Tehrants

When MJ, Farrah Fawcett, Billy Mays, and Ed McMahon died, so did the media's coverage of events in Tehran.

Then came Mark Sanford's affair, and Sarah Palin's word-vomit resignation speech, and North Korea shot toypedos into the ocean.

Maybe it's naive to assume that media coverage was helping to fuel the protests, but I do honestly think that it helped and it gave it a voice, and it's pretty tragic to see it smothered by this hand.

Peace out.

RADAR Enforced Speed Deception II

It was a strange and specific form of depression and disappointment when I had to pay my speeding ticket - which I was assigned by a camera - through this:

Peace out.

A Tree Falls in Connecticut

I was driving home today from DC to Philadelphia, and the first semi-major road I get on is Connecticut Avenue, or MD-185. It's three lanes per side, but the speed limit is 30.

There were storms predicted today. Severe thunderstorm watch for the district and the surrounding areas, and it was starting to look stormy when I drove out. About half an hour later, I was a ways up 185, and it started to get really stormy. It started off slow, but quickly I could hardly see out of my windsheild, I could see the wind sweeping the water everywhere, and bits of tree were dropping left and right. I felt a little scared. I think I actually may have thought about a tree falling.

Visibility was extremely, extremely low.

After about a minute it let up, and visibility returned a bit. There was a light very very shortly in front of me. It was green, but almost no one was moving, and I had no idea why. After I inched up a little bit more, and the visibility came back, I could see that there was a tree blocking five of the six lanes on the other side of the intersection. People were merging all the way to the rightmost lane on my side of the road to get past. I called the local NPR station, WAMU, and told them there was a tree down that was blocking the southbound side of 185 right at East West Highway intersection.

As I drove past, I looked to the left. There were people out of their cars. I saw what looked like a family almost fleaing the scene, and I remember one person lifting a very small boy up to a larger man for him to carry, from one family member to another, I thought. I think they were not-white but I couldn't really tell, and can't really remember.

I looked a little bit more. I saw a white man moving sort of hurriedly and urgently to one end of the tree. It was a big tree. The report says that it was two or three feet in diameter, but I would put three feet at the lower bound of that estimate. I realized that at least one car was crushed underneath the tree. I didn't feel anything, which I think is okay, because the other option was to panic. I didn't know exactly what to do. I kept driving on, slowly.

For a moment I thought that I should just go on. I thought too about calling 911, but figured someone else would do it. Then I remebered the concept of diffusion of responsibility from psychology class in junior year, and knowing there were more than three people around, I called 911. An automated machine said someone would be with me shortly, an agent from Montgomery County. I was afraid I was calling the wrong 911, but it was correct. In about a minute I got a guy on the phone, and he asked what the emergency was.

"I don't know if you've heard this yet, but a tree fell on top of one or two cars at the intersection of 185 and East West Highway."

"Okay, let me put you with Fire and Ambulance. Hold on, they're very busy."

"Okay, staying."

And then I was on wait for about 20 seconds. The operator picked up.

"Firetruck or ambulance?"

"Ambulance."

"What's the situation?"

"A tree fell on top of one or two cars at the intersection of 185 and East West Highway."

"Okay, so there's a tree down, definitely vehicles trapped underneath it, and a power line?"

"I can't spe-- I don't know about the power line, all I know for sure is that there's at least one car under the tree."

"Okay. We're on our way."

My phone stayed in Emergency Mode for about five minutes. I don't know what the purpose of it is. WAMU reported the tree down a little bit later and said that fire, police, and ambulance were all on the scene.

I found out when I got home that there was definitely at least one car underneath the tree, a minivan with eight people in it. A woman and a girl were killed, and a boy was injured to a life-threatening point.

Motherfucker.

I'm glad that I called 911, but I wonder if - and think that, yes, - I should have stayed to help. I don't know if there is really anything more I could have done than what I did, or if it would have been safe for me to help. But the point is that I might have had a chance to save someone's life, and I didn't take it. I made a mistake, I'm not going to kill myself over it, but I'm going to try not to make the same mistake twice.

//

This story reports that the time was just after 8pm, but I am pretty sure that it was closer to 7:40pm. My phone didn't record what time the call to 911 was, though.

This top right picture is what I saw when I drove by.

Peace out.

