I was an insomniac for many years. It was largely cured by giving up caffeine almost entirely; even though I rarely drank it close to when I went to bed, it made a significant difference in my sleep patterns. Some of this was positive (not being able to sleep is really depressing, for those who have never experienced it), some not so much (I found myself unable to function well on less than 6 hours of sleep after that), but overall I'm glad I made the switch.
One problem that didn't go away, though, was the amount of time it took me to fall asleep. Unless I was completely physically exhausted, it would take me between 20 minutes and 2 hours to fall asleep every night. After Peter was born and it was no longer guaranteed that I could sleep in or stay asleep once I got to sleep, I decided to try something I'd read that people should do: not using any electronics with screens (computer, television, etc.) for an hour before going to bed. Never being one to argue with science, this has worked wonders for me.
It has, however introduced a somewhat embarrassing third problem: I've found it very difficult to fill that hour with non-electronic activities. My only real non-electronic hobby that I can do on my own (music) doesn't really work when you've got a sleeping toddler in the house, nor do most household chores. It's too dark to do much of anything outside. I've tried doing some writing longhand, but the nerves in my wrists really act up when I do that for too long or too many consecutive days.
I've been reading more than I have in the past few years, which has been somewhat of a positive development; a few of the things I've been meaning to read for a while finally got off the shelf, though the quality of the bulk of it reminds me of why I stopped reading in the first place. I've also been able to get some cleaning around the house done, as long as it's quiet cleaning. For the time being, I also use that time for the reading assignments for my class, but that obviously won't be an option after the end of the year.
It's been somewhat enlightening to see just how bored I get when you take anything with a screen away from me, especially given that this is the first time I've been bored when left to my own reconnaissance in years. It felt a little embarrassing at first, until I realized the other big limiting factors are the dark, the need to be quiet and my wrists. (I suppose I could still play my electric guitar sparingly, but I'd run up against the same problem as writing.) I'll probably spend more time with the dart board and the pool table to try and get better at those. Anyone have any other suggestions?
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Lifestyle
One of my coworkers sent me this article, which is very depressing. I hadn't read very much about the tornados, and hadn't heard anything about half of this stuff. After Katrina, I was very wary of climate change discussions targetting specific weather events, since it was primarily the trajectory of Katrina, rather than the strength, that made it so devestating. Most of the news stories focused on the loss of life and property, and perhaps rightfully so; however, this is not entirely conducive to scientific discussion. Nor am I necessarily inclined to believe doomsayers on the Internet with no credentials, however eloquent their arguments may be.
We continued talking about this during lunch that day, and he'd mentioned that there were more tornados in the April 2011 than any other month on record. (I later checked, and it's worse than that - it more than doubled the previous record, 687 to 267, with the Super Outbreak alone constituting about 327.) I e-mailed my brother-in-law (a meteorologist) about this to get his take; I haven't heard back yet. To me, this sounds like pretty compelling evidence that something is up with our weather.
The lunch special that day was steak. I was not totally unaware of the irony of eating steak while discussing what would happen to Floridian refugees if the oceans rise as much as they're projecting, but this time a more direct thought crossed my mind: how many people have died to support my lifestyle?
This was a scary question, but it hasn't gone away since I first asked it. I've generally felt pretty smug about my environmentalism. I drive a small car. I put in Energy Star windows and doors on my house. My house goes down to 58 degrees at night in the winter, and we don't use air conditioning in the summer. Yet, on an absolute scale, my family and I live better than some kings did for millenia in terms of material wealth and conveniences. Even compared to most of the world, our meager by American standards lifestyle is downright lavish. I've always thought of myself as living fairly simply, but taking a hard look at my life, I really don't.
I am aware that the issue is bigger than my lifestyle decisions. From what I've read, it's bigger even than the U.S. My point is that I haven't cut deeply enough from what I've come to take for granted as things I should have. And, I suspect, neither have most of us, if we're honest with ourselves.
We continued talking about this during lunch that day, and he'd mentioned that there were more tornados in the April 2011 than any other month on record. (I later checked, and it's worse than that - it more than doubled the previous record, 687 to 267, with the Super Outbreak alone constituting about 327.) I e-mailed my brother-in-law (a meteorologist) about this to get his take; I haven't heard back yet. To me, this sounds like pretty compelling evidence that something is up with our weather.
