I don't know how to vacation.
If given 15 minutes to relax, I know what to do: I'd check my email, read the internet news, practice a song or two. I know how to get the most out of small snippets of time.
But when faced with a complete day off, with no pressure, these same activities feel empty. These last two weekends, where I've had no work to do, no impending tests, no upcoming events, I've felt strange. It's ridiculous to look back on a weekend and realize I was sitting in front of a computer all day, refreshing my inbox and bookmarks, waiting for an update.
Time for a new hobby? That was the first thought that came to mind. But I have enough hobbies. Magic, musical instruments, video editing, These are all areas that I've dipped into and should develop further. I have all the information but am not using it.
I guess it's fitting that I don't anticipate much free time in the near future.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
Once in a Lifetime
Take any kid from junior high and you'll find someone who is absolutely, positively ready for a once in a lifetime event. He will know exactly what to do when thrust on the stage of a rock concert, given the ball in the final seconds, or presented with love at first sight.
Fast forward to professional life. Somewhere growing up, that awareness of the unexpected is lost. Take healthcare, for example. Each symptom is a piece of the puzzle that contributes to the diagnosis. Taking all the signs together, one can make a pretty strong case: let's say with 90% certainty. Good enough, they say: to claim absolute certainty is both foolish and impossible. And when we gain these satisfactory leads, we must follow them. There's not a doctor in the world who will say, "Oh look, it's the same case as the last nine that I saw. But this being the tenth, I should pick the 10% option." Not only would that sort of reasoning be mathematically unsound, it would never hold up in court.
But here's the weird part. Eventually, that rare case will come. Without a doubt. And we will choose the wrong course of action. 100% of the time. It's as if we are slaves to our experience. The irony is that although we associate experience with better judgment, it also cements the inevitable wrong choice.
This vulnerability frustrates me because there seems to be no easy remedy. There's no way to protect against it without costing inordinate amounts of time, effort, and money. Maybe this is the modern day Sword of Damocles, a peril ever present to remind us of our limitations.
I hope this .0001% event happens to me soon. Get it out of the way, and with such low chances, it's unlikely to happen twice in a lifetime....right?
Hmmmmmm....
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Fast forward to professional life. Somewhere growing up, that awareness of the unexpected is lost. Take healthcare, for example. Each symptom is a piece of the puzzle that contributes to the diagnosis. Taking all the signs together, one can make a pretty strong case: let's say with 90% certainty. Good enough, they say: to claim absolute certainty is both foolish and impossible. And when we gain these satisfactory leads, we must follow them. There's not a doctor in the world who will say, "Oh look, it's the same case as the last nine that I saw. But this being the tenth, I should pick the 10% option." Not only would that sort of reasoning be mathematically unsound, it would never hold up in court.
But here's the weird part. Eventually, that rare case will come. Without a doubt. And we will choose the wrong course of action. 100% of the time. It's as if we are slaves to our experience. The irony is that although we associate experience with better judgment, it also cements the inevitable wrong choice.
This vulnerability frustrates me because there seems to be no easy remedy. There's no way to protect against it without costing inordinate amounts of time, effort, and money. Maybe this is the modern day Sword of Damocles, a peril ever present to remind us of our limitations.
I hope this .0001% event happens to me soon. Get it out of the way, and with such low chances, it's unlikely to happen twice in a lifetime....right?
Hmmmmmm....
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Friday, April 2, 2010
Spring Break
This spring break, I learned how to shop for housing. After dodging sketchy neighborhoods, cougars, pets, and children, the final matchup was clear:
In the blue corner, a near perfect loft/studio, fully furnished. Leather chairs, a cedar kitchen table, and a full kitchen. It was the perfect bachelor pad. The rent: $900/month, including utilities
In the red corner, right across the street, one bedroom of a house owned by a couple. Barebone: a tiny ikea computer desk stations, an old mattress, and a grimy mirror. Rent: $500/month, including utilities.
The verdict: 500/month wins. It was a hard choice; that studio was amazing. I still remember how I felt when I climbed the stairs and was met at once with the whole room. It felt like a picture of my future, how I'd live when I graduate.
But I need to stay grounded. $400 extra a month isn't anything to laugh at. Over two years, that will add up to $9600 extra. Calculate a 6% interest on the student loans and the net result after ten years will be an additional $20,000 to pay off.
