I read a blog post about how you know that you're old, and all the statements were designed for a demographic maybe 10 or even only 5 years older than me.
Here's how I will know I'm old:
(1) Babies born after the Moore tornadoes in '99 and '01 will have rational conversations with me about science.
(2) Kids who didn't see the twin towers fall will tell me ghost stories (perhaps about how they weren't born yet, that is scary to me).
(3) Sometime soon, the term "Oldsmobile" will only mean an old car, and not a specific old car.
(4) Very soon there will be kids who never lived without video communication. Not only will they not know the unique sound of a dial-up modem, but they may never have a land line. They will never have to pocket change so they can call their mothers from the pay phone at work. I think it is an important budgeting strategy to have to always have enough quarters to call home. I feel the youth of this generation are missing out on something important.
(5) Kids these days will never put in a mix tape and wait patiently by the radio (for hours!!!) for the desired song to come on and then hit "play," they'll just export their Pandora playlist.
(6) Many adults even my age will not learn to drive on a manual, and will wait to learn until they buy an expensive, mid-life crisis car to figure it out (fail).
(7) Cars are becoming way too electronic these days. The older ones these days fail first in the electronic bus system, and that is too painful for anyone to fix. It was much better when a clutch would give out - you could fix that as a family while teaching important lessons of frugality, self-reliance, and basic engineering.
(8) Don't get me started on food, we've already taught our youth that eggs come in cartons, broccoli comes in pre-seasoned microwaveable freezer bags, chicken comes in saran wrap, and rice in plastic bags. Shameful.
Well, I guess that's about it for my soapbox tonight.
Good luck, and stay hungry!
Friday, November 17, 2017
Iceland - General thoughts
I positively love Iceland. I heard one member of our group, a Danish person, say, "It sounds cheesy to say this, but it feels like coming home." To me, it does. It feels like there is something inside me saying, "Ahh, this is what home should feel like."
That's a very weird feeling to have when you enter into a country you've never been to and don't know the language, so I'm going to try to break it down a little.
(1) Landscape: All of (inhabited) Iceland is basically wonderfully fertile farmland (from the volcanic ash) and relatively flat (because it's a volcanic island). Additionally, there are almost no trees (either too young geologically or poor stewardship of previous inhabitants, go figure). It really, truly, looks like God's country if you're a farmer.
(2) City layout: You rarely get "major" cities within an easy commute distance to prime farmland. You get this in Reykjavik. In fact, the city is so close to amazing farmland that they post signs forbidding tractors on the highways during the rush hour. That's a concept of a city I could get behind. Sure, drive your tractor into downtown, we don't mind, just please avoid doing so during rush hour traffic.
(3) Career: I could build a career almost anywhere, but it will honestly be easier if I have facile access to good astrobiologically interesting sites. While we can make cases that sites in California are somehow relevant to space exploration, I believe the argument becomes a tad easier if you are looking at glaciers and hot springs rather than tar pits and hot springs.
(4) Luxury: I am still very freaked out by geothermal hot springs, but I have to say that they have a certain appeal on a cold evening. I understand nearly every evening around here is a cold one, so yes. There's a certain amount of luxury associated with sitting in a hot tub at night and having ice form on your towel by the time you've finished your sprint back to your heated house / room.
(5) Spectacular sightseeing: Iceland has some of the most amazing waterfalls I've ever seen in my life. They have them everywhere, and sometimes they are more beautiful than anything I've witnessed in California but so commonplace here that they don't even get a mention on the maps.
That's a very weird feeling to have when you enter into a country you've never been to and don't know the language, so I'm going to try to break it down a little.
(1) Landscape: All of (inhabited) Iceland is basically wonderfully fertile farmland (from the volcanic ash) and relatively flat (because it's a volcanic island). Additionally, there are almost no trees (either too young geologically or poor stewardship of previous inhabitants, go figure). It really, truly, looks like God's country if you're a farmer.
(2) City layout: You rarely get "major" cities within an easy commute distance to prime farmland. You get this in Reykjavik. In fact, the city is so close to amazing farmland that they post signs forbidding tractors on the highways during the rush hour. That's a concept of a city I could get behind. Sure, drive your tractor into downtown, we don't mind, just please avoid doing so during rush hour traffic.
(3) Career: I could build a career almost anywhere, but it will honestly be easier if I have facile access to good astrobiologically interesting sites. While we can make cases that sites in California are somehow relevant to space exploration, I believe the argument becomes a tad easier if you are looking at glaciers and hot springs rather than tar pits and hot springs.
