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No bike lane? Bring your own.

Click to enlarge the photo.

Bike Porn: Cervelo S3

I don't usually drool over the looks of time trial bikes - the logo to bike ratio is usually way too high for my taste. Nevertheless, the Olympic inspired Cervelo S3 caught my eye.

1 World 2 Wheels

1 World 2 Wheels is a neat web application that calculates your calories burned, gas $ saved, and pounds of CO2 reduced. Granted, the gas cost calculation seems to assume $4/gal and 10mpg and I suspect the other calculations are also weighted towards best cycling case scenarios, but the app does a great job at showing how all those short little trips quickly add up to some serious monthly and annual mileages.

You can read a related article here.

Make it so

My first round of apologies go to those of you who never watched Star Trek. The second round goes to those you did, because that means you got the pun. >:-}

And for the two of you still reading, actual content is forthcoming in this post. Huzzah!

During my brother's visit, he shared a lot about his college experience at St. Mary's University, a conservative Catholic college in San Antonio. Story after story described a systemic authoritarian style of leadership and pedagogy. We are in charge, and we say to do it this way. As you might expect from a relative of mine, this frustrates and demotivates him to no end.

Just one of many examples was the school's response to poor attendance: rather than examining why students skipped classes, they simply decreed an institution-wide attendance policy and washed their hands of it. I highlight this particular instance because not all universities take this path.

MIT confronted low attendance and high failure rates in its physics courses not by mandate, but by assuming its share of responsibility and researching new teaching methods. The end result was to radically redesign classes so that students learn better and actually want to attend. Certainly not everyone was or is happy with the new approach, but what impressed me was the willingness of the institution to reevaluate its approach. And when I saw the numbers - a reported decrease of 50% in the failure rate - I couldn't help but think to myself, make it so.

Cycling ad!

A Stella ad inspired by the Tour of Flanders, way back in the days before SAG wagons.

Urban hike

A fuzzy iPhone pic of last night's bridge to bridge (and back) full moon urban hike, and my longest hike ever at 12.5 miles. The company, views, wine and snacks were all lots of fun, but I've made the following mental note: cycling and skating fitness do not help with the foot pounding of hiking on concrete.

You can't handle the truth

Several hours before riots broke out in Oakland, I was telling my brother about the BART police officer who killed an unarmed man as he laid face down on the ground, and that I hoped the public outcry was strong enough to provoke serious changes in the institution. The day before the riots, I listened to Tim Redmond review BART police force's history on KQED's Forum: an officer was exonerated in a 1992 shooting and killing an unarmed man who was walking away, and in 2001, an officer shot and killed a severely mentally ill person, who was not only unarmed but naked.

This leads me to something I've been pondering for the last couple of weeks. A recent issue of Scientific American focused on evolution, and one article discussing the development of the mind mentioned that the behavior of lying would not have persisted if, at some level, we did not want to be lied to. The article suggested that lies are essential to family and social structures. I'm going a step further and suggesting that the status quo requires lies. We are programmed to believe an authority's version of an event - even at the cost of sacrificing civil rights or life - to maintain order.

I've also been thinking about how the increasing presence of video cameras has made it more and more difficult to sustain these lies. Here's one example that led to the indictment of a police officer last month. I can't imagine that the cyclist would have stood a chance in court if a tourist hadn't caught the incident on video.

I don't know what will happen with the BART police officer, but I know a young man lost his life, and that this video makes it much harder to sweep that under the rug.

Russ' visit

Not one, but two Stowers meant many, many a feeding stop. Here the Stowers may be seen in his natural environment, the restaurant. (The Elephant Bar)

On top of Twin Peaks. Russell didn't need too much time to enjoy the gale force winds.

Russell and the zebras at the Academy of Sciences.

Me with the skulls.

One of the many waterfalls on the Cascade Trail near Fairfax.

A rare morning picture of Russell. He perked up after lunch at the halfway point.

The view. Russell is more of a lets get there hiker than a look at all the pretty things hiker.

