First, I would like to begin with a simple statement: I love Parmesan and Garlic Cheez-Its. The reason for this love absolutely baffles me. Parmesan tastes average on pasta, I never really enjoy garlic, and Cheez-It’s, while good, really are not a passion of mine. In this unique snack food, however, the whole is much more than the sum of the parts. Let’s be honest, these things are nothing short of tremendous. John (who recently promised to give me a box) would say they are nothing short of tremendously awful, but this isn’t about him. Try them, you will find the combination nothing short of awe-inspiring. It’s like an all-expenses paid vacation for your taste buds. It’s like you just kissed some really awesome girl (unless you are a woman, then it’s like you just kissed a guy who’s not a moron, not that women have lower expectations, but let’s face it - guys who aren’t morons are hard enough to find), and you are so happy that you found someone right for you. Of course, we also assume that, pre-kiss, you both ate the Cheez-Its, because garlic (and its evil partner in halitosis crime, parmesan) are violently disgusting when experienced second-hand. There’s a parade around your teeth of happy chunks of food and frolicking parts of your tongue, and fountains of saliva burst like geysers, showering everything with a river of joy. There’s confetti, a ticker-tape parade, and a drumline: all inside your mouth. And that is just the first bite.
For those of you who enjoy being depressed and want to rain on my parade, you may visit the nutrition facts.
Second, I must mention Matthew’s food poisoning. In a bout of bad food that trumps even the worst days at my own college, he managed to get violently ill from cafeteria food. He recounts the tale:
me (6:30:41 PM): ok so
me (6:30:44 PM): lettuce and what else was bad?
matthew (6:30:52 PM): chicken
matthew (6:30:58 PM): both the lettuce and the chicken i am pretty sure
matthew (6:31:04 PM): i just cant believe how pissed i am
me (6:31:42 PM): eew
me (6:31:48 PM): did you notice after a couple bites?
matthew (6:31:50 PM): i know
matthew (6:31:55 PM): nope
matthew (6:31:55 PM): not at all
matthew (6:31:58 PM): i ate the entire thing
matthew (6:32:00 PM): and i was like
matthew (6:32:02 PM): that was the best salad ever
matthew (6:32:04 PM): wow
matthew (6:32:06 PM): and then today
matthew (6:32:06 PM): i woke up
matthew (6:32:09 PM): and i was like
matthew (6:32:09 PM): der
matthew (6:32:11 PM): uh
matthew (6:32:11 PM): i feel weird
matthew (6:32:18 PM): vomit vomit
I would not wish that on anyone. Ok, I might wish it on a couple people, but probably only under circumstances of extreme duress. Some advice to avoid food poisoning:
Stank or mold: it’s too old.
When in doubt, throw it out.
Dripping red meat, go out to eat.
Milk with curdles makes you spurtle.
Third, and finally, my picture. I happen to have quite direct access to a steep fifth floor roof by climbing out my window. Fortuitously, I also happen to have access to a camera, a tripod, and a friend (Dan) who watches for public safety while I journey onto the roof. A few nights ago, I had a moderately good idea: a moon picture from the roof. “I need you to watch for public safety while I go to the peak,” I explained, thinking to myself that I had not made it that high up before. “No problem,” Dan replied, looking for an opportunity to break up the monotony of homework. So, I wrapped the camera strap many times around my wrist (if the camera goes, I go with it), and headed out.
The ascent was pretty straightforward; I kept my eyes down on the tar shingles, and my body low. It was quite dark, and as I dislodged small rocks from the roof, I could hear them bounce, skitter, and drop off into a five story free fall. I had been smart enough (keep in mind any intelligence in this situation is relative) to set the tripod height before hand, so it was a two second job to perch it over the peak of the roof. Three legs down, camera aimed, check viewfinder. Uh oh. I forgot to turn it on. I slowly raised myself to a standing position in order to see the button and accidentally looked out over where I was. Steep angles of blackness all over, and a television antenna fifty feet from where I was along the peak. The wind whipped around and I immediately dropped down again, realizing that one slip backwards meant a one story tumble down shingles followed by a bash on the head by the gutter and then a silent drop of doom. A pebble skittered down on my left, and I sensed it just miss the gutter as it sailed to the parking lot below.
