I have often heard it said that women don’t dress for men but instead dress for women. But I live in San Francisco and so I dress for gay men. Clearly, they’re the only ones who notice and compliment accordingly. . .
A few things I enjoy about walking downtown include commuting by train, the fascinating architecture that changes through the day thanks to lights-and-shadows, and, the innumerable good-looking women hustling on their way too and from their jobs and classes.
Alas, I know little for architecture or fashion, so I wander down the street gazing in uninformed appreciation of the beauty around me. As far as the trains go, I have to admit that I recently read up on the history of the USSLRV, which Muni was plagued with in the 1980s and 1990s before they got the nice Breda trains they run today.
“Ohhh, darling, is that a Breda LRV3 you’re riding? I really like it! You’re running so quietly with a good maintenance record. That is so hot!”
Well, thank goodness for the gay men in this city, keeping the ladies motivated to heights of fashion that make me smile in uninformed appreciation.
Am I the last English speaker on this planet who reads “sundried tomatoes” as “mixed tomatoes?”
People! Please! Hyphen! Sun-dash-dried . . . dried-by-the-sun! Sundried reads as “to have made sundry” and “sundry” means “miscellaneous, mixed stuff.”
Okay . . . so, a long-term maybe-goal of mine would be to build and enjoy playing a massively-multiplayer online “God Game” . . . somewhere, I think, between SimCity and Civilization, with a bit of Trade Wars / Railroad Tycoon thrown in. I have been thinking that if I ever were to pull this off, it would need to be focused, quite a bit, on something simpler than modern times . . . and I’ve been thinking a good place to go would be the medieval period. Feudalism especially could be an important part of the game play . . . you develop small regions, that trade together, you can build a modest army and send them off to attack things, and a lot of the time you’d probably be swearing allegiance to the greater lord / king, sending in, or receiving tributes to keep the peace. Feudalism had its run from 1066, with the Norman Conquest of England, until 1789, when it was formally abolished. The stretch in there was fairly static, up until about the enlightenment, which followed the printing press about halfway through. Figure about 500 years of fairly “stable” technology, a great place to have a long-running, persistent, online god game!
Anyway, what interests me is, collaborative / combative politics, supply-chain and market aspects of economy, trade, and, well, the whole enchantment of maps, and moving things around . . . assigning lands to vassals, I suppose, sinking wells, founding / razing towns . . . feedback loops . . . noticing patterns and anticipating changes, and dealing with disasters like bad harvests, invasion, and plague. (more…)
So, I’ve been playing with AdSense for a few months now. It seems I earn about $5.00 per month. June was a mere $4.80.
But Google gives me plenty of stats, and I have calculated that I could earn my current salary through AdSense if I can boost my page views to 642 million per day.
I think ratchet would melt under the strain of 7,500 hits per second. (more…)
<dman> WEBINAR
<dman> I hate that word.
<Ark> yes, i also loathe it
<recursive> oh, god, that is a bad one
Dude, a Webinar is a Seminar conducted over a speakerphone, and you look at the slides in a web browser. Webinar just makes it sound even sadder than it already is. (more…)
I work in the Bishop Ranch Office Megaplex. It is an enchanted dominion of beige and white office buildings, stretching two miles through the heart of San Ramon, CA. Our own building has a variation on a theme of steel and glass and fountains with abstract steel sculpture. We have a suite on one of the five stories, my private office has a view of Mount Diablo, and any time I pace the walkways around the open inner court I can spy somewhere the lady assigned to keep our spotless shiny building clean, dusting a steel handrail or some other task critical to structural shinyness.
It is like something out of Star Trek. We even have aliens: smaller, browner Indians from somewhere deep inside Mexico, who are always outdoors, somewhere around the complex, planting flowers, fixing the fountains, replacing shrubbery with other shrubbery. I’m told that every few months the plants in the lobby are replaced with other plants. Some plants are plastic, some plants are organic. All the plants share a common destiny: they will only stay a while in our lobby, before moving on, probably to another lobby.
When I started here in November they had opened a new cafe in our local complex, which was replacing the cafe that had been there previously. This cafe is called the Lost Ladle, and I have bought many morning pastries and lunch time sandwiches there. Good quality, good value, and some friendly faces. I’m told that it was better than the cafe that was there before.
This morning my pastry was half price. Today is their last day. In a couple of weeks, a new cafe, the Cactus Cafe, will open in its place. Rotated out of the complex, some Alliterative Alternative, to keep my own race of pasty-faced desk jockeys from becoming too complacent or bored with our office environment. Or something like that. I suspect the space is contracted out and whomever is there is often underbid. Anyway, for better or for worse, it shakes up my view of my little planet.
So, as you can tell from the lack of activity here, it has been a somewhat hectic week at work, so as I return from lunch, I point out to our office manager that I’m half-way through Friday!
And I got the weekend ahead of me.
