Systems Meeting Notes
August 26, 2009
The switch did not transfer
Thus, we lost power
I’m going from memory
Two systems had problems
Wireless, I take it
But then had an additional issue
Quinton went to Radius school
Leaving us for his own company
They are close to five years old
You are not running an appliance
I’m OK with doing that
The thing that really hit me
Shut down with an SMNP call
It’s a benefit
Number one, number two
Fit in the critical group
I assume it involves some sort of agent
I never got any report
♩♩ Little short-cuts being taken!
♩♩ When some-thing bad happens!
Doesn’t flip the switch
Engage in the partner system
From what I understand
On that Havana system
A full system failure
We do this in drills
That’s what I’m saying
We need to come together
Given what we knew
All I can say is
Let’s not do anything
We didn’t feel the same way
Would of come to a different conclusion
I wasn’t here
That Monday morning
It’s your service
At what point do we stop the recovery
Any other points
If it happened this week
There is never a good time
I wasn’t here
I think that is impressive
I’m the only one who tried it
All it has to do
We’d be half the way there
Any other observations
I think that’s a good one
These make sense to those who where there
This was originally posted at Mur Lafferty’s previous site and was lost when the site broke. I don’t want to lose it, so I am reposting it here. She deserves all credit for the post, I am merely hoping to preserve it.
Dear daughter… | The Murverse
“You know spies, they’re a bunch of bitchy little girls.” – “Burn Notice”
You should know that you are hated.
I’m not sure why they hate you. You didn’t do anything to them. You don your princess crown, take up your sword, and pretend at Pokemon. You read your books and you learn how to draw comics and dragons and you play piano and practice kung fu. You delight in pretty dresses and weaponry. You love me when I nurture you as a mom, train with you as a warrior, and play video games and card games with you.
“You throw like a GIRL!” – obnoxious drunk asshole behind us at a Durham Bulls game (Apparently he threw 75mph)
There is nothing worse than being a girl. I’m not saying this as a former girl- I quite liked being a girl. I’m saying this from the POV of the entire rest of the world. There was a lovely feminist TED talk – A Call To Men – where a man discussed his conversation with a twelve year old boy, and the boy said he would rather die than be called a girl. And the man thought, Good Lord, how do these boys view girls, if being compared to them is the* worst thing in the world?
“What did Jesus do, when they put nails through his hands? Did he scream like a GIRL, or did he take it like a man?” – “The Book of Mormon” (the musical, not the holy book), “Man Up”
I’ve seen boys cry when injured. Frustrated. Feelings hurt. Blocked out of play. Denied something. It’s what kids do as they learn the world around them. The world is tough; before you learn to cope, you cry, whether you sport the penis or the fallopian tubes. It’s fucking lesson #1 after you take your first breath. I cried. You did too.
So. The world hates you. You are considered the worst thing to be compared to. Throw like a girl. Talk like a girl. Cry like a girl. God forbid we ever be girls.
No, we wouldn’t want to take utter delight in beauty and love. We wouldn’t want to carefully watch and study something to learn. We wouldn’t want to look at the world and for just one second think that we have as many opportunities as boys. That we can play sports. Play the drums or saxophone. Play video games. Excel at science/math. * And for that second, before something or someone starts opening their shit-hole to put down little girls, we can fly.
So what can we do, dear daughter? When you get a little older, I will be honest with you and tell you – fuck ‘em. You will not change their mind by arguing, by telling them they are wrong. You change their mind by showing them how being a girl is awesome. You show them by not hiding, by not being demure.
“I gotta say, you are the prettiest little girl I ever did see!”
“‘Thanks?’ You’re awfully matter of fact about that. I guess when a boy tells you how pretty you are, you’ll come home and be like, ‘Oh MOM! He said I was PRETTY!’”
- An older man and my daughter, this weekend
You show them by being more than your looks, even if that’s all people comment on. You show them by your independence. You show them by being more than they expect to see. You show them by not taking their shit.
When I think of little girls, I think of you. I think of perfect math scores, a passion for science, a love of My Little Pony, swords, dressing up as Cleopatra, and having absolutely no shyness or fear. I think of someone with a sharp wit, and frightening skills with a stunt kite. I think of someone with determination – even if you don’t know it yet, I’ve seen it. Whatever you’re determined to do, you manage to do it.
