cuz produces

I’m pleased to announce that two of my friends have recently found academic positions for the coming year. First, Dr. Matthew Gebhardt will be heading off to Sheffield, England, where my “Potter” ancestors worked at some profession or other before emigrating to the US. And second, JY Kim, Esq. has at the last minute obtained a position at Ajoo University in Seoul, which basically completes his quest to establish a academic foothold that combines law and environmental planning. He has chosen the risky path and emerged victorious.

Congratulations!

Babo, who has taken many similar photos, sends this link to Michael Wolf’s photos of skyscrapers.

I’m about, but still trying to get our world in order. Had to get the car repaired, to go for doctor’s appointments, to fret over feeding, and exploding diapers. Crazy and a bit frustrating for the last two days, but good, good, good.

Sienna Jane finally made her appearance last night. Most followups will be here once I manage to get things together.

The NYTimes has a story today on the decline of Bend, Oregon as immigrants from California discover that their quest for a better life has run aground in the current economic storm. Along the lines of Richard Florida’s destination cities for the economically productive, these families sold (or tried to sell) their houses in California and start new lives in Oregon, where the air was cleaner and the lifestyle amenities abundant. As the bubble bursts, jobs are vanishing and stores are regearing themselves for lower budgets.

Without pushing it too far, we might consider this decline an indicator that talent alone is not sufficient for economic development today. Rather, it would suggest that a strong base of economic activity must exist for talent to build upon. (That said, we should wait to see if these areas fare better in the long run than areas without the same degree of human resource.)

Meanwhile, Barbara Ehrenreich warns us that this ‘recession porn’ fetish for the fall of the superrich and middle classes overlooks the ongoing plight of the 20-30% of our nation’s citizens who are already poor. Things haven’t gotten any better for them.

I’m now convinced that Sienna Jane is not now waiting for a new lesson as much as she is waiting for the jackhammering across the street to stop.  Though what I can only imagine is another example of the incompetence that has made the construction project across the street take over three years so far, they have been spending the week jackhammering a trench along the sidewalk that they have already cemented once.

So far they’ve done about a third of the total length, so I guess we have two weeks to go.

Given the ultimately incomprehensible transformation I’m now in the midst of, it’s only natural that I would search for or find poetic depth in the events now happening around me. I don’t know if others do, but I’ll bet most look for some sort of meaning or sign. I don’t believe there is any meaning other than that I choose to bring, but I believe we must bring some anyway…or allow the resonance of imagery to work its subconscious magic.

So, since the robin episode (after which I loudly announce myself as I’m heading down the fated path, “Bird-killer coming through. Watch out! Bird-killer riding!”), two deep emotional incidents have occured, of which I’ll only share the rudimentary elements.

First, expecting a still womb-ridden baby to arrive at any moment, I managed to leave the car headlights on, killing the battery, and when I went to jump it, I fried the cable to the alternator. A tow truck driver offered to splice a wire in for me, and I let him try rather than spend a day at a garage. It worked. But I wasn’t completely comfortable with the home remedy, so I checked it out. The wires seemed a little hot under the electrical tape, and I called the one resource I trusted in these matters: Dad. A discussion about wire gauges and parallel DC current ensued, followed by my decision to splice another wire to the existing one to spread the current out and my dad’s promise to bring some supplies down to make sure it’s a solid repair. (My dad is an electrical engineer.) My relief at receiving his support made me realize how much I have learned from him and depend upon him, and how much I am still learning from and depending on him. Most of our conservation couldn’t have taken place if he hadn’t taught me about electrical circuits and about basic repair. Basically, it produced a moment in which I realized what a wonderful father mine is and began to get some inkling about the reliability and reason a good father should possess.

The second episode occurred this afternoon. After our doctor’s appointment, YK and I went out for a snazzy lunch on Christmas gift cards from my aunt and cousin and then headed for the Museum of Art and Design (MAD), which, despite having some good stuff, turned out to be less good stuff than when YK had first gone. But, as I was ordering “One adult and one student ticket, please,” someone tapped me on the shoulder and an oddly familiar voice asked for directions to the subway station. I turned to respond, only to see one of my closest friends from college and San Francisco standing there with his lovely wife and angelic daughter. I hadn’t seen him since his wedding and a brief, awkward, and poorly coordinated visit maybe seven years ago. Again a little awkward, but incredibly good. He’s certainly one of the biggest influences in my life and a wonderful human being. So, to reconnect, if only briefly, was just remarkably positive.

I can only wonder if there’s more for which Sienna is waiting, or if the world has covered the bases needed for me to make the proper emotional adjustments and it’s time to move forward. Or perhaps there are bases to cover for YK. Regardless, I’m getting more excited (and emotional!) all the time.

Welcome, Sienna! Welcome, World!

As if I needed things to get crazier now that birth is likely in the next day and a half, I’ve got to get the car repaired. Thursday I left the lights on and killed the battery. Instead of wasting a call to AAA, I decided I’d buy a battery booster, since I obviously need one. I found a local one and waited 36 hours for it to charge. Unfortunately, it only powered up the lights and indicators but didn’t provide enough juice to power the car up. Or…I connected the negative cable to the wrong place. (I chose a bolt that wasn’t on the engine block.)

Anyway, after breaking down and calling AAA, someone nearby offered to give me a jump. The result was smoke and flames. A small burst on a battery cable that I was able to blow out easily. The wire was fried.

