Diary of a Network Geek

First, let me start by saying that I think this is all a good thing.

So, I saw in the news this week that another state has upheld the right of same sex couples to marry. I think this is a good thing. If one truly believes in the separation of church and state then defining marriage in terms of a particular religion’s view of a committed partnership, the lines are being blurred. A civil marriage is a contract, plain and simple. Call it by any name you like, marriage, domestic partnership, I don’t care. It’s still all the same. It’s a contract. A commitment to another person, primarily, a financial and fiduciary commitment, but, still, it is what it is.
Perhaps I’ve read too much science-fiction, but I think it’s time we, as a nation, learn to accept that people are going to arrange their love lives along lines that, frankly, we cannot dictate. People’s hearts will do what they will and trying to legislate something else is, well, foolish, I think. I suppose it would irk my conservative father, but I really haven’t seen anything wrong with marriage as a simple, civil contract between two consenting adults who wish to simplify certain financial arrangements for a long time. And, I’d even take that a step further and allow plural marriage, among legal adults, if it was so desired. It’s an old-fashioned notion that marriage, as a contract, should be between just two people. Of course, we have to draw the line somewhere, I suppose, and same-sex marriage is at least a start

But, I think some people are forgetting the Law of Unintended Consequences.
Consider, for a moment, taxes. Will same-sex marriage partners be assessed a marriage tax? I think they should be, just like heterosexual couples. Will employers count them the same? Will benefits pay the same? Will this finally end all justifications for pay inequality between men and women? After all, one of the several justifications I’ve heard for paying men more than women was that men more often had to take care of a family. Well, now, the reverse may finally be true in the eyes of the people who matter, regardless of how long it may have actually been true. Perhaps, I dream too large.
Still, the real ramifications of these decisions being made won’t be felt for many years to come. By definition, we cannot know all the myriad ways this will effect our society. I hope everyone who has wanted this so badly is willing pay the prices to go with the change.
Both the prices we know now, and the prices that have yet to be tallied.

UPDATE:  You know, after reading this entry this morning, it occurs to me that I should have added that I hope the people who have agitated for this are, in fact, willing to pay all the prices for this to truly succeed everywhere.  Because, I think it’s worth the price.  Truly, I do.  It’s just that so often, we want the change without considering what the change will really mean.
I hope it means that some of my homosexual friends can finally enjoy the same misery, and joy, of being married that the heteros have for, lo, these many years.

Jewelry

Originally uploaded by Network Geek

No, for real. I’ve got some jewelry I’m selling.

So, this weekend, I got a real education in the economics of despair. I’ve never been to a pawn shop to sell, only to buy. It’s an entirely different experience.
As I mentioned in an earlier entry, thanks to Ike, I’ve had some unexpected expenses come up around some damaged fences. Because of my darling Hilda, I really need to have a fenced yard. Or, I suppose, a better trained dog. But, since the fence is easier, that’s the choice I’m going with. For the sake of ease, and block politics, I decided to use the same guy who did the fabulous job on the neighbor’s fence. Incidentally, I’ll be paying some small fraction of that, too, since it’s shared, which is only fair. So, after I asked him, the fence guy came back with a quote of $1475, which isn’t as bad as it sounds when you consider the size of the fence, the height, and how quickly he seems to work. Also, I’m figuring it’ll buy me a little “good neighbor” currency with my oldest neighbor, the lawyer. Yeah, you can see why I like to stay on his good side.

Naturally, this guy doesn’t really do fence work as his main gig, which means this is a strictly cash business, otherwise, I’d pop it onto American Express and work out the details later. And, he’s going to want to be paid on completion, which is going to be, probably, Thursday. The time crunch really puts the squeeze on my poor, tiny, cold-slowed brain and, well, I started to get a little panicky. I’m not proud of that, but money being tight for as long as it has, a little blip on that front really throws me off. This has been no different.
Naturally, trying to handle it all on my own with as little help as possible, I hit on the idea that I can sell some of my ex-wife’s abandoned jewelry. Sounds great, right? I mean, my lawyer’s office pretty well confirmed that, based on the documentation we have of her demanding certain items be sent and leaving the rest, and the amount of time that has passed, that, in essence, salvage rights apply. In other words, this stuff is all mine to do with as I see fit. Great, right? Not so quick.

