On Motivation

Ben Casnocha's latest book review about chasing daylight hit me pretty hard.

Ever since I freaked out my poor babysitter with a crying fit in the shower over the realization that one day I was going to die (age 6 -- yeah, I was a fun kid), I've always kept the idea of my own death in the back of my thoughts.

It's a great motivator. Each day is a gift. Our time is limited. How we spend it is permanent.

But, I hadn't really given much thought to just *how* limited my time is until I read one of the comments to Ben's post. The commenter encouraged people to calculate their "Number" (aka, how many days you have left, give or take). If I assume I live to 75, I have somewhere in the ballpark of 14,000 days left.

Now that's some *serious* motivation.

Read More

On Writing

The fun of talk is to explore, but much of it and all that is irresponsible should not be written. Once written you have to stand by it. You may have said it to see whether you believed it or not.

-Hemingway (The Paris Review, 1958).

I wonder where "talk" and "write" would be divided for Hemingway in a world of email, texting, Twitter, Facebook, and blogging.

Read More

Travel Inventory

The first 5.5 months of this year are nowhere near last year, in terms of total plane flights (a temporary move to the Seattle area while maintaining a law practice in the bay area = lots of airline miles).

But, even so, E and I have been discussing how we much we are looking forward to the rest of the year, where there isn't too much travel left on the horizon.

Sure, last year, our trip to Europe was one of the best vacations we've ever taken, even when you include the working tail in London.

But, upon arrival home, we agreed that missing summer in California for travel elsewhere is not ideal.  So, we were already committed to staying home as much as possible this Summer.

Why, then, are we so excited about how many weekends we have scheduled for staying home? Oh...the calendar makes it clear.  

So far, this year, while ostensibly living in the bay area and leading a non-nomadic existence, I've done overnight or longer trips to Carmel, Palm Springs, Washington DC, my hometown area, San Francisco, Cambodia, San Diego, Oakland, San Luis Obispo/Pismo Beach/5 Cities, Savannah, Spokane, and Newport Beach.

E's been with me for most of those and has added 3 or so business trips to his list to make up for the missed ones.

Essentially, that's 12 trips for each of us in 19 weeks, not including day trips (for example, I spent today in SF, onsite at a copyright conference at the St. Francis and E regularly flies to western major metropolitan areas before 6 AM to return home before midnight).

So, of course we're very pleased to see big blocks of uninterrupted time at home for the rest of the year.  In fact, if we stick to the current plan, we've only got 3 overnight SF trips (super easy), 3 trips associated with weddings (fun!), 3 trips to visit family for the holidays/birthdays (extra fun, and double duty), and only 3-4 other trips for the whole year (which are all associated with races and friends/family combined).

That's just 11 trips in 32 weeks, or the lowest travel frequency we've had for the last 2 years.  No doubt, at least one or more work trips will sneak in there, but even so, it's on track to be a great California homebody summer and second half of 2012! 

Read More

Being Direct

There's a quote I heard years ago that I really like:

Why is it that all the people who pride themselves on "Keeping it Real" think real means being an asshole?

I like it for many reasons.

First, because I am very direct.  And, unfortunately, I often err on the side of overt directness and don't deliver messages in a manner that is just as clear but more gentle and compassionate when I could.  There is nothing gained by this error, plenty is lost, and it is an area of my life where I strive to improve.

Second, because whenever I'm on the receiving end of a too direct message that stings, I try to think of this quote, and when I do, I smile.  It brings levity and perspective.  It has, on occasion, stopped me from responding with my own (not welcome or helpful) "real" response.

And Third, I like it because it reminds me that my faults are funny.  People's faults, in general, should be viewed through a prism of hilarity.

Most of us are not evil.

But damn, most of us, on occasion, are ridiculous to the point of extreme.

To generally laugh at this reality, instead of responding with immediate anger or harm, seems to me to be one of the greatest things we can do.

So thanks, random quote person.  I really like this one.

Read More

A Silicon Valley Culture Snippet

Last night, E and I were eating dinner at our local favorite Mexican food joint when a man walked in with a pin-striped button up shirt (very common) hanging over what appeared to be boxer shorts (very uncommon).

He stood in line and joked with other patrons, several of whom were in biking gear or spandex (also, very common).  E evaluated the situation and decided, "He must have lost a bet." 

Eventually, he was seated at the patio to eat by himself, walking through the restaurant in what to me, appeared to be a half-dressed state.

After we finished, my curiosity (plus the margaritas) got the best of me, and I convinced E to let me go talk with him.

I had seen enough pointing and joking and discussion while he was waiting, that I knew he'd be a good sport.

