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=[[2020.04.12 Pandemic Ponderings 2]]=
=[[2021.05.07 Living In America - Part Huh]]=
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Oh shiite: here it comes.
[ramble=ON]<br>
[https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Welcome_to_Wherever_You_Are Welcome to Wherever You Are] was a timely INXS album for me, as it marked my first fully-away-from-home life while going to university.  It's distinctive not-grunge sound is the soundtrack of my memories that I formed discovering Victoria.  Whenever I hear those songs I recall the sense of recognition of all the things that were fundamentally different about living in the island mini-metropolis from the remote mountain village I came from.  Even long after the new environs became familiar and generally unsurprising, it helped me remember that there are still assumptions lingering in my existence that are not actually aligned with where I was.


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I should re-listen to that album, after yesterday's reminder that I'm not in Canada any more.<br>
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Just after noon yesterday, I was on a work call in my 4th-floor condo in semi-urban North Portland with my kids doing distance learning.  A small Black Lives Matter march with about 40 participants made a clatter as they went by on the street below.  It was frankly charming, with drums and singing, and I like that Portland is active in this way.


=[[2020.03.25 Pandemic Ponderings 1]]=
Then a commotion happened, and I missed the kernel of the event.
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So, yeahThat's the last frame of Taika Waititi's fascinating movie [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jojo_Rabbit Jojo Rabbit]It resonated with me, as it shook loose a bit of my congealed feelings I've been burdened by.
When I looked outside, there was a red minivan in the middle of the crowdIt was almost stopped when I noticed it, the tires I could see were flat, the drivers window was smashed, and the driver looked to be in distressBut, honestly, what really caught my attention were the handful of people with what appeared to be AR-15 assault rifles pointed at the van - one obstinately standing in front of it with his rifle trained on the driver.


Weeks ago, I had been meaning to post a jokey entry about how the apparent response to the Pandemic is mostly suggested to be: <i>Be Like Clayton</i>.<br>
Confused yelling ensued, while at least one small person I could see was getting medical aid from somebody with a medical kit on the sidewalk.  Tensions ran high, but nothing more dramatic happened.  People from the march started bringing bottles of water to the driver, who used them to rinse off his face - presumably he got a heft dose of pepper spray in the eyes.  Other marchers started re-directing traffic away from the scene, to alleviate the instant traffic jam.
*OCD hand washing habits - CHECK
*Larger than usual personal space - CHECK
*Avoid gatherings with more than a few people - CHECK
*Have essentially no social life - CHECK


...but even though I used that joke a few times with some friends, it never really felt all that funny.
Eventually, the armed marchers slung their rifles, and other people led the van driver to sit at a nearby bus stop to recover. They brought him more water to rinse his eyes, and I noticed that a few other people were rinsing their eyes as well - suggesting that the cloud of pepper spray had drifted about somewhat.  After a few minutes, the driver got back in his minivan and drove it slowly away on 4 flat tires, and the rest of the march evaporated.


The larger worries about how the world is facing a major hurdle, combined with increasingly-confirmed fears that those in power are ill-equipped to face it, have cast my little sadnesses into sharp contrast.
Some time to process it has let me consider a few things.


Which, of course, just makes me feel insignificant on top of sadWhich is, itself, funny - but only to the part of me that is not particularly helpful.
When I saw the rifles, I got off my work call to be able to call 911But I paused, considering, "Do I really want to call the police on a bunch of black people?"  It's a horrifying thing that this is a legitimate concern.  It makes me wish there was a non-police "people who can help" emergency number.  I should spin this thought into a separate Rant™.


Meanwhile: Since working from home and single-parenting kids will eat my soul, I've decided to take a psychology course from Yale onlineBrilliant!
I still have no idea whether this was a deliberate vehicular assault by the late-middle-aged white male in shabby clothes and crappy minivan, or an oblivious driving error while turning through an intersection.  However, I'm simultaneously impressed and mortified at how clearly ready to respond to exactly such an assault the mark participants were.  The rifles were over-the-top in my opinion, but it's hard to argue against desire to counter the deadliness of a vehicle driving through a crowd.  But the slashing of the tires, the smashing of the driver's window, and pepper spraying the driver all happened in a way that seems like a prepared reactionIf the driver merely blundered into that crowd, I confess that getting pepper sprayed and some mild damage to his vehicle seems like not the worst repercussion.  If the driver drove through those people intentionally - fuck that guy; I hope he goes blind.


Co-morbid with both my reluctance to call the police and my disdain of the weapons present is yet another demonstration of my deeply ingrained privilege.  In that: when I saw people with assault rifles on the street in front of me, I didn't think "DUCK".  I just hung out on my balcony, gawking.  Completely assured that I was not a target, or at risk.  It's probably good that I can exist like this, but maybe it shouldn't be an exceptional thing.
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=[[2020.03.09 It's Been One Of Them Years.]]=
=[[2021.04.20 Slayer Slayed]]=
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[https://g.co/kgs/ZtzSpL It's Been On Of Them Years].
Yeah, I sold the Slayer.