My horizon had been redefined: there was the peak, impossibly steep drops on all sides, and a foreboding line delineating the border between roof and empty air. I rose and checked the viewfinder. No moon. Cranked around on the settings for a bit and brought a white dinner plate into sharp focus. Glad I learned how to use the tripod in the dark. Checked the exposure: one second would have to do. A quick mechanical ‘click’ and the shot was done. I do not actually remember collapsing the tripod or turning around, but suddenly I found myself looking down at my window, which was impossibly far below me. I inched my way back down slowly, coefficients of friction from basic physics racing through my head. “If I fall, I’ll at least hit my window first” I thought, as I crept down. The opening to my window happens to be quite close to the edge of the roof, something I had not noticed when I climbed out. “Dan?” I asked hesitantly, “Can you take the camera?” He pulled it in and I immediately grabbed a firm hold of the plaster overhang by the window. All I could think was, “If I fall now, I’m really a moron.” Back in. Safe. Aches all over: knees felt like they had been hit with baseball bats. Heart rate slowing, wondering how the picture turned out.
A rooftop sunset picture is not out of the question.
Naming this site consisted of serious agony. I asked myself what was catchy, what I could live with for an indefinite amount of time, what people could easily remember, what was taken, and what feeling I wanted to convey. I asked myself if spelling and pronunciation were major issues and again, if I could stand the name for any length of time. I said them all aloud, narrowed the list, poured over books of phrases, and sat up nights putting together combinations of words. In the end, I was surrounded by notebook papers full of words, post-it notes with phrases, and planner pages torn out to capture moments of inspiration. Looking back on it, I realize the process is exactly what parents go through when naming their children. You have something you created, whose exact personality and characteristics you don’t yet know, and you would like to give it a fitting moniker.
The challenge of naming is immense.
I can not tell you why I picked the name I did. It is not as sleek sounding (or original) as I would have liked, but at the same time it has grown on me. Thankfully, people can and do remember it, and have no trouble spelling it. In the same way children grow to fit their name, I hope tumbledry does the same. I am going to have a heck of a time naming my children.
At Dr. Pamela Erickson’s office, they said the open environment, where the four main chairs in the pediatric dental office were installed, contributed to a greater cooperation by the kids. They said things like this mattered. I listened in one ear while thinking “Yeah, pop psychology is all that is.” Then today, I saw a wide-eyed four year old hesitantly walk beyond her mother’s reach and gaze around the room, inquisitively searching for anything familiar. Then, two chairs over, she saw a boy her age, calmly waiting for his fluoride treatment to be completed. Immediately she stopped fidgeting and looked completely at ease. I smiled and watched her calmly climb into the chair. She took a bit to pick out her prize.
Of course, I simply saw some routine cleanings today; pediatric dentistry is an entirely different bag of tricks when you have to use needles and drills inside the mouth of a person who has only recently learned to use the bathroom on their own. Despite the sheltered view I got, treating children would be very fulfilling. It is another area to consider in this field. In this past month, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and am leaning more and more towards dentistry. Obviously, I have some major hurdles to examine; EE and dental school preparation do not play well together, but I think anyone would agree: seeing your goals in front of you and working towards them is a most satisfying feeling.
It was a landmark day today. The Binz Refectory offered two distinct and separate dishes that were both worth eating. Upon seeing the two gloriously appetizing choices, I dropped to my knees and mouthed words of thanks to some god smiling upon me. I cursed my stomach for failing to be hungrier, but still enjoyed a fantastic dinner. I feel it is my obligation, in my continuing quest to accurately portray the Binz, to show you a less sinister side of college food. Indeed, you do not always have to eat food that just takes up space in your stomach and gives it something to do. Nay, good friends, sometimes you can find yourself enjoying eating. Furthermore, last night brought with it warm cookies. Yes, no hardened frosting on old cake but warm, oven-fresh, gooey, delectable cookies; delivered with a smile by Erin and Mara.
