Frenzied Daddy

OPB has some deep programming. One show we try to watch is about Broadway and the theater. Last night, in describing a director as an artist, they used the word “vision;” and the way they used it made me compare it to myself; not just myself-as-an-artist but also myself as a web programmer. When I work on “webwork” I have a vision in my head of what I expect it to look like and behave like when I’m done. I’m driven by this vision; I’m willing to put in more hours than I thought the job would take in order for my product to match my “vision.” And frequently I can’t work without it; I mull the task over in my head until the vision strikes me, and then I get into the “flow” (another art term) and work. Vision.

When I was at cowboyz.com, doing something for a client, this happened frequently. I would wind up telling them how much time it would take, then I’d mull it over until struck by the muse, as it were, and then I’d get to work; when the smoke cleared, I’d look around to find myself over the alotted time by about half again or more.

We had one client who didn’t let this bother them much. They were in a creative endeavour themselves, and they read this as my passion for their website; passion to work through something to a goal, which was probably above and beyond what the other people intended. They did want to rein it in somewhat, they were the money-counters for their artists, so while they were used to the experience, they needed some measure to predict the end result. But they were happier to have someone “passionate” about their site than they would have been for an automaton, and said as much to my boss, Satan. Passion.

Considering the language used to describe it, perhaps my “webwork” is a creative art too.

It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity — Ok I lied, it’s the heat. Someone turned up the Oregon (and all of Pacific Northwest, apparently) thermostat to “broil.” It’s about ninety yesterday, today, and predicted through the weekend.

As usual, when the weather is contrary to “normal” trends; ie, 90 degrees before Memorial Day, I’ve noticed that the weather forecasters always predict that it’ll go back to normal in about a week. It may continue on for another couple of days, but they’ll just predict that it’ll change soon. Even last summer when the weird weather went on for months and months, they kept predicting a change.

Anyway, hot and mildly humid (Hey, I’ve been to Atlanta, I know from humid) for the next couple of days. It’s a nice change, but I’ll be tired of it in a few weeks.

Ign.com has a couple of interesting interviews with Avi Arad. Don’t recognize the name? Head over to your DVD collection and pick up your Spiderman DVD. Look him up. He’s the president and CEO of Marvel Studios!

The first interesting thing I’ve learned is that Kelsey Grammar has apparently been tapped to play the Beast in X-Men 3. We knew it was coming, but learning that the Beast will be there (as well as Angel and a few others) is icing on the cake. And I gotta say, Kelsey Grammar is a good choice to play the erudite, peaceful Doctor Beast. They also spoke “at length” about the Fantastic Four movie coming out this summer, and some other stuff (go read the interviews).

This quote from the first interview (linked second, cuz that’s the way I found it) struck me as very insightful; this guy, remember is the CEO of Marvel Productions.

IGNFF: But are those comics that a 6- or 7-year-old can come in and read?

ARAD: Not yet. Bu they are coming. I can promise you that. Let’s have a follow-up just on comics. It’s a fair issue that, trust me – it upsets me. Because there’s no reason for kids not to read it. I am from the school, having not grown up here, that reading is fundamental. Kids go to college, they do well, they don’t do well – it’s all bulls***. I think well-read people – the world is open to them.

And a little later:

IGNFF: Comic books are the American literature…

ARAD: Exactly.

IGNFF: And to have an entire generation not reading them is a damn shame.

ARAD: Listen – you have no idea how much time I’m putting into that, and I know we’ll prevail. It will be great.

I find it hugely entertaining that this “mover and shaker” of Marvel is so interested in getting kids to read, and the way he has presented it here- it’s not just a (duh) money issue for him. Comics are like cigarettes in an unfortunate way; they need to “hook” people for a long term; one person buying one copy of X-Men #230 isn’t going to make a big difference for them. But one person who has been reading X-Men for years, talking to their friends, chatting online, this person is much more valuable; and getting kids to read and become addicted to comics is a first step on this road. But Arad goes beyond this level to a level of “comics get kids reading, and well-read people are unstoppable.”