The lunch special that day was steak. I was not totally unaware of the irony of eating steak while discussing what would happen to Floridian refugees if the oceans rise as much as they're projecting, but this time a more direct thought crossed my mind: how many people have died to support my lifestyle?
This was a scary question, but it hasn't gone away since I first asked it. I've generally felt pretty smug about my environmentalism. I drive a small car. I put in Energy Star windows and doors on my house. My house goes down to 58 degrees at night in the winter, and we don't use air conditioning in the summer. Yet, on an absolute scale, my family and I live better than some kings did for millenia in terms of material wealth and conveniences. Even compared to most of the world, our meager by American standards lifestyle is downright lavish. I've always thought of myself as living fairly simply, but taking a hard look at my life, I really don't.
I am aware that the issue is bigger than my lifestyle decisions. From what I've read, it's bigger even than the U.S. My point is that I haven't cut deeply enough from what I've come to take for granted as things I should have. And, I suspect, neither have most of us, if we're honest with ourselves.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Life Update
I didn't apologize for my few-week absence in my last post because I don't want to be the least interesting man in the world. However, as I think everyone reading this knows me personally, I thought you might want to hear about what's been going on in my life while I was out (which in part explains my silence). If you don't, feel free to come back tomorrowish and I'm sure I'll have some other political rant or something. (I'm not going to promise daily updates, but I'm also trying not to go weeks between posts. In this particular case, I also fell behind in some direct correspondence I'd been meaning to write, and my lawn looks horrendous even by my standards, so it's not just the blog that stalled.)
My job became extremely stressful, even though we delivered what I'd thought was our final package for our biannualish software releases in August. Things got very heated over what was essentially an error rate of 0.000002% (1 out of 500,000), and I just got fed up. Things have calmed down now, but I'm still feeling a bit irked and burned out about the way the entire situation was handled. I did find an opening at Roberts Wesleyan that's exactly what I want to do and the opportunity to really grow my faith by being able to work in a very Christian environment. I've temporarily suspended any other searching and have been praying that I get this position. I'm not a fan of the "name it and claim it" brand of "theology" that seems to be circulating now, but I've also always had a hard time trusting God and not trying to have several backup plans in any given situation. It seems possible that this is the best place for me, so I'm trying to focus on that right now. If you're the praying type, any prayers would be greatly appreciated.
Speaking of, Liana and I also started a small Bible study last week. We're doing Philippians, and I think the first one went well. I haven't been involved in something like this since college. We did go to a Bible study through church recently, but it seems that Catholic "Bible studies" are run more like Bible classes, so while there were some interesting things that came out of it, it wasn't as enriching for me as I'd hoped. I'm hoping we'll be able to continue having success with this for a while.
Between these, my being on two new church committees this fall, and the Java class, I've got a lot less free time than I did even last month. For now I'm OK with it, but I hope that I won't be pulling what's left of my hair out come Thanksgiving.
My job became extremely stressful, even though we delivered what I'd thought was our final package for our biannualish software releases in August. Things got very heated over what was essentially an error rate of 0.000002% (1 out of 500,000), and I just got fed up. Things have calmed down now, but I'm still feeling a bit irked and burned out about the way the entire situation was handled. I did find an opening at Roberts Wesleyan that's exactly what I want to do and the opportunity to really grow my faith by being able to work in a very Christian environment. I've temporarily suspended any other searching and have been praying that I get this position. I'm not a fan of the "name it and claim it" brand of "theology" that seems to be circulating now, but I've also always had a hard time trusting God and not trying to have several backup plans in any given situation. It seems possible that this is the best place for me, so I'm trying to focus on that right now. If you're the praying type, any prayers would be greatly appreciated.
Speaking of, Liana and I also started a small Bible study last week. We're doing Philippians, and I think the first one went well. I haven't been involved in something like this since college. We did go to a Bible study through church recently, but it seems that Catholic "Bible studies" are run more like Bible classes, so while there were some interesting things that came out of it, it wasn't as enriching for me as I'd hoped. I'm hoping we'll be able to continue having success with this for a while.
Between these, my being on two new church committees this fall, and the Java class, I've got a lot less free time than I did even last month. For now I'm OK with it, but I hope that I won't be pulling what's left of my hair out come Thanksgiving.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Campaign Commercials
Yesterday one of my friends sent me this video - a long-form campaign commercial for Rick Perry, the first I've seen in a campaign season that is already making me want to vote for Jimmy McMillan. (Not really - don't actually vote for him, please. It makes it harder for legitimate third party candidates to get taken seriously.)