My posts are getting longer than I intend them to be increasingly often. I wanted that last one to be about two paragraphs, and that's how it turned out. Sorry.

Peace out.

Hockey Pants II

I decided that I wanted to go play hockey after work on Thursday, so I brought my hockey pants and a pair of socks in the car with me on the way to work and found a new route to the hockey rink right from Cheiron. It took me about 45 minutes, but I got there. So I got changed. There was some kid from the middle school at the rink (which is right next to it) playing soccer in the rink, and I had to take my pants off (not boxers) to get changed, which felt a little awkward, but I did it anyway. I didn't bring an extra shirt, so I just took my work shirt off. I dropped my work khakis on the ground and they got super dirty, and now I have to wash them.

I played hockey for about an hour, and really tired myself out. I didn't have anything to drink, either, so the Gatorade that I got at the gas station afterwards was about the most quenched I have ever felt in my entire life. When I got tired when I was playing, I would go sit in the car and listen to NPR with the air conditioning on. I tried to pull my car up to the rink and play NPR real loud so I could hear when I was playing, but it didn't really work, so I turned that off. Good thing, because two other kids came a little closer to six.

Anyway, when I was done, I didn't feel like changing all the way, especially not into my dirty, dirty pants. So I left on my hockey pants and put back on my work shoes, and my work shirt when I was in the car.

In case you don't know, hockey pants are pretty ridiculous looking. Take a look at these. Those are essentially what I was wearing.

So when I got back to the house, I was looking for a place for parking. It's a residential city block set-up, so you just have to parallel park on the east side of the street. There are some white parts blocked out where parking is legal. It's 2-hour limit between 7:30AM and 7:30PM, unless you have a permit saying that you live there. I don't have one of those licenses, but it was past 5:30, so I could get past the two hour limit legally and still park there.

So I pulled up to the parking spot I wanted, which was nice and open, which is always a nice break. It was right in front of this house that has a garden with an Eco-Friendly Garden sign sticking out of it, and I always sort of thought it smelled funny, it a bad way. Not that it's growing pot or something, just that it seriously smells pretty bad. The woman of the house was outside watering her garden, or picking at it, or something. I scraped my wheel a little bit when I was parking, and since I'm afraid of being an Axel Murderer, I was compelled to kick my hubcap back into place when I got out of the car.

So I got out of the car, got some of my stuff (backpack, clothes), and went over to kick my wheel in.

The woman stared at me. Like, stared at me. I was on the same side of the car as her, right up near her property, and god, she was trying to burn me with her eyes. I could easily see that she was, and it was making me uneasy. She had a strange and mean feel about her. I looked right at her for a second, and sort of said softly, "What?"

She shook her head and went back to working at her garden. I opened the door to get some stuff when I was done kicking in the wheel, and I looked over when I was done getting my other stuff out, and she was staring at me. Again. She might as well have been wearing a robe and wielding a gavel. But what was she even concerned about? So I asked her a bit more meanly, "What." She shook her head and walked away and turned on the water to her garden.

It was the strangest thing. Was it the hockey pants? I don't know. Maybe I'll talk to her sometime, but probably not, she seemed mean.

Peace out.

Business Sighed of Things

I was walking out of my boss's office today, making small talk with her, and she said, "You're gonna be a businessman, definitely, I can tell." She meant it as a compliment, but it made me feel empty (I think that's the best word to describe it). I feel like all I do right now is just go into a building, push a bunch of papers around my desk for 7.5 hours, and then leave the building. I told her I was considering being a teacher. "Why?" "Because it's pure math-ier than business." She told me I could be a teacher in a business, too, like our CEO teaches people here, or a guy named Ken teaches clients. She means well, and I'm sure she thinks it's what I'd like to do, but I don't think I believe it.

Peace out.

Mist Connection

I was driving to work on the beltway today as usual, but a little bit later than normal, it was probably 9:00AM or so right around when I was getting on. This was before the big straight hill that lets me know when it's almost time to exit on my way home.

Well anyway, traffic appeared to be moving really fast and everyone was going 55-65 miles an hour, which is what you do on a 55mph limit highway when there's essentially no traffic. But then, basically out of nowhere, the traffic came to an almost standstill for a little bit after about a mile. It even caught me by surprise, and I had to put the brakes on fairly quickly to make sure I stayed a safe distance from the car in front of me.