"Hi.  I'm just curious, how come you are in a dress shirt but not dress pants?"

He laughed and said, "I'm not from around here."  (Umm... yes, we could tell.)

"I wanted to go for a run and so I parked my car in the lot, went for my run, and then changed into my dress shirt to avoid eating in my sweaty shirt."

He paused.  "I guess these running shorts do sort of look like boxer shorts, though."

"Huh."  I said. "Where are you from?"

"Colorado."

"Interesting.  Well, thanks for chatting.  Have a nice dinner."

I'm fascinated to learn that in Colorado, it's apparently much more acceptable to walk around in only the top half of the Sand Hill Uniform (pin-striped blue shirt, khaki pants) than it is to wear a full work-out uniform if it's sweaty.  To me, he looked half-naked, and a little creepy 'til it was obvious that he was embarrassed.  My perception of the inappropriateness of his attire is even more interesting because I had these thoughts while he was standing next to a guy in full cycling spandex.   

Apparently the social rules are different here than what this Colorado dude expected.  In my experience, walking into a restaurant in your workout clothes, even in a sweaty post work-out state, as long as you were willing to sit on the patio so as to avoid being stinky near other folks, wouldn't be considered odd at all.  Whereas being more clothed, but in a way that most folks in the restaurant seemed to perceive as half-dressed, made this guy stand out horribly.

Read More

An Awesome Sunday at Home

After last night's fun with the college roommate and a ridiculously early bedtime, I woke at 6:50 for a local 5K, the Mission City Fun Run.

B, a good friend, was supposed to join me, but she's sick, so that was a bummer.  Even so, it was a fun event, and very much the fun-run that was promised.

This morning was a perfect example of why I love racing.  There is no way I would have been up and running hard by 8 AM without the race to motivate me.  Instead, I did a respectable 27 minute (on the dot) 5K, which was a pleasant surprise since I was running without my Garmin and last weekend's 10K with my sister had been almost a minute per mile slower.

When I got home, I attacked the garden for hours and did Mandarin lessons on my MP3 players.  There's tons more to do in the garden in the next two weeks, but it felt great to get 2 beds and 6 varieties of tomatoes finished.   Plus, I caught up with R while finishing gardening and heading out for a nice walk.

E and I had a wonderful brunch downtown and watched the world walk by for the festival that had shut down traffic.  We hit up the hardware store and bought necessary bits for the garden.

The menu for the week is planned and I'm reading for fun to hide from the afternoon heat (it hit 91F in the eaves today!).

I was feeling pretty good about my productive day -- So many tasks accomplished and it's only 4:30. Then I realized I'd done half of those tasks in public with my shirt on inside out and a large tag hanging from my waist. E, of course, was surprised when I asked how he didn't notice and clue me in at brunch, at the hardware store, or while chatting with the neighbors. So, on this perfectly relaxing Sunday at home, I'm reminded that E & I are made for each other.

Also, I'm reading 867-5309 -- Jenny, the song that saved me (note to self, I should really sign up for Amazon's referral program).  The best bit I've encountered by far?

New Orleans, just like I pictured it.  America's Alcoholic Disneyland, where the normally straight-laced Protestants of the Midwest and the South funneled on down the Missouri, Ohio, and Mississippi rivers to become momentary Catholic-Voodoo worshippers at the fire-fountain altar of the Big Easy.

So much description, history, hints of cultural depth and movement in a single passage.  Of course he wrote songs that topped charts!

Read More

Trip of the Tongue

Just forgive me in advance, please. I can feel that this is going to be one of those posts that results in E gleefully interrupting me in public and letting people know that I've developed yet *another* girl-crush.

But, seriously, Elizabeth Little's book was one of the best reads I've had in a long, long time.

E and I have fairly divergent reading tastes.  The only real places where we overlap are modern science/technology books, economics, science fiction, futuristic fiction, and historical novels relating to war or technology.  His pleasure reading tends to be much more empirical than I enjoy.  Additionally, he is much less picky about the writing.  So long as the data or analysis is good, he is happy.

I'm a sucker for words.  Topics like science, technology, travel, language, food, sports, economics, law, and policy all interest me and I do specifically select books to learn more about them.  But really, I'm a language slut.  If the writing appeals to me, I'll read anything.  If the writing is extremely engaging, I'll re-arrange my life to maximize my book time (See REAMDE).  


