Faux Social is now located at fauxsocial.blogspot.com.
This URL may one day contain something else, but for now, it is a barren ghost town. Everything, saving a couple of comments, can be found at fauxsocial.blogspot.com. If you fancy poking around here, watch out for tumble weeds, the ones out of my mind have teeth.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Another Faux Social Post on the New Faux Social
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Monday, December 12, 2011
The Sedaris Conundrum
A new post is available at fauxsocial.blogspot.com. Beginning 1 January 2012, this URL will cease to be updated.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Seals Can Do That
-Check out the new Faux Social at fauxsocial.blogspot.com, where Faux Social can be read without being harangued to go to fauxsocial.blogspot.com.-
I sit on an exercise ball when I write. They are cheaper than chairs, they supposedly work your core, they discourage slouching (though I manage), and they are super fun. One day I was sitting on my ball, with writer's block, and I thought to myself, "I think seals can walk on balls. Seals have flippers. Legs are better at walking than flippers. I should be able to walk on my ball well enough to move around the room." Figuring that bipedal walking may be a tall order, I endeavored to crawl on my exercise ball to move around the room.
One of the tricks to this hobby is that you move in the opposite direction as you crawl, i.e. crawling forwards makes the ball roll backwards. Obviously, rolling in the direction you are looking is easier, but crawling backwards is actually quite cumbersome, especially on top of an exercise ball. While practicing, cursing my horrible balance, I realized that seals do not walk on balls, but balance balls on their noses. While this seems more reasonable, it also seems boring, so I persevered with the crawling.
I can now roll forwards, backwards and side-to-side with reasonable grace. I am having a difficult time with turning, but I think it will come with practice. Unfortunately, crawling around my living room on a ball is only fun for so long, and I had reached that point. Luckily, Sarah showed up with her exercise ball, that she sits on to write. Rolling evolved to battles.
Battling on a ball is a short lived game, where the objective is to knock the other from their ball. After a great deal of giggling, postulating rules and objectives, and comically falling off of balls, I was reminded of an xkcd where a stick figure fills her(?) apartment with play-pen balls (http://xkcd.com/150/). The idea in this comic is that as "grown-ups" we get to decide what it means to be grown-ups.
It seems that I should start deciding what it means to be grown-up. I look at the traditional model; marriage, house, car, dog, kids, etc., and while there are certainly aspects of that life that are at times appealing (owning a home), I don't want it, and I don't know if I ever did. Many of the decisions I have made in my life have been based on what other people define as being an adult. For example, my brother and his wife have a house, steady jobs, and a cat. I am thankful for their stability (and generosity), as I relied on them for support during my divorce. The stability they have, and I do not, often makes me feel like I am not grown-up. That I have a facade of age, but I am unchanging, repeating the same mistakes, and an ever bigger fraud.
Obviously, I need to redefine what it means to be a grown-up for me. The life I most want is not the life of a "grown-up," but is the life that suits me. I want a ball-pit (actually I don't, but metaphorically) because it will be fun for me. I want to live life without a track, and I do not want the interview-question cliched five-year plan. Where do I see myself in five years? Hopefully doing something interesting and fun, and that is it. Maybe I will start answering interview questions that way. Even if I do not, I can plan to not-plan my life.
How does a not-plan work in the marriage model, it did not seem to. When I look back at my marriage, we (I?) never really seemed to like the forever concept. Our wedding bands were two small bands side-by-side to represent that we were two people, living two lives, that touched closely and always. While some may view this as a poor take on marriage, it should be noted that many works of science fiction have marriage as fixed-term contracts, and Mexico City is, apparently, considering adopting some form of this to curb divorce rates. In the end, Corinne wanted more than two lives touching, with a stable future, with kids and white picket fences separating her from the world. I wanted the world (and her as my partner to explore it).
I was recently asked if coming to New Zealand was a way for me to heal from my divorce. Maybe it was. Maybe though, my divorce was a way to heal from my marriage. Maybe my definition of being a grown-up is living the life that comes to me, experiencing love and loss, and following the whims of my wandering mind.
In this, I am reminded of Dr. Who. The Doctor does not plan his voyages through time and space (in fact it seems he cannot). While some writers suggest that this is The Doctor's choice, it often seems like chaos is the nature of the fabric of space and time that the TARDIS travels upon. While The Doctor is frequently haunted by lonely spells, and guilt over the risk he exposes his companions to, he does choose to continue to experience whatever lies outside his blue box.
