I get to go home tomorrow, which makes me exceedingly happy. I've missed 3 days, 5 soccer goals, and 1 lost tooth while here in Chicago. (Let the record show that Julia scored all 5 goals). Last night, Bill and I did drive out to the Double Door to see Backyard Tire Fire. It was fun. But the best music of the night came from DJ Bill, who pumped his iPod into the van stereo and created a perfect soundtrack for driving around Wicker Park in the rain. 13th Floor Elevators, Moldy Peaches, The Flaming Lips, and The Wave Pitchers. At present, I am quite enamoured with The Wave Pitchers.
Today I told Curtis that I like them as much as I liked The Gorky's when I heard them for the first time. That is officially not true now that I've had a moment to reflect. But they are still quite good.
I like Chicago. It's funny, I wrote a good chunk of one chapter of my dissertation at the Swisshotel up the street--sitting at a hotel desk just like I am now.
I find hotels depressing. I always say out loud when I enter a hotel room alone on conference travel: "oh look, a hotel room." I've done that for years and years. Hotels make me feel lonely--especially when I am missing 4 soccer games!
This is the humming song You sing it when you're on your own
I'm also writing on mom's laptop--left mine at home so Kath can study. It's sad to see all the stuff she had set up here. She loved getting online. Her browser still has the customization with cats. Even the "waiting" animation on this laptop has a cat playing with a ball as a page loads. I don't usually listen to music on laptops, but I am listening to my mix of the Gorky's. You can listen to it, too:
Conferences also depress me. Man, it sounds like I am some kind of gloomy gus, but it's true. When I get my name tag at a conference, I can see it hanging on my office doorknob 2 years on. I think of nametags past, nametags future. I think of the hundreds of nametags just like mine at this conference, last year's conference, the un-related conferences in the same building directly before and after this one. I think about how meaningful the information is to me--this is genuine. I learn things I will use, things I am genuinely excited to learn. But then I reflect on all the other people doing this, the ongoing nature of it, and how meaningless it all is in the grand scheme of things. Then I go back to my room and try to go to sleep.
I remember my first conference. I was 23 and it was a paper on Chaucer. I still remember the title: "Antifeminist Lyrics and The Nun's Preist's Tale." I had found some anonymous lyric poetry from the middle ages that shared some thematic content with one of Chaucer's Cantebury Tales. All of these passages were diatribes against women--very common in Middle English poetry. It was a nice paper. I was so nervous. I drove down to Indiana and stayed in a hotel. I gave my first conference talk and answered questions. It felt really nice. But the travel aspect, the hotel room, all of that still bummed me out powerfully.
So here I am at the conference center on Wacker Dr. missing my family--my kids and their soccer games and their new puppy. This is the second conference in a couple of weeks. And next week I have to travel down to NC to sort through Mom's stuff.
It's a good thing I like my job so much. I think about how lucky I am--so many people have lost jobs. I work at a great place, and my scenery has always changed. I feel like I make a contribution, the work is interesting, and I'm on a team with good people. How many people can say that? It's cool, because I kind of screwed up at work today, and even that wasn't much of a big deal. A big deal in my head, I suppose, but it quickly died down.
It would really suck to dislike your job. That's something I've only had to deal with a couple of times, and I have to go back to crappy jobs during college.
Listening to this great Gorky's mix! I love this thing. The lyrics that are playing now:
Let Those Blue Skies Gorky's Zygotic Mynci
Let those blue skies roll some more Let her heart sink no more Let the girl dance till the dawn Coz I know her from before
Some people laughing Can't help from crying But I'm through with walking In the wind and the rain
Let the friends come to my door May they never be alone Let our love dance through the dawn Coz I know her from before
Some people laughing Can't help from crying But I'm through with walking In the wind and the rain
And I wonder why I write this blog. Nothing here matters much. That's what it's about, really. But it comes up. A pal mentioned my post about Five Guys. Stupid things. I guess writing is just a way for me to feel better about stuff, to process the meaningless stuff that floats through my brain. So much of what I do during the day is so purposeful and deliberate. This is like the back page of my high school notebook. It's not much different. Draw the logo of your favorite bands. Make a list of stuff you might like to buy. Ask some ill-formed questions about the meaning of life. Jot down your thoughts about how the world works. Then throw it away.
So there you can see what I see. My Mom's customized Firefox; little cats, Nascar, Bank of America, Blue Cross/Blue Shield, local weather in Avon, NC. Currently there is a severe weather alert for Avon. But right now it's clear and 51 degrees. I've got to get away from this laptop.
...that might be the question. Or it's the question of the morning, at least.
I am someone who actively hid from the high school reunion people for 15 years. I am not kidding about this. My view is that I am still in touch with the people I want to continue to know from my past. I've enjoyed having a common first and last name in the Google age: you might as well try to find your old pal Brian Anderson, David Jackson, Scott Richardson, or Robert Stephenson. Good luck!
And don't get me wrong: I make all kinds of online friends and have for years, even before the advent of the web (yeah, that's right... I am online old school). But that online "friending" is centered on thematic shared interests such as banjo playing, International Harvester Scouts, Hammond Organs, delicious new pop music, or vintage stereo equipment. It's not based on, well... my face, which is not exactly my most favoritest attribute.
