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A · Fellow · of · Infinite · Jest...
a funny thing happened on the way to nirvana
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I wish there were more coffee in this coffee. Make me a cup of coffee, then have that cup of coffee make me a cup of coffee that would wake up that cup of coffee after a hard night of regrets and tequila, and then serve me THAT CUP OF COFFEE. Let this be the YEAR OF INCONSISTENT POSTING and ALL CAPS. So mote it be. Make it so. Engage, Mr. Crusher. So say we all. Warp 3 Mr Sulu (and then Sulu answers, in that voice made of honey from the devil's apiary,) AYE, Sir. What is up with Sci-Fi and the catch phrases? I think it's all about building an alternate reality. You see, when they say "FRAK" when they mean to say "Darn it," then the audience knows we aren't in Kansas anymore, Toto. I would have thought the spaceships would be enough, but hey, I don't get paid to write. Speaking of that, we finally got around to seeing District 9, we saw it in the Red Vic. I gotta say, that was some first-class filmmaking and I recommend it to everyone. It's a movie that Michael Bay WISHES he could make. They left the box open for a sequel. I hope they don't go there, but if they do, I would buy a ticket, unless it had Colin Farrel in it. (Don't get me started on Colin Farrel, or Colin Firth, for that matter. In fact, I am pretty suspicious of Colin Powell as well nowadays. Co-incidence? I THINK NOT.) Is there going to be any content, Steffan? Or are you once again treating us to your rather odd stream of consciousness ranting? You wish you knew. I bought a very old track machinist's toolbox on ebay for my printmaking tools. It's about 50 to 100 years old and looks like a very old suitcase, but a suitcase full of BLUES, baby. Then it opens at the top and front and there are nine wooden drawers inside. Since it was made to haul around machinist's tools, it's all re-enforced with metal bits all over the place. It's the bomb, and if I left it in front of the federal building, it would assuredly be called in as a bomb. It says "suspicious suitcase" all over it. I would love to get a sticker that said that for the side. "Suspicious suitcase, call authorities." Would people wonder why it was labeled? Probably not, and I'd never be able to take it anyplace. At work I am moving out of my department, data management, into something called "production surveillance" which sounds really weird. It is actually a fantastic job, involving deconstruction of databases that we have built before and then building a model db based upon how we feel it should work, and then using timestamps, roll the database back in time, and advance it one day at a time, comparing our predictions of what should occur to the actual events, and then investigating any discrepancies. In a Rumsfeldian sense, we are seeking the Unknown-Unknowns, which is just the kind of job for me. Forensic data nitpicking. Along with the new job comes a new title "Technical Data Analyst" (like it? No? I got to make it up myself. It was my second choice, the management nixed "Special Data Assault Operations Operative, Level 42.") Along with that comes a small pay bump, and HUGE resume cred. But no easier time describing what the heck it is that I do. Usually people glaze over, then think "wait, that's something to do with computers!" and invariably ask them if I can fix this problem they have with Vista. |
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Hi Everybody! It's been a while since I posted. I have to say it is because I have been a busy bee lately. Sadly, most of this business is at work where the last month or so have just been kinda hectic. Worky-work-work. However this week, or at least today, the calendar is clear and I thought I'd check in. So... checkin in. Yeah. We've been cooking a lot in our new kitchen and have even taken pictures, but we haven't posted any to the food blog. Some day expect like a thousand entries all at once. The earth is rocketing away from the sun at an alarming rate. (About 67 thousand miles per hour.) Physics says that we will begin to creep closer again, but what is that except "appeal to tradition?" You expect me to believe that the earth will continue to go round the sun just because it ALWAYS HAS? We are going 67 THOUSAND MILES PER HOUR, and this thing is supposed to just turn on a dime on Dec 21st? No way. If you were going that fast on the freeway, can you imagine how many car-lenghts of following distance you'd need? Neither do I, math makes my head hurt. But I bet it is A LOT. I get to ride a new bus to work. It has way more crazy per box of commuters than the old Muni train. This morning a young lady was flipping out and being vocal and rude because she had to stand up. Someone in a seat moved so that she could sit. So she sits down and then she immediately got into an argument with the person sitting next to her because his bag was in the way. He had a great attitude. She kept saying rude things and he treated her like she was letting him know where he could buy fitted T-Shirts on Sale. "You ought to pay attention!" "I do believe that as well. Very sorry to have been so inconsiderate with my bag. That's not how I normally am. I hope I haven't kept you from having a nice day otherwise." "F*ck yourself." "I've got a full calendar today, but I will look that proposition over and see if I can work that in!" I resolved to myself to be more like this guy and hit rude people with my bag. |