Logically, it made a lot of sense - in several ways. 
# First of all, the Slayer as an enduro sled has pretty much the same utility envelope as the Commençal META Power.  Except, you know, every so slightly less awesome.  So the Slayer was likely just going to sit in my bike closet being sad and pathetic.
# This also happens to be a magical time for bike value.  I got 50% more for it than I would have guessed in a normal year, and it sold in just one day.  In retrospect, I should have asked for more.
# Plus there is the very real fact that after 4 years of solid use, it would soon be time to dump a bunch of money into the Slayer to keep it up to snuff.
That being said, I was very sad to sell it.  For the usual reasons - that I feel genuine attachment to mechanical things that have helped me, and saved me occasionally, and generally enabled a bunch of great memories.
I fully plan on getting another bike, to round out where my Enduro Monster Truck is less well-suited.  Probably to enable bike-commuting, but hopefully also for riding less-technical trails.  We'll see. 
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=[[2020.03.06 Reflecting On Who My Daughter Is]]=
=[[2021.04.03 Bikes and Vans and Stuff]]=
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As is standard for the past year, I'm not spending much time writing. Which isn't because there isn't anything happening, but rather because there's too much happening. Or, really, a combination of a lot of things happening, and my overwhelming state of satisfied happiness.   Which makes for odd and boring blog entries.  


I think I already knew, but the actual word churns up emotional trouble inside myself that I admit I am afraid of.  <br>
BUT!  There's still a couple things to mention, as a matter of record here.
I should be braver, like she is.  <br>
And see the fascination within it, like she can.


We'll see where we are, and go from there.
===1: I broke the Kei Van===
It had problems on a return drive from Sandy Ridge in a downpour, then wouldn't start again after we stopped at the Gnarthaller's.  Subsequent inspection showed it was dangerously low on oil (facepalm), even though the oil light never came on.  Will be working on resurrecting it soon.<br>
UPDATE: VANTACULUS LIVES!!!  Thanks to help and support from @gnarthaller.


===2: E-Biking is almost too much fun===
Blasting a biggish lap out at Sandy Ridge yesterday was very soul-nourishing.  But even more telling was last week's "easy ride" turning into a 3-hour marathon with some very fast riders wasn't a problem, thanks to the little extra boost.  The twin joys of having fun going uphill plus also not being overtired during descents are really great.
===3: Vaccination Imminent===
Have an appointment for my first Pfizer jab in a week.  The future is bright.
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=[[2020.03.02 Too Many Fucks Given]]=
=[[2021.03.16 Mitsubishi Minicab Kei Van]]=
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Basically, I am still struggling with how to process the notion that I will never get a leadership position in engineering at DAIMLER.  My internal drives motivating me to excel have long included management ambition in engineeringWhile I know that logically I should find a way to leverage this as a form of freedom, and re-kindle some of my long-neglected interestsBut it still squats on my soul as sense of hopeless frustration.
http://www.kvankii.com/gallery/3A4BC9E0.jpeg
 
BEHOLD!  The (tentatively titled) VANTACULUS Splinter Van!
 
Reactions to this vehicle usually fall into two basic categories: "AWWW!" and "What the hell?"
 
The easiest way to answer the latter is to refer to the formerBut there is a lot more about this odd emergence of reality, and seeing as how this is my medium for documenting all the publicly notable experiences it seems fitting to elaborate about that.
 
Backing things up a bit, there has definitely been a hole in my vehicular capabilities ever since I sold the Tyrannosaurus (1984 Toyota pickup).  This was well-compensated for with the Schleppenwagen (Mercedes Metris van), but nothing since has been as suitableFor a few years I've made-do with either a roof-rack on the ex's Subarus or disassembling my bike and jamming it in the back of my Tesla.


Perhaps it would be easier to hold if the managers in engineering were more, on the whole, obviously better at managingSuch that I could see how I do not measure up.  But it's not like thatAt all.
Much of my bike-hauling needs have been actually satisfied of late with my bike-valet and riding buddy, Friar Gnarthaller and his various bike-shuttling vehicles.  But it is left to me to limp along begging for help when taking Simon for a ride, and annoying whenever I want to go for a simple ride by myself.
 
So I've been contemplating a van for a while now.  Why a van?  Firstly, because having had a couple pickups, I recognize that the "haul dirt" function is incredibly rare for me.  And secondly, having tasted the sweet nectar of full van-hood, I know the joy of having my stuff locked away by default, and protected from elements.
 
Also, specifically, I've been looking for a vehicle I didn't have to care too much about.  One of the great freedoms that the Tyrannosaurus provided was not worrying about much.  A dent?  Don't care.  Dirty?  Don't care.  Something broken?  If it doesn't stop if from working, don't careLike that.
 
The prime target has been used work vans.  Sure, I'd eventually have to add seats if I wanted more than one passenger, but whatever.  The temptation of used minivans was ascendent for a while too - because of the ability to also haul larger groups of people by virtue of stow-and-go seating (in addition to the primary bike-hauling purpose).  And also somewhat greater reliability of Japanese builds.
 
Then I and my array of van-enabling friends noticed kei vans.  They are hilarious!  Oh, but they're way too expensive for my "not caring" budget.
 
Until this "cosmetically challenged" Mitsubishi Minicab popped up online at The Import Guys near Bellingham Washington.  And the rest was a PayPal purchase sight-unseen, a train (and bus) ride to Bellingham, and finally nerve-wracking hip-flexor-straining 95 km/h 6-hour scream down the I5.
 
So, here we areReady to rock.  And ride.<br>
And, yes, the kids lost their damn minds when they saw it.
 
