“Inconstancy is my very essence," says the wheel. "Rise up on my spokes if you like, but don’t complain when you are plunged back down into the depths. The good times pass away, but then, so do the bad. Mutability is our tragedy, but it’s also our hope. The worst of times, like the best, is always passing away.”
-- Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy, 524 A.D.
"That looks fuckin' awesome."
-- Zeus, 2008
"Indeed."
--Me, same
Today, as part of my job, I got to hang out in an Anechoic chamber. If you've never been in one of those, it's basically a room so sound-proof that it's completely silent. Even small sounds (like breathing) are swallowed up by the huge baffles on the walls, floors, and ceilings. One of my co-workers didn't go into the room, stating that it wierded him out.I can see why. Not that it weirded me out at all, but it was an interesting experience. Complete silence has interesting effects on your head. You become very aware of your ears, to the point where you feel like your eardrums are swelling. Your equilibrium seems messed up. You get disoriented very quickly, and realize that, without reference sound, your brain is doing backflips trying to figure out what's going on.
Far from being freaked out by the experience, I'd be interested in hanging out there more often, for hours at a time. If you ever get the chance to go into an Anechoic chamber (and I don't know how you would -- it's not like they're advertised in the yellow pages), I highly recommend it.
Dammit. Public school lied to me. I want to go outside and play.
This shot had to be documented, because the kids are so constantly in motion that you rarely see them cuddling. That, and I'd hate for anyone to think for even half a second that I ever thought about anything other than dogs. Yeah, I probably should have warned people from the outset that if they're not into dogs, this probably isn't the blog for them. As you'll see from this next picture:
We don't get the bed anymore. The dogs are. . . firmly in control. They've already taken the visitor's center -- turn back, for the love of God!
Oh, and there's no specific reason I posted these in black and white. Probably because I was messing with that function on my camera phone, and one only has a 0.5-second window to take a picture when the dogs are doing something cute. Any longer than that, and Edie is up and moving to see what you're doing with that strange device.
When I got my first "real job" (the one after I graduated from college is the one I count, though I've been working since I was 15), I was introduced to the Friday Staff Meeting. Normally, this was a large gathering of all the editors and writers in the building inside the company's cavernous breakroom. For about half of the meeting, important things were discussed face-to-face with our bosses. The other half, though, usually consisted of one or two people using the gathering as an platform from which to bitch about something that only they cared about while the rest of us struggled to stay awake. (Of course, the sleepiness factor probably would have been easier to avoid had the meetings not been scheduled just after lunch on Friday.) Fast forward to now, where my bi-weekly staff meeting usually consists of the participants you see above -- me, my notebook, and the speakerphone. On the other end of the phone, of course, are about 12 other people. . . but they're all in Sweden. These meetings are at 9 in the morning (or just after lunch in Sweden), and, while I find the idea of staff meetings unproductive, these at least stay slightly more on-topic than ones I've been forced to sit through in the past. No one really hijacks the meeting with personal agendas, and we actually discuss what we say we're going to discuss in the time we've allotted -- then we get the hell out of there.
I find it fascinating that a staff meeting across the Atlantic actually ends up being more efficient than one when all of the participants are in the same room. Perhaps it's just the Swedish mindset about the whole thing (though they do looooooove having meetings), or perhaps it's not wanting to waste time on a long-distance line. Or perhaps it's the knowledge that, if I do fall asleep, no one will really notice (unless, of course, I snore).
Still, I don't dig on the whole concept of periodic staff meetings. Got information you need to get to the entire department? Email. Have a question for one or two people? Email (or, if possible, just get up and walk to that person's office). Need someone in the department to explain what they're working on to the rest of the group? Send that person an email, and have that person email the rest of the department.
Meh. It's probably just my antisocial personality.
You know, it really doesn't bother me that my wife decided to go vegetarian. Oh, sure, all of my best dishes involve meat in some way, but I've had to learn how to make new things, which has been kind of fun. I'm still of the opinion that vegetarians shouldn't try to pass off meatless dishes as meaty ones we're all familiar with (that "Vegetarian Rueben" isn't bad, but it certainly isn't a Reuben). They should just let the dishes stand on their own without comparison, because they're tasty enough, and surely the vegetarian chefs of the world don't actually think they're fooling anyone.Another nice thing about my wife going vegetarian is that it's forced me to eat healthier meals, at least at home. OK, I say "forced," but really, she doesn't care if I eat meat, even in front of her. It's my own laziness (cooking two separate main courses versus one) that has painted me into the healthy-eating corner, but why quibble over the small stuff? Still, the point I'm rambling in the general direction of is, that while I've not been eating as much meat as usual, I can still make a bad lunch decision with the best of them.
Note, for example, the massive, heart-stopping cholesterol-fest you see above. I must thank the mad geniuses at the corporate restaurant for coming up with that one -- spicy Italian sausage sauteed with onions and peppers, then plonked onto a sub roll with masses of provolone cheese. I don't care how bad it was for me. . . after the second bite, I knew I was going to plow through it in a matter of minutes. And I did. Thank you, you magnificent bastards. You've made Tuesday worth waking up for.
