Two things:
First, you may have seen this already, but another innovation has emerged from Google Labs: Google Transit. I've wanted something like this for a while, it's basically Google Maps but for public transit. So far it only covers Portland, OR, but they will be adding more cities. Most major transit sites already have "trip planners", but tend to be difficult to navigate and customize, so I'm looking forward to seeing that functionality unified under the user-friendly Google imprimatur.
Secondly, there was an excellent interview with Stephen Colbert on Fresh Air yesterday. I should probably warn you that it isn't very funny, but it is an excellent out-of-character conversation that really highlights Stephen's intelligence, his plans for the show, and his thoughts on the media.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Quote from "Collision"
"She doesn't have a plan. She only has her guilt... and a gun." - Sayid
Plot development in "Lost," or subservise commentary on President Bush's Iraq strategy? You be the judge!
Plot development in "Lost," or subservise commentary on President Bush's Iraq strategy? You be the judge!
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Crazy theory
I had a cool idea. I would continue watching "Lost" this season, but always be two weeks behind. Whenever I finished an episode, I'd post my thoughts and predictions on the blog. What would be cool is that that way everyone could see me being wrong in real-time, instead of needing to wait another week and trudge through the archives to find my mistakes.
Still, doing that would take time, and in any case Pat is badgering me to catch up now, so I will. Maybe I'll do it for the second half of the season. But I did want to put my totally wrong thoughts about Kate down before I see "What Kate did," which might crush my favorite theory.
Some background: the first few episodes of "Lost" were some of the most amazing pieces of television I've seen. The rest of the series has been cool, but has rarely touched the quality of the beginning. The first reason for this is that the series has turned away from the cool supernatural aspect of dark forces lurking in the jungle, which made possible the incredible atmosphere. Another, though, is that they've lost all their villains. One by one, every single castaway on the island gets their flashbacks shown, and as a result we see that everyone is really just a misunderstood person.
Sawyer was cool, an elementally selfish, devil-may-care persona who stood in thematic opposition to Jack's social pull. Yet we find out that he's really just a sad, rejected person who pretends to be bad to mask his softness.
Jin was dangerous, a vicious fighter and brawler, a true gangster who tormented his wife and didn't hesitate to kill. Except, he really was an honorable and courageous man who stood up against evil.
Michael was cruel, a domineering father who takes sadistic pleasure in ordering around Walt. Only, he is actually filled with so much love that he doesn't know how to express it.
Time and time again, we find out that none of the castaways are really bad, they're just victims of fate and misunderstood. Now, from a philosophical standpoint, this is interesting, and pretty close to the way I see the world. (My maxim in relationships is "Never ascribe to malice that which can be explained by incompetence.") But, from a dramatic point of view, it saps the tension out of the fledgling society and leaves only the island in opposition, which except for occasional bursts has actually been pretty well behaved since the show's beginning.
But...
Wouldn't it be cool if, as the show goes on, the reverse starts to take place? What if the people who we thought were good and kind and caring are revealed to be violence incarnate?
Personally, what I would love to see happen is for Kate to emerge as the dominant villain of the series. Making this happen would be extremely cool. Here's why:
More than anyone else (that we know about), Kate has lived outside the law. She steals, she kills, she drives recklessly. But, we are led to think that she is somehow innocent. When I watched the first season, the impression I was left with was that Kate was falsely accused of something, ran away from her unjust punishment, and as a result got into increasingly serious scrapes as she attempted to redeem herself.
Now, why do I think that? Basically, I think it's because she's cute and she cries. As any guy will tell you, a cute crying girl can get you to believe pretty much anything.
With that in mind, it would be AWESOME if this continued for a season or two, as her backstory gets more and more filled with violence, until we finally accept that, yes, Kate was in fact a very bad person. And she's manipulative and heartless, unwilling to give up looking for what she wants. And unlike others, she doesn't see the island as a second chance, in the sense of a way for her to reinvent herself. Rather, it's a chance for her to inflict more pain upon the world than would have otherwise been possible.
The great thing is, this wouldn't at all contradict anything that's gone before. All that stands in opposition is some scenes of her crying (she was faking) and helping people on the island (she's trying to earn their trust for when she starts her killing spree or whatever).
Like I said, this will probably be blown out of the water when I finally see "What Kate Did," but I wanted to let you all know so you could laugh at me. No spoilers in the comments yet, please!
Still, doing that would take time, and in any case Pat is badgering me to catch up now, so I will. Maybe I'll do it for the second half of the season. But I did want to put my totally wrong thoughts about Kate down before I see "What Kate did," which might crush my favorite theory.