Was it a wise purchase?  No.<br>
Is it likely to be a memorable experience? Absolutely, yes.
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=[[2020.02.14 Violet Valentine Art]]=
=[[2021.03.05 E-Bike Babbling]]=
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I love how this piece conveys a sense of being a little kid in the woods.  The arch of the trees bending toward the distance and crowding out the skyShe is so brilliant it hurts my heart.
So, way back before the pandemic, I rode some e-bikes.  I've been curious about electric motor assisted mountain bikes for a while.  That interest, to be clear, is because I spend most of my time riding with people who are both more skilled than I am and in better physical condition.  There had been a running joke that I was "allowed" to get an e-bike when I turned 50 - or if I had some permanent ride-impairing injury.
 
The concept of it being allowable itself come from some stigma that e-bikes have in the mountain biking community.  And I myself had some doubts about whether I should give up the level of effort typically required, for fitness sake.  The way in which I too-often was over-tired grinding up the hill so that I was unable to ride down technical trails cleanly, at least not without an extended period of gasping and draped limply against a treeSo, the allure, while obvious, has for a while been greater for me than many of my decades-younger-than-I riding crew.
 
The first test ride was an eye-opening revelation full of giggling, and deeply planted seeds of desire.
 
A second test ride was a more focussed investigation of capabilities, and a goddamn handful of nails in the coffin of my reluctance.
 
Part of the confluence of capability and desire is my riding style, which I sometimes refer to as "aggressively mediocre" and "old man fast".  My riding lacks much finesse, so I have gradually leaned towards the full-enduro end of the bike spectrum in order to get enough plushness and stability to accommodate my need for speed and inability to avoid rocks.  So not only does the thrust assist help my increasingly feeble ability to climb, but the extra heft of e-bikes doesn't significantly impair any light poppy skillful line choices.
 
As a tangent - I have a wee rant about the Specialized Level SLIt's a low-power small-battery e-bike that is an attempt to be as much like an acoustic trail bike as possible.  It's awful.  If you really want to have a light, playful bike to float down trails... yeah, no.  It's still has a motor and batteries.  But that motor and battery are incapable of creating the same quality of giggles, and of annoying less quantity. 
 
Bada-bing bada-boom - I became the proud owner of the Commencal Meta Power pictured above.  More, and more specific, riding impressions to come.  Hopefully soonish.
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=[[2020.02.11 Head Down, Holding On]]=
=[[2021.01.27 Clearly Not Doing This Right]]=
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There is nothing wrong.<br>
The whole point of being all reclusive for the pandemic is to have to find things to do while stuck at home. Which in my case should have involved a fuck tonne of writing and drawing.
Worry about losing what is right chases me through the maze of my thoughts and feelings.


I am loved.<br>
NOPE.
My ability to access the people and activities that bring me joy is harshly circumscribed.


The future looks good.<br>
My life is pretty full, though, with working from home and having the homeschooling kids during most of the weekdays. Any time not spent productively being an engineer or parent I while away being a boyfriend.  And I cherish this time, even though there's not much to mark it by.
Any sense of control or choice slips through my fingers with every grasp.


It's not that anything bad has happened, or is happening.<br>
Life is good.
It's that I have mostly doubts instead of ready coping mechanisms.
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=[[2020.02.03 My Fears About Violet]]=
=[[2020.11.27 "Come on guys, it's OK."]]=
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I think know how to parent Simon.  His talents and pitfalls are very much in line with my own, and I am confident in our ability to navigate them together so that he will be able to succeed in life.
"Come on guys, it's OK."


But I am unsure about how to be the best parent for VioletHer talents are alien to me, and the strengths I leveraged to figure out my life are not her strengths.  I see others like her struggle, and suffer.  I want to trust in her, and that our family will be able to help her find her path to a good life.  But I am wracked with fears of her having things go so wrong as to be regrettable.
A terrible idea occurs to me as I listen to the professional goon begging in the airlockIt is most definitely not OK, and I repress a grin as I slip out my tool kit.


Tutoring is the obvious next step, but I have associated fear that this might lay foundations of resentment in her.<br>  
There's a reedy inflection in comm that I'm not sure is accurate or affectation.  "You sure didn't look like things were OK back there."
Medication has also occurred to me, but I am horrified at the idea of smothering her joyous spark.
 
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You could almost hear the goon's shoulder's slump.  "Yeah, it was pretty tense."
 
"You're, ah, looking pretty zarking unscathed.  You know.  Considering."
 
"...Yeah.  I don't know how I'm not dead."
 
This pause in the conversation sure sounds like other people conversing off-circuit.  I wonder if it's accessible...
 
"Guys....?"  Ooop, sounds like the goon is thinking the same thing as me.
 
"Just hang on a moment, Garvek."  Ah, goon's name is Garvek.  Or, at least that's what the reedy-voice being calls the goonMight not be a reliable source.
 
"Not to be too pushy, guys, but I think we should get out of here before my luck catches up with us."
 
Oh, I think they're over there...
 
"...and it's bad for recruiting if we just ditch a crewman."  Don't recognize that voice.


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"Recruiting?  Are you zarking with me?  Potential security personnel on another planet aren't going to give a flying zark about what happened to this idiot."  Well, at least reedy-voice is just as unpleasant with others, and not just poor Garvek.


