JOhn's Journal

Doctor Who: Spyfall

2020-01-07T06:12:12Z

I actually did not care much for the two-part season opener of Doctor Who. The pacing was all over the place, the story hard to follow, the direction left too much to inference and interpreting vague body language, and worst of all, the new Master is simply unmenacing. This guy loses his cool at the drop of a hat, and he gloats like a child, not a mad genius. His need for approval from his nemesis is palpable, and unbecoming. He is not worthy of the same title used by Roger Delgado, John Simm, and Anthony Ainly.

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Bidding Adieu to my Gallbladder...

2018-08-14T13:11:26Z

I've had quite the adventure over the past week. And not one I would recommend in it's entirety.

As I've mentioned before, I have long had problems with gallstones. Usually I'm able to keep them at bay by making careful food choices. Sometimes, I make poor decisions, and sometimes my system is unusually sensitive, so I did suffer "attacks" every once in a while, putting me in moderate pain (unable to sleep or concentrate) for several hours at a time.

A couple of weeks ago, I noticed I was becoming hypersensitive. Foods that were "sometimes" triggers were triggering me reliably. I had three "attacks" in one week despite being extra careful.

Then on Wednesday, as I was driving home from work, I felt the beginnings of another "attack". While it was milder than the immediately previous ones, it turned out to be more persistent. It was still going on after a mostly sleepless night. I plowed through another work day in pain, and started to feel panicky. Surely it had to subside soon, right? They always had previously.

By midnight, I knew I had to do something. As I wrote on Facebook:

I'm going on my 29th or so hour of continuous pain that I'm fairly certain is gallstones. It's never lasted this long before. I am afraid. My options are, as best I can tell, are

1. Wait it out and hope the pain stops soon
2. Wait the night and go to urgent care first thing in the morning
3. Go to the ER now

The only option that I know will solve the problem is surgery. Anything else would probably mean pain drugs and hope that whatever is causing the pain resolved itself. I have a lot of commitments right now, so taking the couple of days to recuperate from surgery (assuming it happened soon) seems a high price. But each hour of pain saps that resistance.

Ugh. I hate adulting.

After deliberating with Michael (who I knew I was going to be roping into any ER trip I was going to take), and nearly crying in frustration, I made the difficult choice to head to the ER. (For the morbidly curious, we wound up at El Camino Hospital's ER in Mountain View, which has a much better reputation than more local ERs.) There I was triaged fairly quickly, put in a room, given pain medication (dilaudid, if I recall correctly) which spread through my system like hot chocolate and left me feeling blissfully pain-free.

They took some blood, ran some tests, hooked me up to an ultrasound machine and eventually an X-ray (they have portable digital X-ray machines now, it's so cool!), and they confirmed my worst fear. A large stone had lodged itself into the neck of my gallbladder and was not going to go anywhere. Infection was imminent. They recommended being admitted to the hospital to have my gallbladder removed. While I was still very trepidatious about going under the knife, I also relief from the pain and pressure.

The nurse called Michael in to see me and I told him I was going to stay at least the night, and that he should head home to get some rest. Then I was wheeled up to a room, transferred onto a hospital bed, had an IV installed so they could easily keep my hydrated, and then left to rest. I emailed my manager to let her know what was up and then managed to get some rest.

Friday was spent mostly waiting to hear from the surgeon to know when I would be going under. Since mine was not a scheduled surgery, they needed to fit it in between other people's surgeries. At first they thought I'd have the operation in the early evening, so they didn't allow me to eat or drink anything. Over the span of the day, I grew increasingly uncomfortable from hunger, but I was hopeful that I'd be operated on that day so I tried to just deal with it. The surgeon stopped by around 5 and told me that it would either happen later that night (as in 10PM or later), or first thing in the morning. When I mentioned that I wasn't sure I could go till the next day without eating, he assured me that if it was looking like things were headed that direction, he would make sure I got food.

Oh, did I mention that I was hooked up to an IV to keep me hydrated? This meant that when I wanted to go to the bathroom (and with all that fluid being pumped into me, you can bet I wanted to go frequently), I had to call the nurse's station and request assistance with the IV pump. Also, they way they installed the IV in my arm meant I had to keep that arm straight as much as possible, otherwise the pump would start complaining of "occlusion". I developed an unhealthy relationship with that IV pump. "Beep beep beep!" it would say when I forgot to keep my arm still. "Fuck you!" I would reply. Anyway...

When food arrived around 7PM, I knew that I wouldn't be getting the operation on Friday. I enjoyed the food as best I could without having chosen my menu, and frankly despite my intense hunger, couldn't eat much.

Some amusement, in retrospect, about the food. Someone from the Nutrition department showed up unannounced at my door and gave me a tray. I started looking at what was available to eat thinking it was going to be a disaster. My nurse arrived a minute later and was surprised to see the tray and took it away from me, still under the assumption I'd be operated on that evening. A bit later, she showed up again with the tray, saying that the Doctor had ordered it, so it was okay for me to eat. The meal was turkey meatloaf, steamed veggies (cauliflower and green beans), a cup of watermelon, a dinner roll, decaf coffee, and appropriate condiments. I ate the surprisingly tasty meatloaf and the dinner roll, and asked the nurse for some ice water. All in all, it was satisfactory.

I spent Friday night much as I had spent the day. Getting pain meds as infrequently as I could, but still too frequently for my liking, sleeping when I could, battling with the IV pump, and requesting help at all hours of the day and night to get up to pee. Thankfully Michael had brought my iPad for me, so I was able to keep myself distracted with episodes of "Babylon 5" while I waited.

Saturday morning, no breakfast of course, and more waiting for news. Michael let me know that he was on his way, and would be stopping for coffee along the way. Of course, that's just what fate needed, since I was given the "fifteen minutes" warning as we were chatting. So, he decided that since he wouldn't be there in time to see me off, he would get an errand accomplished and then wait for me to get back from surgery. (Honestly, I was disappointed things were working out that way; I had quite a bit of fear of the surgery, not yet convinced I would actually wake up from it. I wanted him there to say goodbye before that happened, but I knew I could not hold back the march of time.)

I got wheeled down to the surgery unit, had a brief meeting with the anesthesiologist, and then wheeled into the operating theater. They transferred me to the operating table, got me comfortable, attached a new set of monitoring pads, gave me the oxygen mask, and then told me I was going to be unconscious shortl---

I experienced the anesthesia in a typically JOhn way. As I closed my eyes after they gave me the oxygen mask, I should see a large black screen, stretching in all directions. All over this black surface there were white boxes with white text, which as is typical for me I couldn't actually read. Along with these labels were various charts, diagrams, spreadsheets, and more, all updating in real time. There were also a few boxes that I could identify as sound clips, and would play when I glanced at them. At first, the sound clips were from the operating room, the nurses and doctors talking about trivial stuff, and engaging in technobabble. After a short while, these sound clips changed to recovery room staff talking about various patients' status. Windows started opening up on my screen, showing me views of the recovery room. After a couple of minutes, I fully regained consciousness and my "reboot vision" went away.

The next twenty-four or so hours was my initial recovery. As long as I lay fairly still, there wasn't really any pain, and what there was could be easily managed with less powerful drugs. Of course, the medical staff were really not content with my laying around. I had to sit up to eat (ow!), get out of the bed to pee (ow ow!), get out of bed to walk around the floor (owies!), and do deep breathing exercises with a torture device (ow ow ow!). Since they didn't know when I would be discharged, they kept me fed and kept me moving around. Eventually they removed the saline drip (though they left the IV port in my arm), so I could more easily move about, but when I was in bed, they wanted me to wear inflation cuffs on my lower legs. (I actually liked the inflation cuffs, felt like I was getting a gentle massage on each leg, back and forth.)

