Ap-pap-pap-pap-pap-pap-pap-pap-lications

I'm having issues properly articulating my feelings about Steve Jobs dying. It feels a little like the death of a second cousin twice removed or however you wish to define that guy you met once at a family gathering and continued to hear about over the years through the grapevine.

The cousin that was a genius with a reality distortion field. Yeah, I hear that he did act like a real jerk much of the time, and that was kind-of part and parcel with the whole deal.

I hear people sneer at "Mac fanboys" and Macs a lot. All I can think, every single time, is "Do you like the internet? Do you happen to know what kind of system it was invented on? Oh, you've never heard of NeXT? GET THE FUCK OFF MY LAWN."

I grew up alongside the Mac OS. I believe it was the ][gs (but I'm not positive, forgot to ask my dad, and can't find the answer after a desultory search of the Interwebs), but one of the early systems had a recording of Steve talking about how awesome this new computer was and stuff. That's not important. What IS important is that this was the sample in a sound editing program. Basic stuff, like the ability to copy one short part of dialogue (like, oh say, the "pap" sound out of "applications") and then re-insert it a whole bunch of times so instead of a smooth speech, the word sounded more like "apapapapapapapapapap...lications." Not the most complex edit in the world, but to a young girl, it was HILARIOUS. Also then apparently I recorded something that started with me saying "Hello Mr. Computer..."

When I say I'm a child of Silicon Valley, I don't just mean location. In fact, we didn't move over the hill until I was 8. Before then we lived over on the coast in Montara, which was full of all sorts of weirdos. Jef Raskin lived a few houses down from my parents before he moved into a classy house over in Pacifica (and by "classy" I mean "not falling apart and really kind of sketchy in an endearing way like the great majority of houses in Montara"). One aspect of the early computer industry that I think a lot of people either forget or don't know is that it was a originally a bunch of completely crazy nerdy weirdos who did this stuff for fun. My dad went to the Homebrew Computer Club meetings at SLAC (though he wasn't at the one where the Steves introduced the Apple and doesn't actually remember seeing Jobs there...though I pointed out that it was a lot of super crazy brilliant weirdos in one small space and maybe he blended in).  My mom went to a few of the meetings and mostly remembers that someone would pull out something like a home-made logic board with a bunch of wires and a display of lights that would flash 888888 and everyone else would get super excited and crowd around it.  When my parents went to the West Coast Computer Faire (where they met the arguably psychotic Captain Crunch), they had their picture taken and then it was digitized and printed out using ASCII symbols. We're talking CUTTING EDGE SHIT here!!!

The only time I remember formally meeting Steve Jobs was at a NeXT Christmas party. My sister must have been 9 or 10 and was not at all pleased about having to wear a nice clothes. In fact, she insisted on bringing jeans with us in the car (I assume so she could change into them afterwards). Anyway, at some point during the party, Steve arrived and my parents introduced us to him. The man was wearing a full-on Canadian leisure suit: beat-up jeans and a denim jacket. As soon as we were done talking with him and he walked off, my sister turned around, went out to the car and changed into her jeans.

I don't care how iconic the silver haired guy in a black turtleneck became. Every time anyone mentions Steve Jobs, the image I get in my mind is of that dark-haired dude in the jeans and jean jacket at a company Christmas party.  That, and a voice saying "apapapapapapapapapapapap...."

Be Seeing You.

"I happen to have some Paleo-bond at home."

Last night I was a foolish fool without eye protection and I sprayed carburetor cleaner in my eye. To be fair, I was spraying it ON something and it was splash-back that I got in my eye, so it's way less dumb than it could be, but still. It was a pretty idiotic move.


It turns out that 2+ decades of reading safety labels has paid off because I knew exactly how   one is supposed to respond to that situation.  How many times have you read some variation of, "run cold water over eye for 15 minutes"?. In retrospect, I should have just gotten in the shower, but I didn't think of it at the time. I tried the sink first (extremely awkward), then the hose for a long while(it's really cool to stare down the barrel of a running hose), and then my mom kindly obliged me by running saline and water over my eye for a good 10 or so minutes. The hardest part of it wasn't so much the sensation of water directly on the eyeball as managing to not drown while attempting that. When you're running water over your eyeball with a hose or from a tap, the water splashes all over your nose and mouth. It makes it hard to breathe. We obviously need to get a lab-style eyewash sink installed. 


Today you can hardly tell which eye it was, so it really wasn't that bad. At the time, I did think, "Well what's the worst that could happen? I guess I could go blind in one eye. Hey, at least it's not both eyes!"  Also, though this was all kinds of crazy solvents, I'm pretty sure it doesn't have anything extremely corrosive in the mix, which was good news for my sclera and friends.  


Totally worth it though. I have the beginnings of my Halloween costume. Jabba is going to look repulsive. 


In other news, I went into the lab for the first time since I left for Burning Man.  I friggin' adore the Foothill Anthro department. School starts on Monday, so everyone there was in HOLY SHIT OMFG!!! mode which is always hilarious and amazing to witness. When I walked in, most of this writing was already on the board. 

Yes, I blurred out her face because I'm paranoid about the Interwebs.

There are one or two things we need to do.

My coworkers decided that getting me into grad school was a lab goal.  Two of them are looking to do PhD's, and realized they should add themselves to that list too. It's a good thing we ran out of whiteboard space, because god knows what else we would have gone into listing. Though if you're really good at reading tiny scrawl, you can see it says "dry erase"on there because it was determined that we could really use another board. 

Be Seeing You.

Oh hai guys!

"GONNA TAKE A LOT TO TAKE ME AWAY FROM YOUUUUUUU...."

