Can’t Shake It: Soul Power

They stared in horror as their son’s eyes glazed over and stiffly rose to a standing position. They always thought it would be other people, not one of their own. Not an unreasonable thought, considering a population of over 4 billion, but a rickety shelter from the reality when it hits. Their son started to rise, up, from the earth and he spoke in a voice of growing detachment from earthly concerns, “Good bye, I do love..” Then at that moment, his head snapped upward and his arms rose up forming a cross. His ascent increased and his parents wept. He cleared the trees of their suburban home where he grew up and began to slowly rotate, his outstretched arms reaching to connect to other nodes in the system. Off in the distance another node system locked on him, if he had gender anymore, and his ascent ceased. He emitted a soft flash as energy from his body began to flow out and into the network of nodes that comprised the massive power source sustaining the planet’s energy needs. New nodes were added as power demands increased or were depleted. It was an honor to contribute, but not to the families left behind. But they were locked into a system without resolution. Soul power, was clean, efficient and almost limitless but at a cost that the population has stifled out a combination of denial and fear. Denial of the lives stolen and fear of returning to an unsustainable consumption.

OK, that’s the introduction to a world created by the image in my head of a person slowly rising up in the sky. As they rise they take the position of Christ on the cross, mirroring the sacrifice they didn’t chose to make but what was thrust upon them by a horrific system put in place out of desperation. The story lines makes me think of “Childhood’s End”. Perhaps the main characters fight the system, a little cliche to me, but nonetheless someone has to. In the end they lose and find out that the souls generating the power are still feeling, are still alive and in horrible torture. Or perhaps, the network is shut down and an era of darkness begins for humanity.

You Win Mr. Mulvey

This morning I was up doing laundry at 6am. Yeah, I’m crazy. But I since I am programmed to get up then, because at the rest of the work-week I do bootcamp AND I don’t believe in doing laundry on weekends in a laundromat, it leaves me little choice. Plus, the laundromat is EMPTY, just the way I like it. So I’m folding away and I stumble upon my favorite green shammy shirt. Flannel lined. Warm. A useless but yet somehow pleasing breast pocket. When I wear it I like to roll it half-way up my arms, tucking them oh-so slightly back into itself so they stay put. I usually wear this guy around the mancave in the winter so I get a cozy feeling just looking at it. Winter Storm + comfy sweats + smart-wool socks + t-shirt + favorite shammy = winter goodness.

That’s where Mr. Mulvey wins. He’s nailed it. As I pulled my shammy out to fold, I couldn’t help thinking of the lyrics, “to Feel The Same Old Joy, Oh The Same Old Hurt same Old Corduroy Shirt”. He hit a spot that this man, and I think all men (perhaps women too I can’t speak for them), have hard wired to enjoy–the comfort of things we know so well and believe won’t change. Peter Mulvey distilled it down to his shirt and I’m right there with him. Oh there’s more to the song, more layers of pain and hurt he brings up. But for now, his shirt and my shirt are connected and for me it’s just about the need for bedrock in our lives.

You win, Mr. Mulvey.

Your song a has crawled into my soul and taken up residence and I feel a better person for it.

You win.

It’s Still Sad

Today is seven years after 9/11. To remember that I brought in a copy (I have two) of the Boston Globe from September 11th, 2001. This spurred a lot of conversations around the office about the event, friends and other related uncomfortable issues.

It’s good to remember. It’s good to think about these things without, if possible, being buried by it.

The Performer Andrew Kerr

I throughly enjoy Andrew Kerr’s music. It’s not necessarily as complex as Peter Mulvey’s amazing guitar work, nor does he possess the soaring vocals of an Edie Carey or Susan Werner. No. But no other musician that I know of can dart back-and-forth between heart breaking honesty and herniating hystical humor (wow I like that!).

He’ll cut your soul with “So Much Love” and then split your sides with “Survivor” and “Special K“. Meanwhile hitting you up with some irreverent banter between songs. He’ll then do his MTV pop up video version of the Air Supply song “Making Love Out Of Nothing At All” (original and hysterical). Just to show the depth of his thinking he’ll smack you on the head with “Good As We Get” a insightful view of the state of the USA. All of this he’ll do with gusto and joy that intoxicates you and leaves you a little bit better off in the world after his shows.

I am very happy to see he’s back, after a hiatus to raise his kids. Who knows how long he’ll be back for or if he’ll tour again but at least he’s back out entertaining people.

The world is a little better off with him observing it and bringing it to our attention.

“Hi how are you?”

I started off my Friday by exploding into a rant. Poor Maureen, my cubical neighbor. That morning I did laundry at 6am at the laudromat and a man hanging outside greeted me with “Hi how are you?” I didn’t know the person and I’ll preface what follows by stating that he was just being polite (I wouldn’t say friendly and you’ll see why). Anyway, he said “Hi how are you?”

I hate that. I really do. I hate it because that person doesn’t mean it. They don’t know me, they DON’T WANT TO KNOW HOW I AM!  What’s wrong with “Good Morning”, “Hello” or simply “Hi”. No.

I really want to answer their query with something to make them stop with their inane incorrect use of a question. If it wouldn’t piss off people, I’d like to answer with “Somewhat constipated.”

Smacked back to the third grade

Andy Andy Andy. You got smacked back to the third grade. Yep. He put a whipping on you that I feel the score didn’t even show. Yes, I’m talking about Andy Roddick who got thumped by Novak Djokovic last night. What struck me while watching the match was just how lost Andy Roddick was in the first couple of sets. More than that, was just how better Novak was off of both wings, especially the backhand. Andy Roddick doesn’t have a good backhand. Now you might say, ‘Hey, look at Steffi Graf, she made a great career out of having no backhand.” No. An emphatic NO to that. Steffi chose to use slice a lot off her backhand as a way to wear down her opponents, she had a good one-handed backhand shot with top spin. But Andy’s backhand is soft, lacks depth and can easily be attacked. Heck, I think my backhand is better than his. OK, maybe not right now, but in a couple weeks of playing it would be back to it’s previous form and would be better than Roddick’s.

Don’t get me wrong, I like Roddick and I want him to do well, but he’s got to improve that backhand. Connors was right to work on that with him.

Oh, and as John McEnroe pointed out he’s got to:

- attack the net when he thinks he can win a point not when he hopes he can.
- develop alternate game plans when his primary plan is NOT working. He had no alternate plan for the first two sets.
- develop different speeds to his game. It seems Andy only has one gear–admirable and for the most part will destroy players. But not players in the top 5 or maybe even 10. He’s got to bring more to the table.

I love McEnroe’s commentary–he doesn’t pull punches.

Credit to Novak, he played extremely well last night and perhaps I’m misinterpreting the game. Perhaps Novak MADE Roddick play that poorly. But it sure seemed to me that last night Roddick was back in the third grade.

I miss in coding

I miss using ‘&&’ as a demented form of an if statement for a function call:

int i = 1;
i && f();

much more succinct than:

int i = 1;
if ( i )
  f();

blech. In C you can do that but in new languages where the types are stronger, i.e. if condition expressions have to be boolean, you can’t do this.

1 hour of exercise for 30 minutes of my time.

Last night I biked into Club Passim for the Campfire music festival. It took me 30 minutes to bike in, one way.  It would have taken me 15 minutes or so to drive it. It took me an extra 30 minutes to ride my bike in compared to driving in. So, if you think about it, I got 1 hour of exercise for 30 minutes of my time.

Now *that’s* a bargain.