=[[2020.01.24 Why I Do This]]=
"For any old lump of cannon-fodder while we're still making a name for ourselves, sure. But once we start needing really top-notch people, this sort of shit will stain us for a long-ass time to come."  HmI think I like this guy.
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A recent scientific journal discussing a possible [https://journals.aps.org/prl/abstract/10.1103/PhysRevLett.124.018101 "Fundamental Law of Memory Recall"] is a rare piece of mathematical application to a neurobiological functionThe formula of:


<big>R=√3πM/2</big>
"Shut the zark up, Krunks."  Ouch.  Someone knows they're wrong.  Wonder if Krunks is going to stuff a fistful of righteous insight down Reedy-Voice's throat...


It's a prediction for the average number of memory items recalled (R) out of M items in (human) memory.
"As you wish, captain."  Disappointing, but I guess I don't know the circumstances here.


To have the experimentally-verified performance of human memory based on theoretical neuron function is, for me, reason to pause.  Partially for the sense of uneasiness I have with it being that easy or deterministic.  But more for the reinforcement of the grave limitations of human memory.
"Orders?"  That's a third voice, reptilian, who sounds like they were having trouble with the awkward pause.


This article is purely about simple recall. But it is also probably true that every time we remember something, we are actually re-writing those memories.  It makes for a worrisome loss of fidelity.
"Gah! Let the impossibly-lucky goon in."


Coincidentally, I have had reason to do a lot of re-reading portions of this blog/wikiThe mostly-stable artifice of what I manage to set into these writings have some very keenly-feel importance to me.  There is a lot of my experiences that I would have never been able to summon well any other way. Even though - and this is a crucial discovery for me today - the sense I had when I was writing some of them was that they were just time-filling expressions near-apathy. The way I was oblivious to the value of some of those moments in my face at that time is interesting.
There might have been a grunting noise, but immediately afterwards we can feel and hear the heavy ship bulkhead door cycle.  I wish we could get a peek into that big central corridor...


Of course, even more cherished are the times I did have big feelings - and I wrote them down as best I could. The vivid detail that they bring back to life is... priceless.
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=[[2020.01.20 D&D Family Time]]=
=[[2020.11.27 Time Machine]]=
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Hello future-Simon and future-Violet when you're (a bit) older and reading stuff your dad wrote to find out what he was like outside of the interactions that formed your memories.
 
Well, life is really fucking¹ good, honestly.  It's horrific to think that maybe it takes 9 months of hiding during a pandemic and almost 4 years of racist/fascist Tumpocalypse to really appreciate where I am and what I have.  I like to think I would be thankful anyway, because I'm insightful and zen... but whatever.
 
Being able to hole up with you two for homeschooling in our airy little condo is just fantastic.  I love this time with you, and will cherish it always.  You are both adapting and overcoming this strange time better than I could possibly have hoped.
 
Hearing you giggle while you melt your brains with youtube videos is one of my favourite sounds ever.  Having you joining Amy, my Vampire Queen girlfriend in her anti-running rebellion was also amusing, but going for our group PE runs feeds my soul.  And the best part of getting a robotic vacuum wasn't the automatic floor cleaning, but sharing your delight with watching it charge slowly about and piling your stuffed toys on it.
 
I've just gotten a new mountain bike, this time with an electric motor. Which I'm looking forward to using to tow Simon on his mountain bike up the hill once the weather gets nicer.


Simon has been playing Dungeons & Dragons for about a year now, and it has been a hoot to watch him flourish in these imaginary realms.  But now we have been playing a D&D adventure to include Violet, since we have frequent bouts of Dad+kids time and there's only so many walks through the neighbourhood they're willing to take me on.
Oh, and the hilariously annoying VAN, Volkswagen, snotty Volkswagen, and I-can't-believe-it's-not-a-van game everywhere we go these days.


The shining hope has been to give them a setting that rewards cooperation, while letting Violet transition her massive imaginative play into a more interactive mode.  Plus the bonus of there being reading, writing, and math for her to practiceAll while getting to share some exciting times together and bond.
And it's so fun for me to watch the new episodes of The Mandalorian with youYou both make great little nerds.


The reality has been a bit more challengingSimon gets impatient and wants to do everything, which drives Violet to slump back and let the game happen to the point where her mind wanders off into her own imaginationWe're still managing to have fun, and Violet is gamely tackling the math thrown her way, but attention span is definitely limited.
You probably saw bits of my work during this time, and mostly just saw me as being stressed by it.  Especially all the meetingsBut you should also know that I really love developing all these new truck systems and mentoring new engineers.  Plus also helping out with the new electric trucks, and the autonomous truck projectBeing fulfilled by work is a satisfaction that I hope I can model for you well, so that you can find it for yourselves.


Additionally, Simon's strong feelings still overwhelm him regularly.  While they are disruptive, it is definitely an opportunity to engage him about them, away from the shaming exposure of his usual gaming cohort.  And as long as we manage to keep things fun, I think Violet seeing her has-it-easy older brother working on things will help her feel emboldened to work on her things too.


What I forgot about was the way in which role-playing opens a window into your fellow players which allows a kind of understanding not normally accessible through usual social interaction.  I really love being able to keep a relevant insight into who my kids are, and I hope I can leverage this for a long, long time.
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=[[2020.01.12 Thoughts On Iran]]=
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Just to state up front, I recognize that Iran's leadership is arguably one of the worst actors in the globe with respect to supporting acts of terror and violence.  But a people is not it's leadership, especially in a mostly-totalitarian theocratic regime.


