:Buzzardo.com

yay.  I am slowly warming up to the fact that someday I will have to be able to further utilize technology.

We all need to press it.  We all want to press it.  It becomes harder to press as more time passes between presses.  But pressing it is essential to the maintainence of the mind.  When it is pressed, nothing else matters.  Nothing else exists.  IT is the button which ables us to focus on a simple action so completely that there is no bandwidth for any other information to travel through the brain.  This extra information is all brought to a screeching halt and waits in queue for retrieval at a later time.

I was fortunate enough this past weekend to have such an experience during a martial arts test.  These tests are designed to push you beyond your limitations and to determine the strength of your body, mind, and spirit.  Near the end of the test I was beginning to wane dramatically during the fighting rounds.  I remember only three or four rounds of the eight rounds occurring, and as the fighting went on, I began to think of only one thing.  Stand.  It did not matter if I was hitting anyone, or if I myself was being hit.  I was entirely focused on remaining upright.  I don’t even know why this became my ultimate goal; as being laid out on the ground would have put me in a lower state of energy.

The real surprise was immediately following the test.  For the first time in several months, my mind was absolutely calm.  I did not have to think about quieting my thoughts.  My mind had invoulentarily paused all of the information that was not essential to standing up.  This feeling lasted for hours, and even now I do not feel like so much is happening that I can’t organize it or accomplish it.  Perfect timing, really, as final exams will begin in fourteen days.

Find your own button.  Press it as needed.  Noodle salad

Somehow, time has a peculiar manner of sneaking by, announcing its presence only when, say, a final exam is nearing commencement.  I don’t know where the time went, but do any of us?  I can seldom think of an activity that slows the clock anymore, except during a recitative lecture in fluid mechanics in the early afternoon [when most of our bio-clocks say we should be napping]

Battle tactics, 11 December, 2006:

06:00:00 - sit up in bed and destroy alarm clock.  Again.

06:00:15 - morning constitutional.

06:00:18 - dress in comfortable exercise clothing and run down to the gym…what?…of course, I realize only three seconds have passed, maybe you just need some practice!

06:05:00 - cardio work out on the rowing machine

07:04:42 - shower

07:05:00 - depart for chow hall [what, can’t you take a satisfying 18 second shower?].

07:08:00 - eat.  food. 

07:30:00 - return to room, prepare notes and writing utencils.

07:35:00 - nap time.

08:02:37 - wake up and run frantically to the final that I am already two minutes and thirty seven seconds late for.

08:04:00 - arrive to the final and realize I have the formula sheet and books for the wrong exam.

11:00:01 - walk out of examination room holding buttocks to prevent them from falling off.

11:06:00 - create battle tactics for Tuesday.

Hmm.

Back in reality, I have five finals this week.  It will be wonderful to have them out of the way.  It will signify my continuing approach to graduate status, let alone establish me as a matriculated student at Clarkson University.  Woah.  Half an hour gone already.  CURSE YOU, TIME!!!

So, the time came for me to return to Clarkson University at the end of the holiday break.  My father, being the incorrigible information guru he is, posed a simple statement: “I wonder if it is it snowing outside”.  After some thought, it occured to me that I would be driving through the tug hill plateau snow belt.  Immediately I decided to drive up during the evening to minimize the traffic encountered, and to limit how much snow could accumulate. 

Departure occured at 8 pm, and I arrived without incident in Syracuse at about 9:30.  Heading North on Route 81, I thought that I had somehow outrun the snow; that is until the lights from a nearby city illuminated the underside of rapidly approaching clouds.  The snow fell lightly at first, but within one mile, the ground was covered.  I slowed to about thirty miles per hour, as my car was having directional stability issues due to the crappy OEM tires that came on the car.  No sooner had I thought to myself: “self, it is becoming harder and harder to tell where the lanes are”, that I had wound up in an exit lane and had to perform a full ABS stop to avoid going through the stop light at the bottom of the ramp. 