Some background: the first few episodes of "Lost" were some of the most amazing pieces of television I've seen. The rest of the series has been cool, but has rarely touched the quality of the beginning. The first reason for this is that the series has turned away from the cool supernatural aspect of dark forces lurking in the jungle, which made possible the incredible atmosphere. Another, though, is that they've lost all their villains. One by one, every single castaway on the island gets their flashbacks shown, and as a result we see that everyone is really just a misunderstood person.
Sawyer was cool, an elementally selfish, devil-may-care persona who stood in thematic opposition to Jack's social pull. Yet we find out that he's really just a sad, rejected person who pretends to be bad to mask his softness.
Jin was dangerous, a vicious fighter and brawler, a true gangster who tormented his wife and didn't hesitate to kill. Except, he really was an honorable and courageous man who stood up against evil.
Michael was cruel, a domineering father who takes sadistic pleasure in ordering around Walt. Only, he is actually filled with so much love that he doesn't know how to express it.
Time and time again, we find out that none of the castaways are really bad, they're just victims of fate and misunderstood. Now, from a philosophical standpoint, this is interesting, and pretty close to the way I see the world. (My maxim in relationships is "Never ascribe to malice that which can be explained by incompetence.") But, from a dramatic point of view, it saps the tension out of the fledgling society and leaves only the island in opposition, which except for occasional bursts has actually been pretty well behaved since the show's beginning.
But...
Wouldn't it be cool if, as the show goes on, the reverse starts to take place? What if the people who we thought were good and kind and caring are revealed to be violence incarnate?
Personally, what I would love to see happen is for Kate to emerge as the dominant villain of the series. Making this happen would be extremely cool. Here's why:
More than anyone else (that we know about), Kate has lived outside the law. She steals, she kills, she drives recklessly. But, we are led to think that she is somehow innocent. When I watched the first season, the impression I was left with was that Kate was falsely accused of something, ran away from her unjust punishment, and as a result got into increasingly serious scrapes as she attempted to redeem herself.
Now, why do I think that? Basically, I think it's because she's cute and she cries. As any guy will tell you, a cute crying girl can get you to believe pretty much anything.
With that in mind, it would be AWESOME if this continued for a season or two, as her backstory gets more and more filled with violence, until we finally accept that, yes, Kate was in fact a very bad person. And she's manipulative and heartless, unwilling to give up looking for what she wants. And unlike others, she doesn't see the island as a second chance, in the sense of a way for her to reinvent herself. Rather, it's a chance for her to inflict more pain upon the world than would have otherwise been possible.
The great thing is, this wouldn't at all contradict anything that's gone before. All that stands in opposition is some scenes of her crying (she was faking) and helping people on the island (she's trying to earn their trust for when she starts her killing spree or whatever).
Like I said, this will probably be blown out of the water when I finally see "What Kate Did," but I wanted to let you all know so you could laugh at me. No spoilers in the comments yet, please!
Monday, December 05, 2005
That's it, this is my rhyme. Let's take it to the street!
Not long enough for its own post, but whatever.
I love dreams and dreaming. I don't dream enough any more, or at least I can't remember them. I'm probably down to about three or four dreams a year now. When I get one, I treasure it.
It was probably a combination of (1) a tiring schedule, (2) seeing high school friends twice in a few weeks, and (3) messing up my sleep patterns, but whatever the cause, I had a good (as in interesting) dream last night. It was set back in Wheaton North, where for an English-type class I had to write and direct a play.
It wasn't an ordinary play, with three acts and a small cast of characters. It was pretty experimental, though I think this was more because I wanted to write it that way than because it was required. The tone of the play was very similar to some stories I'd read the prevoius days in "Best American Non-Required Reading 2004." It was just slightly sinister, with very precise dialog that seemed perfectly ordinary but peppered with odd gestures and glances that infused everything with a sense of unease and dread. Ooh, a better analogy might be the second act of "The Courier's Tragedy" (courtesy "The Crying of Lot 49"), in which the audience is presented with a Presence that infuses the dialog but is never named.
Anyways. The structure involved me writing a lot of little roles. Each of my classmates played a part, with each person having just a few responsibilities but each part was also indispensible. I went through the dress rehearsal and made some adjustments, switching some roles between actors and making some changes to the blocking. I don't remember many details, except that I made a change so at one point Josh and Nate both stood on small platforms, parellel to each other, speaking out to the audience; each character was only aware of what he himself was saying, but each only made sense with the participation of the other; it was essentially a monologue with each delivering alternating lines.