In the wake of the seemingly-arbitrary US missile attack to kill Qasem Soleimani, there was worry that the main effect would be to galvanize the progressive segments of Iranians into supporting nationalistic anti-US jingoism.  And indeed they did swear retaliation.  But that retaliation came in the form of 6 hours of advance warning, and resulted in no loss of human life.  It struck me as being incredibly, well, civilized.
¹ <small>Yeah, you probably remember that your dad swore a fair amount.  But he liked to think it was just nicely seasoned for emphasis, even though you thought it was too much at the time.</small>


Then there's the horrific shooting down of a civilian airliner with anti-aircraft missiles, killing a bunch of Canadians.  If this had happened in another country, (like, for example, Russia) it would have been denial layered with no response at all.  Instead, after a small delay, Iran admitted to the act and apologized.  Even though it may make them lose some internal political coherency, and give fodder to their enemies propaganda machines.  But it is the act of a coherent member of the world stage, and I think it will serve them better in the long run.
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=[[2020.01.03 "I Know"]]=
=[[2020.11.13 United States of Assholes]]=
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Went and re-watched <i>STAR WARS: Rise Of Skywalker</i> with Simon, this time in IMAX 3D, and saw a bunch of new detail with this watching.  But one piece of dialogue stands out.
The deep and profound relief at the (eventual) election of Joe Biden and Kamala Harris is thankfully still salving the past four years of horror.  Emotional, philosophical, spiritual, pragmatic utilitarian horror.  But the gestalt horror is not forgotten.  And, worse, the visceral terror of the implications of the numbers of the election cannot be un-discovered.


Way back in <i>EMPIRE</i>, Han Solo famously responded to Leia's "I love you" with "I know"A bit of dialogue that was later reversed in <i>JEDI</i>This tidbit makes me think that it was being directly referenced in <i>RISE</i> when Han Solo appears to his son, Ben Solo.
People looking at the title of this post might be triggered, classifying this as just more of Clayton's typical pro-Canada elitism finding an opportunity to gloat.  And it's a fair commentBut the United States really is magnificent, and Portland in particular is full of all kinds of awesomeI've been here for almost 2 decades now, and have a lot of important roots, and that deepens how significant what goes on in the US is to me.


The moment when Ben says, very uncharacterstically, "Dad..."<br>
With that in mind, the fact that about 70 million people voted for Donald Trump in 2020 is... sad.
Then there is a pause and Han Solo says, "I know."


I like to think this means that, in the idiom of their family, Ben told his dad that he loved him.
Even acknowledging the extreme polarization, it still means that almost twice the population of Canada worth of people were willing to at least "put up with" a fascist racist lying failure of a president.  And why would they do this?  Well, last month I speculated that it functionally makes them bad people - but virtually nobody does anything with the specific intent to be bad people (Mitch McConnell excepted).
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I think the reason comes down to how the US is systemically structured to facilitate assholes.


=[[2020.01.03 Hello 2020]]=
It has gotten better over the centuries, but fundamentally it's still about harnessing the power of assholes. It's not that everyone in the US is an asshole, or that only assholes thrive. It's more that being an asshole is a distinct advantage in most aspects of living in the US.  And even further, the pitting of people's stoked avarice against each other allows for considerable achievements.  It just so happens that those achievements are usually at considerable human expense.  This every-asshole-for-themself individualism was key for expanding through a wild continent.  But it is now very much out of step for the interests of living with ourselves in civilization.
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I've already made the pun to Simon about 2020 being a year of improved vision; he was not impressed.


But it is certainly true that after the Great Sorting of feelings and directions in 2019, the holiday season has allowed for a great deal of peace to be unfolded over most of my lifeAnd nurtured in that space there are many plans unfolding, with a certain sense of optimism.
The divide politically is most obviously displayed with the geographical results - urban versus rural.  Many of the conservative people I know all have worries about reality where the only solution they can conceive of is raw independent self-sufficiency.  Even when I snarkily suggest adjusting shared societal factors to eradicate the selfsame problemsHowever they insist such ideas are impossible - because there are too many assholes.  Which, inevitably, means that they have to pre-asshole to out-asshole the hypothetical assholes.


Life is good.
The trouble with assholes, aside from the inherent assholery, is the tendency to assume that everyone else is an asshole too.  Perhaps more than just a tendency for some, but a full blown paranoia that the world is stuffed full of dicks out to fuck the unwary.  This causes them to forgive all sorts of crazy shit for the purpose of supporting political forces they think will be the right kind of assholery.
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Some people need to find the edges of things, instead of assuming what they might be.  I like your style.
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Revision as of 16:38, 7 May 2021

claytoncastle.com • T R A N S I T I O N



2021.05.07 Living In America - Part Huh

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[ramble=ON]
Welcome to Wherever You Are was a timely INXS album for me, as it marked my first fully-away-from-home life while going to university. It's distinctive not-grunge sound is the soundtrack of my memories that I formed discovering Victoria. Whenever I hear those songs I recall the sense of recognition of all the things that were fundamentally different about living in the island mini-metropolis from the remote mountain village I came from. Even long after the new environs became familiar and generally unsurprising, it helped me remember that there are still assumptions lingering in my existence that are not actually aligned with where I was.

I should re-listen to that album, after yesterday's reminder that I'm not in Canada any more.
[ramble=OFF]

Just after noon yesterday, I was on a work call in my 4th-floor condo in semi-urban North Portland with my kids doing distance learning. A small Black Lives Matter march with about 40 participants made a clatter as they went by on the street below. It was frankly charming, with drums and singing, and I like that Portland is active in this way.