Decision time.  Do I continue in the rapidly deteriorating conditions, or do I find a parking lot and hope it passes?  Well, those of you who know me know that I love adventures.  These adventures started when my dad and myself were travelling in a 1980 Chevy Citation, when the fan belt broke.  Ever since then, I will usually choose the more challenging path when given a choice like this one.  So, away I went, and reclaimed my spot in a long line of cars that were slowly travelling North.  Eventually, the road became so choked with snow, that only one pair of ruts existed in the snow.  Out of the white abyss, this crazy trucker plows his way past the line of cars with a confidence that defied logic. 

What to do?  Well, seeing as the line of cars was slowing down, and the truck was making good ruts, I grabbed Sir Issac Newton by the balls and barely managed to translate the car the eight feet to the other lane.  By the grace of God, and a farting grasshopper that must have hitched a ride on my back bumper, I caught the truck and kept him one car length in front of me at all times.

Before long, it was just the trucker and myself.  I began to wonder what would happen if I were to loose sight of this crazy trail guide, and decided that I would probably slide off the road and be snowbound.  Needless to say, I stayed put.  Then, for some odd reason, the trucker increased his already outrageous 40 mph speed to 60 mph.  No choice.  Speed up.  If I stopped, some other nutcase would hit me from behind.

Time seemed to stop.  The snow was becoming mesmerizing, and I had to look out the side windows to confirm the speed indicated on the speedometer.  I can liken the experience to walking towards a light with your eyes shut.  About half an hour later, the snow subsided, and the footing was becoming more stable.  I made it.  Looking behind me, I saw nobody.  Somewhere between North Syracuse and Pulaski, Several cars were struggling to find their way.

Reflecting on the event, I thought about how sometimes in life we have to focus on the thing that is going where we want to go.  I realized that if I had looked back, for just a moment, I would have lost my way.  Reflection in life is necessary, but only when you can see where you are going.

For many of you out there, this winter has been warmer and has seen little or no frozen precipitation.  We, on the other hand were welcomed back to Potsdam with freezing temperatures, and several inches of snow.  One morning, it was cold enough to freeze the inside of your nose if you took too deep of a breath.  The snow glistened in the bright morining sun, with 10 degrees being stolen from Mr. Fahrenheit.  Currently at Clarkson University, snow is calmly collecting outside of my first story window.  The lights along a main sidewalk softly illuminate the large falling flakes as students walk by.  No one seems to notice that they are a part of a masterpiece that is being painted right before their eyes.  I remember being younger and how I loved watching the snow fall.  It is so quiet, yet so changing, and so renewing.  A fresh blanket will welcome us in the morning, and I forget for a moment that experts are preaching their gospel about global warming.

Hopefully, for all who wish to see it, snow will fall.

One week ago, one of my roommates developed some severe eye irritation.  A trip to the emergency room revealed that he developed corneal ulcers from bacteria growing under his contact lenses.  During one of the several follow-up visits, there was a significant wait due to a major vehicle accident.  While we waited, the nurse decided we needed something to do.  She brought us an outlined picture that had in it other hidden pictures; like something you may have been handed in the fourth grade.  These puzzles were cleverly designed to occupy you at your little desk, while the teacher sipped whiskey from her coffee mug, writing love letters to her eighteen year old boy-toy on school letterhead.

After about an hour we had finally found all of the hidden items, just as the E.R. doctor entered the room.  He noticed that we were deeply involved in the completion of the puzzle and the following words fell from his mouth: “Would you guys like some crayons?  I hear Clarkson students are good at coloring.”. 

I have made a pact with myself and my roommates.  Whenever we witness someone doing something that is dangerous, idiotic, or otherwise stupid, we are going to ask them if they would like some crayons. 

I think you should do the same. 

“Would you like some crayons?”

1. What is your top priority at this very moment?  2. What is the scope of the event it entails?  3. What would it take to convince you that something else is more important?  An answer to these questions was presented just the other morning.