I don’t know if it’s related to the slight electrical burning smell I believed I’d been sensing or not, but the result is that with YK ready to go into labor at any moment, I have to try to get the car towed to a nearby service station before street cleaning tomorrow (using up yet another AAA call for the year). And I have to hope Sienna Jane gives me some time…

[Thank god I like in NYC where there are abundant transportation alternatives!]

[UPDATE: The problem has been resolved. The guy who came to tow the car offered to splice a wire in, like the guy did yesterday. This time I let him. Everything worked great. I'll get a proper cable and fix the fuel injector in a few weeks (?).

Special bonus: The tow truck came late, i.e., after streetcleaning hours had started, but the traffic officer gave us no trouble at all. She simply asked if the black car behind (a Lexus) was ours.  I said, "No, but I wish it was." She said, "Me, too," and didn't even ask for an explanation of our situation. Cops can be human! (Because it's not the end of the month and their quota isn't coming up?) And Sienna Jane has waited.

Now I just feel a bit shitty that I gave the guy $10 instead of $20.]

Ouroussoff is right on the mark about Ratner’s new stadium for Atlantic Yards.  Definitely a travesty for the city…and one that will not overcome the stunning success that the Broadway closings will achieve for Bloomberg as he heads for the next election.

I crushed the voice of spring.

On my usual route to the western terminus of Long Island Sound, I was bombing down the bike path and chanced upon a robin. This was a familiar encounter. I rush down upon birds in the path, and robins in particular wait until I’m nearly upon them before dahing perpindicularly across my path, making it extremely difficult for me to turn abruptly in pursuit (not that I’ve tried, mind you!).

Today, the robin didn’t move.

As I came abreast of it, the robin exclaimed in fright. The bad premonition of this induced me to look back. I saw a most discomfiting flailing and flopping. I didn’t know what to do and so continued on to ask the Sound, passing the track suit-bedecked morning walk regular. From the rock perch that is my morning destination, I asked the Sound for the meaning of such a horrible experience days before my daughter is born. The Sound had no answer, but it was populated by a number of robins hopping about the shore’s seaweed.

On the way back, I stopped to check in on the robin. The grey film over its eye assured me it was now flying about in new clouds and breezes. I felt obliged to move it under a nearby tree and some dandelions that I imagined were daisies. In the process, I saw that its left eye was still black. This emblem of new life and warmer climes had been blind in one eye. I wished, “May all your flights be soaring and your earthworms fat,” and left.

And the ride ended with an odd moment of punctuation. Arriving home, an older woman from across the hall, who I rarely see, was exercising with a visiting nurse. My immediate impression from her creaking walker and weak stare was that she had suffered a stroke.

I wish they one of these in each subway car here in NYC.

My advisor and I have been talking here and there about getting netbooks and the netbook he got (Samsung, I think, because it had a full-size keyboard). As a consequence of his purchase, I have just come into ownership of a Thinkpad X40, which weighs in at 3lbs 14oz with the plug. This is a 1.5 pounds lighter than my Toshiba Portege 4005. It’s also twice as fast. And it’s half the size.

And that makes me think that Peter’s decision to buy a new netbook a negative consequence of Page’s Law. I spent most of today trying unsuccessfully to update the BIOS and install Linux from a USB. After dinner, for some reason (new wireless adapter driver, completely new install of XP that removed all the programs that had accumulated), everything went swimmingly. The only thing left are a few updates, an installation of awesome wm, and some file transfers.

But what is Page’s Law? Gawker’s Valleywag has the answer.

The weekend was spent cleaning and home improving for Sienna. But it didn’t happen before I’d communicated with one of the main pgfSweave developers and realized that the real goal is to avoid repeating R code in the woven document. That is, all R code should be written only once. This is a more reliable programming approach, since every change happens only in one place. And it turns out that my original contribution was not much of a contribution, as \SweaveInput does effectively the same thing.

So this combo compelled me to see if I could keep the R code unique and process it over several input files. I finally figured out how to do it Friday night. The result is a minor modification of the previous version. Unfortunately, it needs more direct manipulation for each particular compilation. And while it does not appear to have the speed of pgfSweave, some unreliable tests indicate that this file may be more reliable in incorporating textual changes. And you still get LaTex typesetting.

(And now that it’s functional for my desires,  I’ve purged this from my system and moved on to awesome.)

# Makefile for pgfSweave and complex latex projects — allows LaTeX typesetting and sequential R code across included files, but may not take advantage of pgfSweave’s caching abilities
#

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Today, as I was walking to Good N’ Natural on White Plains Road, I passed a portly man in a disheveled, red, lumber-jack shirt. As he approached, he arched his head back to give his fingers generous access to his nostrils, of which his fingers took immediate advantage. He proceeded to smear his detritus on a lightpost. In the moment it took me to piece the sensory narrative together, the man’s head arced back again, several fingers went in for a vigorous scrub, and the remnants were wiped down the side of the very next parking meter. As I was passing him, I turned to be sure of my hypothesis, and the entire cycle was beginning again with perfect timing for the next parking meter.

I just realized that the file below probably constitutes my first contribution to open source software, even if my contributions are really the minor ones. In order to elegantly present my dissertation, I’ve been avoiding writing it in favor of getting pgfSweave to work with my project. (See next post.) A good chunk of the last several days was spent trying to write a makefile that would build my final pdf for me. To save others the pain, I’ve decided to share my file and comment it copiously.

If you’re using LaTeX, R, and pgfSweave in a project that involves using “\include{}” to separate out your chapters or other chunks of writing, this code’s for you.

# Makefile for pgfSweave and complex latex projects
#

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