For computer professionals:
So my teacher, in my first meeting of Advanced SQL, was doing what every computer teacher always does. She begins by doing a history of computing touching points she feels is relevant to the course.
"First you have the machines like Univac1. Then came the era of mainframes. Mainframes could not be used by the high-level user. They usually just handed off cards. After mainframes came dumb terminals. Do you know what came after dumb terminals?"
A voice from the back says, "Yeah, dumb users."
(I am sure someone could tell the story better. But it was really funny.)
Anyway, as I was leaving class I noticed, on my favorite literary genre, the license plate "LESBIAN."
I think that woman rocks. It takes a lot of courage to flaunt a "lifestyle" that is not widely accepted and is commonly persecuted. It made me want to get the license plate "HETERO" and a license plate holder that says, "And Available."
Strangely, I would not be the first one to do something like this. I have noticed people overtly using their cars as personal ads. I have seen license plates like, "SWMP 4U" and "SWCM +heart." (In case you don't read the personals, this is single white male professional for you and single white Christian male plus heart/love.)
Something like 3% of married couples in Los Angeles met on the freeway. (Might as well do something fun while stuck in traffic.) After learning this, I have realized I do not drive in the right places. In traffic, I am the one between a senior who can't see over the steering wheel and the mother yelling at her kids in the back seat.
It would be funny if the freeways in LA turned into hot dating spots. Everyone with their personals vanity plate, "HOTWF4U," "SWF28CU," "heart4SBF35." Yeah, as if LA traffic is not bad enough.
Makes me want to clean out my car and have it detailed…
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
Monday, January 24, 2005
It's not easy being green
But it is cool
If you don't know, I am a nature enthusiast.
Come the raining season in California, when the ground is soggy beneath your feet, the night is suddenly punctuated by a sound much like crickets in the rest of the country. But instead of crickets' chirping, it is a loud chorus of frog ribbits.
At night, by any rainy season waterway, comes hundred of deep ribbits from frogs rarely ever seen. These little guys, about the size of a half dollar but sounding like they are the size of a bowling ball, spend nearly the entire year hibernating deep in the mud. When the rain comes, they emerge and the men, being men, get right down to the business of advertising their virility (big surprise), hence ribbiting.
The female frogs, wooed by a particular big, deep voice come to check out the frog.
A little while later, those rainy season waterways become nurseries. (I will now think twice before drinking from rainy season streams.) Tadpoles appear in the water, and soon frogs.
As the rainy season waterways become rainy season mud ways, all signs of frog life disappear. The waterways become dry cracked mud flats until the next season when it starts again.
I have lived by seasonal arroyos for years now. I have only seen a few tadpoles. I have only once seen frogs, yet their song is constant. It is amazing how tiny they are compared to their roaring ribbits.
At night, the hundreds of frogs, in just a small strip of water front, ribbit the evening away, until last call (somewhere around midnight, depending on local waterway ordinances). Then they go quiet until the next afternoon.
This rarely seen, little creature pleases me to no end. The noise, a constant hum, a call for love, seems so happy, true and pure.
I love the little rainy season frogs.
They are very cool.
Come the raining season in California, when the ground is soggy beneath your feet, the night is suddenly punctuated by a sound much like crickets in the rest of the country. But instead of crickets' chirping, it is a loud chorus of frog ribbits.
At night, by any rainy season waterway, comes hundred of deep ribbits from frogs rarely ever seen. These little guys, about the size of a half dollar but sounding like they are the size of a bowling ball, spend nearly the entire year hibernating deep in the mud. When the rain comes, they emerge and the men, being men, get right down to the business of advertising their virility (big surprise), hence ribbiting.
The female frogs, wooed by a particular big, deep voice come to check out the frog.
A little while later, those rainy season waterways become nurseries. (I will now think twice before drinking from rainy season streams.) Tadpoles appear in the water, and soon frogs.
As the rainy season waterways become rainy season mud ways, all signs of frog life disappear. The waterways become dry cracked mud flats until the next season when it starts again.
