I'm going to start with "the ugly." Yeah. It was not my best vacation.
The Ugly
As predicted, attendance was definitely down, and it was definitely the party crowd that sat this one out. Many party rooms didn't happen. The ones that did closed pretty early.
I don't really have an explanation for this next part, but even though more people paid than attended (because no refunds were given), they seemed to be very strapped for cash this year. No snacks in the movie rooms, and instead of soup, they had packets of ramen. The opening "comedy" production was something you would expect any random high school class might through together in a half hour. And it turned out to be just a thinly veiled lecture on how men should not take advantage of women. The punchline was literally that harassment is something men do to women.
The Bad
Speaking of which, they wasted quite a bit of my time going over how to not harass women, what our preferred pronouns are, and things like that. A panel on meditation and mindfulness turned out to be a panel on how you can use meditation to overcome extremely stressful situations, like when the candidate you would prefer become president doesn't win.
The Good
Well... Lower attendance meant they had the AC situation under control. And it was easier to get into panels. The Skeptchick people stayed away, so that was a plus. And I really enjoyed a panel where two of the creators of Gargoyles talk about making it, and hopes to make more.
Plus, this new crowd was less drunk, less wild, and wearing more clothes. Which is bad for me, but kids and parents seemed to take advantage of that.
_____________________________________________
I am very over the excitement of Convergence. It once seemed like a chance to hang out with people who are like me, and share my interests. I know now the average person there does share some interests, but they are nothing like me.
And this sounds a little silly, but being next to the Mall might be a factor too. I think get a lot of my fill of people watching and the unique items for sale from there on a weekly basis.
Thursday, July 12, 2018
Friday, July 6, 2018
Volunteer's Lament II
Advanced Math with love
I as volunteer, three boys
Summer comes, I go home.
copyright Walter R. Jost
I as volunteer, three boys
Summer comes, I go home.
copyright Walter R. Jost
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Thursday, July 5, 2018
New Watch
When smart watches first started showing up, I thought they were pretty cool. I love new gadgets. I just didn't see a need for one. Then the other day my bank account equaled my credit card debt. So, I paid off one of the cards, and purchased an Apple Watch.
The Good
It is fantastic at being a watch. You can have many faces to switch between depending on what you are up to. For example, I use the Mickey Mouse face when I'm in bed. It lets me clearly display when I have an alarm set for, without any other clutter. And Mickey reads the time if I tap it, without having to open my eyes.
Plus Siri is really good at setting alarms and timers. That is very handy in a watch. And just in general, more features than I've ever had in a watch.
Another important function of a watch is to look good. I specifically got this because I had a really flashy watch band that needed a flashy watch. My grandmother had a men's gold watch band that she found more comfortable because her wrists were a little swollen in later in life. I got it when she died. I do think they look good together.
The Bad
It is not super functional as a cell phone peripheral. I had hoped it could control my phone some, and it's really not good at that. I can't start music or podcasts. It doesn't display the artwork of the music that's playing, although it does say the track info. I can play and pause the music, but I could do that already with my headphones. And there have been several times I have asked Siri to do something, and she did understand me, but told me I'd need to ask again on my phone.
I have some hope that functionality will increase. Google certainly could make an app for it that lets me control my music more, for example. Or Apple could. Also, Apple teased a lot more powerful Siri automation that is supposed to be coming in the next few months. So, we'll see.
The Ugly
The most disappointing feature of this watch has been the charging situation. I have charged it every day for a few minutes since I got it, and it seems like I needed that. I think it would be dead if I ever let it go 48 hours without a charge.
And the charging cable is... odd. It connects magnetically, but not super firmly, so I have unplugged it by bumping it. I could get peripherals that would help with that. But my thoughts were to find a different kind of cable, so I would have a couple of options, and a spare. It turns out these cables are start at $20. That's a lot for a cable.
I did have to buy the watch at full price, because I couldn't find any good clearance or refurbished deals on it. Knowing what I know now, I would not have payed $350 for the watch. In a way, not knowing a good thing, because I'm really glad I have it, and it does make me happy.
Thursday, June 28, 2018
A Volunteer's Lament
Our learning time together,
three boys and me,
is somewhat accidental,
but still
special, fraught, loving.
The school year ends,
our time does, too.
We gather together
as usual,
each of us knowing
this won't happen again.
I give them special problems,
they return effort;
we enjoy the struggle
for truth, and solutions.
When the time is up
we bravely share goodbyes.
I pick up the pieces,
leave the school, drive home.
Deep melancholy is
an unwelcome guest.
Dare I believe I'll find
a special set of kids
next year?
I do. I am comforted.
three boys and me,
is somewhat accidental,
but still
special, fraught, loving.
The school year ends,
our time does, too.
We gather together
as usual,
each of us knowing
this won't happen again.
I give them special problems,
they return effort;
we enjoy the struggle
for truth, and solutions.
When the time is up
we bravely share goodbyes.
I pick up the pieces,
leave the school, drive home.
Deep melancholy is
an unwelcome guest.
Dare I believe I'll find
a special set of kids
next year?
