously. The tagline is "Writing Excuses: Fifteen minutes long, because you're in a hurry, and we're not that smart" if that gives you some idea. The latest year is on iTunes, but I have been downloading the earlier seasons from their website.
The episode I listened to today was season 2, episode 19 "Do Creative Writing Classes Help?". Toward the end, one of the authors was speaking about his college experience. He only took a few credits during his last quarter, and regrets not doing what his friend did. The friend took 18 credits his last quarter, even though he needed only four to graduate. He filled up the other hours with a machine shop class, a pottery class, and others that had nothing to do with his major.
When asked why, he said that he had an opportunity to take classes worth thousands of dollars in the private world, for much less on campus. The authors went on to recommend pursuing many interests in order to bring a wealth of experience to your writing. But the story made me think of something different.
I did the same sort of thing during my last quarter in college. I was pursuing a business degree and focusing in on accounting. By taking the accounting route, my courses were pretty much determined for the last two years. During my last quarter, I had to take about 18 credits in order to graduate. Three of the classes had to be in accounting, but I finally had some leeway to chose two elective classes. I ended up taking an American Indian Studies writing class and a poetry class. They were great, and boy did I look forward to them after the 400 level accounting classes.
And then I thought about the discussion a friend had last year on gifts vs talents, the pursuit of bliss and what might be holding us back. You can follow the link to the discussion, but he made the distinction between talents and gifts by saying something like, "talents are something you are good at, where having a 'gift' means you are both good at it and it brings you fulfillment".
I am good at math, have an interest in business, and am skilled in the organizational structure reflected in accounting. But I think during that last quarter of college I knew that I would find bliss elsewhere. I don't know that I have a gift at writing, but I'm excited to learn more, and I do find fulfillment in it. I would love to get paid for my bliss, but I need to pursue it no matter what.
February 11, 2011
Time flies
I have been working over at a friend's house this week doing some odd jobs and repairs. I am working by myself, so I have been catching up on the backlog of podcasts. There was a repeat of an episode of This American Life called Contents Unknown. One of the stories was about people who bid on the contents of abandoned storage units based solely on what they can see from the doorway.
There was nothing particularly special about this episode, but I knew exactly where I was the first time I heard it. I was nearing the southwest corner of Washington state on my drive down to California. I can clearly picture the wooded road I was driving on when I heard about these storage unit scavengers for the first time. It continues to baffle me how the mind makes these connections when it fails at so many things (I locked my keys in the car today by the way ).
Then last night just before turning out the lights, I spotted this on my bulletin board:
It reminded me that I arrived in San Diego the day before Valentine's Day last year. It is surprising think that I have been down here for a year now. It doesn't seem like it has been that long, but at the same time the drive down seems like forever ago. At times it feels like I haven't done all that much in a year's time, but I suppose that was part of the plan for the walkabout.
Still comfortable with the decision a year ago - no regrets. It has definitely been a good experience, even if I can't say that I have checked off many to-do items. There have been some wonderful surprises along the way, and I have no idea what the next year will bring, but I feel like I am ready for it.
There was nothing particularly special about this episode, but I knew exactly where I was the first time I heard it. I was nearing the southwest corner of Washington state on my drive down to California. I can clearly picture the wooded road I was driving on when I heard about these storage unit scavengers for the first time. It continues to baffle me how the mind makes these connections when it fails at so many things (I locked my keys in the car today by the way ).
Then last night just before turning out the lights, I spotted this on my bulletin board:
It reminded me that I arrived in San Diego the day before Valentine's Day last year. It is surprising think that I have been down here for a year now. It doesn't seem like it has been that long, but at the same time the drive down seems like forever ago. At times it feels like I haven't done all that much in a year's time, but I suppose that was part of the plan for the walkabout.
Still comfortable with the decision a year ago - no regrets. It has definitely been a good experience, even if I can't say that I have checked off many to-do items. There have been some wonderful surprises along the way, and I have no idea what the next year will bring, but I feel like I am ready for it.
September 25, 2010
How Octopuses work
Yesterday, I was listening to one of my favorite podcasts, Stuff You Should Know. The particular show was "How Octopuses Work". The article that inspired the podcast is here, and you can find the podcast in iTunes, Zune Marketplace, etc.