I'm not sure exactly what I noticed was happening first. There was a blue BMW on the leftmost lane (I was in the 2nd-to-leftmost lane) about two or three car lengths in front of me. I think what I noticed first was that it was pulling to the left, to the shoulder of the road. I didn't really understand why. Then, over my left shoulder came a speeding truck. It wasn't just a pick-up, but it wasn't an 18-wheeler - it was one of those short-haul trucks that could maybe carry backhoe or two on its bed. But it was seriously barreling through the lane right at this car, and I put together why she was moving out of the lane. It was all happening really, really quickly though and I wasn't sure the car would make it out of the way on time.

As the truck got closer - probably going something like 40 or 50 mph - the car just veered left and pulled forward to get out of the way of the truck, and at almost the last second, the truck veered right, into my lane. Right in front of me. Somehow it actually managed to kill a lot of its speed in that swing into my lane, and slowed down in maybe a second or so after it was in my lane. The blue BMW pulled back into its lane. I'm sure the driver's heart was beating a mile a minute. I suppose I didn't say this explicity, but if that truck had barreled into her car, it would have done really serious damage. Probably it wouldn't have been fatal, since it was from the rear, but it's still not something anyone would ever want to experience.

I realized later that if I had been side-by-side with that blue BMW, the truck probably would have plowed right into me, for lack of anywhere else to go, in an attempt to avoid a definite hit of the other car. When I was thinking about that possibility in my head, I couldn't help but think that I would enjoy that it would get me off from work for a day.

I pulled up to the blue BMW later, side-by-side, to see how the driver was doing. It was a pretty attractive 40-something woman with black hair and large sunglasses, and it seemed like she was doing fine. I don't know how she knew that truck was coming though. I didn't hear it, I don't think it's horn was blowing or anything; I definitely never would have known.

Peace out.

RADAR Enforced Speed Deception

Two weekends ago, I came home for a night to go to Emily U's birthday party, and to sleep over Chloe's house. I actually had an incredibly wonderful time at the party, I met a lot of really cool people and connected with other people who were a lot cooler than I remembered, and loved talking to Chloe until something like three in the morning. It was definitely one of the best nights I'd had in a long time. I didn't tell my mom and dad that I was coming, though, because I thought they'd be upset with me leaving Washington, DC, all the time.

So I got a call today when I was out seeing friends, from my mom, asking me where I was, and saying (very quietly) that I had gotten a speeding ticket from somewhere in Maryland. I don't know why she was talking so quietly - she always does that, on the phone, in the car, on the couch, whatever. In either case, she said I needed to be careful about having points on my license, and that it was $40. Apparently I had gone 41 in a 30 zone. I don't know how I feel about that.

But I wasn't really worried about the whole thing. I was worried that it would give away where I had been on that Saturday that I drove back to PA. I spent the day avoiding home so that I could get home after my mom went to bed, so I could see where and when the ticket was from. If it was from southern Maryland on that day, I could write it off and just say I was around DC, or think of some excuse. If it was from the border with Delaware, I would just be enjoying my last night of freedom.

I got home around midnight. My mom was still up. I was worried that she had figured something out. The ticket was on the table, a picture of my car, one the body, one the license plate. The date said the sixth, which was the day I had driven to Emily's.

But the address was a basically a mile outside of DC. What a relief.

//

Chloe writes wonderful letters.

//

I brought home the lyrics sheet to a song I'd like to record. My parents came home today, so I didn't have the house empty tonight so that I could record it. I'm not sure what I'm going to do now. I feel strangely self-conscious about the pseudo-screaming I do at the end of this song.

Peace out.

Steam of Consciousness

I am a little bit happier with work recently. On Wednesday, my boss discovered (even though she should have known from my resume) that I am a bit of a computer programmer, and then brought me to Matthew (the senior programmer at Cheiron) and basically told us to make computer programming babies.

Matthew is about 30 years old. He has a very impressive history. He worked at Freddie Mac after college, and while he was there, he created a program that could create a legal contract concerning the buying/selling of mortgages or bundles of mortgages within about three minutes. People had been working on the project in huge teams for years before he came up, and he showed up and completed the entire project totally on his own in a few months. It processed something like $14,000,000,000 worth of transactions in the first six months after it was rolled out.