ESPN.com reported a pregnant woman, not wanting her husband to miss an all important NFL playoff game, decided to have labor induced early.  So, answering the questions posed above, 1. make sure the money was not wasted on NFL tickets; 2. capitalism and the proliferation of overpaid players; 3. the possibility that the birth of your child may interfere with attending a football game.

……

How do you explain that to your now eight year old child?? 

[go colts]

Here’s a thought…in light of dave’s recent post which discusses mandatory annual testing for drivers over the age of 65 [a great idea], why not liscence parents too? 

……

AAAANNNDDD, i’m done. 

With all the snow that has been falling, it was a natural event.  A group of young men walking to the dining hall discovered that the snow conditions were perfect for harvesting large chunks of snow.  One of the men [who shall remain nameless…] gathered a piece that was nearly the size of his own torso, and without question from his cohorts, brought the piece into the freshmen dorms. 

Not wanting to create a dorm versus dorm war, the nameless man decided to simply walk the giant piece through the hall.  That is until he found an open door with two unsuspecting freshmen watching some idiotic reality show inside.  In the nameless man walked, presenting the large, frozen gift to the young, frightened student.  After being rejected by the young man, the group headed back outside.

On the way back to their own dorms, the group grabbed two large chunks and contemplated the best method for their disposal.  One of the men suggested disposal in a shower stall of a neighboring suite.  So it was.  And it was good.  At least we thought so.

It has been said that revenge is a dish best served cold.  So, does cold mean days, or months, or years; or does it simply mean that your target does not expect retalliation?  Eating joyfully at one of the campus eateries, together with those whose shower was so recently “snowed in”, all seemed calm.  Finishing early, some of the men decided to leave.  It wasn’t until later that we realized everyone who left were victims of the snow caper.

Upon arriving in their suite, one of our heroes [who are all gentlemen and scholars] noticed the floor in his room was unusually damp.  The air was full of strange humid aromas that were reminiscent of cold weather camping, and the nameless man turned on the light to the bathroom. 

I…uh…The namless man did not know how so much snow could have been put into such a small space in such a short period of time.  It was as if frosty himself had crapped himself silly on the toilet, cut of his arms off in the sinks, and melted the rest of himself in the shower. 

Half an hour later we had the mess cleaned up, and celebrated with a movie and drinks.  Just remember: revenge is a never ending cycle, and certainly a dish best served cold.

A short time ago, an animated clip was circulating around campus which depicted a precocious boy in a doctor’s office who was being behaviorally evaluated.  Dilbert’s “The Knack” is a comical gaze into the past of many technical individuals; stirring memories of their curiosity and their delight in taking apart toasters, cameras, and vcr’s as children.

I was one of these children who simply had to know how things worked, regardless of if the item was destroyed upon my investigation.  I can remember taking apart radios, tv’s remote control cars, and lionel trains; delighting in the vastness of my ignorance.  Sometimes, of course, the devices could not be put back together again, drawing some undesired attention from my father.  Regardless of the outcome, and with my father’s help, I learned stuff about things [to put it eloquently].

Last Friday, I had to run some errands in town.  It was warmer than it had been in Potsdam recently, the mercury soaring into the twenties.  One of my stops was Radio Shack to pick up some speaker cable.  Upon entering the store, I noticed a pair of dust-covered speakers bearing a yellow tag that read: $249.99 Clearance - $29.99.  A price differential that could make even the most frugal shopper pause for a moment.  I began looking over the speakers, which consisted of entry-level drivers in a two-way configuration housed in decent looking cabinets.  The employee came over, apparently to sell me the speakers. 

“Can I help you, sir?”  The nice man asked.

“I was wondering about these speakers here.”

“You can’t use those speakers.”  Did I say nice?

“Why not?”  I promptly inquired.