At this late point in the 2003-2004 school year, it may be useless speculation as to why the food has improved. However, I think the phenomenon is directly related to the need to use up food in preparation for the end of the year. Regardless, the Binz and I have reached a shaky truce; hopefully any further culinary surprises will yield entertainment value as well.
Last weekend, the library was giving away books. In fact, they had an entire room of free literary goodness. Browsing through yielded a very interesting book on color (ironically, printed mostly in black and white), a book about the cathedrals of England, and two novels. I grabbed a couple of books about the Roman Empire for Dan. Thankfully, none of them were particularly massive tomes, as I only have one strap remaining on my backpack.
In fact, I’ve been getting a surprisingly large number of things for free lately. I recently attended the Star of the North dental convention and now find myself stocked with toothbrushes, floss, and a fantastic new kind of Crest. I went into the convention feeling slightly quite informed but curious nonetheless. Hesitantly, I walked up to the counter to get my badge scanned and verified. Seeing the “guest” designation on my paperwork, the coordinator made small-talk, “So, is your wife a dentist?” Slightly non-plussed, I stumbled through an explanation of my affiliation with the pre-dental co-op program. She smiled and mentioned that she gets dental work done at the U of M. I thanked her and walked away, wondering if everyone was making the same assumption she had about my marital status.
This entire pre-dental program has been a new experience for me: seeing the U’s health campus up close and personal, observing at endo, ortho, pediatric, and general dentistry clinics, and even touring a dental lab. It has been a whirlwind of last-minute Mapquest research, hand-shaking, learning, and scheduling. But most of all, it has nudged me closer and closer to seriously committing to dentistry as the focus of my next 7 years of school. It has been an invaluable experience, helping me to know myself better.
One of the biggest turning points in my thoughts occurred just yesterday during the tour of the school. We talked to first, second, and fourth year students and we got a very clear picture of what it was like to be enrolled and what registration was like. Thankfully, the four-and-a-half hour visit fit quite well into my schedule, with the exception of me missing a little physics. In fact, our physics teacher professor Lane has recently become quite a bit more articulate, attentive, and helpful in class. This past Sunday his daughter died from cancer. While I know this sounds strange, I think he had seen her suffer for so long (she was in a coma at the end), that it was nothing but relief to see her suffering end. I think he went through the entire grieving process and acceptance, because she was only technically alive. So, I came up to him Wednesday and asked if I could take the quiz on Thursday, as I would be missing some class time due to the tour. “Well, I have a daughter to bury on Thursday, so I won’t be here on campus.” Completely knocked over, a simple “oh” escaped my mouth, followed shortly by “ok.” I returned to my chair and promptly began to feel like a horrible person. I am sure he had heard “I’m sorry” enough, so I didn’t offer my condolences or my sympathy. He’s my physics teacher after all. But the event gave me a perspective. No matter what I do with the rest of my life, whether I scamper off and become and electrical engineer, or if I become a dentist, the most important thing will still be family. Parents shouldn’t bury their children; I wouldn’t wish what happened to my professor on anyone.
There they were, just chilling on my potatoes, like everything was normal. Sure, they looked and smelled like pine needles. I knew they couldn’t be though - that would be too exotic and expensive. Investigation proved that they were Rosemary. On potatoes. “It’s supposed to go on meat,” I wanted to scream, but restrained myself, sullenly scraping the offending weirdness from my otherwise normal dish. “I suppose this isn’t bad enough to count for part 2,” I muttered under my breath as I looked around for something with which to cleanse my mouth. That’s great: offending food that’s just bad enough to make a boring story. I shoved the spuds aside and made myself a white bread and American cheese sandwhich. Yum, processed goodness.