I have lived by seasonal arroyos for years now. I have only seen a few tadpoles. I have only once seen frogs, yet their song is constant. It is amazing how tiny they are compared to their roaring ribbits.
At night, the hundreds of frogs, in just a small strip of water front, ribbit the evening away, until last call (somewhere around midnight, depending on local waterway ordinances). Then they go quiet until the next afternoon.
This rarely seen, little creature pleases me to no end. The noise, a constant hum, a call for love, seems so happy, true and pure.
I love the little rainy season frogs.
They are very cool.
Sunday, January 23, 2005
Stupid: Cold Lymph Nodes | Cool: 64,000 Words
Stupid: mucus and lymph nodes
Lymph nodes are the lumpy things in your throat when you are sick. The other day we discuss having "a cold." Today we will discuss lymph nodes.
First let's break up the phrase into node and lymph.
Node is a rounded mass of tissue (also a computer or information destination on a computer network)
Lymph is a fluid resembling blood plasma containing the White Blood Cells, a Liverpudlian boy-band. (Shhhhh, don't tell anyone, but lymph is the polite term for puss. Lymph, unlike node, has no computer reference, to my knowledge.)
All the lymph runs through the node and the node pulls out all the germs, placing them in little jail cells where the bad cops (played by the White Blood Cells) show up and eat them.
(This could be horribly wrong. But this is what I understood from my web research.)
(For those of you who do not understand biology, as indicated by several stacked piz-za boxes beside your two computers, I will explain lymph this way. Lymph is a data stream and the nodes are state-full inspection firewalls that drop signature-matching packets, germs. Unfortunately, the Liverpudlian boy band does not match a signature, and therefore hogs your bandwidth. Or something like that.)
And there is the lovely thought of your day, lymph nodes and mucus. (Seems like there should be a country song about it.)
Cool: the concept of getting better (currently still in concept phase), a full moon over a misty night, the noise of frogs brought to life in the rainy season.
Super cool: completion of the first draft of my most recent book. My baby, bo-rn 186 pages, single-spaced, 64,000 words, starts off great but the ending is crap. If you want to read it, let me know. It is a modern thriller.
Lymph nodes are the lumpy things in your throat when you are sick. The other day we discuss having "a cold." Today we will discuss lymph nodes.
First let's break up the phrase into node and lymph.
Node is a rounded mass of tissue (also a computer or information destination on a computer network)
Lymph is a fluid resembling blood plasma containing the White Blood Cells, a Liverpudlian boy-band. (Shhhhh, don't tell anyone, but lymph is the polite term for puss. Lymph, unlike node, has no computer reference, to my knowledge.)
All the lymph runs through the node and the node pulls out all the germs, placing them in little jail cells where the bad cops (played by the White Blood Cells) show up and eat them.
(This could be horribly wrong. But this is what I understood from my web research.)
(For those of you who do not understand biology, as indicated by several stacked piz-za boxes beside your two computers, I will explain lymph this way. Lymph is a data stream and the nodes are state-full inspection firewalls that drop signature-matching packets, germs. Unfortunately, the Liverpudlian boy band does not match a signature, and therefore hogs your bandwidth. Or something like that.)
And there is the lovely thought of your day, lymph nodes and mucus. (Seems like there should be a country song about it.)
Cool: the concept of getting better (currently still in concept phase), a full moon over a misty night, the noise of frogs brought to life in the rainy season.
Super cool: completion of the first draft of my most recent book. My baby, bo-rn 186 pages, single-spaced, 64,000 words, starts off great but the ending is crap. If you want to read it, let me know. It is a modern thriller.
Saturday, January 22, 2005
I have a cold.
I find this amazingly ironic as it has been as hot as 82 degrees this week.
How can I have a cold when it is so hot?
And I am not cold. I am hot. So shouldn't I have a hot?
Having "a cold" is very odd language. I never have a "luke warm." I suppose I could have a hot (body), but only if I went to the gym more.