Jennie and at least one other girl were mad at me. Well, more upset than mad, though I don't remember why; they played their parts but weren't happy about it. I wanted to fix it for them but knew that the play wouldn't make sense unless they were in it, and there weren't enough extra people to take over their parts.
There was going to be a performance that night at the school, and while going to class I was worrying about the performance. I was taking notes and sketching out diagrams for the stage, seeing if I could make it any better. It occurred to me that I wasn't in the play; I'd been happy to only be the writer and director, but I wondered if maybe I should give myself a part.
When I started writing this post I had no idea what the dream meant. Now I have a few ideas, though nothing's solid. Part of it definitely has to do with the way I construct realities within my own mind. I think all people do this to some degree, but probably more than most I have a tendency to turn the world and my life into a story, projecting motivation and design where there probably is none. In the same way, I think, it's probably significant that in my dream I can't interact with high school memories as they occurred, I need to create a narrative to place people inside.
Another possibility is that the dream is showing my unease at my creative drought. Part of the reason I started this blog was despair over how long it had been since I had written anything besides emails and code; I would much rather be writing fiction, but I've felt it's better for me to write something, even if only rambling reflection on random events, than risk whatever skill I might have had slipping entirely away. I can't say I'm that pleased with the results here, but it is making me confront my desire for creation. Back to the dream: a lot (not all, but probably most) of my dreams are driven by anxiety, and my creativity or lack thereof is therefore a worthy topic.
A darker interpretation has more to do with relationships. The people I'm closest to in my life are now far away from me. I try to keep in touch as best I can, but I'm naturally reticent (well, when it comes to actually talking, anyways) and I worry I'm slipping away from them. I try to keep appraised of what's happening in their lives, but as time goes on, the reality of who they are will slip further and further away from my memories of who they were. Can I maintain true friendships in these circumstances? Or will my interactions with them be surface-level only, "acting" out our connection instead of actually having it?
Of course, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, and sometimes a dream is just that polish sausage you ate in the airport. Either way, it's interesting, and I like to think about it.
I love dreams and dreaming. I don't dream enough any more, or at least I can't remember them. I'm probably down to about three or four dreams a year now. When I get one, I treasure it.
It was probably a combination of (1) a tiring schedule, (2) seeing high school friends twice in a few weeks, and (3) messing up my sleep patterns, but whatever the cause, I had a good (as in interesting) dream last night. It was set back in Wheaton North, where for an English-type class I had to write and direct a play.
It wasn't an ordinary play, with three acts and a small cast of characters. It was pretty experimental, though I think this was more because I wanted to write it that way than because it was required. The tone of the play was very similar to some stories I'd read the prevoius days in "Best American Non-Required Reading 2004." It was just slightly sinister, with very precise dialog that seemed perfectly ordinary but peppered with odd gestures and glances that infused everything with a sense of unease and dread. Ooh, a better analogy might be the second act of "The Courier's Tragedy" (courtesy "The Crying of Lot 49"), in which the audience is presented with a Presence that infuses the dialog but is never named.
Anyways. The structure involved me writing a lot of little roles. Each of my classmates played a part, with each person having just a few responsibilities but each part was also indispensible. I went through the dress rehearsal and made some adjustments, switching some roles between actors and making some changes to the blocking. I don't remember many details, except that I made a change so at one point Josh and Nate both stood on small platforms, parellel to each other, speaking out to the audience; each character was only aware of what he himself was saying, but each only made sense with the participation of the other; it was essentially a monologue with each delivering alternating lines.
Jennie and at least one other girl were mad at me. Well, more upset than mad, though I don't remember why; they played their parts but weren't happy about it. I wanted to fix it for them but knew that the play wouldn't make sense unless they were in it, and there weren't enough extra people to take over their parts.
There was going to be a performance that night at the school, and while going to class I was worrying about the performance. I was taking notes and sketching out diagrams for the stage, seeing if I could make it any better. It occurred to me that I wasn't in the play; I'd been happy to only be the writer and director, but I wondered if maybe I should give myself a part.
When I started writing this post I had no idea what the dream meant. Now I have a few ideas, though nothing's solid. Part of it definitely has to do with the way I construct realities within my own mind. I think all people do this to some degree, but probably more than most I have a tendency to turn the world and my life into a story, projecting motivation and design where there probably is none. In the same way, I think, it's probably significant that in my dream I can't interact with high school memories as they occurred, I need to create a narrative to place people inside.