“Well, you see, those speakers are wireless, and you don’t have the transmitter.”  Hmmm,  I don’t have the transmitter…

“Oh.  Well, I know what I can do with them.”  I said.

“Sir, maybe you don’t understand, but these speakers simply won’t work without the transmitter, and no one knows where it is.”  Salesman of the year material here, folks.

“…Well, I would still like to buy them.  May I?”

Yes, I asked the nice, smart salesman if I could buy the speakers that were for sale, for the price that was plainly posted, that won’t work without the transmitter.  His confusion melted away into acceptance as he rang me up for the ‘defective’ speakers and the wire which I came in for originally.  He made sure that I knew about returning them, just in case, for some curious reason, they did not work.

Obviously, I had a plan from the beginning.  I noticed that one of the speakers was unmodified; it had no amplifiers, recievers, or anything else in it.  Score.  The second speaker had an amplified output for the first speaker to be hooked into.  My plan was simple.  Take this output, and rewire it directly to the drivers inside to make it function like a normal speaker.

First, I had to get the speakers in the room.  Not a difficult task, but explaining how one goes to get speaker wire and returns with speaker wire and speakers becomes tiring.  After amusing my roommates with the story, Ben went to the tv station [which he manages], and got the necessary tools for the operation.  By removing six small screws, the amplifier came out, and revealed that my plan was possible.  The amplification and wireless section could be completely bypassed by unsoldering two terminals, and connecting those terminals to the drivers directly.  Power for the speakers comes from a 1970’s vintage Fisher amplifier which I purchased for $15 when I was twelve.

Thirty minutes, two inches of heat shrink, one inch of solder, and several smiles later, it was done.  Not only do I have a pair of decent sounding speakers for $30, but I have a 2×25 watt amplifier, and a wireless receiver.  I can someday make RCA style inputs for the system, making it so the speakers use their own internal power, and any choice of source.

As Kevin Spacey so appropriately put it in American Beauty:

“I rule!”

It has probably happened to you.  Was it while packing your luggage, four passports next to your car keys, and your wife and kids busily preparing for the trip?  Was it when you were about to put the DVD in, television on, popcorn popping, and friends sitting on the couch waiting?  Was it while you were at your desk, in the middle of calculating your taxes, staring into your coffee cup and suddenly realize you have not accomplished anything in two hours?

“Why am I doing this?”

Sure.  We have all been there.  The question ‘why’ is vague, but sometimes we get an answer to this universal question.  We seldom recognize when it happens, but when it does, and when we do, you can’t help but be happy with whatever, whomever, whenever you are.

Such an event occured to me the other day.  The hockey tickets on my whiteboard were calmly waiting for me to bring them to the hockey arena for the ECAC finals game last Friday.  During the course of the day, I began to feel disconnected, listless, and generally crabby.  A careful analysis of the symptoms led me to believe I had the male equivalent of PMS, which, unfortunately, there is no medicine for […].

Game time arrived, and I decided to stay in my room while others marched off, ready to enjoy the gentle smearing of crimson clad Harvard players all over our home ice.  A friend came over, and eventually convinced me to play some badminton with him at the gym.  I reluctantly agreed, and wound up playing several fun games.  My male PMS symptoms were almost gone, but I still did not know why I felt that way to begin with.  That is, until I was leaving the gym and saw last semester’s materials science professer in the atrium. 

We greeted each other, and began chatting about things.  He informed me that a friend of mine was working for him, doing research.  I myself have been looking for some form of research to be doing, but lacked a professor willing to take me on.  Just before we parted, I asked if he would keep me in mind if he ever had an opening.  His response was: if I were interested, he would find work for me.

Woah.  There it is.  The answer.

Had I gone to the game, I would have never thought to ask him.  Somehow, the course of my day was seemingly predestined, however irritating.  While I have spent the last few months trying to work on my life, it is cool to think that sometimes it is also working on me in the background; keeping itself just below the surface of perception, save for a moment here or there.