Of course, since I was recovering from abdominal surgery, they were very concerned with my ability to pas gas. It's kind of comical in retrospect how each member of my care staff asked with each interaction if I had passed gas, and how concerned they looked when I answered in the negative. I certainly wasn't up to pooping, which they seemed to accept with some reservation.

My surgeon stopped by Sunday early afternoon to see how I was coming along. By then I was spending more time in a chair than in bed, and gratefully so. He was pleased with my progress. He let me know that the stone I was dealing with was abnormally large. Holding up his fingers he showed me how large it was, and to me it looked like he was indicating it was about a centimeter wide. He seemed shocked by it's size. He told me that my incisions were longer than normal due to this. But overall he was pleased and said everything went well. He was ready for me to be discharged once he had some blood test results run.

I suppose the tests came back well, because my nurses showed up to start the "going home" process. More paperwork, discharge instructions, after-care instructions (not a lot, honestly), prescriptions, removal of the IV, and getting dressed. I got wheeled down to the lobby and waited for Michael to pull his car around. Getting into the car was not a lot of fun, but doable. As we drove to the drug store, I called my mom to update her, since I had gotten in trouble with her earlier by putting my pain and fear as a higher priority than contacting her with all of the details. Got my drugs, got home, dealt with a hyperactive and happy to see me dog, and then plopped down in my easy chair, which is where I've been most of the rest of Sunday, and all day Monday.

I get up to pee. I get up to walk around as much as I can. Each time I get up, there is less and less pain. I've tapered off all of the pain meds they sent home with me. I did eventually manage to start passing gas again, which is a relief because the gas pains were starting to make me want to hit the drugs again. Still haven't pooped, but that's on my list for today, along with getting some kind of bathing happening. Overall I'm quite pleased with my recovery so far. I have a check in with my surgeon on Wednesday. Or at least I'm supposed to call him. I can't imagine that I'll not have to wait for a callback.

At this point, though, it looks likely that I'll skip heading up to WorldCon. It's frustrating because I finally got a job to do at the con (Registration Desk), but now after making such a big stink about it, my gallbladder laid me low. My department head was completely gracious and understanding though. I hope she has enough staff to fill the gaps left by my absence.

I don't know when I'll go back to work, but I'm kind of hoping by Friday. I know there are a lot of things I've left undone that need to get done soon, and we're short-handed as it is (one of our team just took a job in New York). But I'm not going to push myself too hard. My boss has already told me to take my time recovering, so I'm going to *try* and heed that advice. I figure I'm going to be low-energy for the next week or two, so tapering up to getting back to work is probably a good idea.

Anyway, that was my excitement for the last week. Not the weekend I had wanted, but perhaps the weekend I needed. I'm not sure what lacking a gallbladder will mean for me in the future, but hopefully I'll be able to return to eating my favorite foods again, and maybe, with time, trying some of my previously banned foods again. Not right away, of course, but maybe by this time next year, I could eat an onion ring, or a part of a donut. Wouldn't that be wonderful?

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O, Vancouver

2018-04-30T20:27:24Z

So, a few weeks ago I was offered a special form of training in a class made of up people from both Cupertino offices and Vancouver ones (employees from a company we recently acquired). And to be fair to both teams, one of the class sessions was to be held in Vancouver. So, for the first time since I started here, I got to go on corporate travel.

Let me tell you, I had a wonderful time.

I flew in to Vancouver on a tiny Bombardier jet. It wasn't the most comfortable trip I've taken on an airplane but it only lasted one hour and forty five minutes, so I could tolerate it. Vancouver's airport is really nice inside. Obviously inspired by to artwork of the native peoples of the area (hopefully they contributed and were okay with the use of the look), it had a spacious feeling that combined lots of natural wood and stone. I had been told that it was easy to take a train from the airport into downtown and that my hotel was within walking distance of the downtown stop. And indeed it was.

My first impressions of Vancouver were very positive, and those impressions didn't change during my visit. The streets were much cleaner than I'm used to city streets being, and while there were occasional unpleasant smells, there was no overwhelming and constant stench like what I experience in San Francisco. Sidewalks were wide, and walking around the city seemed to be "the thing to do". People made room for each other on the sidewalks. And the weather was wonderful. Just cool enough that walking a ways wouldn't make me overheat.

Apple put me up in the Westin Grand, a tall narrow tower with some 30 stories (the elevator had buttons up to 31, but was missing 4, 5, 13, 14, and 24, which I thought odd; is there some superstition about floors with a number '4' in them?). My room was a two room suite, with a spacious bedroom and an equally spacious sitting room. Each room had it's own big screen TV (neither of which I ever turned on, of course). The bathroom was likewise spacious, but had a polished stone floor which was highly reflective. I'm not used to seeing myself from that angle. I wasn't fond of the shower, since it had one of those "rain" style shower heads. But thankfully it also had a hand-held sprayer that could be mounted at a similar height and angle as my shower head at home. Oh, I got lunch after settling in at the hotel at a tiny New York style pizzeria called "Straight outta Brooklyn". I enjoyed it quite a lot!

The first night there, some of us Cupertino folk met up with one of the managers of the Vancouver team and went for a walk along the waterfront (in the area of Coopers Park and BC Place), then grabbed a "Car2Go" car (a tiny little Mercedes into which we fit five full-grown larger men), and took a tour of Point Grey, the Pacific Spirit regional park, and an area known as "Kitsilano" where we got dinner. After that, we took a cab (a Prius that was having traction control issues) back to the hotel. I logged in, got some work done, then went to bed.

The next day (Thursday), I walked to the Vancouver office by way of McDonalds for breakfast. The office reminded me of startups I've been in: a bunch of oddly shaped rooms in an history building, desks arranged in rows, each with a computer and a large monitor. Managers working side-by-side with engineers and marketing. Fortunately, Apple infrastructure was already up and running, so I had no problem with remote access to my machines in my office in Cupertino. At lunch time some of us Cupertino folks walked down to find somewhere to eat. Everyone but me went to a ramen place, but I was craving sandwiches so I found a nearby Subway. After lunch, some more work then the two hour class, which went well. I got a bit more work down after class, then packed up and headed to my hotel.

After cleaning up a bit, I went down and met with my mostly-online friend Will (who some of you may know as "Airporter" from LJ). He took me to a little hole-in-the-wall Japanese place where I had beef teriyaki and actually drank the tea and ate the miso soup (a first for me). We chatted for quite a while, possibly lingering longer than we should have, and then he took me on a driving tour of other areas of Vancouver.

We chatted about chocolate and Will insisted we had to stop by a Purdy's Chocolates for some candies, which we did. Let me tell you, their "Himalaya Pink Salt" caramels are divine! I also enjoyed the dark chocolate orange creme, and the PB&J truffle. I wasn't as fond of the Raspberry and Balsamic truffle as I had hoped I would be. I picked up a box of salted caramels to share with Michael.

After that, Will took us to Granville Island, the city's cultural and artistic heart. Pretty much everything but the bars were closed, but we spent some time walking around, peeking into the windows of galleries and workshops, and chatting more about just about everything. It's the kind of place I could easily spend an entire day exploring.

We then drove around a bit more, ending up in Stanley Park, a beautiful wooded hilly natural space overlooking one of the major inlets in the city. There was a very pretty suspension bridge that we observed from Prospect Point Lookout. After a while, it got cool so we headed back to the car. It was getting late, so I suggested it was time for me to head back to the hotel so I could get a little bit more work done and then get to bed before my travel home in the morning. We said our "good nights" and hugged (Will gives lovely hugs!) and I went up to my room.