Sometimes, when I rationalize myself out of things I want, I wish I wasn't so good at math :)
In the blue corner, a near perfect loft/studio, fully furnished. Leather chairs, a cedar kitchen table, and a full kitchen. It was the perfect bachelor pad. The rent: $900/month, including utilities
In the red corner, right across the street, one bedroom of a house owned by a couple. Barebone: a tiny ikea computer desk stations, an old mattress, and a grimy mirror. Rent: $500/month, including utilities.
The verdict: 500/month wins. It was a hard choice; that studio was amazing. I still remember how I felt when I climbed the stairs and was met at once with the whole room. It felt like a picture of my future, how I'd live when I graduate.
But I need to stay grounded. $400 extra a month isn't anything to laugh at. Over two years, that will add up to $9600 extra. Calculate a 6% interest on the student loans and the net result after ten years will be an additional $20,000 to pay off.
Sometimes, when I rationalize myself out of things I want, I wish I wasn't so good at math :)
Saturday, March 13, 2010
and now, introducing the newest member of the family
...the Breadman! This little machine boasts perfectly made bread every time, just add some contents, set it and forget it.
First impressions: high maintenance! I had fun measuring out the ingredients, which reminded me of my chemistry days in college. But the specificity annoyed me. 3/4 cups + 1 tablespoon of water? I'm used to cooking real time, whether stir frying or barbecue, and methods have never been THAT exact. To stress over one tablespoon of water was something unusual to me. But this was the first time, so I begrudgingly complied.
Second impression: the device is a maniac. Like, Pomeranian, honeycomb monster, gremlin, take your pick. It can't make up its mind which way it wants to turn. First right, then left. I was trying to scrape some dough off the side and it nearly took my hand off. It also is so sporadic with the speed that it nearly vibrated its way off the table it was set on. I'm going to have to put a leash on it.
Third impression: The final bread is pretty darn good, so it looks like I'm going to have to suffer and get used to it. So far, white and egg bread have been winners, and I'm going to step up to the next level tonight: coconut pineapple pound cake!
First impressions: high maintenance! I had fun measuring out the ingredients, which reminded me of my chemistry days in college. But the specificity annoyed me. 3/4 cups + 1 tablespoon of water? I'm used to cooking real time, whether stir frying or barbecue, and methods have never been THAT exact. To stress over one tablespoon of water was something unusual to me. But this was the first time, so I begrudgingly complied.
Second impression: the device is a maniac. Like, Pomeranian, honeycomb monster, gremlin, take your pick. It can't make up its mind which way it wants to turn. First right, then left. I was trying to scrape some dough off the side and it nearly took my hand off. It also is so sporadic with the speed that it nearly vibrated its way off the table it was set on. I'm going to have to put a leash on it.
Third impression: The final bread is pretty darn good, so it looks like I'm going to have to suffer and get used to it. So far, white and egg bread have been winners, and I'm going to step up to the next level tonight: coconut pineapple pound cake!
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Pieces of a Puzzle
Isn't it awesome when you can look to the past and see how random events, done without purpose or plan, form one logical, continuous chain of events?
16 months ago: I go to a doctor and he uses a flexible laryngoscope to examine my vocal cords.
14 months ago: I start working for that doctor, preparing other patients for the scope, applying topical anesthesia and setting up the equipment.
6 months ago: I purchase and assemble equipment (camera, xenon light source, plasma tv, recording adaptor) for a new fiberoptic laryngoscope system in the office.
2 weeks ago: The physician shows me how to hold a laryngoscope. After hours, when patients have left, I practice controlling it.
Today, 11:00 AM: I prepare a patient for the scope, placing local anesthesia and decongestant in both nostrils. For the first time, I decide to place an additional cotton swab in the left nostril. Something about that side feels too loose.
Today, 11:04 AM: The patient decides to tell me his life story, and requests to know mine. Normally, I make an exit, citing a busy schedule. However, today I decide to stay and converse.
Today, 11:10 AM: The doctor tells me to glove up and operate the scope myself, while he stands beside me. I hold it as he showed me. The patient, knowing my background, enthusiastically agrees. The left nostril is clear. I slowly insert the scope along the floor of the nose. Crouching low, sneaking under the inferior turbinate, I slip by the Eustachian tube and make a nosedive into full view of the trachea.
Today was a 60 second experience made possible by 14 months of work. And it was totally worth it.
16 months ago: I go to a doctor and he uses a flexible laryngoscope to examine my vocal cords.
14 months ago: I start working for that doctor, preparing other patients for the scope, applying topical anesthesia and setting up the equipment.
6 months ago: I purchase and assemble equipment (camera, xenon light source, plasma tv, recording adaptor) for a new fiberoptic laryngoscope system in the office.