Oh, sorry. That was just me singing along to some really quality music. I've compiled a list for my drive that combines the music we listened to in Ecuador and other random shit I've listened to compulsively on the way to Burning Man in the past. I'm giving someone a ride back to San Francisco, and by that point, I'm pretty sure it won't particularly faze her that I'm belting out bad dance music ballads, our site song, Baby Got Back, a song from the Goofy movie, our other site song, and dancing to some Ghanian pop music and a quality selection of others. Incidentally, I'd never seen the Aben wo aha music video before. So good. Apparently when my cousin/surrogate brother (who is not actually blood related) was in Ghana, when this came on in the market, everyone put their shit down to dance, and then when the song was over, resumed normal actions. Like that scene in the Cantina, except with Daddy Lumba and Ghana and a marketplace rather than Obi Wan, Tattoine, and the most wretched hive of scum and villainy you will....Uh...I can't remember how the line ends. Clearly it's been too long since I watched Star Wars.

OKay, I'm going to go continue on some art. This is part of what my brain looks like right now (it's important that you listen to the correct soundtrack (it's only :30 of bad acting before you hit the unfairly catchy tune):

Also, I learned drinking games for Roxanne and Thunderstruck. There was a lot of drinking on that trip. Well, lots for me. Mostly because there were no other intoxicants. Not that I would ever indulge in other intoxicants. Except chocolate.

Also I had my nails done. Only after it was done, I realized that the color would not match with my dress for the wedding. Then I decided to go with it. That also means I can wear my maroon shoes and not bother getting new ones.

Be Seeing You

"The Technology's Taking Over!!"

I got derailed and still haven't even started Fire Monks. I like that I'm procrastinating on reading a book about Buddhism

Moving Holes: Growing Up Western Soto Zen Buddhist

I'm about to start reading Fire Monks which chronicles the 2008 Basin Complex fire and the efforts to protect Tassajara.

When I was a child, there were two tales at the core of my personal mythological cannon: May Day on the Yale campus*, and the defense of Tassajara against the Marble Cone fire of '77.

This can be the latter story for the next generation.  I've yet to read this rendition of it, but I already know one version of this tale.  I remember seeing Tassajara smack in the middle of the "burn box" (a huge tract of fire-adapted wilderness area that the forest service decided to let burn), the "3 Day Fire" (the fire was "going to arrive in three days" for weeks), and the day the fire finally hit. I remember simultaneously worrying about my home and accepting that it might burn down. I remember going in 10 days after the fire had passed with ashes coating everything and smoke from Miller Canyon heavy in the air. I know the awesome ecology of the story in far, far greater detail than I'm sure is discussed in this book and the amazing response of the landscape.  For me, the fire also means two weeks of shoveling sandbags and cutting brush to prepare for the massive landslides and floods that could have resulted (they didn't much, but that's not the point. The point is that I spent two weeks filling sandbags by hand and then Tommy Little Bear came in with his sandbag making machine and made about five times as many in something like two days. This didn't particularly bother me; I'm familiar with moving walls several inches & piles of firewood several feet. Sometimes, that's just how it goes. Actually, I still feel a deep connection with sandbags. Bizarre, I know.)

I am aware that, as with anything involving a community of people, there exist certain complex webs of feeling surrounding the publication of Fire Monks and the portrayal of the "Tassajara Five" as heroes...or something.  For me, it 'boils' down to an afternoon in the hot plunge in the Summer of 2009 (I can't remember all of the exact words, so DON'T QUOTE ME ON THIS EXCHANGE, YOU FOOLS) when a woman visiting from another Zen center turned to Mako and said something along the lines of,

"I just really really wanted to thank you."
Mako, genuinely confused, replied with something akin to (but more gracious than),"wait...for what?" Woman: "Uh...saving Tassajara!"
Mako: "Oooh right. That." [general laughter and joking at her initial befuddlement]
Mako: [in a disaffected hipster voice] "The fire was so 2008."

For me, this story will never be about ego or politics or outside perceptions, or any of the other things some members of the SFZC community may carry.  In my mind, it's about sandbags, a monk eating a pint of Ben and Jerry's with a spoon, and fields full of flowers you only see in the immediate wake of a fire.

As Gene DeSmidt wrote:

THEY ARE NOT HEROES
JUST 5 PRACTICING ZEN MONKS.....
IN DIFFERENT ROBES !

Plus, this photo is hilarious:

I think my favorite part is Graham's hat (far left). 

Be Seeing You

*that story involves the trial of Bobby Seale, the National Guard, and a brilliant diplomacy move by the Dean of the college. It's a great story. Maybe someday I'll share with you the rendition I've heard over the years.

"I don't think the Inkas had a sustainable empire."

I'm back from llama lland. Time to dive into Space Madness.

Photobooth: it makes my life easier.

Be Seeing You.

Boil Update: I ate cuy whilst in Ecuador. I didn't eat the brain, but I did try to eat the eye. Except the retina/iris/pupil was too hard. I did eat fish eye though. In the case of the cuy, I discovered that I was much less disconcerted by eating the head than friends who ate meat. For me, eating the head is just like eating any other body part. Okay, tongue is kind-of scary. Not going to lie. It was a glorious moment on my trip when this other girl was like, "um...I don't want to eat a cuy head, but once you've finished eating, can I look at your dinner?"  See, people? I AM NOT THE ONLY PERSON WHO DOES THIS.

It took me over a year to finish this damn thing, but in that time, only one person thought of it. ONE PERSON on the interwebs. Interwebs, you are falling down on the job. Or sleeping. Or something. Look, the point is (there is no point): 

When I thought of this, I was worried posting it might break the interwebs. I'm no longer in the throes of delusion.

Three Bad Wolf Moon (#3BWM)

 Be Seeing You. 

.....actually I won't be seeing you for about a month, Interwebs.