The next morning, I decided to have breakfast at a restaurant I had seen walking around the day before, "Le Petit Belge," which served Belgian style waffles. I wanted to order the "My Lord" waffle which was served with ice cream, chocolate, cookie crumbles and whipped cream, but I thought that wouldn't have made a good breakfast so I settled on a waffle with eggs and bacon. It was a darn fine breakfast.

Then back to the hotel to pack and go catch the train. I wanted to get to the airport early since Air Canada wasn't allowing me to check-in online. I got to the airport with plenty of time to spare and found out that I had been "selected" for "enhanced" screening at "security". It was made amusing by the continual circus of miscommunication the security officers had with each other. After I got through "security" I made the hike to the Air Canada Express gates (way out at the edge of the terminal in what felt like the waiting room of a tiny regional airport).

As I was getting ready to board, things were happening back at the Cupertino office that led me to realize that it was going to be necessary for me to head to work for a few hours after arriving at SJC Airport (and further time on Saturday). So, a rather ignominious end for a wonderful trip.

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Some Thoughts on the Pilot of Star Trek: Discovery

2017-09-26T03:49:47Z

Anyone who knows me for even a brief time learns fairly quickly that I'm an old school Trekkie. I've been a fan of the show since early childhood, can name any TOS episode within a couple seconds of the beginning of the episode, and used to have all the star dates memorized. I quite enjoyed all of the subsequent offerings, some more than others. I even enjoy the JJ Abrams movies, though I consider them more "Star Trek Anime" than mainline Trek. So, it was with great anticipation that I sat down to watch the newest offering, Star Trek: Discovery.

It did not win me over in the pilot, two-part episode, sadly. It was definitely Star Trek, and there was a lot I liked, but overall I felt disappointed. I will try to capture both the positive and negative thoughts about the show shortly. But I do intend to keep watching, remembering the pain that was the first episode of nearly every Trek show to date. Can you imagine judging all of The Next Generation simply from "Encounter at Far Point"?

So, on to the review... Oh, be warned, SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS!!!

There Be Klingons!

I'm okay with the visual redesign of the Klingons. Every generation puts their own spin on the venerable enemy, and this new version isn't any better or worse than previous ones. (And let me go on record to say I disliked Enterprise's attempt to reconcile the visual differences between the different generations of Klingons. I was perfectly fine with Gene's explanation that the Klingons from The Motion Picture, which were modernized into the Klingons of TNG and DS9 shows, were what the Klingons from TOS were always supposed to look like.)

I do kind of like the thought of a rogue member of a disgraced house being the one to try and unite the Great Houses with his crew of outcasts. The guy with nothing to lose is, thematically, the best person to kick off such a conflagration. And if he feels that the Klingons have lost their edge and stopped being a warrior race, what better way to hone the species than a major war with a neighboring power? My big gripe is that they seemed as fervent as a group of radical, fundamentalist religious members. But I recognize that's more my problem with fundamentalists of any stripe than a story problem.

But I found myself drifting way during the ponderous scenes involving the Klingons. The decision to make all of those scenes with Klingon language dialog, paced slowly to make sure that the viewers could read the caption, just did not work for me. It made the scenes slow, and I kept tuning out, then having to re-focus my attention on reading the text if I wanted to know what was happening. Marc Okrand, the inventor of the language, claims that it should be spoken rapid-fire, as if giving commands on the bridge of a Klingon ship in the heat of battle. This was anything but rapid-fire. I wish they had found some way, as they did in Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country, to have them speaking in Klingon but us hearing it as English. It would have made those scenes more bearable.

And speaking of things slow and ponderous, it seemed to me that the costumes the Klingons were wearing, the highly filagreed armor, was perhaps too bulky. They all moved slowly, as if highly encumbered. For a warrior race that should value being able to move quickly and freely, that armor seemed all wrong. It didn't help that it was easily penetrated by their own weapons and the weapons that our heroes brought. If we are to see more Klingons, I hope the ditch the highly encumbering and apparently useless armor for something more practical.

Oh, and somehow only T'Kuvma has a cloaking device. Where did he get it from? No idea. I don't think he developed it on his own, and I doubt that he made personal inquiries to the Romulans to obtain the technology. As with many things in the show, it seemed a technology far too advanced for the era depicted.

The USS Shenzhou

Overall, I liked the ship. Sadly, we probably won't see it again.

I liked the "lateral vector transporters" and that it was considered antiquated. Though I do wonder how they went from the transporters they showed in Enterprise (the more familiar vertical format) to the lateral kind and then back by the time of TOS.

I liked that the bridge was on the bottom of the saucer section, though I did wonder if there was a particular reason for it other than it seemed cool at the time.

I did not like that the technology seemed considerably far ahead of what we would see in TOS, which is supposed to happen ten years after the events shown in Discovery (I think ten years is too short, if Kirk is reading about the Klingon-Federation war as a past subject in Star Fleet Academy a decade or more before he took command of the Enterprise). Emergency force fields protecting the bridge? Free-standing forcefields around the cells of the brig? In the TOS era, force fields were reserved for doorways and similar easily constrained areas. That Shenzhou can have arbitrarily shaped force fields, and ones that can open holes in the field, seems far too advanced for the era.

I also found many of the inhabitants of the bridge to be anomalous. We had a guy with some kind of wrap-around metal and plastic prosthetic, we had what appeared to be a robot with several small displays for a face, we had some person with wires extending from wrist to fingertips, and some kind of alien with asymmetric patterns on its skin. What was that wraparound prosthetic? Was he like Lobot from The Empire Strikes Back? Was the robot looking thing an alien with an encounter suit? Or was it actually a robot? If a robot, was it sentient, like Data? (That would violate canon, since Data was supposed to be the first artificial life form serving on a Federation ship.) What was the purpose of those wires on that persons fingers? We also seemed to have a lot of nameless crewmen and -women. I guess that's expected since the ship doesn't make it past the pilot, but still it felt strange.

Also, holographic communications? I don't recall the Federation ships having such technology in TOS days.

But as I said, overall, I like the look of the ship. I'm slightly disappointed that we probably won't be seeing it again.

Captain Philippa Georgiou

I liked her as a captain. A temperament equally balanced between boldness and caution, willing to listen to her officers, but willing to make hard calls. I also quite enjoyed what seemed to be a wry sense of humor. And she seemed very dedicated to her crew. Her death seemed to be such a waste. We never really got to know her well, which is a pity. Maybe some day we can see the earlier adventures of Georgiou and her ship.

One thing I did not like about her, though, was her decision to use the Klingon dead as a means to deliver a photon torpedo warhead onto the nameless Klingon ship. That did not seem to be the principled actions of a Star Fleet captain, especially one trying to avoid an all-out war.

Commander Michael Burnham

I wanted to like Commander, the focus of the series. But she failed to win me over. Her actions continually seemed at odds with her history and stated intentions.

We didn't get enough information about her background and what led her to be Sarek's ward. Something about a Human/Vulcan science outpost, attacked by Klingons (whom we haven't seen in a hundred years, but who we know attacked the outpost), with Michael winding up being an orphan. And then, somehow, illogically, Sarek takes Michael into his household to mentor and mold? Why? Wouldn't have been better for Michael to send her to family elsewhere in the Federation? Why impose Vulcan training on an ill-prepared human child? She obviously failed to live up to Sarek's expectations of her.

And why did he bring her aboard the Shenzhou and then leave her in the care of Captain Georgiou? As far as I can tell, Michael did not attend Star Fleet Academy, and did not seem to come aboard the ship as a member of Star Fleet. And yet she rose to the rank of Commander and the position of First Officer? In seven years? I'm a bit incredulous.