He also says this, with regards to Marvel stories and “preachieness,” as they’re discussing the Captain America movie: (again, first interview, linked second)

You know what? I really believe that most movies, at least under the Marvel banner, have the right … of not being preachy, but if we have things to say, we’ve said them in the comics forever. That’s why you liked it.

These bastards are corrupting our kids! Encouraging them to read and giving them subversive social commentary! Sadly, it’s not just kids. Bryan singer is a big movie producer (and other stuff). This, again, from that same ten page interview.

ARAD: Bryan Singer never read X-Men. He actually never read comics… He’s a great sci-fi guy, but comics really weren’t his thing. Once we got him to understand X-Men, I mean, he’s going to make X-Men 3 …
Bryan had to relate to the message of what it is to be a mutant. I think Bryan had the unique opportunity to get something across – a message across. Being brilliant, Jewish, and gay – what a combination for a mutant. And I think when Bryan looked at the literature and said, “Oh my god…”

Augh!

When I was an impressionable young lad, about fourth to sixth grade (so tenish to twelvish), I discovered a veritable treasure. Isaac Asimov’s Before the Golden Age. It was one of several tomes in my father’s collection. He had one long bookshelf; six feet long and four feet high with three shelves. The top of it, later in life, was covered in Princess House crystal. Inside this bookshelf, I found Asimov, westerns, and a few other strange novels.

This book was a collection of many stories from “pulp” science fiction from the thirties. It was an era before the speed of light was fixed as a barrier, before the universe became as known (and thus, finite, in a sense) as it is now. In this book, a few stories stand out in my imagination; the main one is Awlo of Ulm. In this (and the prequel, Submicroscopic), our hero shrinks ( I don’t remember why ), down past the size of a grain of sand, down past the molecular stage, and lands on what we know as an atom, which is in reality, a planet. He has adventures there, meets a lovely woman, and at some point, he’s re-sized to his original size.

This image, of worlds within worlds came back to mind when I was reading Spinoza and Leibnitz in college. But I look now, and I don’t see this image in summaries of either of their philosophies, and so I don’t know how accurate this memory is.

When Awlo returned to his original size, he’d find that he had been gone only an instant in this size, but it had been many months, even years, in Ulm. There was an immense time differential between the two worlds.

Recently, we’ve had reason to discuss “squishing ants” with the elder (Miss B). The ants have been moving in to the house and making themselves comfortable. Miss B had to be convinced; if you’re going to kill an ant, to kill it, don’t prolong it by drowning it or submerging it in shampoo, just squish it. Yes, we had to talk to our kid about cruelty to insects. But as I’m talking to her about this, I realize; ants live so much shorter lives than humans. How does our perceived “quick squish” appear to them; is it a slow, gradual pressure on them? Do they lay for five ant-minutes gasping, wheezing and finally expiring?

What do you think?

Hard hats required; the whole web is under construction. Usually, I say this because every single website out there is in a state of flux; any “good” site will be updated regularily. However, this time it’s because of something fascinating; greasemonkey. No, that’s not a perjorative, it’s an extension to firefox that allows the user, aka, you to write scripts (in JavaScript) that manipulate the data the server is handing you.

Want to link to your library from amazon.com? This doesn’t change the amazon site for everyone- just you, when you’re using that browser. There are a lot of greasemonkey scripts already available, and I’m sure there will be more.

Like most things where I can see both sides of an equation, I’m not quite sure where I stand on this. On one hand, it’s totally cool because I can see the use for a lot of neat things; automatically finding addresses in a page, and generating a google map. On the other hand, I write (in general) server programming for that sort of thing, and if I want a google map there, I’ll put it there thank you very much. Maybe I don’t want it there for a specific reason.

I suppose, it’s your browser experience, you have every right to customize it. But I’ll be interested in seeing the outcome of the first lawsuit over the use of this scripty-goodness.

