My Time Is Valuable

The title of the previous post obviously implies a continuation, however life being what it is that didn’t get around to happening. I’ll probably write another segment later in the week, although at this point the events to be chronicled are long in the past and many of the scars have healed. I suppose we’ll see.

In other news, what is it about the last weekend of July that makes everyone and their step-sister want to schedule events on it? Is there some special property – like, say, the aligning of Neptune with Venus while Saturn rises in Aquarius – that somehow makes it instinctively attractive to primitive parts of the human psyche? Whatever the reason, that particular weekend has become overloaded and I’m now in a bit of a situation.

The Monster Game, of which I’ve often spoken glowingly, falls on that weekend as it always has. Having attended it for the last three consecutive years I’ve grown a certain intangible fondness for the event, and the thought of missing it entirely is a bit difficult to swallow. Of course, the reason for missing it is equally compelling: Dustin’s (in)famous guys’ weekend up at his cabin has been scheduled for the same set of days. Although I could certainly be called a geek, dork or nerd with nary and argument to the contrary, I still find solace in the occasional foray into the outside world. In other words, the dual attractions of water-sports and barbeque with friends are not ones I’m mentally prepared to resist.

To add to the dilemma, the Dear Friends Final Fantasy concert also falls on the weekend in question, although this is not as big a deal as the other two. Given that both days of Monster Game finish by three and that we’re usually out of the cabin by about the same time on Sunday, the eight o’clock start time for the concert on Sunday shouldn’t be difficult to make; the trip from cabin to Novi is around three hours, which leaves two to dress appropriately and get down to the DSO in Detroit.

In any case, fun appears to be on the to-do list regardless of which events I choose to attend. Oh, and by the way: I believe there were a few others who were interested in attending the previously mentioned concert; if you haven’t heard from me in a while and are still interested, send me an e-mail saying as much. I can’t remember everyone who wanted to go and I’d like to make sure we procure enough tickets.

No Tree Can Stop Me

It has been said that learning is one of life’s great pleasures, and believe it or not I don’t disagree. Despite my deeply-rooted hatred for formal education, I don’t dislike knowledge, I just dislike the bullshit I’m expected to put up with in institutions that largely just pretend to teach you things. That said, I learned two important new things this past weekend that I will share with you in the hopes you too can lead a better life:

1. Never second-guess your old man more than twice in the same afternoon; you’ll just look stupid.
2. Everyone should endeavor to rip down a tree with their own muscle power at least once a year.

Sunday afternoon I helped my father and brothers cut down a few of the twenty or so dead trees in my parents’ backyard. Trees being the tall and heavy things they are, dropping them in a spot that won’t result in serious property damage is a bit of a trick. Twice I predicted disaster and twice the trees landed almost exactly where my dad had claimed they were going. To be fair, history was somewhat on my side: at one time in the past my dad did manage to put a tree directly on top of our garage. In hindsight, that even was such a dead-on bull’s-eye that I guess it probably isn’t fair to call it an error – he must have been aiming for me (I was near the garage at the time).

Anyway, the third tree was slightly more stubborn. Since there was another dead tree within a few feet, their branches got tangled and the thing refused to go down. Not unprepared for this contingency, my brothers and I had strung climbing ropes about 2/3 the way up earlier on. Between the three of us we proceeded to pull down the mighty beast with nothing but our manly, bulging muscles and testosterone-laden bloodstreams.

Nature is nice – in fact I rather like it – but sometimes it’s much more fun to dominate it than live with it.

Around The Horn

I’ve written a few times on the strange nature of this site. When I started it back in 2003 I had a virulent hatred of weblogs and especially Live Journal, and thus I tried to do things that were a little bit different than normal. Over time the content here has drifted around but the trend has clearly been towards consolidation; that is, this fourth incarnation has much less “content” than the others, focusing essentially on the posts themselves.

The fact that the others sections of previous versions were, for the most part, empty is really beside the point. What’s important to note is gradual shift towards a more typical weblog presentation, and it’s not something I’m usually comfortable with when I bother to think about it. I’ve always though of online journals as inherently narcissistic – people write mundane entries about their daily lives as though random strangers on the internet are likely to care. In my mind, weblogs have always been closely associated with crappy goth poetry and generic teenage angst.

I’m going to link you to a post by Jeff that, in turn, quotes a fairly significant passage from yet another post made by a mutual friend. His [Zen's] point elicits a kind of “no duh” moment from me, one of those things that was probably obvious to everyone but me.

It’s not that weblogs aren’t manifestations of ego; they are, and always will be. What’s important to remember is what they are in addition to that: mouthpieces for communication; windows into the lives of people we care about; and, perhaps, a unique perspective on aspects of someone’s personality that aren’t normally expressed. I guess it’s something to think about and, in any case, it did serve to make me a bit less self-conscious about having one of these things. Not much, of course – I don’t want any of you to believe that I’m abandoning my misanthropic ways.

I Have Issues

I bow to Japanese people. In America.

I have no idea why. In fact, I might be over-reacting slightly; I don’t actually know how often, or for how long, I’ve been doing this. It might have been an isolated incident that won’t be repeated, but it felt too reflexive to be something I haven’t done before.

Let me back up for a moment.

Yesterday, while working at the ever lovely Siemens, I was walking around a corner when I nearly bumped into a fellow employee. His name happened to be (name changed to protect the innocent) Takamura, and I’d seen him around once or twice before. As one might expect, the slightly awkward situation led to proffered expressions of apology on both sides. That’s fine, but after we both started to turn away I bowed slightly at the waist. Understand: I’m not talking about a brief inclination of the head, not even a dropping of the shoulders, but a measurable pivot at my waist. I didn’t realize it immediately – it took until I was almost back to my desk before I understood what I had done.

There are several important questions that logically follow from this epiphany. Is this something I do all the time but haven’t noticed until now? Was the reaction triggered only because I happened to know that he was Japanese, or do I simply bow to every Asian person who tries to run me down in a narrow hallway? Am I, in fact, completely out of my mind?

Don’t answer that last one.