And while I did enjoy the depiction of her friendship and interactions with Captain Georgiou, it turns out that when a crisis arose, the Captain learns the hard way that she never really knew her protege. That was jarring.

Actually, Burnham herself was jarring. For someone apparently raised in the Vulcan way, she seemed impetuous, thoughtless, rash, and prone to emotional outbursts. She took every opportunity to be insubordinate. Starting with her promise to only conduct a "fly by" scan of the anomalous object (the beacon), which she violated by choosing to land on it, to her eventual mutiny, she failed to follow orders and respect the chain of command. This is highly illogical, and decidedly anti-Vulcan. She was smart and resourceful, but rash, and untrue to her stated background. She even admits it:

"You wanna know how I turned on you? I believed saving you and the crew was more important than Starfleet's principles. Was it logical? Emotional? I don't know."

Finally, wasn't she the one who advocated for capturing the Klingon leader rather than killing him? Wasn't she the one afraid of making him a martyr? And then, when faced with him after he killed her captain, she just kills him? That made absolutely no sense whatsoever.

I suppose this is the foundation for the rest of the series, a redemption story of a person who took rash actions that resulted in a war, and how she atones for it. You need a flawed character for that story to work well. But why burden her with this whole "grew up on Vulcan" backstory if at every step along the way she goes against her teaching?

I hope she grows on me.

Final Thoughts

So, those are my thoughts on the show. There's promise, and perhaps it's just a "slow out of the gate" kind of thing, but overall I disliked it. The pacing was slow throughout most of the show, the technology seemed out of whack for the era in which it is placed, and the main character is not really very likable.

I will continue watching for at least a few more episodes. It's pretty clear that the pilot was mostly prologue for the real story, so I want to get a taste of that before making final decision. But at this point, it's not compelling.

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Goodbye Livejournal

2017-04-10T19:09:00Z

I have completed my move from LiveJournal to DreamWidth. I'll probably fully delete my (permanent subscription *sniff*) LJ account in a month or so. Let's see how long DW remains free and independent.

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Hamilton

2017-04-09T05:37:42Z

I went with Allan (allanh) and Michael to the Orpheum Theatre in San Francisco this afternoon to see a matinee performance of the musical, "Hamilton."

I'm a fan of Lin-Manuel Miranda from his wonderful musical, "In The Heights," and was curious to see what he'd do with this more historical piece. I have worked hard to keep my ears "virginal" where Hamilton was concerned, avoiding all of the music and all of the videos from the show, all so I could see it as a single unified work.

I really wanted to love it.

I wound up simply liking it.

( There may be spoilers... )

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jkusters @ 2017-03-20T15:39:00

2017-03-20T22:40:14Z

Gadzooks, I really need to update my icons here. I think the one attached to this post is fifteen years old...

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Cruise Review - Arno's Caribbean Cruise 2017

2017-02-28T01:10:19Z

We are back from the cruise, and boy are our arms tired... Oh, wait, that joke doesn't work as well for cruise vacations...

On the one hand, it was certainly the worst cruise vacation we've ever had. On the other, it was still a cruise vacation, so it was far from all bad.

( Read more... )

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LiveJournal Servers moved to Russia?

2017-01-03T01:07:00Z

According to some user on DreamWidth (I don't have a personal connection with this user), the servers hosting LiveJournal are now showing IPs that originate in Russia, and speculation is that the physical servers have moved.

https://morgandawn.dreamwidth.org/1478149.html

I'm beginning to think that moving to my own domain on US-based server site might be in my near future.

Edited to add: More information here http://www.metafilter.com/164293/LiveJournal-represents-social-media-without-borders

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In the Heights, and a dizzy spell...

2016-11-12T08:16:25Z

I had a very enjoyable evening with my guy and a close friend at West Valley Light Opera's production of "In the Heights". It was well cast, well acted, and all around a high quality production. My only complaint was that the volume of the music drowned out the singing from time to time. Judging from overheard comments from patrons around us, I wasn't the only one with that complaint. Still, the production was first rate, and now we are very much looking forward to the rest of the season.

The enjoyment of the evening was marred somewhat by the recurrence of a "dizzy" spell that I've had a couple times in the past year, where the whole world tilts a good deal, and I find I can't walk a straight line. It hit me as the three of us were chatting in the parking lot after the show. As in the previous occurrences, I felt better after five or so minutes of sitting (this time in the car with the window down so cool air washed over my face). It's a scary feeling when it happens, like I'm not fully in control of my limbs. Michael smartly ran through the checklist of stroke symptoms, that's how badly I was affected (and no, going by that checklist, it was not a stroke). Once or twice I might shrug and not worry. Three times makes me a bit concerned. I should mention it to my doctor next time I see her.

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My thoughts on Trump's win and the call for unity...

2016-11-10T16:31:28Z

I have friends, people I care deeply about, who have so-called pre-existing medical conditions who also cannot get health insurance through their employers because either they're self-employed or work for businesses small enough not to be able to offer healthcare as a benefit. Candidate Trump promised to replace the Affordable Care Act with individual health savings accounts and allowing insurance to be purchased across state lines. Senate Majority Leader McConnell has already pledged that repeal of the Affordable Care Act to be among his highest priorities. These changes will lead to direct harm to my friends who likely will have to decide between life-saving medicines or food on their tables. And you want me to put differences aside and come together?

Trump has pledged to appoint Supreme Court Justices from the same mold as Antonin Scalia, the one man who has ever earned my hatred. Trump has pledged to do what he can to overturn Obergefell, which did away with anti-gay marriage bans nationwide. Trump has also pledged to do away with the Obama directives around trans* students in public schools. A "successful" Trump administration would result in the utter destruction of hard-won victories to recognize the safety of trans* people and my right to marry the man I love (and enjoy the governmentally recognized duties and responsibilities that come with that status). And you want me to wish him a successful presidency?

Violence against minorities in on a sharp upswing since Tuesday night. Assaults on Muslim women wearing hijabs, threats against African-Americans, Nazi-inspired vandalism, and assertions that it's now permissible to sexually assault women. These reports are increasing in number and starting to be reported in mainstream media, and Trump has yet to take the Oath of Office. His campaign encouraged such behaviors and given his track record I very much doubt that he will do anything to discourage it. Look no further than the people on Trump's published "short list" of Cabinet Appointees and you'll find Sheriff Clarke calling the peaceful protests following Trump's election illegitimate. And you want me to sing "Kumbaya" as the very principles our nation was founded on are threatened?

I recognize that Donald Trump was legitimately elected as President of the United States, and that makes him my president. I will not throw a temper tantrum like so many on the right did after Obama's election and claim Trump is not my president. The office will get all of the respect it is due.

But I also expect the President to work for *all* the people of the United States, to minimize harm to its people, and balance their rights and needs regardless of race, creed, ability, sexual orientation, gender identity, or social and economic status. I will hold him and his administration responsible for any harm he allows happen to people I care about.

I will not, can not, overlook the harm he has pledged to do to my friends and myself. I will not, can not, heed calls for unity. I will not, can not, pledge to hope for a successful presidency when I know his success will mean suffering for people I care about.

In fact I solemnly pledge to work as hard as I can to prevent that harm. I hope that if you count myself or my partner as a friend that you will stand with me.

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Bleaugh

2016-07-06T20:50:05Z

There is a great amount of hostility in the air on my social networks today. It's been building for the last week or so. Some of it is earned, some of it seems inappropriate, some of it is indirectly (and hopefully unintentionally) aimed at me. I don't have the will to deal with any of it. So, I'm taking a social network vacation. See you when I've managed to generate sufficient cope.