(4) Luxury: I am still very freaked out by geothermal hot springs, but I have to say that they have a certain appeal on a cold evening. I understand nearly every evening around here is a cold one, so yes. There's a certain amount of luxury associated with sitting in a hot tub at night and having ice form on your towel by the time you've finished your sprint back to your heated house / room.
(5) Spectacular sightseeing: Iceland has some of the most amazing waterfalls I've ever seen in my life. They have them everywhere, and sometimes they are more beautiful than anything I've witnessed in California but so commonplace here that they don't even get a mention on the maps.
Monday, June 5, 2017
"I'm not prejudiced"
I just moved into a new house. The house is on a quiet culdesac in an upscale part of town. The nearest ethnic market where the centric ethnicity is not California new-age hippy is about 30 miles away. It scares me a little to live here, as I've not lived more than an arms-reach away from someone born on another continent since I was 16. I have over an acre and a half of my own space, and it appears that all my neighbors are somewhat elderly and probably born on this continent.
I was super happy to move in. The indoor-outdoor space feels like California. I have all the benefits of both climates here - I can feel the seasons change but the change isn't so bad to keep me indoors. (I was never one for indoor space anyway, and "bull-headed" might be a good descriptor. I remember having my brush to get the snow off the seat of my chair and burning a hole in the snow for my coffee cup back at Brown University). Anyway. The house has an excellent screened in porch and I can now sit outside in an enclosed area to do work even in a thunderstorm and without risk of multiple mosquito bites.
I was moving in, stack of boxes after stack, so tiring. An elderly gentleman from the neighborhood was walking his dog down at the bottom of the hill, and I waved and he waved. Yay, the neighbors are nice.
A few minutes later I walk outside to see a really stout little dog walking around my new garage. I'm a bit alarmed - I might have coolant out (I don't), there might be sharp things out (there aren't). Then the owner of the pup lumbers up. I don't remember his name, but if his little dog was supposed to be only 5 pounds and wound up 15 then they are a match made in heaven. Neither are fat, both are just low-built, with a lot of mass, and designed to move very heavy things very close to the ground probably over long distances. Kind of like me. If you ever need a second stonehenge, me and my kin are probably ready to help.
Anyway, the old dude comes all the way up my driveway, and starts talking. First he wants to find out if me and the guy helping me move in are married (we aren't). Then he wants to find out what we do. Are we related. Then he wants to tell me all about the neighbors. First of all, across the street is a couple where you can't tell the man from the woman because she's a bit strong. Then down the road is a couple where, "I'm not prejudiced" but a black man is living with a white woman and they have a kid. It's horrible he knows, but....
I can't even continue. I apparently live in a neighborhood where you should alert your neighbors if there's an interracial couple nearby. Especially if they have actually successfully reproduced. Ouch.
I was super happy to move in. The indoor-outdoor space feels like California. I have all the benefits of both climates here - I can feel the seasons change but the change isn't so bad to keep me indoors. (I was never one for indoor space anyway, and "bull-headed" might be a good descriptor. I remember having my brush to get the snow off the seat of my chair and burning a hole in the snow for my coffee cup back at Brown University). Anyway. The house has an excellent screened in porch and I can now sit outside in an enclosed area to do work even in a thunderstorm and without risk of multiple mosquito bites.
I was moving in, stack of boxes after stack, so tiring. An elderly gentleman from the neighborhood was walking his dog down at the bottom of the hill, and I waved and he waved. Yay, the neighbors are nice.
A few minutes later I walk outside to see a really stout little dog walking around my new garage. I'm a bit alarmed - I might have coolant out (I don't), there might be sharp things out (there aren't). Then the owner of the pup lumbers up. I don't remember his name, but if his little dog was supposed to be only 5 pounds and wound up 15 then they are a match made in heaven. Neither are fat, both are just low-built, with a lot of mass, and designed to move very heavy things very close to the ground probably over long distances. Kind of like me. If you ever need a second stonehenge, me and my kin are probably ready to help.
Anyway, the old dude comes all the way up my driveway, and starts talking. First he wants to find out if me and the guy helping me move in are married (we aren't). Then he wants to find out what we do. Are we related. Then he wants to tell me all about the neighbors. First of all, across the street is a couple where you can't tell the man from the woman because she's a bit strong. Then down the road is a couple where, "I'm not prejudiced" but a black man is living with a white woman and they have a kid. It's horrible he knows, but....
I can't even continue. I apparently live in a neighborhood where you should alert your neighbors if there's an interracial couple nearby. Especially if they have actually successfully reproduced. Ouch.
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