Anyway. So like I said, I might be doing some computer programming. I'm in the process of reteaching myself some of the JAVA language, which is what he uses.

I think that I like work better now because it's more useless, which is sort of the same reason I like art, and math, and life in general. Somebody actually has to do those stupid AVR things for those pension plans, but they could get by fine without our elegant programming. And furthermore, our programming doesn't really accomplish anything. It might, at best, allow other people to accomplish the same things they already did a little bit faster. But I don't care about that, I'm hardly even concerned with that. I don't care if they would use it or not. The whole point is just the challenge - can I design this method or can I not? - and I hope the answer is that I can, but beyond that, I don't care. The point is just to think.

Peace out.

A Note from Iran

I found this on Huffington Post, and I like it enough to keep it here.

"

I will participate in the demonstrations tomorrow. Maybe they will turn violent. Maybe I will be one of the people who is going to get killed. I'm listening to all my favorite music. I even want to dance to a few songs. I always wanted to have very narrow eyebrows. Yes, maybe I will go to the salon before I go tomorrow! There are a few great movie scenes that I also have to see. I should drop by the library, too. It's worth to read the poems of Forough and Shamloo again. All family pictures have to be reviewed, too. I have to call my friends as well to say goodbye. All I have are two bookshelves which I told my family who should receive them. I'm two units away from getting my bachelors degree but who cares about that. My mind is very chaotic. I wrote these random sentences for the next generation so they know we were not just emotional and under peer pressure. So they know that we did everything we could to create a better future for them. So they know that our ancestors surrendered to Arabs and Mongols but did not surrender to despotism. This note is dedicated to tomorrow's children...

"

Peace out.

Made Up

Make up makes young girls look old and old girls look young.

Peace out.

Axle Murderer

The summer after 10th grade, my mom made me take driving lessons with Mr. Wenner. He was sort of mean to me, and usually seemed a lot nicer to whomever else was in the car, especially if it was a girl. One day I remember parallel parking and I hit the curb with the wheel. I wasn't going to fast of course - 1mph? - but when I was done, he told me to stop and park the car, so I did, and he got out and kicked the hubcap on the tire.

I forget if I asked him why he did that or not, but he explained. He said that hitting a hubcap against a curb or something like that could make it pop off later when you weren't expecting it. I remember him saying something along the lines of "a sustained speed of 45 miles per hour" as an example of when it would happen, and I think he mentioned being on I-95 as well.

Since then, but getting progressively worse with time, I've been afraid of my hubcaps popping off while at a sustained speed of 45 miles per hour or higher. Sometimes I hit the toll booth curbs and for the rest of the drive I'm terrified that my hubcap is going to pop off. I know, shut up, I'm bad at toll booths. I have to parallel park all the time now though, and every time I hit the curb, I'm afraid one of my right tires is going to explode the next time I drive to work. I end a lot of my car rides with a good bout of kicking.

I'm also afraid that I messed up the axles between the wheels on my car. The first thing I did that I think screwed this up was driving off a curb in Avalon while looking for parking at 31st street which I thought was an exit, but was not, but I didn't feel like backing out and looking for another way out. Yesterday, I think, I was turning while backing my car out of a driveway and my wheel slammed down onto the road again and I was convinced I split my axle. I probably was tricking myself, but the drive felt different too. Things went okay driving today, though.

But yeah, with all those drives to and from DC recently, I spend a lot of time wondering if my car is shaking because the wheels are about to fall off, the axles are about to break, or if it's just what cars do. I also get scared when the car shakes when I use the brakes.

Apparently some guy in Europe recently used the wrong lug nuts on his hubcaps and all four of his wheels popped off simultaneously while he was on the highway, and he is suing someone (the nut manufacturer?) because of it. That's a little reassuring, sort of.

//

In case you haven't noticed, I've been making a concerted effort to make my post titles wittier recently. Enjoy it. Yeah.

Peace out.

Brightening Bug

I saw the first lightning bug of the summer today as I was walking back to my car from the 7-11 at the bottom of the hill on my street.  I had my black reusable grocery bag on my right arm, and he lit up in front of me in the middle of the sidewalk, a few feet off the ground.  I stopped and decided to catch him.  He went onto my hand fairly easily, but stayed on the back of my left hand for a little bit, only later going to my palm so that I could cup him well.  After a little crawling around, he lit up once, and then flew off to the small grassy hill just beside us and lit again.