And, a friend calls, totally bummed out about work. I share my philosophy about how you can work your 9-5, and then forget about whatever you don’t like about work, and go home, and revel in the beauty, or the problems, I guess, of your home life.
Enough upbeat energy and positive thoughts and my friend seemed a lot more cheerful.
So, what just happened was that I took a look out for cars while crossing the right-hand turnout to the main crossing. An older lady in a red sports car came whizzing up to the turnout, took a look at me, and kept going. As I stepped in to the turnout, I smacked her red spoiler and continued on my way. I heard a honking behind me, as a few pedestrians already waiting at the main crossing looked around. After a moment, I turned my head too, to see the red sports car drifting lonely down the street.
I figure that if you fail to yield to a pedestrian, then the wholesome smack of flesh on plastic is a healthy reminder that plastic smacking flesh is highly undesirable. A healthy way of saying, “Good morning, and thank you for flirting with vehicular manslaughter.”
5:02PM, Bishop Ranch Bus Stop
I got downstairs late for the 4:54 bus. A co-rider suggested that we missed it. Then the bus pulled up, and we got on board. I did some reading up on web performance tuning, trying to think of more ways to debug the causes of trouble for one of our European clients. The bus roared along, and my studying was cut short, because by 5:20, the bus was already at Walnut Creek! It took another three minutes before the traffic light allowed the bus to cross Ygnacio Valley Road and drop us off at the BART station. As we waited, I noticed, out the window next to me, a guy in a blue Volkswagen shuffling papers in his lap, twitching with his transmission, and chatting on the cell phone, pulling a foot or two forward every few seconds, waiting eagerly for the light.
I figure that if you want to get work done on the ride home, you can take the bus. It works for me. “Can you believe that guy,” I said to the passenger in front of me. “And I have to walk home through that!”
If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung,
Would you hear my voice come thru the music,
Would you hold it near as it were your own?
It’s a hand-me-down, the thoughts are broken,
Perhaps they’re better left unsung.
I don’t know, don’t really care
Let there be songs to fill the air.
Translation?
While we all wish that creative expression could transmit our thoughts and emotions from artist to audience, that doesn’t matter so much. If you enjoy creating, or you appreciate what is created, than that is good enough.
I am a year away from thirty. Twenty eight has gone well. I have married, and I have moved from a good job to a better job. I spent a fair amout of twenty eight with a looking-over-the-shoulder paranoia, or skepticism, or lack of confidence, left over from the tumultuous work experiences of previous years. I can kind of feel that slipping away now. I have started thinking the big thoughts again about what is possible, and what the opportunities are. My brain is starting to roll back in to that optimism about what grand things are afoot, and what I can do as part of the perpetual technological revolution, whether it be creating some Next Big Thing, supporting a company, merely sitting back and observing the bustle up close, or simply collecting a few bucks while making preparations to retreat to some Shangri La that would be a good place to raise kids.
This is how I used to think, back around the first time Bush had become president. And I think that if these things are to happen then I am in a better position to engage them . . . a little more patience, a lot more experience, and with Yayoi, I hope, more inclined toward stability. Here’s to the next round!
Are you tired of stumbling over cryptic technical posts? You can filter out most of them by going over to the right, under “Categories” and clicking “General” . . . this will show you only articles that are marked “general,” which will exclude those article which are solely technical in nature.
So, Christmas was awesome. But here I will kvetch about the return trip.
I got a good deal on Southwest Airlines for a one-way flight. Unfortunately, Southwest doesn’t fly to San Francisco, so I booked for San Jose. When I got to the airport, I tried the automated check-in thingy: credit card … okay … flight number? Gee, well, I have that … okay … confirmation code?
Look, silly computer, if you know my name and my flight number, what need have you of a string of random digits? (more…)
Two years ago, I spent Christmas in the South of Thailand, but not on the coast. I heard Phuket, on the Indian Ocean, got hit hard. I had stayed several days mid-December, 2002 at a place in Kata, which was very nice. I was curious if I could get any news of Kata. Well, the Seattle Times has a dispatch from a tourist. The destruction in Thailand’s tourist areas has been severe:
Tonight I went to Patong again. It’s the largest beach and shopping area and where the largest group of tourists are. It’s about a mile long and four blocks deep and full of big stores and small shops. Big hotels. The Sheraton and everything — and I mean everything — is destroyed.
The author is visiting ex-pats in the local hospitals. Thailand’s public health system is not the greatest, and being in a foreign country in bad times just adds to the stress. And there is plenty of tragedy to go around:
The first room we went in was a young Swedish man with a major cut all the way down his leg. His Thai wife was sitting next to him with a large bandage on her chin. We asked him how he was doing, and he said that this was nothing because they had lost their 3-month-old daughter. Just washed away. The woman just started crying uncontrollably. It was heart wrenching. We gave them a hug, and they were very appreciative that we came by.
Read the article. Thailand, America, wherever, we are all so many peas in the same pod. (more…)
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