I saw fit to sell it to a jewelry store. The only problem is, I couldn’t find a jewelry store that would buy it. That meant checking out pawn shops. Naturally, that brought up all kinds of fears for me. Fears of getting cheated, scammed, you name it. But, screwing up my courage, I start asking around to see if anyone knows a good, relatively honest pawn shop. It came as no surprise that someone I know from church has a relative who owns a pawn shop. Her grandmother, in fact. There is, however, one small, um, “catch”. She’s a beautiful, young, athletic woman who is, intrinsically, attractive and I’m, well, not, and, frankly, still, even at my advanced age, get a little nervous and tongue-tied around that kind of woman. It’s sad, really, but, well, there it is. Thankfully, I have e-mail to save me.

So, I e-mailed her and she told me the name of the place and that her cousin runs it, usually, and if not him then her uncle will be. Then, she also told me about their other businesses that for various reasons, including at least one or two legal ones, I’m not going to mention. I think it was at about this point that I started to wonder just how good an idea this really was. I mean, if the most reputable pawn shop I can find with a recommendation from a church-going woman, no less, still has that faint, musty odor of potential illegality, well… Of course, none of this has ever stopped me before, and it doesn’t this time, either, but it makes me a bit more nervous and cautious.
In any case, I do trust this woman from church, and I’m starting to feel a bit of pressure to come up with the cash, so, setting aside my reservations, I get a shower Saturday morning and head over to check things out.
The closer I got to the shop, the more I recognized the neighborhood I was driving into as being, um, less than the best. I wasn’t worried, per se, but I suspected that I should be careful with stuff to sell in my hand, just in case someone got the idea to mug me. It was a longshot, but, still, I grew up outside of Chicago, so I’m not entirely naive. By the time I actually roll up on the place, I’ve gotten a bit nervous that these guys are going to see a desperate sucker coming and take me for all I’ve got. So, as I park, I resolve not to just jump at the first offer and see where the whole thing goes. And, it does occur to me that telling these guys no could end up reflecting poorly on me with this woman from church or get her into an uncomfortable spot with her cousin or uncle or something. None of which would be good, if for no other reason than I genuinely like this lady. I mean, besides being very attractive, she’s a pretty straight-forward sort of gal, and after dealing with the Queen of the Damned, that’s pretty nice.  Though, please, understand that, no matter how much I would like to be, I’m fairly certain I could never, ever be her “type” and that’s okay because I dig her anyhow, even if it’s just as friends.

As I hopped out of the car, I saw two guys loading or unloading something from a trailer, like a generator or pump or something pretty big. One was a younger guy, at least younger than me, and the other looked a little older than me. I kind of wonder if the older guy wasn’t her uncle, but I never did find out or even think to ask. The younger guy sort of squinted in my direction and then walked over toward me and where I parked as I headed into the pawn shop. Before I got too far in and could head toward any counter, the young guy kind of scooted in behind me. He seemed tense or nervous, which didn’t help me, but he was also pretty eager to find out what I wanted. I can’t blame him, since I looked and felt a little out of place. I introduced myself as a friend of the lady from church and tell him she said to ask for her cousin or uncle. He got even more nervous and admitted to me that he was her cousin. Now, keep in mind, this young woman has a couple of tattoos, but they’re tasteful and pretty easily hidden and, when they are, she’s the picture of respectability. The guy I was talking to was… Well, to use her words, dressed a little “thug”. I mean, he fit the role he was filling. Or, at least dressed the part, right down to his shaved head. Oh, also, he work a loose shirt, untucked from his baggy shorts, so I pretty well assumed that he was carrying a gun. Turns out, I was probably right.
Well, the poor guy seemed even more shocked that I knew his cousin or that she’d sent me, but we got down to business pretty quick. He didn’t want to even touch the pearls or the tennis bracelet, and I can’t blame him. They’re a little iffy without an appraisal. The ruby ring was only worth the gold in it, to him and the platinum rings were only had value based on weight. After looking at the rings and weighing them, he ducked into the back for a couple minutes. At first, I thought he might have been calling his cousin to check on me and my story, and then it occurred to me that he was probably checking on the price of platinum. Later, when I talked to his cousin, she confirmed that was probably just precisely what he was doing.
So, then he made me his offer.
Earlier in the week, I’d priced this stuff on eBay, just to get an idea of how much it might sell for. I figured I might get half of that price from these guys, which would have been enough.
They offered me less than a quarter of what I thought I could sell this stuff for on eBay.