First off, apparently 'octopi', 'octopuses' and 'octopods' are all correct ways to refer to more than one octopus. Whatever you call them, they are pretty incredible creatures. Interesting things mentioned in the podcast: they often have three hearts and independent nervous systems for each of their eight legs, their suckers are incredibly sensitive and they can feel their way around reefs and "taste" the food they find, and they appear to be highly intelligent and may have individual personalities.
But the most interesting (and visually cool) thing is their ability to blend in with their surroundings. Their skin is covered with tens of thousands of pigmented cells called chromatophores. By flexing these cells, they can change color within a second. And it is not a single color but an array that helps them blend in with the background. They also have reflective cells call iridophores that help them mirror their surroundings. In addition to the ability to change color, they can also change the texture of their skin to add to the camouflage effect.
It was interesting to hear about how it is all done, but of course it is hard to beat actual footage. They encouraged listeners to go to YouTube and type in 'octopus changes color'. Here are a couple of the better, shorter clips that I found.
First off, apparently 'octopi', 'octopuses' and 'octopods' are all correct ways to refer to more than one octopus. Whatever you call them, they are pretty incredible creatures. Interesting things mentioned in the podcast: they often have three hearts and independent nervous systems for each of their eight legs, their suckers are incredibly sensitive and they can feel their way around reefs and "taste" the food they find, and they appear to be highly intelligent and may have individual personalities.
But the most interesting (and visually cool) thing is their ability to blend in with their surroundings. Their skin is covered with tens of thousands of pigmented cells called chromatophores. By flexing these cells, they can change color within a second. And it is not a single color but an array that helps them blend in with the background. They also have reflective cells call iridophores that help them mirror their surroundings. In addition to the ability to change color, they can also change the texture of their skin to add to the camouflage effect.
It was interesting to hear about how it is all done, but of course it is hard to beat actual footage. They encouraged listeners to go to YouTube and type in 'octopus changes color'. Here are a couple of the better, shorter clips that I found.
August 20, 2010
Hooray, pizza day!
Friday is pizza day at the house. Pizza is an easy meal at the end of the week, and quite frankly, pizza is something to look forward to. Pizza day is a happy day.
There is even a song about it. The Pheddipidations podcast features a song each week by an independent artist, and one week it was "Pizza Day" by Jonathan Coulton. He wrote in honor of the (best) school lunch. As he says, "In my school, it was Friday. The pizza wasn’t any good at all, but you can’t really argue with pizza at school can you?".
You can hear it here. I picked it up at iTunes, but it looks like you can get it for free on his blog if you are interested.
There is even a song about it. The Pheddipidations podcast features a song each week by an independent artist, and one week it was "Pizza Day" by Jonathan Coulton. He wrote in honor of the (best) school lunch. As he says, "In my school, it was Friday. The pizza wasn’t any good at all, but you can’t really argue with pizza at school can you?".
You can hear it here. I picked it up at iTunes, but it looks like you can get it for free on his blog if you are interested.
Did you notice something?
Did the world seem different since the moment you woke up today?
Everyone’s excited
Everyone feels happy in a way they can’t explain today
Doesn’t matter who you are
How your week has been so far
Cause you know when lunch time comes, that everything will be OK
Hooray, pizza day
Hooray, pizza day
Some of us are lucky
Some of us have lots of friends, our tables will be full today
Some of us are lonely
Some of us have no one but it doesn’t matter much today
Even if we don’t belong
We know another week is gone
And we know before too long, the whole damned thing will go away
Hooray, pizza day
Hooray, pizza day
August 15, 2010
Characters that leap off the page
There was a recent podcast of Nancy Pearl's Book Review with the theme, "What fictional character would you like to meet?" It was an interesting discussion, and the callers came up with quite a few interesting characters they'd like to meet in person, and maybe find out what happened after the book ended. Some suggested "bad" characters that they didn't exactly want over for dinner, but they still wanted to get to know them better.
One caller had a nice turn of phrase to describe characters you become invested in. She had just completed the seventh book in a series, and the last book in the series so far. In describing her attachment to the characters, and the disappointment in finishing the last book (so far), she said, "I feel like I have friends who aren't talking to me anymore."