I looked up the etymology of cold, as in the common cold. The term originates in 1537. (I wonder what they called it before then. "I have an illness to be named in the future.")
It was referred to as "a cold" because it is similar to symptoms of being exposed to the cold.
I don't think that the reference is entirely accurate. When I am exposed to the cold, I usually curse. When I have a cold, I whine.
In either use, temperature or illness, I am generally against cold, with an exception for ice cream.
I have yet to see evidence I have "a cold." Who is to say I do not have "the cold?" I mean, if one fruitcake gets passed around the world every Christmas, what is to say that there is not only one cold passed from person to person. Assuming this, I have been sneezing on people in an effort to give away the cold. (Want to come over?)
How can I have a cold when it is so hot?
And I am not cold. I am hot. So shouldn't I have a hot?
Having "a cold" is very odd language. I never have a "luke warm." I suppose I could have a hot (body), but only if I went to the gym more.
I looked up the etymology of cold, as in the common cold. The term originates in 1537. (I wonder what they called it before then. "I have an illness to be named in the future.")
It was referred to as "a cold" because it is similar to symptoms of being exposed to the cold.
I don't think that the reference is entirely accurate. When I am exposed to the cold, I usually curse. When I have a cold, I whine.
In either use, temperature or illness, I am generally against cold, with an exception for ice cream.
I have yet to see evidence I have "a cold." Who is to say I do not have "the cold?" I mean, if one fruitcake gets passed around the world every Christmas, what is to say that there is not only one cold passed from person to person. Assuming this, I have been sneezing on people in an effort to give away the cold. (Want to come over?)
Monday, January 17, 2005
Going The Long Way
My sister was driving home to Santa Barbara from Cabo (see green route on map), a trip of something like 1000 miles. The direct way goes through Los Angeles.
When she gets to Los Angeles, all routes for last 100 miles (see red route) were closed due to mudslides and flooding.
So as my father tells it, in Los Angeles, my sister decided to make a right.
She is in Oklahoma now, some 1300 miles from LA (see blue route), bringing entirely new meaning to going around road closures.
If laughter is the best medicine, siblings are the prescription.
I think she is getting a GPS navigation system for her birthday.
(I have to reduce the charm of this story, or my sister will never forgive me for implying she lacks a sense of direction when, in fact, it is impeccable. Her boyfriend is posted in Oklahoma and the detour's destination, while ridiculously spontaneous, was entirely intentional. But the story is funnier when artistic liberty is taken, and that information omitted.)
When she gets to Los Angeles, all routes for last 100 miles (see red route) were closed due to mudslides and flooding.
So as my father tells it, in Los Angeles, my sister decided to make a right.
She is in Oklahoma now, some 1300 miles from LA (see blue route), bringing entirely new meaning to going around road closures.
If laughter is the best medicine, siblings are the prescription.
I think she is getting a GPS navigation system for her birthday.
(I have to reduce the charm of this story, or my sister will never forgive me for implying she lacks a sense of direction when, in fact, it is impeccable. Her boyfriend is posted in Oklahoma and the detour's destination, while ridiculously spontaneous, was entirely intentional. But the story is funnier when artistic liberty is taken, and that information omitted.)
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
YIPPEE
SUN!!!
All routes into town are closed, likely until the end of the week due to mudslides, most significantly the La Conchita mudslide. An estimated 15,000 commuters are stuck in town. Grocery store shelves are sparsely stocked without the usual trucked in goods (most importantly ice cream). So, after not buying things at Trader Joe's today, I bought gas, just in case.
But it is sunny! Sunny! Sunny! And things are drying, all nine inches since Friday. I will miss my backyard swamp; really I will.
I hope they find all the missing people in the La Conchita mudslide alive, as improbable as it is.
Did I mention it is sunny!?
Oh, my friend saw Noah at Home Depot this weekend, which is funny because I saw him at the pet store buying two of everything they had.
Have a dry day!