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Ugh. Birthday Rant.

2016-05-29T20:17:46Z

It's that dreaded time of year again. Birthday season. Yes, at some point in the next seven days I turn the big Five-Oh. And I'm already feeling very "bah humbug!"-y about it.

No, it's not the number. Anyone who knows me well knows I prefer to be older than to be younger. It's the fact that other people want to celebrate my birthday that really gets under my skin.

Y'all know by now how I feel about Christmas (and if not, look here). Well, just about everything about Christmas is doubly true about birthdays. The unfulfilled promises, the sharp and jagged disappointment, the feeling that birthdays are about anyone else but the person being celebrated.

On top of all of the disappointment about gifts, stress, and shouting, my birthday also represents to me feelings of being forgotten. For nearly all of my childhood birthdays I can remember, my dad was out of town at some conference or another. I always rated lower on his scale of importance than his profession. If my father ever wondered why I never felt close to him, he only had to look at how he valued me. (Of course, my father never would wonder why we were not close.)

My twenty-first birthday was the first one I spent living in a different city than my family. I had stayed in the Bay Area to work at NASA/Ames Research Center (who could pass up that opportunity?!?) while they relocated to Orange County for my dad to pursue a new job opportunity. I waited by the phone for a call from them wishing me a happy birthday. No such call came.

A friend offered to take me up to the City for a concert. But when we got to the venue we discovered the friend had not gotten tickets yet and the line for the box office went around the block. So we went to a bar instead where he and the people he invited along all got happily drunk and danced for hours (while I sat in the corner nursing my watered-down soft drink). And when they were done dancing, we piled in the car and ran around the City shining a powerful spotlight at random people as we drove past them. Wild times, such a personalized celebration of my birthday.

I may have had birthday parties as a child, but I don't remember them. I honestly can only recall one time when people put any effort into celebrating my birthday. It was my 17th ( may be off by a year) and my high school friends and I were planning on going to see "Return of the Jedi" which had recently been released. One of them picked me up at my home and instead of going to the theater we went to someone else's house where they had put together a surprise birthday party. I really quite enjoyed that and was touched by their caring.

One actual celebration (not self-initiated) in fifty years. Not a great track record.

So, please don't get offended when I tell you I don't have any desire to celebrate my birthday. If you want to celebrate my birthday, please feel free to do so. Just don't include me in the festivities. Tell me about the fun you had at some date in the future. That would suit me just fine.

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Heinlein out of Time: Sexist views in "Double Star"

2016-05-18T02:40:59Z

I'm re-reading an old Heinlein novel, Double Star, originally published in 1956. Of course, much of the technology and many of the attitudes are seriously out of date by modern standards, but some of them really stand out. This one for example:

“My father had taught me that a woman will forgive any action, up to and including assault with violence, but is easily insulted by language; the lovelier half of our race is symbol-oriented—very strange, in view of their extreme practicality. In any case, I have never let a taboo word pass my lips when it might offend the ears of a lady since the time I last received the back of my father’s hard hand full on my mouth....”

Excerpt From: Robert A. Heinlein. “Double Star.” iBooks. https://itun.es/us/shjN-.l

When we judge it by the standards of the time, well, this attitude was not uncommon. I have no idea if this is entirely the character speaking, or if we are seeing a glimpse of the author in the mid 1950's here. By today's standards, of course, this is egregiously sexist. It makes for interesting reading, and watching my own reactions to things like this.

(By comparison, James White, writing during the same time, was similarly sexist by today's standards, especially in his portrayal of the character Murchison. But like Heinlein, his views towards women changed over the decades, and his portrayals became much less troublesome.)

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Yoga Question

2016-05-05T02:22:28Z

So one thing I've always been puzzled about regarding Yoga: How often should one go to yoga "class"? At an old gym, it was offered I think twice a week at very different times. It seemed that they expected people to go to "class" once a week. However, it seems to me that once a week is not going to be much of a benefit. It's probably naiveté on my part, but don't people generally have to work out three to four times a week to get much benefit? Is one supposed to memorize the routine so they can repeat it at home the other three times? Yeah, color me clueless...

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Rent: Where Are They Now?

2016-04-26T16:29:58Z

After taking in a performance of Rent from a local theater company (which was a stellar production), I got to thinking about the characters in the show, and what might have happened to them in the time since. It wasn't exactly a fun thought experiment.

Mimi: Mimi survived her brush with death but it left deep scars, both physical and mental. She continued the on-again-off-again relationship with Roger, feeling a tug-of-war between her complete love for him and her deep-set feelings that she did not deserve anyone's love. Despite being very careful about taking her AZT, her health continued to falter, often taking perilous dips as she succumbed to her additions. Roger found her in a homeless shelter, took her to his home, and gave one last attempt to get her cleaned up. Though she realized that Roger really did love her despite her flaws, it was too late. She died in his arms, victim to the virus and the drugs that had ravaged her system for years.

Roger: After recording a demo of his "one song" and shopping it around to agents and producers, he was asked if he would license the song to an upcoming teen idol. Feeling defeated, and a bit of a sell-out, he agreed. The song was a hit, rising to the top of the pop charts. As the royalty checks started coming in, Roger rented a small apartment for Mimi and himself, hoping that an environment that provided steady heat and electricity would help her heal. He went on to write a few dozen more songs with Mimi as his muse. Several of them sold, which increased his revenue. He could now afford better medical care and got onto new anti-viral treatments that held his HIV at bay. But by this time he had lost Mimi again. He moved from writing music to producing it, and continues to make a good living doing so. He does not feel he has sold out since he is still able to be creative. He has bought one of Benny's condos, but having been scarred badly by the death of two people he loved, he lives alone.

Mark: Footage of the riot continued to give Mark notoriety. Quitting his job at BuzzLine allowed him to consider other opportunities. When he was approached by a noted documentarian who liked his work at the riots, he accepted the job of director of photography for an upcoming project. This launched a new career, and after several projects, he set out on his own to document the lives of the street people of New York City, and how HIV/AIDS was ravaging that population. His film made the rounds at many of the most noted film festivals, and earned him a number of awards. He continues making films, and has found a certain amount of financial success. He too bought a condo from Benny and lives across the hall from Roger. They continue to spend a lot of time with each other. But true to Roger's predictions, Mark continues to hold himself apart from the people in his life and has never found someone to call his own.

Tom Collins: After joining the faculty at New York City College, Tom taught lower level computer science classes and developed a curriculum around the politics of oppression. When he was allowed to offer classes in this curriculum, they were very well attended. He and his students explored non-violent protest, "Robin Hooding", anarchic power structures, and how the financial and political systems of the country promote inequality. However, despite the improved medical help available to him thanks to the college's medical plan, his HIV infection developed into "full blown" AIDS. Choosing to face his mortality, in memory of his beloved Angel, he arranged to die on his own terms before the virus robbed him of his dignity. He was surrounded by his friends, his surrogate family, as he ended his own life with a deliberate sedative overdose. Years later, a number of his students at City College were instrumental in the Occupy movement and stated Tom's classes as essential in the development of their tactics.

Benny: The construction of the CyberArts Virtual Studios were delayed and delayed until Benny couldn't tolerate it. He took over the project, cleared the hurdles, and then managed to complete the project on time and only slightly over budget. His investors were impressed, and he had other offers to manage development projects. Finding his niche, he made a successful career out of it. CyberArts flopped, but other businesses moved into the space, including a restaurant that he helped finance and develop, which is called "Tom's Place" in honor of his friend's frequently stated wish to open a restaurant. His marriage to Alison changed as he gained financially, and as she found out about his affairs. They separated, then eventually amicably (for the most part) divorced. He continues to do business with her father, and has remarried. He lives in one of the condos above his restaurant, with Roger and Mark has his neighbors.