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I have an AWESOME idea that I will sell to you for $1,000,000. Please send me a check and I will tell you what the idea is. Just so you know I am serious, and not some crackpot running a scam, I will tell you the first part now... "WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU GATORS..." Pretty interesting, right? I have your attention now I bet! You are wondering, "what would we do in this scenario," and you are DRAWING A BLANK. Unless you are Steve Irwin, and I SPECIFICIALLY waited until he died to submit this, so I bet you are all abuzz with excitement after THAT set up. I will let you know the last part when the check clears, because I am NO FOOL. Thank you for your time. Sincerely, Steffan R. Ziegler |
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The real estate market here in San Francisco has softened due to the bad economy, and interest rates have dropped. It got to the point the Mystery and I began to examine the idea of purchasing a condo. The idea was always to buy, and we've been working on clearing all our debts and were going to start on the down payment. But looking at the market, we began to think that holding out until we had enough for a down payment was going to end up being a mistake, because we believe that both interest rates and prices are going to begin to go back up, very shortly. In the soft market, lenders aren't looking at anyone without 20% down, and frankly we didn't have that. The exception is an FHA loan, which requires a lower down payment, (5% or so,) and we didn't have that either. Fortunately, I am eligible for a VA loan, which requires no real down payment. So we entered the San Francisco Real estate market with the idea that we could use a VA loan to purchase property here. ( the story of buying our condo continues... ) |
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Since "Office Space," I've seen some odd things in the evolution of the red Swingline Stapler. First off, it's one of those unusual items that did not exist prior to its fictionalized counterpart. The props department (according to legend, one "Edward T. McAvoy,") spraypainted the stapler red to make it stand out a little more as a visual icon, and to make it far more obvious that this was indeed a personal stapler. The swingline company got so much cult demand for the item that they began manufacturing a red model, and selling them through boutique outlets, like thinkgeek and slashdot. But aside from all that trivia, I am beginning to see it as a sort of icon of workplace dissatisfaction. About two years ago, an employee that works in my office was fired, and on his last day, he put up a picture of a red swingline stapler on his old boss' door. I've seen the red stapler print out a few times since (as well as "The Office" driven staplers imbedded in Jello...) I am wondering if this type of thing will be the gradual beginning of an iconic insult that you deliver to your employer upon your termination, or when you quit. Maybe it will enter modern parlance, to indicate a situation where the worker is unhappy with the employer, (sort of the opposite of "pink slip,") and many years from now, kids will say "I used to work there till I gave them the red stapler for another firm that paid much more," or they will threaten management with "either a raise or a red stapler." It's about time we had an icon like that, I think. |
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When I was a kid, I never had many reasons to sign my name. I am guessing that since it is illegal to enter into a contract with a minor, it isn't too important to educate children on the fine art of the signature. Fortunately, my teachers were very practical in high school, and classes like "English Prep," "Health," and "West Virginia History" actually had segments on useful skills like, paying your taxes, balancing a checkbook, and drafting formal letters, or I would have been in the same shape as most of my contemporaries upon my graduation from High School: (IE: woefully under-prepared for most of the actual day-to-day business of being a householder.) So I was semi-prepared, but on the matter of my signature, as in matters of penmanship in general I was completely clueless. So when I joined the military, that was the first instance really, of someone saying "put your John Hancock here." I can remember this first instance very clearly, I was signing my enlistment paper. The next surprise was that me slowly scrawling "Steffan Ziegler" was not enough. Apparently there were RULES to signing your name. I was informed that I needed to sign my "PAYROLL Signature," which seemingly had to be exactly the same as the way I'd filled in the little Name Boxes on the initial enlistment form, where dutifully I had filled in First Name, Last Name, Middle Initial (because that's what the form had asked for.) If I had wanted to sign without my middle initial, then I should have left it off the form. I could fill out a new form, but then I'd need to go back to all the people that had made marks on that form all day (the doctor for the physical, the psychiatrist, the aptitude tester, etc) and have them all fill out things again. Typical military, lack of info leads to a mistake, that then becomes YOUR problem to resolve. Lesson One, Day One. Now I don't HATE my middle name. I like it and its representation of clever compromise (Robert for people on BOTH sides of my family>) But my middle name is just not part of my mental identity, unless of course, I'm in trouble. ("Steffan ROBERT Ziegler, if I have to check under your bed for those shoes, you are going to be IN TROUBLE.") So since there is no real animosity towards that R, I opted to let it slide, and re-signed a fresh new final enlistment form as: "Steffan