In just a few seconds, I went from initial shock to trying to figure out how to tactfully say “no thanks” to a guy who may, or may not, be involved in criminal activity and who may, or may not, actually be strapped as I was talking to him and not insult him or cause trouble for this cute, sweet, and all around nice, woman from church. In that gap, filled with a small breath sucked in through tight lips and my clenched teeth, he gave me my out.
“Hey, if you think you can get a better price somewhere else, go for it. We’ll still be here.”

And with that, I scooped up the jewelry, dropped it into the Ziploc freezer bag and walked out, thanking him out loud and God silently.
When I got into my car, I noticed something was different, but I was a good three blocks away before I realized that what had made the guy nervous when I drove up was the fact that I was driving what looked like an unmarked police car, just like what the Feds drive. Combine that with being, um, ethnically incorrect for the neighborhood and I’m fairly certain he thought I was a cop, of some kind, coming to bust him for something.
You see, what I’d noticed was that the spot-light on the outside of my car had been moved so that someone could check the registration. After thinking about it for a minute, I was sure that what he’d done was check to see if I had a city or federal parking tag or registration on the windshield. I’d probably made him more uncomfortable than he’d made me!
And, when I got home, I called my parents, who were more than happy to lend me the money to pay the fence guy until I can sell the jewelry on eBay, or whatever. But, I sure did get a taste of how desperate you have to be to actually sell something at a pawn shop. I understood just how bad things had to have gotten for someone to be there and really not have the choice to walk away. Just take their offer or do without, somehow. Today, I’m very, very thankful that wasn’t my only choice.

On the upside, while I was waiting, I saw some very reasonably priced power tools. So, you know, when I do get a little working capital and want some tools, they’re probably going to be my first stop!

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"Character consists of what you do on the third and fourth tries."
   --James Michener

No, not actual ruin, but, rather, a bit of artistic fantasy.

Thanks to a chance discovery of Pink Tentacle, I have a quickie for you. Just a link, really, to their blog entry about an artist who’s Photoshoped pictures of Tokyo into fantasies of life after mankind has suddenly departed. I love the images and imagination behind this exhibit. I remember when everyone evacuated Houston for RIta, even though it was totally unwarranted. The whole city seemed empty and surreal. That’s what these pictures reminded me of.

Anyway, it seemed the perfect thing for leading up to Halloween. Enjoy!

So, in a few minutes, I’m going to head down to M. D. Anderson Cancer Center to get the results of my scan from last week.

I wanted to post a picture of the outside of M. D. Anderson, but when I was taking them last week, a security guard came and hassled me. Normally, I’d have hassled back, especially since there were no signs or other posted warnings against photography. Also, I was outside taking pictures and avoiding shots of people. I mean, I was a cancer patient, after all, and I know how sensitive I was about pictures, so I wouldn’t want to stress anyone else out about it. In any case, I owe them some money and didn’t have the time to be arrested or anything like that, so I complied with the “nice officer’s requests”. I actually did try to get the “proper permission”, but no one with the right “authority” would reply to me. So, the long and short of it is, no pictures. Oh, well!