Joanne: Juggling her career as a lawyer and her life with a diva was endlessly challenging for Joanne. She continued loving Maureen despite being unable to trust her. In one last-ditch effort, they moved out of New York up to Vermont, set up a household, adopted a child, and when Civil Unions became the law of the state, they got hitched. It didn't last. Joanne discovered Maureen doing coke and cheating on her again, and tossed her out. They divorced bitterly, and Joanne was awarded custody of their child. Joanne moved to Washington D.C., where she now successfully balances a rewarding career as a civil rights attorney with the challenges of single motherhood.

Maureen: Having finally jettisoned the endlessly frustrating and restrictive "marriage" with Joanne, and the child that convinced her she was completely unsuited to parenthood, Maureen returned to New York where she continued to pursue acting opportunities. She landed a number of spots on television ads, and eventually became a recurring character on a somewhat popular sitcom. Feeling like she completely sold out, and generally unhappy about having such a structured life, she took to drinking to numb the anxiety. This led to a career-ending moment when, in the middle of filming a scene in the sitcom, she spontaneously (and drunkenly) recreated her "Leap of Faith" performance and had the studio audience mooing as she was taken away by security. She has since gone through rehab in the public eye and has returned to performing, this time on stage, working her way through off-Broadway productions. She continues to take lovers, both male and female, but has come to realize that Joanne was actually a good influence in her life, and regrets blowing the many opportunities she had been given.

Did I miss anyone? Anything seem out of character with any of these folk?

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Neutra Face : An Ode On A Typeface (A Bearded Poker Face Parody)

2016-03-10T17:23:51Z

I was reminded the other day about this video, a parody of Lady Gaga's "Poker Face" all about a humble typeface. It's a good, geeky parody, and the eye candy isn't bad either. Enjoy!

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Cruise Report

2016-02-15T00:54:40Z

We just got back from another cruise, again with Arno's Bear Cruises. This one was the Eastern Caribbean, with stops in the Bahamas, St. Thomas, and St. Maarten, sailing out of Fort Lauderdale. Here is my very long writeup of the trip...

First, the host hotel in Fort Lauderdale was sub-par. They did have a nice pool area with live music and a good bar (from all reports), but our small stuffy room smelled of rug shampoo, and the ceiling above the tub dripped water into the tub and along the doorjamb. I'm going to have to make sure that Arno knows we think he should avoid that hotel in the future.

Saturday
Getting to the port was a breeze thanks to the buses that Arno arranged. The terminal was spacious, and we got there early enough that we had to wait to board. Thankfully they provided an acre of chairs to cool our heels (airport-style seating). When it was our turn, we boarded the ship and headed up to the sky bar to wait for our rooms to be ready, as expected. We started meeting some of our fellow travelers, including several we've sailed with before. Lunch at the overly-crowded buffet (WindJammer Marketplace), then to our rooms to drop of our carry-ons and use the facilities. Our luggage arrived earlier than anticipated (yay!) so we unpacked and then wandered around the ship.

The ship was the Oasis of the Seas, one of a the largest cruise ships on the seas. We sailed on her sister ship, the Allure of the Seas, in September, so we were pretty familiar with the layout. This ship is indeed huge. Fifteen passenger-accessible decks, 5400 passengers, 10 dining facilities, innumerable bars/nightclubs, ice rink, mini-golf course, zip-line, flow-riders, a bar that moves from deck to deck, etc., etc. It really is a floating resort. It's kind of fun in an over-indulgent way.

The first night featured a "Welcome Aboard Meet & Greet" party in the ship's disco lounge. It was good seeing familiar faces and reconnecting with friends we've made on previous cruises. I don't personally enjoy being surrounded by so many people in such a small space, but I made do. There were some schedule changes announced, but nothing big. Unlike the last cruise, we had no memorials for cruise mates who had died since the previous time we'd all gotten together. After drinks, it was time for all of us to head to the Silk, one of the three floors of the main dining room, for dinner. Dinner offerings were pretty much what we've come to expect from Royal Caribbean's main dining room (decent quality, but not outstanding, smaller portion sizes, a mix of daily specials and daily standards), and we got to know the people assigned to our table. As per usual with Arno's cruises, we are asked to sit at our assigned tables the first night, but are free to choose a table from our section of the dining room on subsequent nights.

Nothing else planned for that evening, as I recall, so we wound up in the hot tubs in the Solarium, hanging out with the cute men. The upper area of the Solarium started hosting a VERY LOUD party, so when our hot tub was inevitably closed for cleaning, we headed back to the cabin and went to bed.

Sunday
When we woke up we were docked at Nassau, Bahamas. We grabbed a quick breakfast at our favorite breakfast place on that class of ship, the Park Cafe. It's generally much less crowded than other breakfast eateries, and has good breakfast fare (bagels with toppings, breakfast sandwiches, fruit, oatmeal, etc.).

Then we got off the ship and headed into town. The weather wasn't great; it was cool (lower 60s), windy, and on the verge of raining. The walk from the ship to town went along a couple pedestrian causeways. The wind was whipping the water of the bay up and occasionally spraying the walkway. We got sprayed a couple of times on our way into town. We did not have any set destination in mind, though we were hoping to find some local art (we try to pick up a couple pieces of locally-produced art from wherever we travel), so we walked along the main streets of the tourist area poking our noses into the various shops. We did take the tour of the "Pirates of Nassau" museum (recommended!), hiked up to Government House (pretty but not really tourist friendly), and bought some lovely ceramic art made by craftspeople in the Bahamas. Then back to the ship.

That afternoon we gathered for the group photo at the Aqua Theater (with the obligatory shirt-less pictures), treated ourselves to cupcakes and ice cream at "Cups and Scoops" on the BoardWalk, had dinner at Silk, and then attended the Bear Pool Party up in the Solarium. Some interesting drama with one of the ship's contracted dancers occurred (which resulted in the dancer in question being left behind at our next port of call). I spent far too long in the hot tub there.

Monday
Our first "at sea" day, I was feeling burnt out on socializing so I spent a majority of my time that day alone, with my books and my computer. (Yes, I got chided about it later, oh well.) We did have tickets to their Aqua Theater spectacular, "Oasis of Dreams", which was enjoyable if too much a Cirque du Soleil clone. It was "Formal Night" in the main dining room, so I believe we just went to the buffet (I don't enjoy dressing up as much as some of the other bears, and don't enjoy feeling like the ugly duck next to the peacocks).

After dinner, Arno had suggested we all attend the "Love & Marriage" game in the main theater, but that wasn't particularly appealing to me. I think we just went back up to the hot tubs for a soak and then back to the cabin to sleep.

Tuesday
Our next destination was the island of St. Thomas in the U.S. Virgin Islands. Unlike Nassau, the sky was sunny and the temps were warm. One notable thing that would cause confusion for much of the rest of the trip is that Royal Caribbean does not change their ship's clocks as we cross time zones. They maintain "ship's time" which, when we hit St. Thomas, was an hour later than local time. Of course, our smart phones (and associated watches) all automatically changed time appropriately. Since I always have a bit of trouble with things like that, I often was working off bad time assumptions. Whee. Also, I had forgotten good headwear, so we did a quick shopping trip to the touristy "shopping village" at the port.

