Them: i have a mini datsun in my lap
Me: a tiny car?
Them: no dog
Me: dachshund
Me: a datsun is a japanese car
Them: :p
Me: a dachshund is a tiny dog
Me: slightly different
:)
Personal
The stuff about me and my life. The “diary” side of blogging.
Kickshaw grumbles
Last year at the Bite of Seattle, I discovered an incredible local acapella group called Kickshaw that blew me away when I walked up in time to hear a flawless acapella performance of one of my all-time favorite songs, “Papa Was a Rolling Stone”.
After their version of “Dance to the Music” came up in iTunes today, I hit their website on a whim and discovered that they’re going to be performing at the Bite of Seattle food festival next weekend. Got all excited, started planning to go to see them again — and then realized that they’re playing at 6pm on Friday. I’ll be at work. Grrr. Not thrilled with whoever scheduled that. Didn’t they know that they should have consulted with me first?
Uh, yeah. Right. Anyway.
On the bright side, come early August, they’ll be performing at the Taste of Edmonds food festival, which is just about half an hour by car from here. Prairie’s expressed interest in going, so hopefully we’ll be able to head out that way and catch them there. Would be very cool to get to see them again.
Capitol Hill Block Party
Another addition to the various nifty clicky-bits (that’s a technical term) here on the site! I spent some time today wandering around in the sun at the Capitol Hill Block Party and snapped a few pictures. Either click on the thumbail under “My Photo Albums” to the left, or just jump right in!
Always On
The ubiquity of technology in the lives of executives, other businesspeople and consumers has created a subculture of the Always On — and a brewing tension between productivity and freneticism. For all the efficiency gains that it seemingly provides, the constant stream of data can interrupt not just dinner and family time, but also meetings and creative time, and it can prove very tough to turn off.
>
Some people who are persistently wired say it is not uncommon for them to be sitting in a meeting and using a hand-held device to exchange instant messages surreptitiously — with someone in the same meeting. Others may be sitting at a desk and engaging in conversation on two phones, one at each ear. At social events, or in the grandstand at their children’s soccer games, they read news feeds on mobile devices instead of chatting with actual human beings.
>
These speed demons say they will fall behind if they disconnect, but they also acknowledge feeling something much more powerful: they are compulsively drawn to the constant stimulation provided by incoming data. Call it O.C.D. — online compulsive disorder.
The New York Times article The Lure of Data: Is It Addictive? describes perfectly something I’ve been noticing all over the place, creeping up for a few years now — and something that I hope I’ll never fall prey to.
This actually ties in to some of my earlier rants about cell phone usage (and rudeness). Everywhere I go, people are constantly so obsessed with being in touch at all times with everyone and everything possible, that the real world practically ceases to exist for them. At the very least, it becomes far less important to them than any of their gadgets, which is my primary frustration. Conversations with someone standing right in front of you are suddenly interrupted for a cell phone’s ring, or a PDA’s beep, or any number of other electronic distractions, and suddenly the person who’s right there becomes secondary to checking the gadget to see what the beep is for.
When did it become so easy to blatantly shrug off real people for e-mail, pager beeps, or any number of other online distractions? And why do so many people accept it so easily? It drives me up the ever-loving wall when I’m being set aside for some gadget, and I make a concerted effort never to do that to others.
Howler! Ha!
Woohoo — my Harry Potter Uno cards showed up this morning! :) Anyone up for a game?
Pre-Natal Massage
On a boring day at work, the phrase “pre-natal massage” becomes way too funny. I know what it really means…but what it could mean had my co-worker and I alternating between really amused and really disgusted.
Are friends electric?
Aaahh — the eternal debate of nearly everyone who’s found themselves with a dual life: how do you cope when the two start to intersect?
During my brief contract earlier this summer, a jarring moment occurred when I walked up to one of the people I worked with and saw that he was reading my weblog. I’ve never had such an obvious mix of the ‘real’ world and this virtual world before, and I found it uncomfortable. He’s a very likable person, friendly and personable and now a budding weblogger — but it was still a moment that stopped me dead in my tracks.
I’ve rarely ever stopped to worry about the two worlds intersecting for me. In fact, there are often times when I wish they intersected more. As my circle of friends has grown and started to go our seperate ways, it’s gotten far harder to keep in touch with each other over the miles. We’re not always able to afford long distance phone calls, not all of us are as good with keeping in touch via e-mail as we should be…all the usual reasons and excuses for not keeping in touch. I’ve thought many times that I wish more of the people I knew in the “real world” also had presences in the “virtual world.” So far, I’ve managed to get my dad and my friend Kirsten to start exploring the world of weblogging, but that’s been it. Still, it’s a start.