Peace out.

Barbequeer

Tonight I went to an indoor barbeque with some people from work.  It was hosted by Johnathan, who is referred to as JJ by his girlfriend Christa.  Both of them are really cool people.  She sang a capella in college and was in a movie and appreciated my love of cats, and he played string bass in an orchestra and was into politics and discussing health care financing.  Tony, Krishna, and one of their friends stopped by for a little bit.  Matt was there, as were Chuck and his wife Carla, and a friend of Christa's named Brad was there too.

Mostly we played Apples to Apples, but we talked about plenty of things other than the game.  I shared some math jokes with Chuck, who was sort of interested, but not in particular.  I touched JJ's string bass and he told me very nicely that I should touch higher on the string or the oil on my finger would mess up the string.  I felt dumb because I'm a musician too and I know how much I hate it when people touch my instruments incorrectly.

Anyway, mostly I'm writing this because I realized I didn't take any pictures at all and now I feel stupid about that too.  I'm sorry to bore you with this entry, I realize it was pretty weak.

Peace out.

WHYYnot?

Today - if all went right with the credit card - I became a member of WHYY.

Today, I became a man.

Hopefully the first notice my parents will get is an "I heard it on NPR" mug in the mail with my name on it.  I thought about putting their names and phone numbers in the comments section to have WHYY call them and beg them for money, like Ira Glass does sometimes on This American Life, but decided against it for some reason.

Peace out.

What's your body worth?

Peace out.

Headfauxnes

Headphones are not allowed at work.

I can listen to the radio and whatnot without headphones, but it's sort of just not the same.

I was excited to get my paycheck and my PNC banking card yesterday because I wanted to donate to WHYY because I feel guilty about never having done so thus far. Apparently the PIN I was supposed to use to register my account came in the mail in 2005, so I couldn't sign up. I was really upset. Hopefully Thursday everything will be in order.

Peace out.

Wire Snap

Today when I was playing piano (I was playing Turbulent a.k.a. Clouds), I thought I heard something happen inside the back of the box.  It was very unfamiliar.  I was convinced right away for some reason that a wire had snapped.  After looking around for a few seconds, I saw that there was, as I expected, a wire from one of the keys laying on the floor.  I tested out all the notes on the piano and they sounded fine, but I could tell from looking that it belonged to one of the As in the bass clef.

I should say that I've been afraid of this happening for a while.  Piano strings snap, it just happens, and with enough bad luck you end up blind in an eye or both eyes.  Lucky for me, I had the front of the piano's mechanisms covered with the music stand, so the cord went out the back.  With a little less luck, though, I would be out of work for another good while.

Peace out.

Mistakes on the Wall

Probably everyone reading this knows that I always cover my walls with things I make myself. The year-poster, the nine pictures of songs, all of my friends' pictures, etc.

When I was listening to Mr. Perlswig's speech today at Baccalaureate, I had an idea for next year that I might try out. I might just take a big white piece of posterboard and get something printed on it - like I always do - and then write down all the things in my life that I feel like were mistakes or things that I've done wrong. Not all at once, but as they come to me. Not mistakes like "I wasted my time trying to be friends with John Smith" or whatever that are just ways to blame other people, but things that were seriously my fault, or I seriously feel regret about. Things that it would be good to see every day.

I suppose the thinking behind this is something along these lines: There's nothing wrong or even stupid about making mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes. What starts to become wrong/stupid/annoying is when you keep making the same mistake over and over and over again and never learn anything from it. I don't know how often I do that, but I figure this can't hurt, and it'll help me learn how often I do. At the absolute best, I will stop making a given mistake more than once. At the absolute worst, I will be more honest with the people who come into my room.

Peace out.

Codeine

When I was in 8th grade, I had an operation done to break the growth plates in my right knee so that my legs would end up being equal length. I can write more about that whole part of my life some other time. In either case, the operation caused me some pretty extreme pain. I remember waking up the first night after the surgery and begging the nurse to let the morphine drip in a little bit faster because I was in such agony. I never thought that I would actually ask for morphine - certainly not when I was in 8th grade - but there I was! It actually did help a lot, too. I went to sleep again that night.