One caller had a nice turn of phrase to describe characters you become invested in. She had just completed the seventh book in a series, and the last book in the series so far. In describing her attachment to the characters, and the disappointment in finishing the last book (so far), she said, "I feel like I have friends who aren't talking to me anymore."
July 31, 2010
King thumb
You could say human evolution started when the first brave ape came down from the trees. But scientists have long said that it was making tools that really set humans apart.
And if tools define our species, then it's our hands we have to thank...
"Everything that made us human was arguably given this big push by using stone tools," Williams says, "and so I'm trying to see what it is about our anatomy that allowed us to be good at it compared to other species that weren't good at it."
~ from NPR story, A Handy Bunch: Tools, Thumbs Helped Us ThriveI heard this interesting story yesterday. As the above quote indicates, scientists believe that our ability to make tools helped us excel where other species did not. And of course as everyone knows, our thumbs set us apart.
But of course apes have thumbs as well. In studying how humans succeed and apes fail at chipping flint with stones, it looks like a thumb isn't all you need. Turns out the apes thumb is a bit small, and the strength in their hand is more vertical (which allows them to support their weight hanging from branches). The human thumb is longer, and the palm of our hand has more side-to-side strength, which helps us grip the striking stone better. And oddly enough, the lowly pinky comes in to play.
This all reminded of a group camping trip some years ago. Our friend Brent was convinced it wasn't only our opposable thumb that set us apart from the rest of the animal kingdom. Now, he has a lot of random theories and ideas, most of which are pretty out there (zero-gravity veal anyone). To prove his point, he talked most of the guys and one of the women into duct taping our thumbs down to make them unusable.
We spent a good five hours with our thumbs taped down. From what I recall, managing our zippers was one of the more difficult hurdles. But we managed to prepare our meals including cooking steaks over the campfire. We could feed, if not clothe ourselves. It was a pretty entertaining evening.
At one point, I looked around the campfire and realized that I was the only one left with duct tape around his hands. I'm not sure if that makes me more determined, resourceful, or just more easily duped into goofy experiments. I am sure if a Park Ranger walked up, my friends would have sold me out. "I don't know sir, he does these odd things from time to time." Friggin Brent.
July 21, 2010
Notes from camp
"Camp kids explain how their non-camp friends and their non-camp loved ones have no idea why camp is the most important thing in their lives."
---
"David Himmel is a college sophomore and a former camper who's now a counselor. He says all the best experiences of his life have been at camp or with camp people."
~ Descriptions of the first two sections of "Notes on Camp" by This American Life.
I am one of those non-camp friends. I love to camp, and get out to the woods as often as I can, but I have never been to "Camp!"
Most of my California friends met at camp - I have joined the group through one level of separation (Matt and I worked at a restaurant together). They love to tell stories about it, and it is clear that friendships were not only started there, but cemented there. Several of them continue to go back as counselors, and it sounds like they have as much, or even more fun as the campers.
I will probably never quite understand it, but a This American Life podcast I listened to today gave me one more glimpse behind the curtain. It is a good episode, and the first ten minutes in particular help us non-camp people understand the appeal of summer camp.
March 9, 2010
Don't leave home without it
I was out for a five mile run this afternoon, catching up on my exercise schedule and podcasts. There are a couple of podcasts that I listen to only while I am running. One of these is Two Gomers Run a Marathon.
Anthony and Steven are preparing for their first marathon. They had a podcast last year about their move from being sedentary to becoming half marathoners. Now they are taking on the full marathon, and their podcast is pretty entertaining. They are self-admitted Gomers who know little about running, and aren't afraid to let people listen in as they stumble their way through things.
Their journey to the marathon has already hit some roadblocks. In late 2009, Anthony was having doubts about his ability to keep up with the training, and was considering postponing the race for a couple of months. A week or two later, Steven was knocked flat with a case of the shingles. Shingles! They set a new marathon target for a race in March. After announcing which race they had decided on, a listener pointed out that it wasn't being held this year.
So then they decided on a marathon in Atlanta, also in March. They were back on track, gomering their way through training. Then Steven was hit by a car.
Thankfully he is mostly OK, though he has a few fractured ribs. As he said, "If your going to be hit by a car, make it a Smart Car." Not only is it small, but because it has a sloped front and no hood, the impact was spread over his whole body rather than breaking his legs.