I’m not terribly religious. Generally, I’d classify myself as a Unitarian Universalist. There is enough common ground between the “major” religions, there is enough “good advice” in all of the religions, that I’m hard pressed to say that one batch of 50,000,000 people are more right than another batch of 50,000,000 people. Before I knew there was such a thing as “Unitarians,” I referred to myself as a Godian. And in my glory days of poetry, aka my Angst-Ridden Teenage years, I wrote a long-winded description of the deity as a faceted jewel, of which most people could only see one facet, but now and then you could catch a glimpse of another, as the jewel turned.

I like the notion of “inspire” in the sense that an inspiration is the deity’s breath breathing through you. And just as your breath can be made into various words or sounds, or just a light humming noise, what you do with that breath is under your control, more or less. I also believe that each person, if they listen quietly, inside themselves, can hear suggestions or feel pulled in one direction or another. Not strong enough to call it “destiny” or to overpower our own decision-making, but we’ll be happiest if we listen to the wind of the gods through our heart and go where it suggests. Although sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between what we want to hear and what we are being told.

I also believe that in addition to these internal currents, there are external currents and signs. One of my main ones has been the sighting of a heron. For some reason, I feel an affinity for these gangly yet graceful birds, slowly flapping with their wide wingspan or standing quietly watching the fish pass beneath them. I also feel an affinity for otters, but I see many more herons than otters.

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We went, this year, to our neighborhood parade; Miss B, Baby K, and I. I expected it to be a lot … smaller than our city parade (the Rose Parade) but it exceeded all of our expectations. It went on for hours! Miss B sat with our neighbors, who knew about a third of the people in the parade. We had a lot of cars, a few bands (including 5 High School students marching in protest about their band program being cut), some horses, some greyhounds, some firetrucks. It was a good parade, and the feel was smaller and more local; it processed slowly down the street, handing out candy and waving at the kids. As they drove past our spot, many of the people shouted out kudos for the excellent chalk drawings.

Baby K actually waved (her first parade, her first waves) at some of the people in the parade. And when they passed out little flags to wave, she got her own.

Look Aunti R– I put up a Gallery.

Whoops, I ended the title with a participle. Sorry about that, GJ

So this weekend, again I forgot this cardinal rule of daddydom. First, on Saturday, I took Miss B to the swimming pool. I didn’t get in, on the one hand because I wanted to read my book, and on the other, because I didn’t feel up to stripping down and getting in the pool. So I make her get in the water and go play… I read my book, and as I watch her, I reflect on the opportunity I’m giving her, which I’ve mentioned before I think– a chance to make friends. You see, if I get in the water with her, it becomes Daddy and Daughter play. But this way, she has to go introduce herself somehow, and come up with a game. Negotiate. Mingle. And, self assured, I go back to my book.

Fast forward about an hour. It’s getting to be time to go, and I’m restless. I give her a warning– ten minutes. Just then a group of about ten kids shows up, so she begs another five. Ok, fine, I’m not in that much of a hurry. Five becomes ten more minutes. And now I’m getting annoyed. Just how much am I going to let her go?

Then her new friend comes over to me and begs me to let Miss B stay and play. Another ten minutes, she pouts cutely at me. She tells me that all the other kids in the pool are weird. Not like Miss B. I’m a softie- ok, Miss B can stay.

Fifteen minutes later, Miss B tells me that I have to go into the pool to get her out of it. There’s a contest in the making; Miss B doesn’t want to lose face in front of her new friend, I don’t want to look like an ogre, and I don’t want to be jerked around. Oh, and I don’t want to go into the pool. I waste ten minutes telling her to get out of the pool, she’s laughing at me. One mother tells me I’m never getting her out of there. Other kids are obviously on Miss B’s side. So I let her go, and strategically retreat to plan my next move.

When I go back to her, I make her choose. I let her stay in the pool yet another five minutes, but for every minute she stays in the pool past that, she will be grounded for one day. No playing outside, no computer games.

It works. She gets out, right on time. As she passes me to get her stuff for the shower, she asks if she can have some candy. “Let’s see how long it takes you to rinse off” I tell her.

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