There are a lot of things I could write about related to this, not the least of which being that it looks like a trailer to a Michael Bay movie (if I ever become a Hollywood director, I'd definitely hire whoever made this as my DP). What I want to talk about is a line at 0:58 in the video, a quote from Gov. Perry: "The United States of America really is the last great hope of mankind."
As a jaded voter, I'm largely unfazed by meaningless rhetoric like this. However, my first reaction was to suppose this statement will not play well with his base. One of the top 3 things I consistently heard from the "religious right" people I know personally during the 2008 campaign about Obama was a visceral negative reaction to his "Hope" campaign. "Christ is our hope!" they protested. (The other two things I heard were abortion and that he was The Antichrist, the latter from a depressing number of people.) If Obama's hope campaign was heretical, surely Perry's statement here is as well, even though both men are non-denominational Christians?
However, this doesn't seem to have been the case. A cursory search of the internet and a detailed read of an assault rifle owner's forum discussion thread about the video (doesn't get more right-wing than that, right?) showed nothing but support for the line, including from several people who use Bible verses in their online signatures.
Why is this? Is it that the perception was that Obama was claiming he personally was hope, while Perry is claiming hope on the part of the whole country? I suppose that's possible, though odd, since both men were focusing on what they would do in office rather than who they are. Is it just that Obama emphasized it more, so it was more out there for discussion (and you saw his face on posters that said "hope")? Again, possible, but many of the comments I read picked this line in particular out of that two-minute video, suggesting not just a neutral feeling but a positive resonance. Maybe it's just a poor sample size, and the people who were upset about Obama will also be upset at Perry over this. This seems more likely, though again, I heard the Obama complaint from a large majority of Christian Republicans I know, and I haven't come across one single negative reaction yet about Perry.
I want to think well of people, so I'm trying not to come to the conclusion that the answer is that the religious right contains many hypocrites who just used their faith to try and justify their political disagreement with Obama. If anyone has a more plausible explanation, I really would like to hear it.
There are a lot of things I could write about related to this, not the least of which being that it looks like a trailer to a Michael Bay movie (if I ever become a Hollywood director, I'd definitely hire whoever made this as my DP). What I want to talk about is a line at 0:58 in the video, a quote from Gov. Perry: "The United States of America really is the last great hope of mankind."
As a jaded voter, I'm largely unfazed by meaningless rhetoric like this. However, my first reaction was to suppose this statement will not play well with his base. One of the top 3 things I consistently heard from the "religious right" people I know personally during the 2008 campaign about Obama was a visceral negative reaction to his "Hope" campaign. "Christ is our hope!" they protested. (The other two things I heard were abortion and that he was The Antichrist, the latter from a depressing number of people.) If Obama's hope campaign was heretical, surely Perry's statement here is as well, even though both men are non-denominational Christians?
However, this doesn't seem to have been the case. A cursory search of the internet and a detailed read of an assault rifle owner's forum discussion thread about the video (doesn't get more right-wing than that, right?) showed nothing but support for the line, including from several people who use Bible verses in their online signatures.
Why is this? Is it that the perception was that Obama was claiming he personally was hope, while Perry is claiming hope on the part of the whole country? I suppose that's possible, though odd, since both men were focusing on what they would do in office rather than who they are. Is it just that Obama emphasized it more, so it was more out there for discussion (and you saw his face on posters that said "hope")? Again, possible, but many of the comments I read picked this line in particular out of that two-minute video, suggesting not just a neutral feeling but a positive resonance. Maybe it's just a poor sample size, and the people who were upset about Obama will also be upset at Perry over this. This seems more likely, though again, I heard the Obama complaint from a large majority of Christian Republicans I know, and I haven't come across one single negative reaction yet about Perry.
I want to think well of people, so I'm trying not to come to the conclusion that the answer is that the religious right contains many hypocrites who just used their faith to try and justify their political disagreement with Obama. If anyone has a more plausible explanation, I really would like to hear it.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Community
One of my hobbies is playing niche market board games, and I'm a semi-frequent contributor to the largest website serving the hobby. This particular site prides itself on being not just a database, but a community of users, and while I've certainly been flamed there before, the overall tone of posts is among the most civil and intellectual I've found on the Internet.