It was obviously still pretty painful. Here are a couple of shots of the car that hit him, and Steven in the hospital.
So their plans are on hold once again. One of the first things listeners mentioned/suggested was that the Gomers should be carrying a Road ID. Steven was out of town for a conference, running in an unfamiliar town without his family when he was hit by a car. The Road ID tells first responders who you are, medical information, and who to call.
I have been carrying one with me for a couple of years, and today's episode reminded me how important it is. It also reminded me that I hadn't updated the information on it since I moved to San Diego. I had to get a new one recently since my first one had the wrong contact information on it. It was J's old cell phone number that is no longer in use. The new one is the "interactive model". It has my name, blood type and a person to contact stamped on it, but there is also a phone number or web address where first responders can get additional contact, personal, and medical history information.
I am all updated, and checking every cross street more diligently as I run. I don't ever want to put my Road ID to use, but it is a little peace of mind for me and my family.
Anthony and Steven are preparing for their first marathon. They had a podcast last year about their move from being sedentary to becoming half marathoners. Now they are taking on the full marathon, and their podcast is pretty entertaining. They are self-admitted Gomers who know little about running, and aren't afraid to let people listen in as they stumble their way through things.
Their journey to the marathon has already hit some roadblocks. In late 2009, Anthony was having doubts about his ability to keep up with the training, and was considering postponing the race for a couple of months. A week or two later, Steven was knocked flat with a case of the shingles. Shingles! They set a new marathon target for a race in March. After announcing which race they had decided on, a listener pointed out that it wasn't being held this year.
So then they decided on a marathon in Atlanta, also in March. They were back on track, gomering their way through training. Then Steven was hit by a car.
Thankfully he is mostly OK, though he has a few fractured ribs. As he said, "If your going to be hit by a car, make it a Smart Car." Not only is it small, but because it has a sloped front and no hood, the impact was spread over his whole body rather than breaking his legs.
It was obviously still pretty painful. Here are a couple of shots of the car that hit him, and Steven in the hospital.
So their plans are on hold once again. One of the first things listeners mentioned/suggested was that the Gomers should be carrying a Road ID. Steven was out of town for a conference, running in an unfamiliar town without his family when he was hit by a car. The Road ID tells first responders who you are, medical information, and who to call.
I have been carrying one with me for a couple of years, and today's episode reminded me how important it is. It also reminded me that I hadn't updated the information on it since I moved to San Diego. I had to get a new one recently since my first one had the wrong contact information on it. It was J's old cell phone number that is no longer in use. The new one is the "interactive model". It has my name, blood type and a person to contact stamped on it, but there is also a phone number or web address where first responders can get additional contact, personal, and medical history information.
I am all updated, and checking every cross street more diligently as I run. I don't ever want to put my Road ID to use, but it is a little peace of mind for me and my family.
February 28, 2010
A place of peace
This morning we went to Sunday school (lead by our friend Wendy), and right after I took off on a run along the Pacific Ocean.
I had heard this piece below by George Sheehan this week on a Phedippidations podcast and found it interesting. I have more to say about this morning, but I wanted to pass this along before I forgot about it. I have shortened the piece a bit, but the full version can be found here.
"Running is not a religion, it is a place."
The reporter in Anchorage was skeptical. "Is it true, " he asked, "that you have called running a religion?"...
I thought about the question. If I hadn't called running a religion, I had certainly implied it. I had repeated Jim Fixx's story of the woman who described her husband by saying, "Ted used to be a Methodist, but now he's a runner."...But fortunately, now I knew the answer. I looked at the reporter and said, "Running is like Alaska. Running is not a religion, it is a place."
This idea had been germinating in my head during the flight from Seattle. I had read an account of a seven-month stay in a Trappist monastery by Father Henri Nouwen, a Belgian priest well known in literary and academic circles. His book, A Genesee Diary, gave me a new insight into the true nature of the running life.
Nouwen's problems are remarkably similar to mine. The things that drove him to retire to the monastery are the same as those that plague me day after day. He was caught in an ascending spiral of activity. Each talk, each article, each book, ignited requests for more talks and articles and books, every ring of the phone another demand on his time.