Unwilling to only post the previous story, I knew the Binz would pull through and give me something to share. Sure enough, only days later, I got my wish. We occasionally are served bratwurst topped with white cheese and red saurce on a large hot-dog’ish bun. This is pretty tasty, one does not see much griping and/or whining over this offering. When it was served, however, I took the brat out and ate the remaining Italian goodness. This action struck me as strange: I’m not the type of person that goes around dissecting their food prior to consumption. This time, I must have had a premonition. While munching on the meat-free results of my handiwork, my eyes drifted from the paper to the meat. Uh oh. Human hair. Whoops. Not mine. Simply sitting there, with impunity, as if old grayish hairs always accompany German meat products. Surprisingly, I did not lose my appetite. I rationalized with myself, “It’s just a hair, you just don’t know who’s it is, where it has been, how it got there, or how many others you have eaten.” Failing to make myself feel better, I resumed eating and began to consider pre-meal rites of cleansing.
Going through and categorizing nearly 300 old entries from my past online years, I realized how much I write about what is going on in my life. The “life” category holds, by far, the greatest number of updates. I also realized how incredibly unfocussed and random some of my posts were. For this reason, I think I need to do two things. First, I need to focus my posts and narrow them down to at least one broad topic. Scattering random bits throughout each post makes them exceedingly difficult to categorize. Obviously, the life category is pretty broad so I split it up into three different categories. “Life” contains daily happenings whereas “event” contains landmark moments, holidays, and large life changes. That way, one can easily browse the ordinary and the extraordinary events in my life. Finally, there is a “contemplation” category in which questions are explicit or explicit. These contemplation posts that find me grappling with big questions occur with surprising frequency. Other categories, like technology, website updates, and webdesign have been added as needed. Shortly, you will see an option in the archives to browse all old updates by category.
Secondly, I find myself really enjoying certain links. They might be jokes, resources, message boards, unbelievable designs, or simply news articles. Inevitably, the best links get passed around the blogging community so, admittedly, they are not always the most original — but they are still valuable and I would like to share them. Therefore, I am considering a sidebar of current links, to be archived in the links section. That way, you can see my recent “favorites” that I did have enough material to write a post on, but still wanted to share.
Beyond these evolutionary modifications, I am in the rough stages of a complete redesign. However, I intend to overhaul the PHP code on the output side before I attempt any radical changes in apperance.
The poll for questions went quite well. Next time, I realize that I will have to be more direct with the directions, so you can look forward to that. Here are the questions and “the answers that love them.”
KM asks: Who is the best sibling in the world?
My sister Katy is the best sibling in the world. She recently completed her Summa paper and therefore can essentially do nothing between now and graduate school at the U of M. For this situation, I envy her. Currently, I am conducting an informal screen of every man I meet in my continuing mission to find her someone cool for her. In all honesty, I have not really approved any of her choices of men-folk so far. Not that my stamp of “Grade-A” means anything, but we value one another’s opinions about the opposite sex. Hopefully next guy up will meet with acceptance. I’m pullin’ for ya Katy! Regardless, Katy and I get along quite well, and I had the opportunity to apartmentize with her this coming year, but opted out as I felt I needed at least one more year on campus. Besides, a younger brother would drag down all the wild parties she is going to have.
MP asks: What is your happiest child hood memory?
This is difficult, picking my happiest childhood memory. My happiest recent memory was accidentally biking the wrong way through a traffic light and not getting hit by a car. My happiest childhood memory, on the other hand, requires more effort; for example, the timeframe needs to be defined. I would put my childhood at twelve years old and before; I don’t see the teen years as anything more than a massive piece of confusion where people meld their personalities into what will be with them the rest of their lives. Happiness there is different than childhood happiness. One of the happiest memories I can think of right now occurred at the Place, a hidden dirt biking trail on the shores of Colby Lake. Matt and I were amongst a very small group of people who knew about it, and we almost never saw anyone else there. However, someone had built the jumps, so we came. It was there we took our risks, jumped our jumps, and did some risky acrobatics during successful and unsuccessful flights. I am unsure how far off the ground we were, but it had to be over three feet at times. Regardless, it was high enough to be scary and thrilling in the visceral way we all unconsciously seek sometimes. During those perfect days of summer, of warmth and sunlight, in a patch of forest cleared of underbrush, we could climb trees, make silly jokes, and be kids. I remember looking through the low hanging tree branches, illuminated with sunlight and glowing green, to the shimmering blue water beyond. Even then, even before I was old enough to be sentimental or to reminisce about much of anything, I knew this would not last and that I should enjoy it. It was at the Place that I learned how you can amuse yourself with simple things - how you do not need the latest processor or the largest television to enjoy the time you spend. And suddenly, it was over. Fall blew in, and with the cold weather came the end of our visits to the Place. I know in my heart I can never go to the Place again, and that makes it more precious to me.