Another possibility is that the dream is showing my unease at my creative drought. Part of the reason I started this blog was despair over how long it had been since I had written anything besides emails and code; I would much rather be writing fiction, but I've felt it's better for me to write something, even if only rambling reflection on random events, than risk whatever skill I might have had slipping entirely away. I can't say I'm that pleased with the results here, but it is making me confront my desire for creation. Back to the dream: a lot (not all, but probably most) of my dreams are driven by anxiety, and my creativity or lack thereof is therefore a worthy topic.
A darker interpretation has more to do with relationships. The people I'm closest to in my life are now far away from me. I try to keep in touch as best I can, but I'm naturally reticent (well, when it comes to actually talking, anyways) and I worry I'm slipping away from them. I try to keep appraised of what's happening in their lives, but as time goes on, the reality of who they are will slip further and further away from my memories of who they were. Can I maintain true friendships in these circumstances? Or will my interactions with them be surface-level only, "acting" out our connection instead of actually having it?
Of course, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, and sometimes a dream is just that polish sausage you ate in the airport. Either way, it's interesting, and I like to think about it.
Did some say LIGHTHOUSE!
Last weekend Wade Owen and Bernadette "Bernie" Nebus were wedded in Columbia, South Carolina. It was a beautiful wedding. Selfishly, it was a great time to meet old friends again and encounter cool people from the couple's life. Selflessly, I greatly enjoyed witnessing their happiness together and seeing the start of their new life.
A typical boring rundown of the weekend's experience from my perspective follows.
A typical boring rundown of the weekend's experience from my perspective follows.
- I flew out of San Francisco since it was MUCH cheaper than flying out of San Jose. That meant I had to wake up at 4:30AM on Thursday morning. I took the VTA to Diridon, transferred to Caltrain, went to Millbrae, transferred to BART, and rode that in to SFO. I flew out on Delta, which was great. The first leg to Atlanta, on a 777, was only half full so I got a row to myself. The second leg was on a 737, packed but much shorter. While in the Atlanta airport I ran into Meg, Wade's little sister who I haven't seen in years.
- Wade's parents picked us up, and together with Josh and Dave (from the bachelor party) we headed out to the Nebus estate. Pat gave a wonderful meal of lasagna and the dozen of us mingled and got to know each other better.
- We went back to the hotel and the guys hung out while we waited for Nate, whose flight out was delayed until after 1AM. We caught the much-hyped and greatly disappointing Oprah interview on Letterman and the White Stripes on the Daily Show. Nate made it in in one piece and we returned to crash.
- Friday was an extremely social day for me; I'm incredibly introverted so it was a little draining but also quite fun. The morning was breakfast and conversation in the hotel. For lunch the groomsmen and fathers went to lunch at an excellent seafood-and-steak restaurant; Wade continued a distressingly generous trend of buying all our stuff.
- The afternoon held the rehearsal ceremony. I had forgotten a tie and was doomed to feel vaguely self-conscious the rest of the day. While at the church (a lovely building which holds a memorial to Cardinal Bernardin, my favorite Prince of the church and a native of this parish), we met the Wedding Coordinator, henceforth the WC because I cannot remember her name. She was a character out of a movie, a domineering and aggressively committed individual. I think the first sentence out of her mouth condemned the "street people," and it went more or less downhill from there.
- In opposition to the WC was Father Richard, who served at Virginia Tech, Wade and Bernie's alma mater. He was very friendly and professional, having done this 500 times before he had a great idea of how to communicate what worked. Unfortunately, this frequently clashed with "the way we do things here." He told the groomsmen to let our hands hang at our sides; she instructed us to clasp our hands. He finished his instructions with an encouraging talk about how "There's no such thing as a 'perfect' wedding; if anything goes wrong, just act like it was supposed to happen that way, nobody else will notice." Seconds later she was saying, "There IS such a thing as a perfect wedding, and tomorrow's will be perfect!"
- After all that, everyone was ready for a drink. So we headed off to the highest place in Columbia, the 25th floor of the Capitol Club for the rehearsal dinner. This was also nice, the drink selection was good (due to the funky SC liquor laws, the Owens had to buy all the booze at a liquor store and bring it upstairs, where the serving staff distributed it), the food was excellent (halibut and potatoes and steak), and conversation flowed smoothly. Josh made an extremely good toast to the couple, which was followed by several more or less entertaining toasts from relatives.
- While I was having a great time, two consecutive nights of 6 hours sleep and a whole day of socializing had wiped me out. I begged off on the after-hours bar hopping, returned to the hotel, and fell asleep within a minute.
- I woke up bright and early on the wedding day. Before everyone else made it downstairs I ran into Jennie, a great friend from high school who is now teaching in northern Virginia. We got some Wheaton North spirit going before the wedding party split for the chapel.