Pals have encouraged me to do the Facebook thing. You're in charge of who you "friend," they say. (Making the word "friend" a verb really seems to cheapen it, don't you think?). But do I really want to be in a position to say "no." Do I really want to get in touch with old girlfriends? That's what you do when you're newly divorced, going through a mid-life crisis, or just plain up to no good.
So I am torn about this Facebook thing. Now that Kathy's starting a new career, she's going to jump in and Facebook, which makes total sense. I don't mind old high school buddies or old boyfriends finding her (or her finding them for that matter). I'm just not sure if that's a distraction that I want for me right now.
Still, many of my pals love Facebook and get a lot out of it. What's my problem? I don't think Facebook is stupid (I do think Twitter is stupid). I think I might just not have the requisite self esteem to walk out into Facebook, which feels a lot like the middle school gym floor without my hobbies, favorite records, and workplace pretentions to make me feel safe.
Okay, so my boss is not going with me to the conference in Chicago. Most people would think that's cool, but it's kind of a drag because I was looking forward to the extra face time and away-from-the-office bonding. But she's sending my old pal Bill in her place, and that means he and I will need to check out some music after the conference.
One option--on my birthday no less--is the International Pop Overthrow festival. That evening there are these bands:
8 bands between 7:30 and 11:00. That might be cool. Another band that's playing is Backyard Tire Fire. I listened to them as I worked today (alt-country, pretty good).
Well, I took my Ph.D. robes to work because I don't have much closet space here at home. For some silly reason, it makes me happy to see them there in my work closet--a reminder that I really am a faculty member deep down inside somewhere.
Came home and found this old analog snapshot of me and Mom at the Breslin Center after I walked in graduation in 2001. My mom was awesome about stuff like this--she even came to see Diatribe at Rick's American Cafe once! She also liked to send me mail addressed to "Dr. and Mrs. Steven Mylastname." Only, she used my last name instead of Mylastname. That's how her dad and mom liked to get mail (despite the fact that Betty was a physician, too!--she just never practiced). Dr. and Mrs. Owen A. Rice.
I had the robes with me because I don't think they're exactly right. A doctoral gown with black velvet is acceptable, but for a Ph.D. you should have Ph.D. blue velvet. I could also have white piping around the blue velvet to signify a Ph.D. in Arts, Letters and Humanities.
My local K-Mart has a Huffy commuting bike with 700cc wheels for about $250. It's a cheap bike, but that's a great price. Check out a link for the Huffy Magellan 700cc Commuter. Read a few reviews, and it's not that bad. Some poor components, always bad assembly, and the frame is really too small. You could also buy this one at Wal-Mart, but don't do that, okay? I'll stick with my made-in-USA Schwinn for this season.
Because it's getting to be biking season, I'll reprint my 3 rules of the road. I've already spotted someone riding against traffic on Holly Rd. Ugh! Someone's gonna die!
G-Fab's 3 Rules of Bike Commuting
Be Visible. As a rule, motorists don't try to hit cyclists. Your best defense is being seen. This is why you should never ride on the sidewalk or against traffic. Ride in the far right lane in the direction of traffic. Wear light colored clothing. Attach reflectors or lights to your bike. Be seen.
Be Predictable. Motorists on the road should be able to predict what you are going to do. If you are dodging on and off the road in driveways and sidewalks, you are going to get hit. Stay in the road. It truly is the safest place. Use clear hand signals to let cars know what you are going to do. Check your mirror and make an effort to be extra predictable when cars are behind you.
Obey the Rules of the Car. Unless bike travel is prohibited on a road, you have the same rights and responsibilities as a car. That means stop at the red lights and stop signs. That means signal before turning. Most car drivers do not know your rights; some will honk and yell at you. If they are honking and yelling, they see you--this is good. You are much better off making some motorists angry than you would be going undetected.
I think my trusty old "neighborhood bike," purchased in 1990 or so, will work fine. I might want to add a chain guard like this one. I could also use a better pair of handlebars.
Mundane, uninteresting, and unremarkable. Some of it is just plain weird. Hopefully nothing here will be judged embarrassing, offensive, or objectionable. Mostly it's the equivalent of digital doodling, a throwaway journal, a cyberjunk drawer. While a few friends check in from time to time, I mostly blog here to amuse myself and keep words flowing out the ends of my fingers. It's a process thing.
Regular readers (all three of you) have noticed the dramatic increase in running content here. In an effort to keep this contained, I have created Steve's Running Blog. If you're not reading about running here, know that I am still at it.
Oh, and you'll hear some really good music here if you listen for it.
My Online Mixes
Click on the album art below to listen to one of my online mixes. Read descriptions here.
I blog about music and hobbies and whatever happens to be going on at the moment. I don't use my real name here at the suggestion of the EFF. I mean, you know what happens to people who use their real names in blogs, right? Their kids are abducted and murdered, they get fired from their jobs... you see stories about them on CNN. But you know who I am, don't you?