NE asks: What program do you use to convert mp3’s to wav’s?
I use, as articulated in a previous post, CDEx to rip compressed audio files to wav files. I then invoke the ancient and powerful Art of Sound Recorder, a relic of bygone Microsoft eras. However, you may use just about any wav file editor you would like.
DS asks: Moooooo?
This favorite filler question of mine has been mirrored right back at me. Therefore, I must attempt to answer the question. The question could concern the existence of cows, and why we drink their milk on a regular basis. There are those (myself included) who frequently wake up and drink fresh, cold, cow byproduct. The purpose of this tradition remains unknown, but might be traced back to ancient times, when people were very bored. This question might also be referring to MOO, the programming language. The latter, however, I sincerely doubt. My answer to this question is, then, “my life would be much much duller if cows had not made the generous contribution that they have to my diet.”
SR asks: Why do we dream and what do they mean?
Whoops, we’ve tapped into a question of continual scientific research and questioning. We’ll supply you with the more scientific information on the “why’s” of dreaming and a more spiritualistic/philosophic view of the “meaning” part of dreams. Come, join me. Now, most people know that dreams occur during a specific, particularly deep, part of the sleep cycle. This part of the cycle is called REM (rapid eye movement) sleep. In addition to being a great band name, REM is very important. As we get older, we have less and less REM sleep time. Ok, that is well and good you reply, but why to we dream?
We typically spend more than 2 hours each night dreaming. Scientists do not know much about how or why we dream … Some scientists believe dreams are the cortex’s attempt to find meaning in the random signals that it receives during REM sleep. The cortex is the part of the brain that interprets and organizes information from the environment during consciousness. It may be that, given random signals during REM sleep, the cortex tries to interpret these signals as well, creating a “story” out of fragmented brain activity.
This “story making” is sometimes referred to as the brain “twitching,” similar to the involuntary nature of a muscle twitch. In a way, this makes sense, if we think of our minds simply as massive electrical impulse centers; like highly refined “muscles.” At this point, we inevitably delve into philosophy. Do you see yourself as a “dualist” (the soul and body are two different independent things that combine to make the person … there are many other varieties of this) or a “materialist” (the body is only a material thing)? That is, do you believe that the mind is part of the body and the spirit exists separately, or do you believe that the body is all there is? Materialism encounters the problem of free will: if we are simply mechanical processes obeying natural laws, why are we able to choose freely? Or is free will an illusion? If so, what is the purpose of that? Because materialism runs into this fundamental problem, it becomes easier to argue for a body + spirit relationship. The question, then, becomes — what is the mind’s connection with any spirit we might have? This brings us back to dreaming. I think, in my youthful imaginative optimism, that dreams connect us to a higher level of consciousness by focusing our creativity and our thought processes. That is, dreams remind us what really matters, bring out what is bothering us, and reveal the content of our subconscious in a way that we can not deny. A tug at the corners of one’s mind might become a freight train of self-knowledge in the world of sleep. I believe dreams help us know ourselves better and thus deal more effectively with our problems. Dreams are undeniably enigmatic; their cause, consequences, and purpose are all up for debate. We’ve explored our universe from stars light years away to trenches at the bottom of the ocean; but the night-time ruminations in our heads remain mysterious.
Conclusions
I must admit, the questions were far different than I had anticipated. Nevertheless, they were a good surprise and a lot of fun to answer. I’m sure we’ll do something similar in the future.