In any case, I’ll spend most of my morning waiting around to see my doctor, which is fine. I’m sure the results will be clear because, other than a little head cold and congestion, I feel fine. I’m not sure if I have a fever any more or not because as I was going to check my temperature last night after work, I dropped the thermometer. I wonder if the mercury will show up on blood work? So, I’ll probably stop on the way home and get a new, cheap digital thermometer. And, maybe, if I talk to my oncologist real sweet, she’ll write me a prescription for something that will help clear out this congestion and whatever else is holding on in my head and lungs. I suspect she will, not only because they’re good like that in the Lymphoma clinic, but also because I think it would look bad if I died from pneumonia after they saved me from cancer!

Oh, yeah, if anyone knows a good place in Houston to sell jewelry, let me know in the comments. I’ve got to come up with a little over $1500 fast to pay for a replacement fence. I’m sure I could borrow the money from several people, but I’d rather get rid of my old platinum wedding bands and some of the jewelry I bought for my ex-wife that she left behind and pay for it that way. I hate the idea of taking it to a pawn shop, because I’m sure they’ll screw me royally on the price. I may borrow the money and try eBay for the jewelry, too. Might be easier all the way around.

Anyway, I’ve got to run to the clinic now. I’ll definitely post an update later with results from the scan, good, bad or indifferent!

UPDATE: Didn’t feel like writing a whole new entry just to say I’m still cancer free.  *yawn*  And, the doctor did write a prescription for antibiotics, just in case.  And, I got chewed out a little bit for not getting to see an eye doctor like I was supposed to do.  But, all that aside, I’m still cancer free. (Yea!)

This past week, I read Choke by Chuck Palahnuik.

If you can’t quite place the author, think Fight Club, either the book or the movie. Or, you may have seen the ads for the film that is being made about this book. As I recall, it’ll be out by the end of the year and will star Sam Rockwell.
Frankly, I doubt the movie will compare to the book, mainly, because if it did, they’d get an NC-17 rating, at least. The book follows Victor Mancini, a failed medical student and mediocre historical reenactor, who is struggling with having his mother in a full-service nursing home. She needs to be there, though, not just because she’s old and infirm, but also quite deranged. Most times, when Victor comes to visit her, she doesn’t even recognize him.

The book opens with Victor having sex in the bathroom of a church, the ladies room, actually, instead of attending a 12 step meeting. Naturally, he’s having sex with a woman out on a three-hour release from, one assumes, prison or a psych ward, and he signs her release form, claiming to be her sponsor. The meeting they’re skipping is for sex addicts. This becomes a running theme throughout the book: addiction. Habits. Sex. All big themes. All making this a very adult book.
But, beyond his problem with sex and women, Victor needs money. It’s not cheap keeping his mother in that full-service nursing home and every procedure costs extra. That’s why Victor dropped out of medical school and moved back home. It’s also why he works at the early Colonial reenactment town, trying to get enough money to scrape by. Somewhere along the way, Victor hits on the idea of choking in restaurants as a way to avoid the bill and he discovers that when people save him it makes them feel like heroes. It also makes some of them feel responsible for him and, out of a perverse need to take care of him, they send him money. Money, and a birthday card on the anniversary of having saved his life. It’s this subplot, really, that gives the book it’s name. If Palahnuik had named the book for what it was about, really, it would have been titled “Sex Addict Living In Denial”.

I have to admit, in many ways, though, I felt a certain resonance with Victor. He found himself in the grips of compulsions that he simply didn’t have the means to control. He lost himself, quite literally, it turns out, in yet another subplot, wherein he finds out the identity of his real father. And, for that matter, his mother, too. He’s just a poor sap, who’s had everything turn to crap before his very eyes and, now, is trying to make the best of it with a very limited skill-set and some truly messed up thinking.
His mother is an interesting character, too. She’s some kind of revolutionary activist who gets thrown in jail repeatedly and then escapes to find Victor and lead him on yet another crazy adventure meant to raise society’s conscious, or some such nonsense. It never really works out the way she plans, and neither does poor Victor.