All routes into town are closed, likely until the end of the week due to mudslides, most significantly the La Conchita mudslide. An estimated 15,000 commuters are stuck in town. Grocery store shelves are sparsely stocked without the usual trucked in goods (most importantly ice cream). So, after not buying things at Trader Joe's today, I bought gas, just in case.
But it is sunny! Sunny! Sunny! And things are drying, all nine inches since Friday. I will miss my backyard swamp; really I will.
I hope they find all the missing people in the La Conchita mudslide alive, as improbable as it is.
Did I mention it is sunny!?
Oh, my friend saw Noah at Home Depot this weekend, which is funny because I saw him at the pet store buying two of everything they had.
Have a dry day!
Monday, January 10, 2005
Redesigning My Arc
I was supposed to drive to UCLA today, along this stretch of road.
There was a massive mudslide, resulting from relentless rain. It brought down all long distance calling. It closed the Central California to Los Angeles route and there is no word on when the route will be reopened. This will affect local businesses as many people commute through this area, and the only way around adds an hour.
Several homes between the mountain and the freeway are under 30 feet of mud. Houses have been crushed or moved by the force. Twelve people are missing; one is dead.
This is a picture of the freeway. The cars are two feet deep in mud.
(Click for larger image.)
A little further down the road, a car crossed a small mud slide, lost traction, and fell into the pacific. One person died.
And lastly, I end with this picture, as a positive note. Thankfully, no one was hurt.
There are very few people working in Los Angeles who rock climb as part of their commute. (But there are many more of them today, than there were yesterday.)
The boulder, twenty-five feet across, completely closed this major two-lane route.
I think I am going to redesign my arc to include four-wheel drive.
There was a massive mudslide, resulting from relentless rain. It brought down all long distance calling. It closed the Central California to Los Angeles route and there is no word on when the route will be reopened. This will affect local businesses as many people commute through this area, and the only way around adds an hour.
Several homes between the mountain and the freeway are under 30 feet of mud. Houses have been crushed or moved by the force. Twelve people are missing; one is dead.
This is a picture of the freeway. The cars are two feet deep in mud.
A little further down the road, a car crossed a small mud slide, lost traction, and fell into the pacific. One person died.
And lastly, I end with this picture, as a positive note. Thankfully, no one was hurt.
There are very few people working in Los Angeles who rock climb as part of their commute. (But there are many more of them today, than there were yesterday.)
The boulder, twenty-five feet across, completely closed this major two-lane route.
I think I am going to redesign my arc to include four-wheel drive.
Sunday, January 09, 2005
Building an Arc
I am sorry I have not written lately. I have been busy building an arc.
In the last 24 hours, we received nearly one third of the average yearly rainfall, 3.34 inches of 11 inches. This is well in excess of all records.
An entire county has closed schools.
There are flood watches everywhere. (This is a stupid term, flood watch. It makes it sound like there are little observation decks set up to watch the flood.)
How long is the rain supposed to last? Forty days and forty nights, of course.
So, as I sit here floating in my inner tube, watching my two pumps desperately try and keep up with the pouring rain, I leave you with these two images: the forecast and what had been a beach, Goleta Beach.
The forecast for the next few days...
(I hope my pumps last; I am sure Home Depot has sold out.)
This was a level beach but now has a six-foot drop care of destructive storm surge.
You are welcome to write comments, especially on paper set adrift in corked bottles.
In the last 24 hours, we received nearly one third of the average yearly rainfall, 3.34 inches of 11 inches. This is well in excess of all records.
An entire county has closed schools.
There are flood watches everywhere. (This is a stupid term, flood watch. It makes it sound like there are little observation decks set up to watch the flood.)
How long is the rain supposed to last? Forty days and forty nights, of course.
So, as I sit here floating in my inner tube, watching my two pumps desperately try and keep up with the pouring rain, I leave you with these two images: the forecast and what had been a beach, Goleta Beach.
The forecast for the next few days...
(I hope my pumps last; I am sure Home Depot has sold out.)
This was a level beach but now has a six-foot drop care of destructive storm surge.
You are welcome to write comments, especially on paper set adrift in corked bottles.
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