I also think of someone who suffers confusion when kids make fun of her for liking “boy things” at school, but hearing that “girl things” are bad. You like them both. You like anything that interests you, the rest of the world be damned.
I hope someday I can fly a kite like a girl. And do kung fu like a girl. And draw like a girl. And you know what? I wish I could cry like a girl. You get it all out, and then you look for the next thing, bouncing back with amazing speed. You don’t do like me, hold it inside as long as possible, letting it fester, bringing me down for days. You are not bitter.
So they hate you. But fuck ‘em. Because you are a force of nature, a powerhouse of emotion and talent and stubbornness and potential.
You’re worth a billion of them.
The daughter, and her glee at our new project
** For the record, I was told, by a family member, that i could not do one of these things because of my fallopian tubes. I won’t tell you which one.*
My wife is away on business this week. I am parenting solo, which is something that I am used to at this point.
Since starting Crossfit and learning about how to improve the quality of my sleep, I have been aware of the impact of blue wavelength light and sleep. I have even purchased some amber lens glasses, although wearing them over my glasses makes it awkward. And it didn’t really make too much of a difference, but I have learned why.
From a 2011 article in the The New York Times:
Dr. Brainard and other researchers have found that light composed of blue wavelengths slows the release of melatonin with particular effectiveness. Until recently, though, few studies had directly examined how blue-emitting electronics might affect the brain.
So scientists at the University of Basel in Switzerland tried a simple experiment: They asked 13 men to sit before a computer each evening for two weeks before going to bed.
During one week, for five hours every night, the volunteers sat before an old-style fluorescent monitor emitting light composed of several colors from the visible spectrum, though very little blue. Another week, the men sat at screens backlighted by light-emitting diodes, or LEDs. This screen was twice as blue.
So this is does not bode well for new LED bulbs. On why CFLs could be making things worse:
[…] the University of Basel team also compared the effects of incandescent bulbs to fluorescents modified to emit more blue light. Men exposed to the fluorescent lights produced 40 percent less melatonin than when they were exposed to incandescent bulbs, and they reported feeling more awake an hour after the lights went off.
Specifically, as to why my amber lens googles didn’t work:
In addition, the quantity of light necessary to affect melatonin may be much smaller than once thought. In research published in March in The Journal of Clinical Endocrinology and Metabolism, a team at the Harvard Medical School reported that ordinary indoor lighting before bedtime suppressed melatonin in the brain, even delaying production of the hormone for 90 minutes after the lights were off, compared with people exposed to only dim light.
So, while my wife is away I decided to make an experiment of it, Amish Evenings.
An Amish Evening starts at sundown and has no electrically powered lights, no active screens.
I setup candles on the dining table, explaining it to the kids as an opportunity for a fancy dinner. We didn’t turn on the lights when going to bed, reading our bed time stories by candle light. I’m sure they thought it was weird, but by bedtime they were both really ready for bed. I think they were out almost as soon as their heads hit the pillow.
As for me I had a quiet, candle lit evening.
I had my iPhone streaming music to a Bluetooth speaker1. The Pandora station was a jazz standards station, so there wasn’t any need for me to select the next song or skip a song that I didn’t care for.
I journaled and read on my Kindle by the light of a candle.
By 8:302, I was ready for bed. I used one last candle to help guide me up the stairs, get ready for bed and then blew it out. I slept great. The kids did too, although that could be attributed to the Daylight Savings time change.
I am not sure where this is going. It probably isn’t reasonable to drop using electricity at night, but it might be informative as to when to turn the TV and lights off at night.
Stress, work, wabi-sabi
I have been under a greater than normal amount of stress in the past three weeks. The university that I work for is launching it’s first comprehensive campaign. The goal is $42 million. The comprehensive part means that all gifts to the university count towards this campaign. It isn’t pocket change.
My part, the source of my stress, has been to create a new website for this campaign, and getting the a new online giving system deployed.
Why has it been stressful? I have been designing the website from scratch, generally not stressful, but it is hard to design without content. The content came in the last two weeks. The way each of these pages needs to be laid out, with photos found, sized and added, combined with developing a template on the fly is a little nerve wracking.