In my definition of being a grown-up, I will decide that it means knowing the consequences of experiencing an awfully big world, with companions that may come and go, but will always be a part of you. I will loose people who are close to me as they grow-up more traditional ways, but they probably have not ever battled for the infinite glory of finding brief happiness in an exercise ball battle...
And, even a seal can do that.
I sit on an exercise ball when I write. They are cheaper than chairs, they supposedly work your core, they discourage slouching (though I manage), and they are super fun. One day I was sitting on my ball, with writer's block, and I thought to myself, "I think seals can walk on balls. Seals have flippers. Legs are better at walking than flippers. I should be able to walk on my ball well enough to move around the room." Figuring that bipedal walking may be a tall order, I endeavored to crawl on my exercise ball to move around the room.
One of the tricks to this hobby is that you move in the opposite direction as you crawl, i.e. crawling forwards makes the ball roll backwards. Obviously, rolling in the direction you are looking is easier, but crawling backwards is actually quite cumbersome, especially on top of an exercise ball. While practicing, cursing my horrible balance, I realized that seals do not walk on balls, but balance balls on their noses. While this seems more reasonable, it also seems boring, so I persevered with the crawling.
I can now roll forwards, backwards and side-to-side with reasonable grace. I am having a difficult time with turning, but I think it will come with practice. Unfortunately, crawling around my living room on a ball is only fun for so long, and I had reached that point. Luckily, Sarah showed up with her exercise ball, that she sits on to write. Rolling evolved to battles.
Battling on a ball is a short lived game, where the objective is to knock the other from their ball. After a great deal of giggling, postulating rules and objectives, and comically falling off of balls, I was reminded of an xkcd where a stick figure fills her(?) apartment with play-pen balls (http://xkcd.com/150/). The idea in this comic is that as "grown-ups" we get to decide what it means to be grown-ups.
It seems that I should start deciding what it means to be grown-up. I look at the traditional model; marriage, house, car, dog, kids, etc., and while there are certainly aspects of that life that are at times appealing (owning a home), I don't want it, and I don't know if I ever did. Many of the decisions I have made in my life have been based on what other people define as being an adult. For example, my brother and his wife have a house, steady jobs, and a cat. I am thankful for their stability (and generosity), as I relied on them for support during my divorce. The stability they have, and I do not, often makes me feel like I am not grown-up. That I have a facade of age, but I am unchanging, repeating the same mistakes, and an ever bigger fraud.
Obviously, I need to redefine what it means to be a grown-up for me. The life I most want is not the life of a "grown-up," but is the life that suits me. I want a ball-pit (actually I don't, but metaphorically) because it will be fun for me. I want to live life without a track, and I do not want the interview-question cliched five-year plan. Where do I see myself in five years? Hopefully doing something interesting and fun, and that is it. Maybe I will start answering interview questions that way. Even if I do not, I can plan to not-plan my life.
How does a not-plan work in the marriage model, it did not seem to. When I look back at my marriage, we (I?) never really seemed to like the forever concept. Our wedding bands were two small bands side-by-side to represent that we were two people, living two lives, that touched closely and always. While some may view this as a poor take on marriage, it should be noted that many works of science fiction have marriage as fixed-term contracts, and Mexico City is, apparently, considering adopting some form of this to curb divorce rates. In the end, Corinne wanted more than two lives touching, with a stable future, with kids and white picket fences separating her from the world. I wanted the world (and her as my partner to explore it).
I was recently asked if coming to New Zealand was a way for me to heal from my divorce. Maybe it was. Maybe though, my divorce was a way to heal from my marriage. Maybe my definition of being a grown-up is living the life that comes to me, experiencing love and loss, and following the whims of my wandering mind.
In this, I am reminded of Dr. Who. The Doctor does not plan his voyages through time and space (in fact it seems he cannot). While some writers suggest that this is The Doctor's choice, it often seems like chaos is the nature of the fabric of space and time that the TARDIS travels upon. While The Doctor is frequently haunted by lonely spells, and guilt over the risk he exposes his companions to, he does choose to continue to experience whatever lies outside his blue box.