Hockey stop! Russell was kind enough not to capture me on camera when I fell while attempting to strike a pose even sillier than the one above.

Russ on ice. He got up some impressive speed for a second time skater, but had an unfortunate toe pick incident while at slower speeds.

Post ice pizza at Pizza My Heart. Yum.

Garden of Decay

If Gabriel Garcia Marquez was a photographer born in the Rust Belt, I imagine is art would look like this.

Blast from the past

As I was cleaning, I discovered a bundle of letters dating back to my 8th grade year. To celebrate the lost art of letter writing, I'll share one of the more amusing excerpts from a twelve page hand written missive from my delightfully grouchy college boyfriend. Step back into the summer of '94 with me and reminisce about the joys of communal living in the Deep South:

"I'm gonna have to have a sit-down with these two Yankee fuckers about How To Deal with Roaches. I've had far too many peaceful evenings shattered by sudden cries of 'AIIIIIGH! BIG ROACH!!! BIG ROACH!!!' Matt has just now soaked the bathroom floor with Country Fresh Raid. Grab a shoe and swat? Nay! What folly this? Throw toxic chemicals all over the fucking house and chase the bastard into Paul's previously roach-free room! Yeah, that's what you do! And throw in primal combat screams for effect!"

After living happily roach free for the last decade, I've developed a bit of empathy for those Yankee boys. Roaches, sadly, were a fact of life in New Orleans, and Southerners had no patience for roach induced histrionics. The glossy university pamphlets never mentioned the six legged plague, so students migrating from cooler climes had quite the rude awakening - timed to occur well after they sent in their acceptance letters and deposits.

Damn...er, gosh dangit.

According to What's My Blog Rated, you have all been reading some very adult content. Curses, you freaking bike porn feature!

365 projects

One of my favorite sites of 2008 has come to a close, but I look forward to a new 365 project based in San Francisco. What will the year bring?

Roach soap

Over the years, I developed a couple of rules about practical jokes. The first, and there's a whole long story around that one, is never prank somebody meaner than you. The second rule is not to prank somebody who is nicer than you - karma and all that.

Well, when I opened up my gift from Mike this Christmas, a new rule went into my book: never prank somebody you plan to remain friends with for many years. I thought surely the statute of limitations would have expired on the great fake tarantula incident of 2004...instead it had merely been filed away for future reference.

Ah well, it's the cleanest roach you'll ever come across, right?



For those you who haven't guessed, I hate roaches. Hate them.

the art of ending

This is one of my favorite songs ever - Beck imbues the sadness of walking away from a bad relationship with the calmness that comes with the knowledge that you've done your best, that nothing more can be done.

Coming on the heels of my 500th post, it may sound strange that a song about giving up resonates so strongly with me, but I've learned that there's no winning with someone who only knows how to fight.

Quitting often gets a bad rap, so I'd like to wrap up this post with a quote from sci-fi character extraordinaire Lazarus Long:

Great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending.

Listening is an act of love.

That's the tag line for Story Corps, an oral history project featured regularly on NPR. Unlike the news, Story Corps focuses on what happens after - after a life changing event, after a life spent together, after the dust has cleared. What so often emerges is the unmistakable sound of love, of wonder, and of hope. Rarely do I hear a clip that does not bring tears to my eyes. Here are a few that I found particularly moving.


On love, loss, and the big blue sky

On gratitude

One radical act of kindness

Doing

Image from explodingdog

Most of what I've been doing over the last couple of weeks falls into the following categories:

1. Cleaning. Zapping bathroom mildew and vacuuming out dust bunny breeding grounds was deeply satisfying. So deeply satisfying, in fact, that it will be a good year before I venture it again.

2. Decluttering. One compact sized carload of stuff to Goodwill. I'd heard of cabinets and closets and such that can be opened without risking life and limb, but now I actually have several, just by pitching stuff like that stack of hologram unicorn stickers. (Please don't ask. I will deny everything.)