But admittedly, there are considerations to be taken when you know that it’s not just a random collection of cyber-strangers reading the words you toss into the void, but people that you’re going to need to see face-to-face. Suddenly posts get second-guessed, certain topics seem a little to dicey to bring up.
…I have a strong suspicion that those people who write weblogs read by spouses, kids, and employers tend to write differently then people like me who are, for all intents and purposes, obscured from view because we’ve kept the two worlds far apart.
I’ve got a very small regular readership of my site (at least, that I know of), and primary among those that I know read my ramblings are my parents. I feel lucky that we’ve managed over the years to build a good enough relationship that I generally don’t have to censor my ramblings. While I’m not one for great amounts of profanity, I know they’re not going to look down their noses at me if I choose to toss the occasional expletive in; they know that I’ve experimented with drugs in the past, so I don’t have to worry about mentioning that; and I’m fairly positive that they’re not laboring under the illusion that I’ve made it to the tender age of 30 a virgin.
Of course, if they were, I’ve just blown that right out of the water, haven’t I? ;)
In any case, the point is that, at least for me, it’s rare that I hesitate on posting something because of anyone who might read my site. Not unknown — no matter how good my relationship with my parents, or anyone else, may be, some things I’m just not quite willing to tie to my public website — but rare.
Information overload
The big problem (for me, at least) of having a multitude of subscribed RSS feeds in your newsreader is that after not checking in for a couple days, there’s so much to wade through that you end up overloading, and not posting about any of it (sigh). I know I went past a few interesting posts, but they just got lost in the noise.
I’m sure there’s a lot of nifty stuff out there on the ‘net right now. Guess y’all will just have to go find it yourselves. Sorry!
Marc, Laura, and a 12-egg omelette
Caffeine? No, we don’t drink caffeine! Why do you ask?
Friday there was one topic of conversation among my friends and me — where the heck are Marc and Laura? We knew they were supposed to be coming down for the Warped Tour out at the Gorge, but nobody’d been able to get in contact with them or figure out what the deal was. A little disconcerting, since Rick thought he was supposed to be picking them up at the airport, but we figured that if they really needed to get ahold of us, they would. Then we crossed our fingers.
Sunday, though, all was explained. I got a call around noon from Marc — as it turns out, he and Laura had arrived from Anchorage safely and were staying with Laura’s “other mom” out in Lynwood. They’d gotten ahold of Rick on Saturday, the three of them had made it out to the Warped Tour, and now they were back in town and ready to go play. Rock on! First stop — the Hurricane Cafe.
The Hurricane is famous for its 12-egg omelettes — absolutely huge amounts of food. Laura had promised Marc that if he could finish off his omelette, she’d pay for it.
She didn’t have to pay.
He did, however, give it a valiant effort. We’re estimating that he probably got through around 9 of the eggs or so — far more than any of the rest of us would have been able to do!
Much fun was had sitting around, talking, and catching up on our various lives. Once we were all fed (and we’d given Marc a chance to let the eggs settle in his stomach), Rick and I took Marc and Laura out to the Underground Tour here in Pioneer Sqare. The Underground Tour is one of my favorite “touristy” things to do here in town, and I like to take it about once a year or so (no two tour guides ever come up with quite the same set of stories to tell), so I was about due, anyway.
Unfortunately, we failed to convince the two of them to Ride the Ducks (sigh). Someday…
After the tour, we spent some time just wandering around downtown Seattle and enjoying the sunshine. I even managed to get one picture that can be used as evidence that Marc and Laura actually like each other — though Marc, I’m sure, will strenuously deny that every chance he gets. He’s just sweet like that. ;)
Once they all decided they’d had enough sun, we came up to my apartment to hang out for a couple hours, then Marc, Laura and Rick wandered off to find food and get some rest. They’re in town until next Saturday, though, so hopefully I’ll have another chance to get together with them before they leave. Besides, I’ve got to get their mailing address before they leave — I fully intend to subscribe them to the Stranger so they know exactly what they’re missing by continuing to live up in the frozen wastelands of Alaska instead of moving down here like any sane person would!
Oh, and one last thing — just in case you were curious, this is what happens to Alaskans who spend an entire day in the summer sun of the Gorge without bothering to use sunscreen. I don’t recommend it. ;)