Then a commotion happened, and I missed the kernel of the event.

When I looked outside, there was a red minivan in the middle of the crowd. It was almost stopped when I noticed it, the tires I could see were flat, the drivers window was smashed, and the driver looked to be in distress. But, honestly, what really caught my attention were the handful of people with what appeared to be AR-15 assault rifles pointed at the van - one obstinately standing in front of it with his rifle trained on the driver.

Confused yelling ensued, while at least one small person I could see was getting medical aid from somebody with a medical kit on the sidewalk. Tensions ran high, but nothing more dramatic happened. People from the march started bringing bottles of water to the driver, who used them to rinse off his face - presumably he got a heft dose of pepper spray in the eyes. Other marchers started re-directing traffic away from the scene, to alleviate the instant traffic jam.

Eventually, the armed marchers slung their rifles, and other people led the van driver to sit at a nearby bus stop to recover. They brought him more water to rinse his eyes, and I noticed that a few other people were rinsing their eyes as well - suggesting that the cloud of pepper spray had drifted about somewhat. After a few minutes, the driver got back in his minivan and drove it slowly away on 4 flat tires, and the rest of the march evaporated.

Some time to process it has let me consider a few things.

When I saw the rifles, I got off my work call to be able to call 911. But I paused, considering, "Do I really want to call the police on a bunch of black people?" It's a horrifying thing that this is a legitimate concern. It makes me wish there was a non-police "people who can help" emergency number. I should spin this thought into a separate Rant™.

I still have no idea whether this was a deliberate vehicular assault by the late-middle-aged white male in shabby clothes and crappy minivan, or an oblivious driving error while turning through an intersection. However, I'm simultaneously impressed and mortified at how clearly ready to respond to exactly such an assault the mark participants were. The rifles were over-the-top in my opinion, but it's hard to argue against desire to counter the deadliness of a vehicle driving through a crowd. But the slashing of the tires, the smashing of the driver's window, and pepper spraying the driver all happened in a way that seems like a prepared reaction. If the driver merely blundered into that crowd, I confess that getting pepper sprayed and some mild damage to his vehicle seems like not the worst repercussion. If the driver drove through those people intentionally - fuck that guy; I hope he goes blind.

Co-morbid with both my reluctance to call the police and my disdain of the weapons present is yet another demonstration of my deeply ingrained privilege. In that: when I saw people with assault rifles on the street in front of me, I didn't think "DUCK". I just hung out on my balcony, gawking. Completely assured that I was not a target, or at risk. It's probably good that I can exist like this, but maybe it shouldn't be an exceptional thing.


2021.04.20 Slayer Slayed

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Yeah, I sold the Slayer.

Logically, it made a lot of sense - in several ways.

  1. First of all, the Slayer as an enduro sled has pretty much the same utility envelope as the Commençal META Power. Except, you know, every so slightly less awesome. So the Slayer was likely just going to sit in my bike closet being sad and pathetic.
  2. This also happens to be a magical time for bike value. I got 50% more for it than I would have guessed in a normal year, and it sold in just one day. In retrospect, I should have asked for more.
  3. Plus there is the very real fact that after 4 years of solid use, it would soon be time to dump a bunch of money into the Slayer to keep it up to snuff.

That being said, I was very sad to sell it. For the usual reasons - that I feel genuine attachment to mechanical things that have helped me, and saved me occasionally, and generally enabled a bunch of great memories.

I fully plan on getting another bike, to round out where my Enduro Monster Truck is less well-suited. Probably to enable bike-commuting, but hopefully also for riding less-technical trails. We'll see.


2021.04.03 Bikes and Vans and Stuff

As is standard for the past year, I'm not spending much time writing. Which isn't because there isn't anything happening, but rather because there's too much happening. Or, really, a combination of a lot of things happening, and my overwhelming state of satisfied happiness. Which makes for odd and boring blog entries.

BUT! There's still a couple things to mention, as a matter of record here.

1: I broke the Kei Van

It had problems on a return drive from Sandy Ridge in a downpour, then wouldn't start again after we stopped at the Gnarthaller's. Subsequent inspection showed it was dangerously low on oil (facepalm), even though the oil light never came on. Will be working on resurrecting it soon.
UPDATE: VANTACULUS LIVES!!! Thanks to help and support from @gnarthaller.

2: E-Biking is almost too much fun

Blasting a biggish lap out at Sandy Ridge yesterday was very soul-nourishing. But even more telling was last week's "easy ride" turning into a 3-hour marathon with some very fast riders wasn't a problem, thanks to the little extra boost. The twin joys of having fun going uphill plus also not being overtired during descents are really great.

3: Vaccination Imminent

Have an appointment for my first Pfizer jab in a week. The future is bright.


2021.03.16 Mitsubishi Minicab Kei Van

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BEHOLD! The (tentatively titled) VANTACULUS Splinter Van!

Reactions to this vehicle usually fall into two basic categories: "AWWW!" and "What the hell?"

The easiest way to answer the latter is to refer to the former. But there is a lot more about this odd emergence of reality, and seeing as how this is my medium for documenting all the publicly notable experiences it seems fitting to elaborate about that.