This way of life is addictive...The priest who had been teaching and lecturing and writing about the importance of solitude, inner freedom, and peace of mind had become a prisoner, locked into unceasing activity.
Finally he made the decision to step back. The time had come, he said, to restore some solitude, some stillness, some isolation to his life. He needed to take a long look at himself and his role in preaching the word of God. So he took a leave of absence and entered the Trappist monastery at Genesee, near Rochester, New York. It was, he found, a perfect place to retreat and restore himself.
And of course, the monastery is a place for the soul. "The monastery," says Father Nouwen, "is not built to solve problems, but to praise the Lord in the midst of them."...But all the while, he knew he was there because of an inner "must." And he stayed because, he says, "I knew I was in the right place."
And all the while, the priest expected to come out a different person, more integrated, more spiritual, more virtuous, more compassionate, more gentle, more joyful, more understanding. "I hoped that my restlessness would turn into quietude, my tensions into a peaceful lifestyle, my ambivalence into a single-minded commitment to God."
But upon leaving, Father Nouwen knew there had been only a lull in the battle with himself. He was the same man, with the same problems. So he asked the abbot for advice. "You must put 90 minutes aside every day for prayer," the abbot told him. If Father Nouwen was to take Genesee home with him, he would have to take time for his daily dialogue with himself and his God. Without constant renewal, what he had experienced at the monastery would vanish. Otherwise, for the rest of his life, he would awake in the morning with the same tendencies, the same desires, the same sins that he conquered only the day before. Only a return each day to the monastery would save him.
Running, I told the reporter, is just such a monastery - a retreat, a place to commune with God and yourself, a place for psychological and spiritual renewal.
Copyright © The George Sheehan Trust
I had heard this piece below by George Sheehan this week on a Phedippidations podcast and found it interesting. I have more to say about this morning, but I wanted to pass this along before I forgot about it. I have shortened the piece a bit, but the full version can be found here.
"Running is not a religion, it is a place."
The reporter in Anchorage was skeptical. "Is it true, " he asked, "that you have called running a religion?"...
I thought about the question. If I hadn't called running a religion, I had certainly implied it. I had repeated Jim Fixx's story of the woman who described her husband by saying, "Ted used to be a Methodist, but now he's a runner."...But fortunately, now I knew the answer. I looked at the reporter and said, "Running is like Alaska. Running is not a religion, it is a place."
This idea had been germinating in my head during the flight from Seattle. I had read an account of a seven-month stay in a Trappist monastery by Father Henri Nouwen, a Belgian priest well known in literary and academic circles. His book, A Genesee Diary, gave me a new insight into the true nature of the running life.
Nouwen's problems are remarkably similar to mine. The things that drove him to retire to the monastery are the same as those that plague me day after day. He was caught in an ascending spiral of activity. Each talk, each article, each book, ignited requests for more talks and articles and books, every ring of the phone another demand on his time.
This way of life is addictive...The priest who had been teaching and lecturing and writing about the importance of solitude, inner freedom, and peace of mind had become a prisoner, locked into unceasing activity.
Finally he made the decision to step back. The time had come, he said, to restore some solitude, some stillness, some isolation to his life. He needed to take a long look at himself and his role in preaching the word of God. So he took a leave of absence and entered the Trappist monastery at Genesee, near Rochester, New York. It was, he found, a perfect place to retreat and restore himself.
And of course, the monastery is a place for the soul. "The monastery," says Father Nouwen, "is not built to solve problems, but to praise the Lord in the midst of them."...But all the while, he knew he was there because of an inner "must." And he stayed because, he says, "I knew I was in the right place."
And all the while, the priest expected to come out a different person, more integrated, more spiritual, more virtuous, more compassionate, more gentle, more joyful, more understanding. "I hoped that my restlessness would turn into quietude, my tensions into a peaceful lifestyle, my ambivalence into a single-minded commitment to God."
But upon leaving, Father Nouwen knew there had been only a lull in the battle with himself. He was the same man, with the same problems. So he asked the abbot for advice. "You must put 90 minutes aside every day for prayer," the abbot told him. If Father Nouwen was to take Genesee home with him, he would have to take time for his daily dialogue with himself and his God. Without constant renewal, what he had experienced at the monastery would vanish. Otherwise, for the rest of his life, he would awake in the morning with the same tendencies, the same desires, the same sins that he conquered only the day before. Only a return each day to the monastery would save him.