This was the stop where Arno had arranged an excursion for us. One hundred twenty eight bears and friends climbed aboard a catamaran (with a capacity for one hundred and thirty passengers), and headed out to a place where there were coral reefs and sea turtles. I had forgotten to acquire a prescription-lensed snorkeling mask, so since I knew I wouldn't be able to see anything, I refrained from snorkeling with the group, though Michael went and took the underwater camera. I watched from onboard the catamaran and took pictures of the frolicking bears. After that, the catamaran crew started serving boozy drinks and we headed to a beach where we were served a nice lunch (chicken, ribs, salad, rolls, drinks) and swam in the ocean. Well, mainly floated and socialized. At one point, Arno gathered us all for a group photo which turned into a (pre-arranged) marriage proposal. It was very sweet.

When it was time to go, we all climbed back onto the catamaran to head back to the ship. That's when the crew discovered that they had gotten fouled in the line that separated the anchorage area from the swimming area. Oops. They had a bunch of us get off the boat while they worked to free it. Ah, well, the water was nice and warm, so I didn't mind much. It was somewhat amusing to see all of the bears trying to push the ship to safety even after being warned that they were too close to the propeller blades. After a little while we were on our way back to the ship.

That evening Arno had planned a private disco party, and since it was Fat Tuesday, it had a Mardi Gras theme. That's not my scene so I spent time in my cabin reading while Michael went out to party. He apparently had a good time based on the pictures I've seen since.

Wednesday
Next up was Philipsburg, on the island of Sint Maarten. We took a water taxi to the town from the cruise dock. What a LOVELY looking city. It really is a pretty place. It didn't hurt that it was sunny and warm there as well. We had nothing planned so decided to walk around the main touristy areas to see what we could. (Many of the others in the group went off to various beaches, including one right under the main approach to the island's airport, and of course the local nude beach. Having never been to St. Maarten, we opted to visit the city.)

We found a lovely walking plaza called "Old Street" with shops from local merchants. We purchased some lovely pieces of dichromatic glass jewelry, some gifts for family members, some tasty locally-made jams, and a few art prints from a lovely Dutch woman, Tessel Verheij, who lived on the island. Find her work at Art Craft Cafe. After that we wandered some more, and found a gelateria (Gelateria Milano) and had some tasty ice cream. Then, we ran into some friends (and fellow cruisers) at Blanc du Nil, and having heard of the place from our friend, decided to check it out. Dangerous place! Well, dangerous to our bank account, at least.

After that, we wandered some more, but were losing steam and getting hungry, so we headed back to the ship and had lunch at Park Cafe where they were serving these little roast beef sandwiches called "kummelweck" that had amazing flavor. Seriously tasty!

That evening, Arno had suggested two shows (one on either side of dinner). The first was "Come Fly with Me," a high-tech dance and acrobatics show centered around the theme of vintage air travel. There was no real story, but the music was good, the acrobatics were at times astounding, and the theatercraft was mostly enjoyable.

After dinner, we headed down to the ice rink (no, I was not kidding) for a show called "Frozen in Time" which turned out to be vignettes representing various stories from Hans Christian Andersen. It was cute, but nothing really spectacular. However, at one point, they brought out this odd table, and a gentleman in a tuxedo stood behind it. They then projected a top-down view of the table onto the screen behind the ice. The table was a light table with sand on it. Then man then proceeded to draw in the sand and otherwise manipulate it to tell the story of the "Tin Woodsman". It was honestly spellbinding, and the man had enormous talent at making simple gestures that would create amazing effects with the sand. I'm not doing it justice here. It was beautiful. (A poorly made video is available on YouTube.)

Thursday and Friday
After that we had two "at sea" days. Honestly they mostly blurred together for me. I recall waking up late, spending time reading at various locations around the ship, avoiding the second "formal night" on Thursday, and so on.

Thursday evening there were two planned events. The first was something called "Quest" in the ice rink area. I skipped it, but Michael went, and reported it was an adult in-place scavenger hunt. The audience was broken up into teams by where they were seated, and each team had to appoint a male and female "captain". Then the emcee would state a challenge. The first team to complete the challenge got the most points, the second team get less points, and so on. Challenges included the female "captain" standing up wearing six belts from the men in the team, the male captain showing several bras no-longer being worn, showing a picture of the White House (it's on the twenty dollar bill), and stuff like that. The final challenge was for the male lead to dress up in various parts of women's clothing (bra, skirt, shoes, purse, etc.) and strut along the stage like they were on a fashion runway. I've seen video, it's absolutely terrifying. I've heard that Arno's team has won the game each time they've played, and he's gotten a reputation on Royal Caribbean for being a cutthroat player.

The second was the "White Party" at the another of the ship's discos. I skipped it, but Michael went (and stayed out till 3AM!)

Friday there was a Farewell party at one of the ship's bars, and Michael and I had reservations at one of the upscale (additional cost) dining facilities, "Chops Grill". We've eaten at Chops on the Allure and very much enjoyed it, and were looking forward to dining there on the Oasis.

Unfortunately, as we were packing (it was the last night of the cruise, and you have to have your bags out in the hallway by 11PM), Michael started experiencing a sharp pain in his side. It got bad enough that he was pretty immobilized. We eventually decided at about 7:30 (after the Farewell party had started) to head to the ship's infirmary. They had closed at 7, but were willing to see people on an emergency basis (for an extra fee, of course). After several tests, they had pretty much ruled everything scary out. They filled him up with pain killers and sent him back to the cabin with instructions to return if it didn't get better. (It did get better after the shot, thankfully.) We got our luggage out on time then turned in.

Saturday
By the time our alarm went off at 6AM, we were docked at Fort Lauderdale, the hallways had been emptied of luggage (actually that seemed to happen by 1AM according to Michael who got up and wandered for a bit not being able to sleep), and there were already people getting ready to disembark. We showered and dressed, packed up our carry-ons, and went over the cabin several times to make sure we got everything. Then breakfast at Park Cafe again. And then we went through the lengthy disembarkation process. With a ship that big, long lines are inevitable, and these were some long-ass lines. We had taken advantage of Royal Caribbean's "Luggage Valet" service to send our bags on to the airport, so we didn't have to pick our bags up at the terminal, but we did have to wait in line to get through Customs. That was tedious.

After that, we had a huge block of free time since it was only 9:30AM and our flight didn't board until 6:30PM. Thankfully Michael had been in contact with a friend of his he's known since they were both college-aged, who agreed to pick us up at the port, lend us his car while he put a couple of hours in at the office, and then take us to lunch. We wound up finding a local comics and games store (surprise!) and then spent time at a nearby Barnes & Noble, before heading back to his office. We had lunch at a colorful "Key West" themed casual eatery where he and Michael caught up on their lives. Then back to the airport (listening to surreal "songs" that they and their friends made in someone's basement) where we got through security with a minimal amount of fuss and then found seats to wait for our flight. Friends from the cruise found us waiting, and joined us, helping the time fly by as we chatted. Eventually it was time to board the airplane (which we almost missed because our boarding passes had the wrong gate listed) and fly back home. We got back to the house at around 3AM (Florida time, midnight local time) and promptly fell into bed.

It was a good vacation for the most part. There were some bumpy bits, and the medical scare Friday wasn't fun, but as we were parting from our friends, we all agreed we were looking forward to next February when we'd all get together again. I'm already counting the days...

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So, this is Christmas.

2015-12-25T06:32:01Z

I don't celebrate Christmas. When asked why, I usually say it's because I'm not Christian and don't want to appropriate their tradition when I don't share their beliefs. That's only partly true.

I don't celebrate it because of what it came to mean to me.

Christmas means a lot of anticipation and disappointment.

It means my brothers getting what I asked "Santa" to bring me, and me getting very little that I wanted.

It means no-one liking the gifts I got them (and to a large extent, this has not changed).

It means all of us kids getting totally hopped up on sugar, and the expectation that it would not change how we behave.