I read somewhere on the site that a fellow I "knew" peripherally had abruptly deleted his account and all of his posts, so I went to the thread in which that was being discussed to figure out what had happened. One of the posters wrote a few really interesting replies about how the term "Internet community" is a misnomer. (I think all of those make sense out of context, but I'd encourage you to at least read the first, if not all four.) To sum up, his argument was that community requires physical presence, and is concerned about the person as a human being. The Internet obviously precludes physical presence, and by its nature is primarily concerned about a person's contributions rather than their personality. Therefore, you can't have a real community on the Internet.
This really caused me to stop and think about the time I spend online. I've definitely resisted allowing time spent communicating via machines to replace time spent building more quality relationships. This is why I don't use Twitter, don't have a smart phone, quit Facebook for a time and even resisted text messaging before finally giving in. Still, earlier tonight I had a text message conversation with an old friend I haven't seen in a year or so, and she thought I was someone else until the last few messages. A depressing statement on our society, and one that left me asking myself: why didn't I just call her?
What's worse, though, is realizing that actual community is eroding even with personal (and in-person) relationships. We live in the suburbs, and while we talk with our neighbors somewhat regularly, I wouldn't say we know them well. They told us that some of the older residents of the neighborhood had told them the reason they moved to the suburbs originally was so that they wouldn't have to get to know their neighbors like people do in the city (though they've relented on that position a bit).
Worse than that is at church. I was talking about evangelizing with Liana recently, and about how most Christians' idea of that is to invite friends to church or a church function. Besides that I think it's sad that we can't live our lives in the world in a way that demonstrates Christ's love for us, I don't think the non-Christians are really gaining anything by sitting in the pews. Liana pointed out that the argument typically is to give them the chance to join the community. I replied that I was a Christian because I believe in Christ, and that if I was interested solely in community, there's absolutely no way I would continue going to church.
This is something I've thought for years, but I didn't realize how damning a comment on our churches that is until I said it out loud. The model of the early Church in Acts is one I've always found to be beautiful and one that we should strive to replicate, if not in letter, at least in spirit. What I've found is...well, not even close. I'm not claiming to be above the problem; I certainly don't have any close friends at the church we've now attended for 3 years. But it doesn't change that it's not really a community there (even though, ironically, we're in the process of merging with two other local churches, so we actually have "community" in our name at the moment). I think if we stopped going, some people would miss seeing our son, or my drumming, and I think the committees we sit on would miss our contributions. That's probably about it, and that sounds an awful lot like what would happen if we left a web site. I would be surprised if anyone tried to keep in touch with us - and, likewise, I can't think of anyone who I'd try to keep in touch with on a regular basis if they moved away.
So have we just lost the ability to form deep friendships as a society? Or was I just extraordinarily blessed when I was younger to have some people to connect deeply with, and I'm just expecting too much out of myself and others now?
Edit: And I just noticed the irony that I'm blogging about this.
I read somewhere on the site that a fellow I "knew" peripherally had abruptly deleted his account and all of his posts, so I went to the thread in which that was being discussed to figure out what had happened. One of the posters wrote a few really interesting replies about how the term "Internet community" is a misnomer. (I think all of those make sense out of context, but I'd encourage you to at least read the first, if not all four.) To sum up, his argument was that community requires physical presence, and is concerned about the person as a human being. The Internet obviously precludes physical presence, and by its nature is primarily concerned about a person's contributions rather than their personality. Therefore, you can't have a real community on the Internet.
This really caused me to stop and think about the time I spend online. I've definitely resisted allowing time spent communicating via machines to replace time spent building more quality relationships. This is why I don't use Twitter, don't have a smart phone, quit Facebook for a time and even resisted text messaging before finally giving in. Still, earlier tonight I had a text message conversation with an old friend I haven't seen in a year or so, and she thought I was someone else until the last few messages. A depressing statement on our society, and one that left me asking myself: why didn't I just call her?
What's worse, though, is realizing that actual community is eroding even with personal (and in-person) relationships. We live in the suburbs, and while we talk with our neighbors somewhat regularly, I wouldn't say we know them well. They told us that some of the older residents of the neighborhood had told them the reason they moved to the suburbs originally was so that they wouldn't have to get to know their neighbors like people do in the city (though they've relented on that position a bit).
Worse than that is at church. I was talking about evangelizing with Liana recently, and about how most Christians' idea of that is to invite friends to church or a church function. Besides that I think it's sad that we can't live our lives in the world in a way that demonstrates Christ's love for us, I don't think the non-Christians are really gaining anything by sitting in the pews. Liana pointed out that the argument typically is to give them the chance to join the community. I replied that I was a Christian because I believe in Christ, and that if I was interested solely in community, there's absolutely no way I would continue going to church.
