Link:
https://dannyman.toldme.com/2005/06/03/biked-to-work/
I bicycled in to work this morning.
Finally!
It is a very nice ride. Flat and scenic along a regional trail that on many maps still claims to the the Southern Pacific Railroad. In fact, when I got to Danville there was a beautiful train station with a Southern Pacific caboose sitting out next to it. Museum of the San Ramon Valley, it said.
The trip, one way, if I were in slightly better shape, would be nearly an hour. I got out the door late so it was more like an hour and thirty minutes.
I am no Joe Gross, but then he’s not dannyman, so I figure all is fair.
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Link:
https://dannyman.toldme.com/2005/06/01/2001/
Yayoi and I finished watching _2001_ last night.
“So he was kidnapped by black pillar.”
That’s as good an explanation of that movie as any other I have heard.
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Link:
https://dannyman.toldme.com/2005/05/30/memorial-day/
Every holiday
Punctuates the paragraphs
Of life’s narrative
Memorial Day,
Indentation, for summer’s
Long hot sentences.
Pause, and gather breath,
Reverence for those stories
Concluded early.
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Link:
https://dannyman.toldme.com/2005/05/27/heat/
NoCal has different summer heat than the Midwest. Here, we have a limp, dry heat. It’s just heat. No drama, just hot. (more…)
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Link:
https://dannyman.toldme.com/2005/05/09/baseball-bicycle-bastards/
On Saturday we went to see the San Francisco Giants play at SBC Park. The Muni disrupted itself so we walked from the BART Embarcadero station. I am not a baseball fan, you could say, so I brought some books along. But we had some suprisingly nice seats where you could actually see what was going on, and when we got there, in the third inning, the score was 0-0 and the Nationals were walking Giants to fill the bases. Then J.T. Snow and Moises ALOU, whom I know primarily as a popular filler in crossword puzzles, went and scored a bunch of runs. (more…)
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Link:
https://dannyman.toldme.com/2005/05/06/slacker/
When I began attending grammar school, I learned that I was the weird kid. In the first environment in which we keep score, I stood out as a failure. Sure, my grades were okay, but where it supposedly mattered – the esteem of my colleagues – I was outside. Once the weird kid works out some detente with the bullies, and settles down with the fact that people generally don’t care what you do, you can find some non-social activities that interest you and coast through your days as a slacker.
In time it was revealed to me that my failure was a consequence of my intelligence. I was eventually transferred to the gifted school, but I was still a weird kid, who had had trouble socializing, and even at the gifted school I remained weird. That I was weird because I was allegedly smart, yet even among the smart kids I was weird, taught me skepticism. Maybe I wasn’t really that smart, or maybe smart had nothing to do with it.
Being weird isn’t all that bad, as long as you have somewhere else to spend your attention. For me, where other kids had friends and a social life, I had books and model trains and video games. Throughout my life I have tended toward words and hobbies and puzzles while others spend their time calling friends, planning parties, and following gossip. (more…)
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Link:
https://dannyman.toldme.com/2005/04/25/hello-samurai/
On Sunday, Yayoi and I made it to the Cherry Blossom Festival, which was fun. Yayoi had some takoyaki, but it was made with ground beef! (Tako means octopus, and she was impressed that she could get such inexpensive takoyaki, until the awful truth dawned upon her …)
Well, we took a lot of pictures. My favorite is of this older guy dressed up as a samurai, giving me a friendly wave.
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Link:
https://dannyman.toldme.com/2005/04/20/yayoi-warning/
I woke up Sunday morning from a dream in which Yayoi had just warned me, “if I were made redundant, I would become one thousand times an alcoholic.”
As my conscious brain began to mull this over, I noticed several problems with this vignette:
- Yayoi is not currently employed.
- Yayoi does not speak in British euphemisms.
- Yayoi does not speak melodramatically.
- Yayoi can not hold her liqour.
Otherwise, I totally feel her pain at being layed off . . . what was my subconscious mind doing?
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Link:
https://dannyman.toldme.com/2005/04/19/flickr-schwag/
[
Flickr]
A color-enhanced view of Mount Diablo from the foothills above Walnut Creek. The rain has made things green and a quick trip to the GIMP only emphasizes this.
So, I recently bit the bullet and bought a Pro account on Flickr. They’ll store my images for me in high-resolution, with a pretty nifty, pretty zippy interface to manage them. The community-building features have been a pleasant ego surprise — one photo I uploaded from when I was flying in to London on September 11, 2002 was found by a guy who could see his house in the photograph. (more…)
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Link:
https://dannyman.toldme.com/2005/04/06/kwiruto/
I recently caught myself typing the word “quilt” when I meant to refer to a “kilt” because Yayoi’s pronunciation merges the two together. They say that married couples eventually start to look like each other, but it is a bit different to have your language start morphing on you.