For some time, I have been thinking about how to do this project. And here are the results. I’d like to give you loyal tumble readers a chance to voice your opinions and thoughts. Before I set up comments for each post, however, I would like to try something else. The name of this game is Five Questions (and yes, it is slightly inspired by the Late Late Show).
Rules
Readers may ask a total of five (5) questions (one per person) by using the “QuickMail” feature on the right hand side of this front page. Users may ask anything and everything they wish. I will answer the questions publicly as soon as I receive five. I will take the first five questions submitted.
Response
An “answer” post will be written no less than three days after the final question has been received. This is to avoid problems with outdated questions concerning sports and/or other dated material.
Why?
I do not know. I simply felt like tossing the ball to my lovely audience and letting them direct the content for a bit. Answers will be as informative as possible, but their quality depends on the quality of your questions. Thus, write wisely and submit quickly because only the first five get in.
What You Get
In addition to my painstakingly handcrafted responses, you get your name (anonymous if you would like to remain so) and your URL posted upon submitting a question. Obviously, I won’t sell, mutilate, distribute, or do otherwise nasty things with the email address you send - I’ve got much better things to do for goodness sake. Your privacy is safe here.
The “here and now” is currently overwhelming. My projects include repairing my 838, catching up in Calc III, attending offices and the dental convention for the pre-dental co-op, finding time to return the multimeter that Professor Mowry so generously loaned me, finding new weight gloves, finalizing my school schedule for next year and this summer, polishing this catchy new piano riff, supporting Katy in her search for an apartment (she’s going to the U — yay for my sister being a graduate math student!), photographing South Campus for Katy’s memories, finding new lifting shirts, finding a summer job/internship, keeping my room clean, sleeping, and ending world hunger.
Scratch that last one.
Perhaps, then, you can understand my recent journey into memory. You know, when you drift off into the distant past and find yourself surrounded by the sights and sounds of a different time. Me, I’m down in southern Minnesota camping again, about five years ago now. As the sun was setting, I went out on the lake canoeing for the last time that day. Fetched the canoe, jumped in, paddled, and suddenly found myself in the middle of a still blue jewel. I faced southwest as the sun slowly sank on my right and realized the moment I was in was something special. The metallic pings and scrapes of those tending to campfire meals drifted gently out over the water. No highways for miles, no shopping malls for counties. The greenery provided a perfect sash between the velvet red and azure of the evenining sky and the mirror of the lake. I looked at it all intently, soaking it in, and then allowing my eyelids to gently droop, letting my senses roam out, experiencing the pervasive calm at the day’s end. I do not remember what came before, or what came after, but that moment in my life is a time of peace and harmony I know I can always return to. Some things never leave you.
But later, I was again drifting back to another memory. Four summers ago already (I suppose that would be summer of 2000), was a basketball summer. Many summer days found the four of us (Matt, Steve, John, and me) playing basketball in the quiet heat of the afternoon. A bird or two and maybe a car drifted through the neighborhood, but otherwise the stillness was palpable. We played during that dead spot after the lunchtime rattling of plates and before the evening lawnmowers and returns from work. I remember seeing the storm clouds gather and build, forming a dark anvil which rapidly slid under the clear blue above. Still, we continued to play, sensing the tense apprehension in the air that comes before a storm. Suddenly, torrential rains. Deafening thunder. We played on, laughing as the water soaked and refreshed our sweat-coated bodies with a cool summer rain. It was absolutely visceral, that feeling of a communication with nature which was more direct than we thought possible in the pre-packaged wilderness of suburbia. Like all of the best memories, the moment was soon over and we were inside, toweling off and wondering if tomorrow would be drier. When I look back, I will always see us out there, laughing in the rain and enjoying what being young during the summer means.
With a jolt, I find myself lucid again, painfully aware of the now of the moment and its accompanying list of obligations. But I come back to the present as one enriched and refreshed from a long journey; willing to trudge on through the muck to reach another point worth keeping in the files marked “Save, For Always.”