As you probably know (since my only readers are close friends or niche Internet meme-sharers), one of the things I love to learn about is language.  Accents? Dialects? Foreign language? Usage patterns?  I haven't been formally trained in linguistics at all (unless you count the French Phonetics class I took in college, which, I don't, because much to the shock of the instructor, it's not the most important thing in the world, and the only application I've found for phonetic representation is pronouncing dictionary phonetic spellings when learning a new language or laying down Scrabble words).  But, like many areas of my life, a lack of formal training doesn't stop me from spending a good bit of my time thinking about (and thinking I know stuff about) language, paying attention to the way people speak, and studying and trying to communicate in foreign languages.

Within the first dozen pages of Trip of the Tongue, I was laughing out loud, and thrilled to find that this book's words could yank me in and entertain me.  Even more satisfying, it's technical and academic enough (there are footnotes and an index of citations!) for it to feel like an equal bedside book to E's Cold War Submarines: The Design and Construction of U.S. and Soviet Submarines, 1945-2001. (Yes, that's actually on his bedside table right now).

For someone like me, this book is like finding a new best friend who shares my interests, but is much more focused on them than I am.  Thankfully, she's nice enough to give me an inside view into what it would be like to spend time formally pursuing and understanding cool stuff about language that I've always wished I could take the time to learn.  (The fact that my mother is a watercolor painter of a certain age who appreciates Sante Fe didn't hurt at all.)

Ms. Little's reference to Inigo Montoya and the impossibility of defining creole uniquely made me smile at the synchronicity.  Only a few weeks earlier I'd noted on my (semi) professional blog that I find myself thinking of his catch phrase on a daily basis while playing/battling with the language of contracts.

When Ms. Little mentioned the strange fact that she'd been to Elko before commencing her inquiry into American Basque culture, I smiled again, twice.  I, too, had been to Elko, just last spring, on E's and my Northwestern US Washington-Yellowstone-Bay Area loop, and, I also have a bit of a gambling problem (blackjack is my second choice to craps).

This book reminded me I'd actually been to Basque Country.  My work colleague from the summer I worked in Bordeaux was Basque and her parents insisted on sending us by train to the Basque festival in their hometown.  Her grandparents hosted us and I couldn't understand any of the Basque and only 50% of the French and Spanish, but I've never eaten and drank so much in 48 hours in my life.  I kid you not.  I was instructed to clean my plate and take naps repeatedly.  I'd never been told to take naps by a host (to rest up for the next big meal and walking in the center of town with, of course, copious amounts of drinking in the streets), either prior or since.  It is important to note that I was a collegiate athlete at the time and was often pointed out and laughed at during my stay in France for how much I felt I needed to eat -- but not in Basque Country.  I'd completely forgotten the richness of these memories and now, thanks to Ms. Little's descriptions of the colors, the clothes, the dancing, and the culture of the American Basque, part of it has come back and I've added a todo list item of, "Dig through hand-written diaries and find France summer of 1994.  Locate all you can about the Basque Festival and the friend who took you (with whom I've completely lost touch)."

The Gullah and Creole portions of the book reminded me about my experience in Anguilla with the fishermen.  We went to the docks to buy some lobsters and fish, and E, P & M couldn't understand a word the Anguillan fishermen were saying.  At dinner when they asked me, I thought about it and realized that to my brain it sounded like a bit of Hawaiian pidgin grammar attached to Puerto Rican accented vocabulary overlayed on a dialect of English that was new to me but not incomprehensible (Not for a sales transaction regarding fish, anyway).  When they turned to speak privately to set the price, I couldn't understand a word, but when they turned back with the offer price, I looked to the group and said, "That sounds fair, right?"  They laughed, and I was confused. E explained, "Babe, I have no clue what he is saying.  And frankly, you've been talking a little funny, too, for the last 5 minutes or so.  You look like you think you understand what's going on, so let's go with your version."

After reading this book, and thinking about how confused everyone was, including M, who was raised in a Spanish speaking household, I'm now convinced that what the Anguillan fishermen spoke was a much more interesting language than I realized at the time.  I'm a bit sad I didn't know that then, I would have loved to spend more time parsing it and asking about the history and language of the people I was speaking with.

Each of the other sections of the book challenged me to think in new ways about language in America and the histories of the peoples who've kept and lost their words.  But, truly, the best part of this book for me was that Ms. Little did all the hard stuff related to learning about new langauges.  She did the flights and the long haul drives, the hotels, the motels, the getting lost, the chasing down of the knowledgeable folks, the research and the compilation of the interesting facts.  Then, she packaged up all the good stuff from her trips and gave it to us in this book.

So, if you are an American who enjoys language or linguistics or words, I guarantee you will love this book, and, as a bonus, it may even trigger memories of linguistic experiences you'd forgotten.

Read More