I stayed in the hospital for two or three days. On the last day that I was there, they let me try to stand up and walk around a little bit, and they wanted to get me into physical therapy so I could bend my knee properly and whatnot. They took me off of morphine, which is super tightly controlled, and gave me a tablet of codeine instead. I remember taking just one tiny pill of it - maybe even half a pill - a light orange color, very small, with some water, while sitting on my hospital bed.

So I went downstairs with my dad after that to try to get some early physical therapy in. I think he wheeled me downstairs in a chair, and then when I got down there, we basically just tried to have me walk with some crutches and stuff like that. I had a soft cast on for a while, so there was basically no way I could do much more... hardly even could bend my knee.

After a little bit of being down there, I started to feel sick. Very, very nauseas. At some point I just knew that I wouldn't be able to hold it back anymore, and I made my dad rush me to the nearest bathroom. I remember making it to the bathroom, and just throwing up more violently that I ever had in my entire life, and probably more intensely than I ever have since. It felt like somebody was punching me in the stomach so hard that everything in my torso was coming right out of me, or like someone was reaching their fist down my throat and seriously tearing my insides right out of my mouth. I made a total mess, and I remember that I got it all over the floor, the toilet, the sink, and even all over myself. We decided no more codeine after that.

I think it may have given me a really messed up dream while I was in the hospital too, but that may have just been a story my dad told me about codeine. I can't remember.

//

I just got my wisdom teeth out on Friday morning. I was pretty afraid of the pain that I would be in, but I knew that I would get prescribed some way-cool drugs that day, and I was itching to take them so I wouldn't feel the holes in my jaw bone closing up, or whatever the hell it is that causes the pain exactly. My mom suggested maybe taking Tylenol first - so did the surgeon - but I insisted on just taking Percocet. So as the novacaine was wearing off, I took a half-tablet of Percocet. About a half hour later, after we agreed that it was doing okay with my stomach, I took another half-tablet of it because I felt like my jaw was starting to hurt a little bit.

I did pretty okay with the pain that day, and I remember at one point sort of feeling a hit of relief in my jaw and thinking, "Wow, Percocet. Okay, cool." Throughout the rest of the evening, I took another whole pill - another half pill four hours after my first, and another half pill four hours after that. The pain wasn't too bad so we decided not to push it.

Viv was supposed to come over that night, but ended up backing out because family had come over. Dana had considered coming to see me as well, but didn't believe me when I said I was doing perfectly fine, and had other reasons to see me the next day anyway.

At about 11:30, I was still laying on the couch in the family room. I had felt a little funny in my stomach earlier, so I asked for something to eat. I had my mom or dad get me pancakes, because I knew they were very light and easy in your mouth but they would fill up in your stomach. For some reason, I felt like the strange feeling was because I had had nothing to eat all day, and all the medicine in there without any food was going to be too harsh. So I thought eating would fix it.

So I ate most of a pancake. But even after that, I felt pretty funny. I'm actually not sure I finished the whole thing. Then I told my parents I felt like I was going to throw up. "Well then get to the bathroom!" they shouted at me. I asked them for a bucket but they said no, get the hell into a bathroom. So I got up and went to the bathroom, which yeah, was probably the right idea.

I leaned over the toilet and I started to cough pretty forcefully, and my mom said to chill out because it might mess up the stitches in my mouth, and we definitely didn't want to deal with that. My dad told me to do what I could to hold it back because this would be a terrible time to throw up, and to just take long deep breaths and try to keep it in. I kept coughing more forcefully though, and I just knew that I had to throw up to get it out of me. I was starting to sweat a whole lot, so I took my shirt off. I hit my hand on the sink as I was taking it off.

So yeah, I proceeded to violently throw up probably four or five times very shortly after I had taken my shirt off. I'm pretty sure that everything I had put in me the entire day came right back up. It was a very calorie-negative day, and it left me feeling very hungry for a long time afterwards. It reminded me very strongly of the time that I had thrown up in the physical therapy place with my dad, though. And right after I was done, I stopped sweating, my stomach felt fine, and I didn't feel nauseas at all anymore.

I found out later - because I am an idiot - that Percocet is just artificially synthesized codeine. If I had known that, I probably would have stayed away from it at pretty much all costs.

In either case, I think I will make sure that I never take anything that is essentially codeine ever again.

Peace out.