Which brings up a different anecdote. When I was young I overheard some British people refer to the process of “repatriation.” I later learned that this is because they were “ex-patriots.” It seemed kind of harsh that these people should be treated as ex-patriots simply for spending some time in a foreign country. (In America, “patriot” means Paul Revere, and anyone who becomes an ex, in need of re, is not someone you would respect.) I wondered if repatriation involved classes on the Monarchy and Parliament and other stuff to get the Americanness out of their systems, and if this was common for people returning to their countries — If I ever left, would I have to attend classes and re-take the Constitution test before I could be trusted to behave as an American again?
With time and an improved understanding of Latin word roots, I figured that they had been referring to the process of repatriating expatriates. There is no English word “patriate” but in Spanish and French the patria is the country-side, derived from Latin pater, for father . . . so, the land of your father. (The derivation of “patriot” is similiar.)
English is a twisted, gnarly language, even for native speakers, so if I should mistake a “kilt” for a “quilt” because my wife can’t wrap her tongue around the kw- sound, it is only fair.
2 Comments
Link:
https://dannyman.toldme.com/2005/04/04/yay-groupthink/
Mom and Grandma came to town last week. They did dig the scenery, the thrift stores and Walnut Creek’s quilting shop. We didn’t make it to Napa, or drive along the coast, but it is good to have things to do for next time. We did make it out to Alameda to see Joyce and Harlyn, and we parked behind a bumper sticker that read “IMPEACHMENT HELL GET A ROPE” which Mom got a good chuckle from. She recounted this to Joyce, who is working now for theological scholars, and she answered that one thing she likes about her job is that even though she is a non-believer among serious religious folks, they feel the same about President George, whereas if one were to express themselves at the bank where she worked previously, that might cause some discord.
And, while I like to have intelligent people I can argue with, it is nice to come to work and rap with our office manager, an intelligent person who offers that Monday has been magnified by the shift to Summer Time, and I demure “oh, don’t get me started on my rant about Daylight Savings Time,” and she goes “oh, I hate it too.” So, I got to rant a bit, “if you think waking up earlier is a good idea, then wake up earlier! Don’t screw up the clocks!” It felt good.
The rant was augmented by some research I did on a lazy Sunday after dropping the folks at the airport. Because of this, it may at some point be composed in to an essay which I may post here, or at kuro5hin.org. And yes, I know it is called “Daylight Saving Time” without the s.
Oh, by the way, you WordPress users might want to go in to the Options menu to manually decrement your UTC, as WordPress doesn’t have a proper notion of timezones.
2 Comments
Link:
https://dannyman.toldme.com/2005/03/29/unfortunate-commuter/
I left my camera with Yayoi this week. And the Sidekick has no zoom, but maybe just maybe we can make out that this lady is using her Blackberry while driving down the third lane of I-680 southbound, somewhere North of Danville.
Riding the bus, you get a good view of certain tragedies that you do not personally know, such as the woman who needs to be able to check her Blackberry during her commute, but also has to drive while doing so. Poor, unfortunate lady; Us privileged souls on the bus get away with taking pictures of you and posting them to the Internet while the CCCTA chauffers us to work, while you must risk your life to sneak glances at your communiques. (more…)
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Link:
https://dannyman.toldme.com/2005/03/02/intelligent-bulldozer/
Back during the boom I read some fluff piece on my “stealth mode” startup attribute the description of “intelligent bulldozer” to one of our senior employees.
I have long wondered just what that is supposed to mean, but from time to time when there is a series of problems to deal with, and I just start knocking them out, one after another, like one of those video games where you have to fight the bad guys one at a time, I start to get it. Some problems are rough or tedious to deal with, and feel like they are pushing you back, but if you’re on your game, you take their blows and keep gaining ground.
Not so much emotion, not so much ego, not so much pride, not so much artistry, just that sense of inevitability . . . the thing will be done, and it will probably be done on time.
I’m not a big “intelligent bulldozer” fan . . . my style is different, but sometimes there’s this complicated task that doesn’t stir your soul, your ego, your sense of artistry, and there really is no way to go about it except as some unconcerned, powerful piece of construction equipment, patiently wielded by an experienced operator, punching out one obstacle after another. And once you knock the whole thing down, you can step back and grin for a moment with pride at your ability to finish something you aren’t so eager to do.
For what it is worth, our “Intelligent Bulldozer” came from Microsoft.
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Link:
https://dannyman.toldme.com/2005/02/11/halfway-through-friday/
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.
Which makes me happy too.
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Link:
https://dannyman.toldme.com/2005/01/31/right-of-way/
8:12AM, Ygnacio Valley Road at California
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!”
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