It means my dad getting upset at everyone over some arbitrary infraction of unstated rules.

It means shouting, and punishment.

Sometimes, when my dad was especially peeved at us kids during the holiday season it meant that he would be doing the shopping, and that meant nothing fun, just a bunch of Scouting and camping stuff.

It means gathering the extended family together, forcing us all to interact over a large meal, a meal that caused my mom a huge amount of stress to make, and more stress to get the house ready for the oncoming crowd. Mom's stress caused dad to yell more.

It means more shouting and more punishment after dinner when my brothers and I were assigned the task of cleaning up after the cooking, and a particular brother quietly antagonizing the rest of us so that he could score brownie points with our parents.

It means being sent to our rooms without dessert and sometimes without the gifts that had been given us to teach us a lesson about how to get along with our brothers (how this would teach us that lesson, I never could tell).

I remember being a young child and excited by the promise of Christmas. Year after year that promise was unfulfilled, broken, or worse. By mid-teenage years, I was done with Christmas. I'd go through the motions, but if asked, I would have stated I'd be happy to do without.

These days it's very rare for me to get into the "holiday spirit." I certainly don't feel it this year.

I wish you all a very happy whatever holiday you celebrate. This year, as with most years, I'm happy just to ignore them all and quietly enjoy the days away from the office.

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George Lucas nearly wrote a perfect prequel trilogy. He just didn't notice

2015-12-22T06:50:56Z

For those who didn't see this on other social media, a very interesting read:

George Lucas nearly wrote a perfect prequel trilogy. He just didn't notice:

All of the plot points required to make the prequels tell a sensible, meaningful, satisfying and affecting story are actually already in there, either explicitly on-screen or strongly alluded to. But for some reason, George Lucas doesn’t seem to notice that he’s written them, and ignores the lot.

Stick with me on this one. I haven’t gone mad, I promise. It all starts with the fundamentals of Star Wars lore....

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jkusters @ 2015-08-29T14:08:00

2015-08-29T21:15:28Z

My library software (Delicious Library for Mac) has this cool feature that draws "word clouds" based on your chosen criteria. Here is the word cloud for the authors of the books in my collection, where bigger font size corresponds to the number of books I have by that author. Keen!

(Put behind a cut because the image is HYUUUUGE!) ( See more... )

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Back to Writing

2015-02-18T18:47:25Z

I've been managing to sit down at my writing desk for several days over the last couple of weeks. The first couple of days, I merely reviewed what I had done so far on my current WiP (Work in Progress). The next few days were spent brainstorming scenes in the novel. I'm targeting 40 scenes, half of which should deal with the main plot, the rest on supporting plots. (I'm very much a Story Engineer.) Unfortunately, I'm stalling out on details of the main plot, so I decided to take the plunge and start simply writing in one of the scenes I know has to be there. I haven't written much in a while so my 523 words took me a while longer than usual, but boy did it feel good.

(And yes, I did get some lightbox therapy in at the same time.)

Now if only I could figure out the events of my primary plot, I'll be a happy guy. Well, "happy" in terms of where my writing is going; no promises in any other aspect of my life. Since the genre I'm writing in requires a well-laid out and integrated plot, I don't want to try and write by the "seat of my pants". Besides, I like to have a rough map of where I'm going before I commit words on paper, even if half-way through the journey I stop and draw an entirely new map.

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The Katering Show

2015-02-16T06:23:49Z

I ran across this web series thanks to former LJer "Low Fat Muffin", and I had to share it with you all.

The Katering Show, produced out of Australia with two hosts who might, or might not, have any cooking skills whatsoever. But it doesn't matter because each of the episodes is full of snark, sight gags, craziness, and really dark humor. Only six episodes so far, but I want to see these ladies get enough attention so that they are compelled to do more episodes. Therefore, I'm pimping them to you all!

Go. Watch. Laugh. Scare your pets. I know I did!

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Weird Dream Theater

2014-12-03T18:58:14Z

My job was to be a negotiator. The pilot of a spacecraft was endangering Earth, and I had to convince him to take another course. He kept speaking of "the White Lady" or "the Lady in White", and not responding to calls from Mission Control. They were convinced he was mentally ill. It was my mission to save the day.

I boarded the runaway spacecraft, and it was surprisingly homey. I mean, homey in that it looked like the inside of a modest home. Looking around, I spotted an untidy stack of books on a coffee table. I stopped to peruse them, recognizing some of them as books I have read over the years. Several of them were "bookmarked" with rectangles of clear plastic that had been "painted" on with white-out. The figures all were of alien beings, with several of them looking like an enrobed woman. These bookmarks were for pages where various authors spoke of white, glowing aliens. The descriptions were remarkably similar from author to author, and as I thumbed through the books, I found the apparent coincidence to be suspicious. I know Mission Control was under the impression that the pilot was having a mental breakdown, but I found myself wondering if he had stumbled upon some bizarre truth.

My co-worker (who I didn't realize was there until she spoke) reminded me of our mission. We needed to get the spacecraft under control. I went to a control console, which looked like something that Nikola Tesla would have built, flicked the switches to the intercom position, and tried to raise the pilot. At first, he was unresponsive, but eventually agreed to meet with us. He was in the control room, which was upstairs.

Entering the control room, I found the pilot sitting on the floor against a wall, no-where near the pilot's chair. He had a worried look to his face, but was staring at some point far, far away. My co-workers (now plural) were demanding answers from the man, backed up by repeated radio calls from Mission Control. The man was oblivious to their demands, and frankly, they were startring to get on my nerve. I tried talking to the pilot, but it was hard to make myself heard over the din of the crowd. I wanted to ask him about the Lady in White, had he contacted her, what had she told him, but I could not make myself understood. I felt that time was quickly running out, but was having trouble remembering what kind of a threat this ship was posing. I had assumed it was going to crash into the planet, but that didn't seem right now. Perhaps they were afraid we were going to fly into deep space?

I woke up as the din of the crowd grew and grew, only to find the rain pouring down outside my bedroom window. I woke up with the feeling that the world was in danger, that I had yet to complete my mission, and that we were on the cusp of discovering something new and wondrous. What a letdown to realize it was just an ordinary Wednesday and I needed to get to the office to work on testing software.

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Dream Channel

2014-11-06T18:58:33Z

I can't help but think there's some odd symbology at work in my dreams lately. Last night's has me scratching my head.

Michael and I arrive home at our swank, modern, downtown apartment. We shake the rain off our jackets and hats in the front tiled entryway. The floor-to-ceiling glass windows around the door show off the damp and grungy carpet in the hallway outside. The hallway carpet's in the kind of state where you'd fear catching something fatal simply from walking barefoot on it.

Nessee is happy to see us, and lets me know she wants out as soon as possible. So we go to the back door of the apartment, and I open the door to let her out. The yard here is good-sized, triangular, and wraps around one side of the building. It's still raining slightly, so Nessee does her usual thing: stand on the porch looking hangdog at the falling dampness then darting off the porch to the side of the house.

Then I see a large bird alight on the ground in the middle of the yard. This bird is huge. Standing upright, it can look me right in the eye and it does. It spreads it's wings a couple of times. Even in the overcast gloom, it's beautiful, all gold and white and tan, with large luminous golden eyes that show utter disdain for me. It peers eagerly, hungrily towards the side of the building where I know my dog is looking for a place to do her business, and I know that if I don't act soon, I may lose my dog.

I shout at the bird, wave my hands, and try to scare it away. It looks at me, dismisses me. If it could speak, it would have sardonically said, "Really?"

I take a few steps towards it. It drops to all fours (holy flack, it's a Griffin!) and charges me. I have enough time to be terrified before I wake from the dream.

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