R. Ziegler," and I doomed myself to signing my middle initial forever. Mystery asked me one day when it was that she was signed up for having her full middle name published and requested on everything, and I had to confess to not knowing in her case, but for me, I can tell you definitively that I ceased being "Steffan Ziegler" and started being "Steffan R. Ziegler" as far as the MACHINE was concerned, on the day I signed that form. As far as *really* signing my name though, I didn't actually start doing that for a while. I wrote my name, like I was writing an address, until I got to my first duty assignment. I had this job where I had to print out classified forms. Protection of classified data has a kind of "chain of evidence" feel to it, each handler has to sign to show that classified material went from one pair of hands to another. Since I worked in the room where these things originated, I had to sign out around 200 printouts daily. So I signed my name 200 times daily. In the process of writing my name so many times, I developed a very lazy way of doing it, where I never lifted the pen from the paper, and wrote my name as if I were writing an address, which leads to the sort of swoopy scrawl that is my signature now. "S to the teffan and then go back to catch the cross on the T, R for robert and drop down to make the DOT and Z to the iegler swooping back to dot the I," If you have a print of mine, my signature is probably in the lower right corner. In fact, you can see it on the enlargement of the minotaur print on this page: http://www.barenforum.org/exchange/exchange_35/ziegler.html It leads to a nice megalomaniacal flourish, all out of being very very tired of writing my name. This is all good up until recently, when I've noticed that I will write my signature until the "R" in my middle name, and then I get this sort of mental lapse where I forget what comes next, and I try to pick up my signature at the "Z" in "Ziegler" and find that I've completely forgotten how that works in concert with what I've just written. So now my smooth swoopy scrawl more and more frequently is akin to "Steffan R. Ziegl... whatever." My signature mojo is all out of whack. And you can completely tell by looking at it on all my photocopied checks. You have to have some internal confidence to sign that self-important swoop. That hitch in the middle, is just like the big hitch in my gut lately. They say your signature changes several times over your life, based upon mental lines in the sand that you are unaware are important to you, and I wonder if that's the case here? (I was gonna blame it on the R, hence all the R setup, but I don't really have a problem with it honestly, it's all very unconscious.) So I don't really know what's up with all that. Maybe I'm just really really distracted right now. |
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Just an illustration of how crazy things are becoming, I was at work the other day when two guys got into a fist fight in the hall. A co-worker said he got off the elevator and heard "heavy breathing," and when he rounded the corner, one dude was beating the tar out of another. My co-worker stuck around and gave his statement to the cops, and because of this, he heard the story. Dude 1 apparently pees all over the toilet seat, all the time. Dude 2 is uptight about that, and puts up little notes in the bathroom. I took a picture of one last September: 
Anyhow. Dude 2 was in the bathroom and FINALLY caught Dude 1 in the act, so he confronted him about it, and Dude 1 beat the tar out of him. Peeing on the seat, is very serious business. |
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Remember that nanowrimo story? The one I was going to write in November but didn't do but one part of over on tiny_dr_freud? http://tiny-dr-freud.livejournal.com/533.html#cutid1 Well, that thing is rolling around in my head, damn near perfectly formed, from beginning to end, ready to unspool onto the page, and it's driving me crazy. I just don't have the time or energy to let it out. It's rare that I get an idea that has such a complete story arc, usually I'm making it up as I go. usually when I have a complete story, I've stolen it from someplace. The really sad part is that the part I *did* write is just the intro, the technical part, and it was designed to be a technical whitepaper, so by its nature, it is a little dry. The story isn't dry in the slightest, I promise. Anyhow, someday I'll finish it. |
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Do something nice for yourself today. "Last night the wife said, poor boy, when you're dead, you won't take nothin with you but your soul." -The ballad of john and yoko. My pop used to have a CB Radio back when I was four or five. I remember that his call sign was Poor Boy. There is something to be said about being poor (yeah, IT SUCKS) but in all honesty, I don't know anyone who has all they need, or at least, who *thinks* they have all they need. Having things, seems to be a route to having more things. Pursuit of things, ultimately, does little to make you feel whole inside. In the fantastically under-appreciated film, "Gremlins 2," there is a real estate magnate who watches as the tiny monsters tear apart his high rise. When asked if he felt bad about the ruin, he said, "...maybe it wasn't a place for people anyway. It was a place for things. You make a place for things...(and) things come to live in it." Maybe it's the same if you make your life a place for things. What would you do if you had to settle for what you have? What would you do if you couldn't have any of it tomorrow, but you could still do whatever you wanted to? 