This is something I've thought for years, but I didn't realize how damning a comment on our churches that is until I said it out loud. The model of the early Church in Acts is one I've always found to be beautiful and one that we should strive to replicate, if not in letter, at least in spirit. What I've found is...well, not even close. I'm not claiming to be above the problem; I certainly don't have any close friends at the church we've now attended for 3 years. But it doesn't change that it's not really a community there (even though, ironically, we're in the process of merging with two other local churches, so we actually have "community" in our name at the moment). I think if we stopped going, some people would miss seeing our son, or my drumming, and I think the committees we sit on would miss our contributions. That's probably about it, and that sounds an awful lot like what would happen if we left a web site. I would be surprised if anyone tried to keep in touch with us - and, likewise, I can't think of anyone who I'd try to keep in touch with on a regular basis if they moved away.
So have we just lost the ability to form deep friendships as a society? Or was I just extraordinarily blessed when I was younger to have some people to connect deeply with, and I'm just expecting too much out of myself and others now?
Edit: And I just noticed the irony that I'm blogging about this.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Back to School
I started an undergrad college course this week. Those of you who have known me for a long time are surely snickering, if this is the first you've heard of it. Yes, I said never again when I graduated, but here I am.
It's Computer Science 101, which is essentially an intro to Java programming. Work is paying for it. The course has been all right so far, other than big hassles over the textbook (my second attempt at ordering online left Long Island at midnight last night; the first book I ordered was marked as shipped for a few days before they e-mailed me and said "oops, we actually meant out of stock") and the parking pass. It'll be nice to finally have a marketable skill when this is done. And I understand now why my friend Josh has the nickname "JOptionPain".
I've only been out of school for five years, but it's amazing how old I feel walking around campus, even in a night class at MCC where there are many non-traditional students. Not quite as weird as joining the church we're attending now and realizing that the college students put Liana and me in the same demographic as their parents even though we were only a few years older than they were, but odd nonetheless.
In a lot of ways, mid-twenties are a more awkward time socially than teenage years, though I at least feel less awkward now. Most of the time.
It's Computer Science 101, which is essentially an intro to Java programming. Work is paying for it. The course has been all right so far, other than big hassles over the textbook (my second attempt at ordering online left Long Island at midnight last night; the first book I ordered was marked as shipped for a few days before they e-mailed me and said "oops, we actually meant out of stock") and the parking pass. It'll be nice to finally have a marketable skill when this is done. And I understand now why my friend Josh has the nickname "JOptionPain".
I've only been out of school for five years, but it's amazing how old I feel walking around campus, even in a night class at MCC where there are many non-traditional students. Not quite as weird as joining the church we're attending now and realizing that the college students put Liana and me in the same demographic as their parents even though we were only a few years older than they were, but odd nonetheless.
In a lot of ways, mid-twenties are a more awkward time socially than teenage years, though I at least feel less awkward now. Most of the time.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
I Get Around
A few weeks ago, we sold one of our two cars in order to pay off the last of our student loans. This is the first time in my post-license life I've not had a car entirely to myself, and it's a very odd feeling. If I want to go somewhere and Liana needs the car, I either need to find a ride (and be at the mercy of the schedules of others) or get out Google maps and try to determine the most efficient way to get us both where we need to go.
This is nothing new for many of you, I'm sure. I remember years ago many of my friends got cars, then got jobs so they could afford to keep their cars, and consequently had little time to drive anywhere other than school or work. I never experienced that at the time, but I'm definitely there now - the classic "time and money are inversely proportional" situation. It's also given me a new respect for those who have never been able to afford a car at all, who are always reliant on rides, public transit or walking.
I'm sure I'll get used to it eventually, and having the extra several hundred dollars a month is worth it, but decade-old habits are hard to break.
This is nothing new for many of you, I'm sure. I remember years ago many of my friends got cars, then got jobs so they could afford to keep their cars, and consequently had little time to drive anywhere other than school or work. I never experienced that at the time, but I'm definitely there now - the classic "time and money are inversely proportional" situation. It's also given me a new respect for those who have never been able to afford a car at all, who are always reliant on rides, public transit or walking.
I'm sure I'll get used to it eventually, and having the extra several hundred dollars a month is worth it, but decade-old habits are hard to break.
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