I do. I am comforted.
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Convergence 2018 #2
Convergence is a week away, and I have done... nothing.
For starters, I did get my diet on track, but far too late to be relevant for the convention. Which makes me much less interested in a new costume. I do have a couple of older costumes after all. But there is the booze issue.
A big part of the convention has always been the room parties. They have taken a hit in recent years when they made it harder to get both a room for a party, and a room to stay in. That made it a lot harder for the people. This year the new rule is no booze unless you pay some fee, and hire bartenders from the hotel. That's just not going to happen.
Now you might be thinking that it will be just like last year, with fewer drunk people. The thing is, there are a lot of people who just won't come. And when enough people like that don't come, it will completely change the demographic. This is just my opinion, of course. I can tell you that there were so many people asking for refunds they had to issue a public statement that there will not be any.
As far as the actual room parties, I don't think there will be any less booze. There's nothing stopping people from bringing their own booze. I'm sure I will, just because I can. Sharing will we social and neighborly. But I think this will be a low key event. I will be there, but taking a more relaxed stance this year.
Next year they are switching to a bigger venue, more centrally located, with none of these room party issues. Or so they say.
For starters, I did get my diet on track, but far too late to be relevant for the convention. Which makes me much less interested in a new costume. I do have a couple of older costumes after all. But there is the booze issue.
A big part of the convention has always been the room parties. They have taken a hit in recent years when they made it harder to get both a room for a party, and a room to stay in. That made it a lot harder for the people. This year the new rule is no booze unless you pay some fee, and hire bartenders from the hotel. That's just not going to happen.
Now you might be thinking that it will be just like last year, with fewer drunk people. The thing is, there are a lot of people who just won't come. And when enough people like that don't come, it will completely change the demographic. This is just my opinion, of course. I can tell you that there were so many people asking for refunds they had to issue a public statement that there will not be any.
As far as the actual room parties, I don't think there will be any less booze. There's nothing stopping people from bringing their own booze. I'm sure I will, just because I can. Sharing will we social and neighborly. But I think this will be a low key event. I will be there, but taking a more relaxed stance this year.
Next year they are switching to a bigger venue, more centrally located, with none of these room party issues. Or so they say.
Friday, June 22, 2018
Weeding the Garden, 2018
"Is that a case of the older we get the better we were?"
In past posts ( Jane helped me here and weeding in front ) I discussed my enjoyment of working in our yard, on the parts of it that are not grass. Summer has begun and our property is once again in need of some tender loving care … only the weed situation is far worse than ever. Perhaps due to all the rain we've had here. And the warm weather. Two images will demonstrate.
The first is a before picture of the west side of our peace garden last year. You can see there are some weeds among the hosta plants.
The second image is one of the same location this year.
You may be able to see there are some hosta plants among the weeds.
The east side of the garden was as overrun with weeds as the west side, and that is where I chose to begin weeding this year. The task was far more arduous than I recalled from prior years. I was able to use the long-handled tool to uproot the weeds without bending down, but there were so many of them that the next step, separating them from the woodchips and dirt within which they were growing and tossing them into my yard-waste bag, required frequent getting down to ground level. Knees hurt, back hurt, and getting up and down was grueling and demanding. It was hot, sweaty work, and the headband I wore to keep sweat from dripping into my eyes was quite wet, though not saturated so that sweat ran from it.
Perhaps, I thought, if I got down on my hands and knees, pulled the weeds from there, put them in a temporary container, and transferred the contents of that container to my yard-waste bag, I could minimize the up-down motions I had been doing. That worked all right, but I'm not sure it was easier than weeding standing up and working with the weed piles created from that position.
Even though both the temperature and humidity were reasonable, I was unable to finish the task without sitting down on the bench in the garden and taking water. There were plenty of weeds within reach from my seat on the bench, so I took advantage and pulled a bunch, as many as I could reach.
Eventually I was back on all fours, pulling weeds at their level. As I was bagging the last group, my wife came out and stood on the stoop fronting our front door. "How are you doing?" she asked.
"Oh, I'm all right," I replied as I wiped my forehead with the sleeve of my short-sleeved shirt. "I'm tired, and hot, but OK." There was a long
pause … and I added, "You know, I am not enjoying doing this as much as I did last year."
Ever the philosophical type, she responded, "Do you suppose that's a case of 'the older we get the better we were'?"
In spite of myself, I chuckled. "No, I don't think so. I think it's the thickness and height of the weeds this year." I returned to the task.
When I finished up, the Peace Garden looked pretty good:
The border with the lawn needs attention and some wood chips need to be added. While I'm glad to report the weeds are gone, I am aware that the hosta bed on the west side ( Figure 2 ) needs attention, as well, not to mention the two flower beds in the rear of the property and that eighteen inch strip of land bordering our parking slab. There truly does seem to be no rest for the weary.
In past posts ( Jane helped me here and weeding in front ) I discussed my enjoyment of working in our yard, on the parts of it that are not grass. Summer has begun and our property is once again in need of some tender loving care … only the weed situation is far worse than ever. Perhaps due to all the rain we've had here. And the warm weather. Two images will demonstrate.