Well, again, I won’t ruin the book by telling you anything more significant of the plot, but it is a very wild ride. I’m sure the movie will be interesting, but not half as good as the book.
So, if you’re over sixteen, well, maybe over eighteen, then read the book

BurnAfterReading

Originally uploaded by Network Geek

Okay, so I saw two totally different movies this weekend.

I’m going to review them in reverse order, actually.
Sunday, at the earliest matinee, I saw Burn After Reading. Now, I have to admit, I went into this with pretty high expectations because, after all, it is a Coen Brothers’ film. Also, from the trailers, I was expecting a total comedy. Well, I’ll say this, I was certainly not sad that I went to see this film. And, it was very, very funny. But, it wasn’t really a comedy.

The story, in a nutshell, is this… Osborne Cox, a CIA analyst gets demoted, but quits in protest. His wife, a castrating bitch, is cheating on him, but also wants a divorce. He starts writing a memoir, which she copies to a disk along with a bunch of financial information to bring to her lawyer. Somehow, the disk gets, well, lost and falls into the wrong hands. In this case, the “wrong hands” is the staff at a health club, each of whom are messed up in their own way.
And, that’s just the first thirty minutes, or less, of the film! Oh, and that’s all without any of the subplots that all become hugely important later. It’s very much like Fargo, in all the best ways, even including a lot of the cast from Fargo, in fact.

Well, as always, without revealing any significant plot spoilers, let me say that this was a good movie, albeit complicated, convoluted and quirky. Of course, it is a Coen Brothers’ film, so I guess that’s to be expected.
The thing is, from the advertising and the trailers, I thought this would be mostly a comedy, but it’s not. Really, I’m not sure what it is, outside of being different and good. Well, it is funny, too, it’s just not full-out comedy. I mean, it’s better than that. It’s kind of hard to explain.
Okay, let’s just summarize and let me say that it’s worth paying full price to see this movie, and I almost never pay full price to see a movie any more.

Now, Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist is an entirely different animal.
As I wrote on Flickr, guys, if you take a date to see this movie and you didn’t get laid? Duder, you are doing something seriously wrong. I am not kidding.

Okay, look, I’ll admit it. I have a secret weakness for romantic comedies that are heavy on the romantic. Nick and Norah is such a film. It may not win any Oscars, but, if I had to pick a must-see movie, behind Dark Knight, of course, this would be it.
Two kids, seniors in different high schools in the greater New York area, have a mutual acquaintance in common. Nick’s ex-girlfriend and Norah’s arch-nemesis. They also share a love of music, which is featured through out the film.
Nick, the only straight member of an otherwise gay band, finds himself dragged out in search of a mythical band “Where’s Fluffy?” as he tries to recover from being dumped. Norah, a nice girl with a couple of self-image issues, gets dragged out to take care of a friend who invariably ends up drunk and, of course, by the lure of finding “Where’s Fluffy?”. Somewhere in the middle, they meet and…

Well, in my fine tradition of not ruining films I review with spoilers, I’m not going to tell you if they actually get together by the end of the film. But, let me reinforce that guys, if you are even the slightest bit nice, kind, sweet, gentlemanly, caring sort of guy that Michael Cera plays? This movie should pretty well make any normal, romantic, sweet, “bring her home to meet the parents” sort of girl you ought to be dating totally melt. As long as it’s your idea first, not hers, and you totally buy into the romance of this flick. You have GOT to believe it, brothers, or it will not fly.
But, uh, yeah, I need to find a date while this movie is still in the damn theaters. Like, pronto.

It’s been a great year for movies so far, and the rest of the year looks pretty good, too.
Stay tuned for more reviews. Oh, and another book review later in the week, too.

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"If we only wanted to be happy, it would be easy; but we want to be happier than other people, which is almost always difficult, since we think them happier than they are."
   --Montesquieu

I hate going to the gym.