That is what you NEED to be doing, right now. |
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Nothing to report at the moment. |
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http://www.slashfood.com/2005/10/27/scorpion-lollipops-and-the-future-of-microlivestock/...In the future, a bug-rich diet is all but unavoidable if we don't want to continue polluting our ever more overpopulated planet or end up eating soylent green. As (William) Lyons (of Ohio State University) points out, " If the U.S. Food and Drug Administration would relax the limit for insects and their parts (double the allowance) in food crops, U.S. farmers could significantly apply less pesticide each year." He also adds that the insects we do eat and don't know about actually boost the nutrition content of the foods they fall into. Which would you rather have less protein or less DDT? |
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I've been living daily with crisis for many many years. I think I qualify by now as an expert. I've been noting and jotting down some "rules of crisis" on my various whiteboards forever, and I thought I'd share my refined list: 1) Crisis is sometimes not a crisis. Try not to let other people define your crisis. Whether it's chicken little, the boy who cried wolf, or just Somebody Else's Problem, sometimes people blow things out of proportion and they just are not correct in their assessment of the issues. 2) Crisis manifests at the narrow end of the funnel. Like an iceberg, 2/3rds of any crisis is submerged. The point of pressure isn't the point where things are going wrong. Examine the whole process! 3) Unresolved crisis expands to fill any available resources. Crisis abhors a resource. It eats time and people. Furthermore, you can't usually staff your way out of a crisis. Unresolved issues and bad policy are not eliminated by more players or more time in the game. This only results in more people doing it wrong longer. 4) Crisis does not resolve itself. If you had a crisis and it's gone, find out who fixed it. If no one fixed it, then it's probably still a crisis. 5) Sometimes you are the crisis. Through ignorance, negligence, or sheer stubbornness, you could be part of the problem. Ask yourself; "Can this be resolved by removing me from the process?" |
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http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/mar/18/birth-rate-us-baby-boomersThis isn't in the news as much as it should be. Birth rates in the US have been spiking. In 2007, the birth rate surpassed the baby boom. My bet is that it has probably increased further since then. There will be a census soon, we will know more then, I bet. Most articles seem to focus on the teen pregnancy rate (increasing, every story has a file photo of Bristol Palin,) or on the unwed mother percentage (something like 40%, also with file photos of Bristol,) but I am curious as to how this factors into decisions like universal health care, social security, education, and whether these people will decide to buy a lot of art to put up in the baby's room. Perhaps I should take a cue from Vicki and start printing bunnies? |
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I posted this up in response to something chiller noted, namely, that it seems that people are sending one-topic emails of one-line or less at work. She asked if anyone else had noticed this as well. Of course I have: At work I often have to troubleshoot issues and explain what occurred when end-users screw up the data, and then further complicate things by screwing up the data change requests.I used to give thorough comprehensive explanations, starting with the background, then go into how this occurred, what was done to correct, how we can prevent for the future, etc. Nothing extra, just the issue and the possible actions, so that the Project Manager can recommend a path to the client. These emails are rarely more than 1000 words. Usually much less. My boss recently brought me in to say that he was concerned about the time it took to write these, and asked me to "twitter"-ize my emails. "Just one or two sentences, Steffan. If people want to know the background, they'll contact you. No one has time to read all those paragraphs anymore, especially when you are looking at it on a blackberry along with everything else you get in a day. Just tell them what they need to DO." The fact that these people will be acting on a situation while essentially ignorant of the facts behind it, doesn't seem to be a problem. All of the other responses to chiller's question were one line only. "Yep, been seeing it since 1996." etc. No long anecdote to relate, just "I-firmative, trend noted and catalogued." I am a dinosaur. |
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I realize that yesterday's post was less than useful, therapeutically. It might be fun to imagine resolving your troubles with mankind by wishing them into oblivion. But it isn't a very useful tool for coping with the ACTUAL harsh realities. We should take charge of our own fears and work with our own perceptions and shape those into healthy ways to resolve them. So as an alternative, I invite you to imagine that everyone on the planet has suddenly become a happy clown! No.... that's MUCH worse. |
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I encourage you to imagine that everyone on the planet has mysteriously vaporized. Parking is abundant. You are free to engage in dubious fashion choices. Your twitter account is strangely silent. There is no obvious downside. |
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Recently I learned that a friend had died. I don't think I react to this type of thing the way I should, at least not outwardly. Larry (the friend) was the printmaking tech at the University of Washington, where I got my printmaking degree. I saw him just about every day for four years. He was much more involved in my day to day work than my professors. He was just an encyclopedia of technique. My teachers would say that it couldn't be done, and I'd go to Larry and he would help me find a way. Nothing was impossible. He was a very funny, very smart guy with a lot of eccentricities that made him unique and interesting. I felt a lot of kinship to Larry, just in personality and style. Larry was young, so mentally I counted on having him around for a long time yet. So I've been thinking about this guy, and I can't quite come to grips with his death. I had a dream where I went to the UW to just be there and look around. In the dream Larry was alive, doing all the restocking and prep work that he did every morning. I told him I thought that he had died, and he looked down at me (he was a big guy) and his eyes were these tiny metal clocks, spinning. "There is too much to be done." He said, and I knew that he *had* died, but he was working anyway, because the job wasn't complete. How terrible! This dream is completely my own fear, that I will die with so much left to do, and not even know what that work even *was.* Not some nine-to-five, that's for sure, but the thing I'm *supposed* to do. I don't think Larry's work is in my dream as his *job* but more as his unrealized potential. All the life he had left to live, but didn't, because of a bum heart. |

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