The first is a before picture of the west side of our peace garden last year. You can see there are some weeds among the hosta plants.
 |
| Figure 1: West side, weeds among the hosta plants a year ago. |
 |
| Figure 2: West side, weeds among the hosta plants currently. |
The east side of the garden was as overrun with weeds as the west side, and that is where I chose to begin weeding this year. The task was far more arduous than I recalled from prior years. I was able to use the long-handled tool to uproot the weeds without bending down, but there were so many of them that the next step, separating them from the woodchips and dirt within which they were growing and tossing them into my yard-waste bag, required frequent getting down to ground level. Knees hurt, back hurt, and getting up and down was grueling and demanding. It was hot, sweaty work, and the headband I wore to keep sweat from dripping into my eyes was quite wet, though not saturated so that sweat ran from it.
Perhaps, I thought, if I got down on my hands and knees, pulled the weeds from there, put them in a temporary container, and transferred the contents of that container to my yard-waste bag, I could minimize the up-down motions I had been doing. That worked all right, but I'm not sure it was easier than weeding standing up and working with the weed piles created from that position.
Even though both the temperature and humidity were reasonable, I was unable to finish the task without sitting down on the bench in the garden and taking water. There were plenty of weeds within reach from my seat on the bench, so I took advantage and pulled a bunch, as many as I could reach.
Eventually I was back on all fours, pulling weeds at their level. As I was bagging the last group, my wife came out and stood on the stoop fronting our front door. "How are you doing?" she asked.
"Oh, I'm all right," I replied as I wiped my forehead with the sleeve of my short-sleeved shirt. "I'm tired, and hot, but OK." There was a long
pause … and I added, "You know, I am not enjoying doing this as much as I did last year."
Ever the philosophical type, she responded, "Do you suppose that's a case of 'the older we get the better we were'?"
In spite of myself, I chuckled. "No, I don't think so. I think it's the thickness and height of the weeds this year." I returned to the task.
When I finished up, the Peace Garden looked pretty good:
 |
| Figure 3: East side, Peace Garden, after weeding this year. |
| If you would like to comment but don't care to use the comment field, send an email to wrjsojourner@gmail.com. |
Wednesday, June 20, 2018
Letter from Grandma
I never really knew my father's mother. In my experience, you choose your friends, but family are people you know because they are around. I was raised by my mother, and was never really around my father's side of the family.
In a twist of fate, I ran into a cousin on the way to visit my mother's mother in the hospital. I found out my father's mother was in bad shape too, but mostly from old age. She was in her 80's. I ended up getting a chance to visit her in the hospital, when I would have had no way of knowing she was there. The 15 minutes I spent visiting her amounted to something like a 25% increase in the total time I had spent with her. She died a short time later.
At her funeral my cousin gave me a note in a thick envelope addressed to me. He said she had dictated it to me in her final days. I couldn't imagine someone who didn't know me, writing so much. I told him I was a little surprised by that. He told me she dictated many letters in her final days. It made me uncomfortable. Because we never got to know each other, this was a letter from a stranger. I held onto it, and never opened it.
Then about a year ago I lost some stuff. Nothing I was using, but I thought the letter might be one of those things. It wasn't, but it got me thinking. It's one thing to not open it "today". It's another to never open it at all. I told this to a friend, and he encouraged me to open it. The contents were quite a surprise.
First, the letter was very short. Just a couple of sentences tanking me for visiting her in the hospital. It was in fact, a letter to me. And the reason it was thick were photos. The photos of me that she owned. Mostly of the weeks following my birth.
I was quite wrong about it. I would say I was a fool to wait 12 years, but it really worked out for the best. It means much more today than it would have then.
In a twist of fate, I ran into a cousin on the way to visit my mother's mother in the hospital. I found out my father's mother was in bad shape too, but mostly from old age. She was in her 80's. I ended up getting a chance to visit her in the hospital, when I would have had no way of knowing she was there. The 15 minutes I spent visiting her amounted to something like a 25% increase in the total time I had spent with her. She died a short time later.
At her funeral my cousin gave me a note in a thick envelope addressed to me. He said she had dictated it to me in her final days. I couldn't imagine someone who didn't know me, writing so much. I told him I was a little surprised by that. He told me she dictated many letters in her final days. It made me uncomfortable. Because we never got to know each other, this was a letter from a stranger. I held onto it, and never opened it.
Then about a year ago I lost some stuff. Nothing I was using, but I thought the letter might be one of those things. It wasn't, but it got me thinking. It's one thing to not open it "today". It's another to never open it at all. I told this to a friend, and he encouraged me to open it. The contents were quite a surprise.
First, the letter was very short. Just a couple of sentences tanking me for visiting her in the hospital. It was in fact, a letter to me. And the reason it was thick were photos. The photos of me that she owned. Mostly of the weeks following my birth.
I was quite wrong about it. I would say I was a fool to wait 12 years, but it really worked out for the best. It means much more today than it would have then.
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