Backing things up a bit, there has definitely been a hole in my vehicular capabilities ever since I sold the Tyrannosaurus (1984 Toyota pickup). This was well-compensated for with the Schleppenwagen (Mercedes Metris van), but nothing since has been as suitable. For a few years I've made-do with either a roof-rack on the ex's Subarus or disassembling my bike and jamming it in the back of my Tesla.

Much of my bike-hauling needs have been actually satisfied of late with my bike-valet and riding buddy, Friar Gnarthaller and his various bike-shuttling vehicles. But it is left to me to limp along begging for help when taking Simon for a ride, and annoying whenever I want to go for a simple ride by myself.

So I've been contemplating a van for a while now. Why a van? Firstly, because having had a couple pickups, I recognize that the "haul dirt" function is incredibly rare for me. And secondly, having tasted the sweet nectar of full van-hood, I know the joy of having my stuff locked away by default, and protected from elements.

Also, specifically, I've been looking for a vehicle I didn't have to care too much about. One of the great freedoms that the Tyrannosaurus provided was not worrying about much. A dent? Don't care. Dirty? Don't care. Something broken? If it doesn't stop if from working, don't care. Like that.

The prime target has been used work vans. Sure, I'd eventually have to add seats if I wanted more than one passenger, but whatever. The temptation of used minivans was ascendent for a while too - because of the ability to also haul larger groups of people by virtue of stow-and-go seating (in addition to the primary bike-hauling purpose). And also somewhat greater reliability of Japanese builds.

Then I and my array of van-enabling friends noticed kei vans. They are hilarious! Oh, but they're way too expensive for my "not caring" budget.

Until this "cosmetically challenged" Mitsubishi Minicab popped up online at The Import Guys near Bellingham Washington. And the rest was a PayPal purchase sight-unseen, a train (and bus) ride to Bellingham, and finally nerve-wracking hip-flexor-straining 95 km/h 6-hour scream down the I5.

So, here we are. Ready to rock. And ride.
And, yes, the kids lost their damn minds when they saw it.

Was it a wise purchase? No.
Is it likely to be a memorable experience? Absolutely, yes.


2021.03.05 E-Bike Babbling

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So, way back before the pandemic, I rode some e-bikes. I've been curious about electric motor assisted mountain bikes for a while. That interest, to be clear, is because I spend most of my time riding with people who are both more skilled than I am and in better physical condition. There had been a running joke that I was "allowed" to get an e-bike when I turned 50 - or if I had some permanent ride-impairing injury.

The concept of it being allowable itself come from some stigma that e-bikes have in the mountain biking community. And I myself had some doubts about whether I should give up the level of effort typically required, for fitness sake. The way in which I too-often was over-tired grinding up the hill so that I was unable to ride down technical trails cleanly, at least not without an extended period of gasping and draped limply against a tree. So, the allure, while obvious, has for a while been greater for me than many of my decades-younger-than-I riding crew.

The first test ride was an eye-opening revelation full of giggling, and deeply planted seeds of desire.

A second test ride was a more focussed investigation of capabilities, and a goddamn handful of nails in the coffin of my reluctance.

Part of the confluence of capability and desire is my riding style, which I sometimes refer to as "aggressively mediocre" and "old man fast". My riding lacks much finesse, so I have gradually leaned towards the full-enduro end of the bike spectrum in order to get enough plushness and stability to accommodate my need for speed and inability to avoid rocks. So not only does the thrust assist help my increasingly feeble ability to climb, but the extra heft of e-bikes doesn't significantly impair any light poppy skillful line choices.

As a tangent - I have a wee rant about the Specialized Level SL. It's a low-power small-battery e-bike that is an attempt to be as much like an acoustic trail bike as possible. It's awful. If you really want to have a light, playful bike to float down trails... yeah, no. It's still has a motor and batteries. But that motor and battery are incapable of creating the same quality of giggles, and of annoying less quantity.

Bada-bing bada-boom - I became the proud owner of the Commencal Meta Power pictured above. More, and more specific, riding impressions to come. Hopefully soonish.


2021.01.27 Clearly Not Doing This Right

The whole point of being all reclusive for the pandemic is to have to find things to do while stuck at home. Which in my case should have involved a fuck tonne of writing and drawing.

NOPE.

My life is pretty full, though, with working from home and having the homeschooling kids during most of the weekdays. Any time not spent productively being an engineer or parent I while away being a boyfriend. And I cherish this time, even though there's not much to mark it by.

Life is good.



2020.11.27 "Come on guys, it's OK."

"Come on guys, it's OK."

A terrible idea occurs to me as I listen to the professional goon begging in the airlock. It is most definitely not OK, and I repress a grin as I slip out my tool kit.

There's a reedy inflection in comm that I'm not sure is accurate or affectation. "You sure didn't look like things were OK back there."

You could almost hear the goon's shoulder's slump. "Yeah, it was pretty tense."

"You're, ah, looking pretty zarking unscathed. You know. Considering."

"...Yeah. I don't know how I'm not dead."

This pause in the conversation sure sounds like other people conversing off-circuit. I wonder if it's accessible...

"Guys....?" Ooop, sounds like the goon is thinking the same thing as me.

"Just hang on a moment, Garvek." Ah, goon's name is Garvek. Or, at least that's what the reedy-voice being calls the goon. Might not be a reliable source.

"Not to be too pushy, guys, but I think we should get out of here before my luck catches up with us."

Oh, I think they're over there...