- I love wearing a tuxedo. This is only the third time in my life I've worn one, but they are incredibly comfortable besides looking very sharp. This may seem like a betrayal of my geek pride and defiantly slovenly dress, but in fact is not. For a fuller treatment of this topic please see Neal Stephenson's Cryptonomicon, Chapter 34, "Suit."
- The bridesmaids were all lovely. Besides Franny the maid of honor, Bernie was attended by Meg, Sarah and Katie. (Groomsmen were Josh, Nate, Dave and yours truly.)
- The wedding was perfect.
- I was really impressed by how comfortable and relaxed everyone looked. I'm used to seeing either the bride or the groom lose it in one way or another, by crying or getting the giggles or whatever, but there was nothing like that here.
- Pictures were not nearly as painful as I had feared. My smile usually feels forced pretty quickly, but I was having a good enough time to keep it going throughout.
- We got to ride in a stretch limo for the four blocks between the church and the reception.
- The reception was just as well planned and executed as the rehearsal dinner, despite having probably four times as many people. I didn't circulate as much this time, mainly sticking with the Wheaton North crowd and the wedding party.
- A live band, whose name I should remember, played at the reception. Josh had one for his as well and I think it's a great idea. A live band is a great way to infuse a room with energy without blasting people out of their seats. I'll probably get a DJ if and when I get married, but that's just because live bands have a hard time with house and trip-hop music.
- Yes, I danced at the reception. Not well - my only one-on-one dance was with Meg and was very Middle School - but, since I didn't go to dances in middle school, I'm resigned to being in arrested development when it comes to these things. Still, there were enough general fun dances ("Play that Funky Music White Boy" had to be the best one) that I got in some good time on the dance floor, did my little thing in the corner, and left tired but really happy. I need to find a way to do this stuff in between weddings. (And remember, DDR doesn't count since it isn't dancing.)
- Had a nice long chat with Jennie later. This was the day of Virginia Tech's championship game, so the entire hall went from full to nearly empty over a span of about 15 minutes as people filed out to catch the game. Nate tried to keep things going on the floor, others of us retreated away from the music to continue catching up.
- When it was all played out, we returned to the hotel, where we were slightly nonplussed to find our room as messy as when we'd left that morning. A handwritten note on the bed explained that they couldn't clean because we'd left things on the bed. Has anyone else encountered this? I don't claim to be a hotel expert but this was the first time I'd heard of such a policy. We basically said "Screw it" and went right back out, clad in tuxes, to continue the party. (Except for Nate, who was finishing up a monster assignment due on Monday.)
- We caught up with the VT crowd at a sports bar and watched in amazement as a game at a respectable 3-3 before halftime descended into a blowout, as FSU intercepted and dominated over a seemingly helpless VT. Wade and Bernie made their exit. The Hokies were clouded with despair. We ate some spring rolls, drank the last of the beer and retreated.
- Some girls were EXTREMELY drunk.
- The rest of us made it safely to the Liberty bar, conveniently abutting the Hampton. Here we upgraded our beer and stared as VT gave just enough hope to keep people from abandoning. I met with Bernie's uncles, whose reputation preceded them. I was also introduced to a fellow St. Louis student who was pursuing his PhD in Columbia, and we had a good and long conversation about BREW, something I can rarely do outside of work.
- I'm really impressed by people like Nate, who go to bars to meet people. As in meet them, not hook up with. Anytime I go I'm focused on my social group or the game that's playing and don't really do enough to seek out who else is around. I think I'm missing a lot, as this can be one of the most relaxed environments for making those kind of connections.
- It can have its disadvantages, though. Nate (who made enough progress to join us) had to endure an hour of being awkwardly hit upon by a psych student specializing in suicide.
- The game finally ended, 22-27, still a major disappointment for our fans but close enough to save them the outright pain of true humiliation. We went back to the hotel.
- I know alcohol is a depressant, but when I drink I seem to get way too much energy. [When I started writing this post, I had no idea it would end with so much alcohol.] Despite being well past midnight after several exhausting days, I stayed up another hour packing all my stuff up, chatting with Nate, and continuing to read "Best American Non-Required Reading 2004."
- Sleep eventually came.
- I got to see Jennie again the next day before she headed out on one of the earliest flights. Nate decided to try and catch an earlier plane so he joined me and Earl in a cab to the airport. One thing I love about small Southern cities - cheap cab rides.
- My flight was delayed, and apparently I'm still on United's terrorist suspect list, but I got home to SFO around 7:30. All my connections back home went smoothly, and I walked in my apartment door right as the clock turned to 10:00.
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