The other side includes getting a new payment system ready for launch. This system has required me interacting and relying upon people outside of my office. This is always a good learning experience. Also, the timeline for implemenation from the vendor is seven months. We fit it into two. So it isn’t complete, not thoroughly tested and I am not comfortable with the level of training that has been provided to me and the people who operate this system day-to-day.
The last part that adding to my stress is my presentation of this website to the executive council for the campaign. The people that I have to present this website to are breathe rarified air. They move in circles that I can’t even imagine. This is intimidating. I don’t know these people, their technical savviness, so they might think “Meh”. They can ask me questions, and I don’t know that I have answers. Sure, I can make my answer sound good. But I am nervous.
I think the thing that has really made me nervous is because I am putting myself out there. This is my design, my choice in photos, my laying out of the site. It is all me. By showing this off, I am putting a part of myself out there. This is scary.
I think this why I don’t draw any more. I don’t like showing it off, there are people who are better than me, and I know it. My daughter suffers from this, and I am wondering if I have taught her this. I hope that I haven’t. I have tried to be very open with her about the fact that there are always people who are better than you in everything you do. Very rarely we are the best at something. But the things that we create are special. The things we do, should be done with our best effort. Concepts that I worry are over the head of a five year old. The things that we make are the best things that we make at that exact moment. It is a capturing of the moment. It captures how much sleep we got, what type of meal we ate last, our state of mind, our emotional state, all distilled into a tangible form.
That is why I am nervous to deploy this site. That is why I am dreading showing it off. Everyone says that is is a great site, beautiful and fresh. I see it for it’s flaws, the things that are not quite right. I guess that is the same thing that my daughter feels. She and I need to work on this. I should show her that the fear should be replaced by the pride. The flaws are part of the beauty, wabi-sabi style. I don’t know how I can work with her on this, but I need to figure it out.
Never the less, today is deployment day. Things get deployed, flaws and all.
Hey Ya and grey hairs
The other day, while washing my hands, I looked at myself in the mirror and noticed, what I think were a couple of grey hairs in my beard. I wanted to think that they are blonde. I checked my sideburns and they are light, either blonde or grey. I could have sworn they were blonde, but under this light, they look silver.
I’m sure that when I trim my beard, it will look like a blonde hair mixed with the reds, browns and blacks. My beard is weird, it has colors that aren’t present anywhere on my head. But grey isn’t one of them.
I was at the gym the other day, and in the middle if my workout, Outkast’s “Hey Ya!” came on. I remember the exact first time I heard the song. I was a senior in college working with a group of twelve people on our Graphic Design capstone class. We were creating an interactive CD with video from department events edited as best as we could. We threw a couple of songs at it to make it a little more interesting, one of which was a series of very catchy Japanese jazz songs, which every agreed were good, but not quite right. I still have the Japanese jazz songs and love them, the melodic and surprisingly bombastic Japanese woman over a drum and bass heavy jazz combo have really stuck with me, but the group didn’t agree.
They threw “Hey Ya!” in to the timeline. It was perfect. It encapsulated our senior year in college, it was up beat, exciting and new. The project, which hinged on this video, could be finished.
Fast forward to last week.
I am cranking out some heavy dead lifts and that song comes on, still peppy, and bubble gum enough to get me through my last two sets. And then it hit me.
“Hey Ya!” is ten years old.
That means I am ten years beyond college. That means that I have been working for ten years. That means that it has been five years since my daughter was born. “Hey Ya!” Is a perfect marker of time.
“Hey Ya!” is ten years old.
That means that I am not invincible with youth, that means that my midline isn’t going to stay the way it was. That means my wedding was nine years ago and I have never been as nervous (or drunk) as I was the night before. That means that I am getting old.
“Hey Ya!” is ten years old, and I am noticing grey hairs in my beard. Part of me is saddened, the other part of me is proud. There are things that would have done differently in the ten years since the song came out, but I wouldn’t trade the time for anything.
Now, what cooler than being cool?
I can’t hear ya! I say what’s, what’s cooler than being cool?
[W]hat’s cooler than being cool?
Olympic Logos and Symbols From 1924 to 2020
A great walk through the history of Olympic logos. My favorites include: Squaw Valley - Winter 1960 Games, Mexico City - Summer 1968, Calgary - Winter 1988, Salt Lake - Winter 2002.