"...and it's bad for recruiting if we just ditch a crewman." Don't recognize that voice.

"Recruiting? Are you zarking with me? Potential security personnel on another planet aren't going to give a flying zark about what happened to this idiot." Well, at least reedy-voice is just as unpleasant with others, and not just poor Garvek.

"For any old lump of cannon-fodder while we're still making a name for ourselves, sure. But once we start needing really top-notch people, this sort of shit will stain us for a long-ass time to come." Hm. I think I like this guy.

"Shut the zark up, Krunks." Ouch. Someone knows they're wrong. Wonder if Krunks is going to stuff a fistful of righteous insight down Reedy-Voice's throat...

"As you wish, captain." Disappointing, but I guess I don't know the circumstances here.

"Orders?" That's a third voice, reptilian, who sounds like they were having trouble with the awkward pause.

"Gah! Let the impossibly-lucky goon in."

There might have been a grunting noise, but immediately afterwards we can feel and hear the heavy ship bulkhead door cycle. I wish we could get a peek into that big central corridor...

...in process...


2020.11.27 Time Machine

Hello future-Simon and future-Violet when you're (a bit) older and reading stuff your dad wrote to find out what he was like outside of the interactions that formed your memories.

Well, life is really fucking¹ good, honestly. It's horrific to think that maybe it takes 9 months of hiding during a pandemic and almost 4 years of racist/fascist Tumpocalypse to really appreciate where I am and what I have. I like to think I would be thankful anyway, because I'm insightful and zen... but whatever.

Being able to hole up with you two for homeschooling in our airy little condo is just fantastic. I love this time with you, and will cherish it always. You are both adapting and overcoming this strange time better than I could possibly have hoped.

Hearing you giggle while you melt your brains with youtube videos is one of my favourite sounds ever. Having you joining Amy, my Vampire Queen girlfriend in her anti-running rebellion was also amusing, but going for our group PE runs feeds my soul. And the best part of getting a robotic vacuum wasn't the automatic floor cleaning, but sharing your delight with watching it charge slowly about and piling your stuffed toys on it.

I've just gotten a new mountain bike, this time with an electric motor. Which I'm looking forward to using to tow Simon on his mountain bike up the hill once the weather gets nicer.

Oh, and the hilariously annoying VAN, Volkswagen, snotty Volkswagen, and I-can't-believe-it's-not-a-van game everywhere we go these days.

And it's so fun for me to watch the new episodes of The Mandalorian with you. You both make great little nerds.

You probably saw bits of my work during this time, and mostly just saw me as being stressed by it. Especially all the meetings. But you should also know that I really love developing all these new truck systems and mentoring new engineers. Plus also helping out with the new electric trucks, and the autonomous truck project. Being fulfilled by work is a satisfaction that I hope I can model for you well, so that you can find it for yourselves.





¹ Yeah, you probably remember that your dad swore a fair amount. But he liked to think it was just nicely seasoned for emphasis, even though you thought it was too much at the time.


2020.11.13 United States of Assholes

The deep and profound relief at the (eventual) election of Joe Biden and Kamala Harris is thankfully still salving the past four years of horror. Emotional, philosophical, spiritual, pragmatic utilitarian horror. But the gestalt horror is not forgotten. And, worse, the visceral terror of the implications of the numbers of the election cannot be un-discovered.

People looking at the title of this post might be triggered, classifying this as just more of Clayton's typical pro-Canada elitism finding an opportunity to gloat. And it's a fair comment. But the United States really is magnificent, and Portland in particular is full of all kinds of awesome. I've been here for almost 2 decades now, and have a lot of important roots, and that deepens how significant what goes on in the US is to me.

With that in mind, the fact that about 70 million people voted for Donald Trump in 2020 is... sad.

Even acknowledging the extreme polarization, it still means that almost twice the population of Canada worth of people were willing to at least "put up with" a fascist racist lying failure of a president. And why would they do this? Well, last month I speculated that it functionally makes them bad people - but virtually nobody does anything with the specific intent to be bad people (Mitch McConnell excepted).

I think the reason comes down to how the US is systemically structured to facilitate assholes.

It has gotten better over the centuries, but fundamentally it's still about harnessing the power of assholes. It's not that everyone in the US is an asshole, or that only assholes thrive. It's more that being an asshole is a distinct advantage in most aspects of living in the US. And even further, the pitting of people's stoked avarice against each other allows for considerable achievements. It just so happens that those achievements are usually at considerable human expense. This every-asshole-for-themself individualism was key for expanding through a wild continent. But it is now very much out of step for the interests of living with ourselves in civilization.

The divide politically is most obviously displayed with the geographical results - urban versus rural. Many of the conservative people I know all have worries about reality where the only solution they can conceive of is raw independent self-sufficiency. Even when I snarkily suggest adjusting shared societal factors to eradicate the selfsame problems. However they insist such ideas are impossible - because there are too many assholes. Which, inevitably, means that they have to pre-asshole to out-asshole the hypothetical assholes.

The trouble with assholes, aside from the inherent assholery, is the tendency to assume that everyone else is an asshole too. Perhaps more than just a tendency for some, but a full blown paranoia that the world is stuffed full of dicks out to fuck the unwary. This causes them to forgive all sorts of crazy shit for the purpose of supporting political forces they think will be the right kind of assholery.


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Some people need to find the edges of things, instead of assuming what they might be. I like your style.