In my definition of being a grown-up, I will decide that it means knowing the consequences of experiencing an awfully big world, with companions that may come and go, but will always be a part of you. I will loose people who are close to me as they grow-up more traditional ways, but they probably have not ever battled for the infinite glory of finding brief happiness in an exercise ball battle...
And, even a seal can do that.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
The Fellowship Breaks
A new post is available on fauxsocial.blogspot.com, head on over to check it out!
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
I Didn't Even See Them
*The new Faux Social is ready! Go to fauxsocial.blogspot.com to check it out, and to read posts without notes at the beginning urging you to go to fauxsocial.blogspot.com!*
I have not done any research into this, but I imagine a common statement made after a collision is, “I didn't even see them.” I was once backed into in a left turn lane at an intersection, the woman who backed into me said something like that. The statement also seems pretty obvious, presumably, if one sees something, they are unlikely to run into it. It seems cyclists have taken this idea, and endeavored to be hyper-visible.
Just under 10% of the employees at GNS bike to work. Of those who do, I am the only one who does not wear hi-viz safety gear. Road bikers here wear hi-viz vests and helmets here. Yet, the only commuting collision that has happened at GNS recently was when a trucker rear-ended a car turning into the access road. The trucker reported that he looked down to shift, and didn't even see them.
If, the root cause of motorists not seeing the things they run into is truly the visibility of the object, then black cars should be illegal, and we should all be driving around in vehicles that are bright orange with flashing lights (firetrucks?). But, we aren't. Cars have headlamps, taillights and reflectors, which is considered sufficient. Motorists do run into other cars, but if every car was hi-viz, it would loose its meaning. Wrapping vehicles in orange, chartreuse, reflectors and flashing lights is saved for vehicles that are not normally on the road.
Construction workers also wear hi-viz, but like the emergency vehicles, they are not part of normal driving. While construction and maintenance crews likely work on the roads most days, they are generally not part of most motorist's daily drive. In other words, they “do not belong” on the road from the viewpoint of the motorist. Cyclists, on the other hand, do.
The first issue with cyclists wearing hi-viz is that it implies to motorists that bikes do not belong. That bikes, like construction workers and emergency vehicles, are a special case. Motorists will never “see” cyclists as long as cyclists are not viewed as a legitimate part of traffic by motorists, lawmakers and police officers. As long as the consensus exists that cyclists are not part of normal traffic, and cyclists further the idea by wearing hi-viz, motorists will not respect cyclists.
The second, and probably larger issue of wearing hi-viz, is that it does not work. I have ridden with other cyclists who are wearing hi-viz, and two cyclists, one in hi-viz, one not, does not affect how close motorists come to you. I have watched cars pass me, then pass another cyclist wearing hi-viz, and they pass at the same distance. Motorists drive the way they drive, no matter what a cyclist wears. Close passers pass close, cell phone users text and talk, and drunk and drowsy drivers are drunk and drowsy. A piece of bright orange fabric does not change the person behind the wheel.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Minutiae
More pictures have been posted to my Picasa site, and the new Faux Social page is nearly set (I'm still debating a few things, we'll call it a beta version). Preview it if you are interested, and comment on the new format if you like or dislike it. Check it out at fauxsocial.blogspot.com.
Some folks have apparently been wondering what has been happening in my life, and, well, I think a recent xkcd captures what I go through when I try to work with most people. This, is a stick-figure drawn glimpse of my life: http://www.xkcd.com/974/. In my defense, I usually can access my "fuck it, and get it done" response when it counts, but I hate going back through shoddy work, so I take the time to try to make the work being done at present good enough that I will not want to hurl feces at myself in a year or two.
Upcoming posts will probably include random topics such as balancing on exercise balls, the merits of high-vis clothing, and identifying hazards, but I may grow tired of those topics before I finish writing anything of consequence.
Some folks have apparently been wondering what has been happening in my life, and, well, I think a recent xkcd captures what I go through when I try to work with most people. This, is a stick-figure drawn glimpse of my life: http://www.xkcd.com/974/. In my defense, I usually can access my "fuck it, and get it done" response when it counts, but I hate going back through shoddy work, so I take the time to try to make the work being done at present good enough that I will not want to hurl feces at myself in a year or two.
Upcoming posts will probably include random topics such as balancing on exercise balls, the merits of high-vis clothing, and identifying hazards, but I may grow tired of those topics before I finish writing anything of consequence.
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