Running, I told the reporter, is just such a monastery - a retreat, a place to commune with God and yourself, a place for psychological and spiritual renewal.
Copyright © The George Sheehan Trust
January 20, 2010
Quote of the day
"We're not a town that has been brought up to seek #1. Give us a gold trophy and we'll have it bronzed to show we didn't think too much of ourselves."
~ The News From Lake Wobegon, by Garrison Keillor
~ The News From Lake Wobegon, by Garrison Keillor
December 29, 2009
Some daily links
I get a free blog/newsletter thingy sent to my Kindle when I bother to turn the thing on. I haven't been using it as much lately since my parents get the newspaper and I have been getting my books at the library. Since I am out of town, I am back to reading the Seattle Times on it each morning and reading other Kindle fare.
The blog thingy is called "Amazon Daily" and it has several recurring articles as well as some good links to outside stuff. There is usually a lot of chaff to skip over, but a couple interesting articles popped up in the past day. One is on trying to decide which books to hang on to, and which to sell to Half Price Books or the like. After recently going through my bookcases to thin the herd, I was still left with far too many books. I will also leaving San Diego with at least three more books than I arrived with, so the struggle continues.
The article interviews six authors on their perspective on Books You Can Live Without. A couple good quotes from the article:
The other article from Amazon Daily was less heady but still interesting to this child of the 70'/80's. It is in the recurring section of "Car Lust" and is about the Rush song "Red Barchetta". It talks about the song, the short story it was based on, and what the heck a Barchetta is anyway. Great song and an interesting read.
The blog thingy is called "Amazon Daily" and it has several recurring articles as well as some good links to outside stuff. There is usually a lot of chaff to skip over, but a couple interesting articles popped up in the past day. One is on trying to decide which books to hang on to, and which to sell to Half Price Books or the like. After recently going through my bookcases to thin the herd, I was still left with far too many books. I will also leaving San Diego with at least three more books than I arrived with, so the struggle continues.
The article interviews six authors on their perspective on Books You Can Live Without. A couple good quotes from the article:
- If I’m being honest, some of it is on my shelf because I like the idea of it being on my shelf.
- After all, is a gentleman’s library of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves anything more than a vanity?
- Get rid of a book? No way. Every one is a brick keeping the building standing. Books are my life.
- Marquez’s “A Hundred Years of Solitude” makes the scrap heap, because it would take precisely that combination of circumstances before I could be bothered to finish it.
- Ask yourself the following hard question and answer honestly: If I live to be 100, will I read this book again?
The other article from Amazon Daily was less heady but still interesting to this child of the 70'/80's. It is in the recurring section of "Car Lust" and is about the Rush song "Red Barchetta". It talks about the song, the short story it was based on, and what the heck a Barchetta is anyway. Great song and an interesting read.
October 26, 2009
Voices in my head
With the carpet installation, etc over the weekend, I didn't have time to get in my long run. I managed to find a two hour, rain-free window this afternoon to squeeze in a 12 miler. Instead of running several loops around the house, I headed down to Lake Sammamish to run along the lake trail.
It is a great gravel path that was created a couple of years ago through the "Rails to Trails" program. It is nice and level, and it generally stays about 100 feet from the shoreline. It was about 10 degrees cooler than my run last week, but we are still in the upper 40's, so it is still relatively comfortable.
I brought my Shuffle along and listened to a couple podcasts as I ran. One of them was the latest episode of Pheddipidations. This week's installment was the race report episode from the Worldwide Festival of Races. Steve shared some race reports submitted by the other 1160 participants from 45 countries who ran one of the events.
I had written an e-mail to Steve the night before the race, thanking him for both his podcast and for sponsoring this event. This last minute entry into a (free) half marathon was the kick in the butt I needed. As I ran the path today, I was surprised to hear him read my letter on the podcast. It wasn't my race report, since it was written the night before the race, but was more about why I was running. It was pretty weird to hear my words, spoken by someone else come through the headphones. My words about why I was running, while I was running.
It's a small world after all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)