I like working out, though, for the feeling I get afterward. I like feeling strong and healthy and, well, good. Who doesn’t? But, I hate going to the gym because, well, there are people there, um, watching me. Or, at least, that’s how it feels. I’m sure they’re probably more interested in their own workout, but just the possibility that they might be watching me creeps me out.

So, how can I get a good workout without all that gym equipment?
Thankfully, there are lots of ways. One way, according to Men’s Health, is to use a sandbag. It’s cheaper than a medicine ball and my favorite men’s magazine even has a sandbag workout that the professionals use for you. Because, yes, professional football players don’t use fancy weights to strength train.
Now, I haven’t started doing that one, yet, but I do a lot of push-ups and sit-ups. Not quite as many as I used to do before chemotherapy, but, I’m working up to it again. And, barring holidays or other breaks in my schedule, I do that five days a week in the morning before my coffee and my shower. Great way to start the day!
I have also used, and highly recommend, Dynamic Strength by Sifu Harry Wong. He has plenty of isometric exercises in that book to challenge anyone at any fitness level. And, they’re pretty much all based on traditional Chinese martial arts and health movements, so it’s not some modern, new-age crackpot health scam, either.

I do use a small set of dumbbells, which I’ve had for years, but those weren’t expensive either. And, you can substitute plastic milk jugs full of water, if you need some weights. In fact, with the Russian “kettlebell” phenomena from a few years back, I might just try that out myself!
Of course, I need to start walking with the dog again, too. That light aerobic exercise would probably do more for me than anything else I do now. Besides, I’m sure my Hilda would like to re-explore the neighborhood. Then, after I get a little of my “wind” back, I can start hitting the old heavy bag I’ve got in my garage. When I pounded on that for 20+ minutes three times a week, I was in pretty damn fine shape. Well, one day, I will be again.

So, that’s the way I beat the excuse “The gym’s too expensive and I never go anyway!” What’s yours?

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"Pay no attention to the faults of others, things done or left undone by others. Consider only what by oneself is done or left undone."

No, this is not a romantic, emo post about how I’ve grown apart from one I love.

No, what I’m talking about is the distance between the ritual violations that the medical profession inflict on me to tell whether or not further torture is needed. Yes, I’m talking about another CT scan. With contrast. Coming and going. Or, for those of you who are indelicate about such things, it’s time for a really unhappy nurse to give me another radioactive enema. So, probably about the time that you’re enjoying your morning coffee, or at least taking a break before lunch, I’ll be ingesting barium laced apple juice and trying not to think about what’s lurking in wait for me behind the big, white doors. As I told someone not too long ago, by the time you’re done with cancer treatment, any dignity you have left is small and easy to carry.
Seriously, I’ve been poked, prodded and probed in ways that normally require the purchase of drinks, several drinks that contain goodly amounts of hard liquor, so often I think I could just about walk stark naked through the Galleria and feel less uncomfortable. And, I’m not in any shape to be seen naked in public, either.

I think I scarred some poor, dear thing at work when I was griping about this scan. She thought I was worked up about the possibility of finding out that my body had fatally betrayed me again. I explained to her, however, that death is the easy part. I mean, we’re all going to die. The only issue is where, when and how. Honestly, I take a fair amount of comfort in knowing that the one thing we all have in common is that none of us are going to make it out of here alive. No, it’s the indignity of the scan itself that I hate. It is frankly unbelievable to me that someone, somewhere can in some sad way find anything at all about getting an enema exciting. Because, let me tell you gentle readers, as far as I’m concerned, it is no fun at all. And, it is not any consolation at all that some sick twist pays extra when he sees “Mistress Candy, the erotic nurse’s aid” while my insurance is paying most of the bill. Truly.
On the other hand, for me, it’s just one day out of many. For the nurse… Well, let’s just put it this way, we may think we work with assholes every day, but that poor nurse really does. All day, every day. No wonder the poor thing never smiles.

Maybe if we had drinks first…