2 weeks ago: The physician shows me how to hold a laryngoscope. After hours, when patients have left, I practice controlling it.
Today, 11:00 AM: I prepare a patient for the scope, placing local anesthesia and decongestant in both nostrils. For the first time, I decide to place an additional cotton swab in the left nostril. Something about that side feels too loose.
Today, 11:04 AM: The patient decides to tell me his life story, and requests to know mine. Normally, I make an exit, citing a busy schedule. However, today I decide to stay and converse.
Today, 11:10 AM: The doctor tells me to glove up and operate the scope myself, while he stands beside me. I hold it as he showed me. The patient, knowing my background, enthusiastically agrees. The left nostril is clear. I slowly insert the scope along the floor of the nose. Crouching low, sneaking under the inferior turbinate, I slip by the Eustachian tube and make a nosedive into full view of the trachea.
Today was a 60 second experience made possible by 14 months of work. And it was totally worth it.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
The Chicken or the Egg, Musical style
Hubris:
Someone asked me if an accidental applied to all the octaves in one measure, or only that note. I quickly answered: all. It's what I've always done, in 20 years of arpeggios. My questioner looked very disappointed. He had previously argued strongly for the other camp.
Turns out I was wrong. Went home and looked up the rules on the gold standard of accuracy (wikipedia). But I was curious as to why I was so sure of my answer. I started asking other musicians. Most fell into the same trap I did.
I wondered what the reason was for this oversight. Looking through my old music, I began to see the new patterns. What I thought to be courtesy to the musician was actually a rule to the system. I selfishly had thought that everything on that sheet of music was for me, and that those markings were no more than a helpful reminder of my own personal rules. Maybe they still are. Wikipedia fails too, right?
But at least it sparked a question: when does a courtesy become a rule? I know I often do inconvenient things to be polite. But when we saturate our lives with these rituals, will we have the freedom to take back the habit? How will society react when we realize, while eating out in a large party, that waiting for all the food to arrive before eating results in n-1 lukewarm servings? and that, in casting shame on the eater of the last piece, we require vigilance at the dinner table, all eyes open for the penultimate portion?
I wish I could think of examples that don't involve food. That would give this matter more weight :)
Questions of the Day: Did you know about the octave accidental rule? And what are the stupidest manners you still do? Or that you're fighting?
Someone asked me if an accidental applied to all the octaves in one measure, or only that note. I quickly answered: all. It's what I've always done, in 20 years of arpeggios. My questioner looked very disappointed. He had previously argued strongly for the other camp.
Turns out I was wrong. Went home and looked up the rules on the gold standard of accuracy (wikipedia). But I was curious as to why I was so sure of my answer. I started asking other musicians. Most fell into the same trap I did.
I wondered what the reason was for this oversight. Looking through my old music, I began to see the new patterns. What I thought to be courtesy to the musician was actually a rule to the system. I selfishly had thought that everything on that sheet of music was for me, and that those markings were no more than a helpful reminder of my own personal rules. Maybe they still are. Wikipedia fails too, right?
But at least it sparked a question: when does a courtesy become a rule? I know I often do inconvenient things to be polite. But when we saturate our lives with these rituals, will we have the freedom to take back the habit? How will society react when we realize, while eating out in a large party, that waiting for all the food to arrive before eating results in n-1 lukewarm servings? and that, in casting shame on the eater of the last piece, we require vigilance at the dinner table, all eyes open for the penultimate portion?
I wish I could think of examples that don't involve food. That would give this matter more weight :)
Questions of the Day: Did you know about the octave accidental rule? And what are the stupidest manners you still do? Or that you're fighting?
It's time to gross yourself out
Imagine microwaving a stick of butter. Pour it all over your hands. Feel how it makes webs between your fingers; hear how it glistens as you rub your palms together. Try rolling over a 200 lb log now. Fail once. Feel it budge, then roll back. Fail again. Give up and call it a day.
If you were able to picture that vividly, congratulations, you can skip class...
...if your class is the one where your assignment is to yank away a two inch layer of fat off a cadaver. The harder I pulled, the slicker it got (I'll let you figure out why). The slicker it was, the harder I held. Rinse (change gloves) and repeat ad nauseam.
If you were able to picture that vividly, congratulations, you can skip class...
...if your class is the one where your assignment is to yank away a two inch layer of fat off a cadaver. The harder I pulled, the slicker it got (I'll let you figure out why). The slicker it was, the harder I held. Rinse (change gloves) and repeat ad nauseam.
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