3. Cooking. Yum. Chicken biryani, carrot soup with north african spices, stuffed mushrooms, an incredible winter greens salad, and bacon. Lots and lots of bacon.

4. Exercise. I'm just easing back into workouts and lemme tellya, endorphins are sooooo much bettter than opiates.

5. Nothing. Plain old couch sitting, cat petting, computer surfing, mind wandering nothing.

My little brother arrives tonight, so you can expect a little more action in my last week of vacation!

Rick Warren

For those of you who haven't heard, Barack Obama chose Rick Warren to give the invocation at Obama's inauguration. This action has prompted dismay and anger - Warren equates homosexuality with child rape, preaches that women should be subservient to their husbands, and believes that abuse is NOT grounds for divorce. I find this choice particularly disenheartening after all the support feminist and gay rights organizations provided to the candidate's campaign. I'm also saddened that one of the many devout Christians who are brave enough to teach Christ's message of love was not selected for this honor.

Here's an NYT op-ed article that analyzes the story nicely.

WD40

Click the ad for a larger version.

This WD40 ad gives me serious flashbacks to one of the more embarrassing moments of my college freshman year. I was just settling into a dorm room with a squeaky door and a roommate who was a very light sleeper. On one of my first trips to the Winn Dixie, I searched the aisles for WD40 with little success, so I finally asked a guy who was stocking for shelves for help. I was a little taken aback when he didn't know what WD40 was. I mean, it was used so often by my grandpa that I practically considered the smell equivalent to cologne.

After casting about for a way to describe WD40 as something other than, "You know, WD40!" I settled on "a lubricant." Clearly, this had different connotations in an urban environment than in small town Texas. The stocker got a weird look on his face and referred me to aisle 11.

When I arrived on aisle 11, my little 17yo self looked around at all the feminine hygiene items and just about DIED of embarrassment. I mean, seriously. How can you get through life without knowing what WD40 is?!

I shudder to think of what might happen if that Winn Dixie employee ever stumbles across the above ad.

500th post

You know you have a blogging habit when you hit the big five oh oh! I've been thinking a quite a bit about why I blog, and what follows is a pretty raw post. I hemmed and hawed over whether to publish it or not, but one theme I've found winding its way through my blog is my incredible admiration for people who speak their truths, those people who do not let fear silence them. That being said, here is why I blog:

When I began blogging, it was because I ran into a surprising truth about myself. Those who know me readily offer up the adjective "direct" to describe me. And while that's certainly true, somewhere along the line I just got tired of the fighting I've had to do my entire life - fighting to survive in a volatile alcoholic family, fighting against the oppressive sexism and homophobia that I endured growing up in Texas and in my college years in Louisiana, fighting to survive a date rape in college, fighting to retain some sense of self after a demoralizing graduate school experience, and then fighting to retain some sanity in a "yell first, ask questions later" work environment. When I finally landed a secure job with an incredibly supportive work environment, I wanted nothing more than to relax and enjoy the mecca of San Francisco. And for a while I did.

Unfortunately, I had no concept of how to be angry or to stand up for myself in a healthy way, especially since I'd decided that fighting was no longer the path I wanted to walk down. That undoubtedly set the stage for a fiery, intense relationship that was, to dig up that old Dickens quote, the best of times and the worst of times. By the time I ended the relationship nine months later, I was sinking rapidly. Blogging was a way to reach out to others, to start putting the pieces back together, but most importantly, it was a way for me to relearn how to speak up about the things that mean the most to me. That last item happened slowly, with a post here and there. I sometimes had nightmares about people coming after me in retaliation for a particular post. Of course, none of that actually happened in real life, and I slowly began seeing my fears for what they were: fears.

Anne Wilson Shaef says,

Life is a process. We are a process. The universe is a process.

I like that quote because no one post defines a blog...you only get a blog through the ebb and flow of so many posts in succession. A blog is never complete, it can always accommodate one more post or one more comment.

The process of daily writing has become one of my creative acts. Thank you for sharing it with me.