Fluff

I'm a self-avowed fan of fluff. It's not very manly of me, I admit, but I'm unabashedly fond of Angora rabbits and alpaca fleece. It doesn't take a grizzled ex-Marine to appreciate the advantages of goose down over bare concrete.

But fluff comes in many forms. Many consider Shakespeare and Jane Austin to be fluffy as well. Brain fluff. (and, yes, I'll admit to being a fan of fluffy literature.)

One may--and, probably should--question the long-term effects of fluff. Is it possible to escape the gravitational pull of a fluffy lifestyle after you've indulged long enough?

Fluff is cute, comfortable, and companionable. However, it is not good for developing abs of steel or a mind of metal. Case in point: neither Maximus Decimus Meridius nor Saruman the White were fluffy guys.

The enterprising mind will try to grasp the advantages of both worlds. There are two ways to accomplish this. One approach is to embrace fluff and substantive labor simultaneously. Unfortunately, such behavior would probably involve laughing uproariously at your calculus book or sleeping in chainmail. So, no, count me as a skeptic.

The second approach is to embrace one for a time, then switch gears and bask in the other. A lot of working adults have this as their penultimate goal in life. Work your heart out for 40 years, then chill in the easy chair of retirement with a tall glass of lemonade. This isn't a bad approach, but be warned, once you've acquired a taste for charcoal toast, it may be hard to relinquish it.

Lazier members of society eschew the idea of toil altogether. If you can't take it with you, why bother?

Suckers for punishment form the opposing echelon of thought. Somehow--and I would love to learn the secret--they've managed to put a facade of leisure on their house of horrors.

But, eh, at the end of the day, life is pain. Anybody who says otherwise is selling something. Even fluff can result in pain (to which anybody who has gone to a lion petting zoo can attest).

Ask too much of life, and you'll be disappointed. Ask too little, and you'll be infected with the same fatal cancer.

Be content.

(Yeah, apparently my parents weren't off their meds when they gave me the same advice. Parents know what they're talking about. Who knew?)

Until next time,
- Daniel

Laura

Memory is my nemesis. It's as simple as that. Some things come naturally, others don't.

Like names.

My pastor once told me that he can walk up to a 30-year parishioner and completely forget his name. I laughed.

Until it happened to me.

Usually these events are rather sporadic. Usually they never repeat for the same person. Usually a few choice mnemonics can set the problem to rights.

However, the concept of "usually" means that such trends are meant to be broken. Yes, even with something as mundane as memory (or the lack thereof). See, I have a friend named Laura...

Except you wouldn't know that her name is Laura. I never call her that. It's not intentional, it's just... yeah. The first time it was funny, the second time less so, the third time embarrassing, and the progression has continued downwards from there.

Last night was the final straw. I called her by the wrong name, and ended up writing a map on a notepad with an arrow pointing to her seat at the table to remind me.

The frustrating thing is, with most Lauras, I'm a-ok. It's just this particular one that gives me trouble.

It's kind of a dangerous situation if you think about it. Say you're playing frisbee. Good practice is to say the name of the person you're throwing the disc to. Call out the wrong name and give a particularly aggressive throw, and bad things could happen.

I mean, really. Imagine the resulting obituary: "killed by forgetful friend."

Not good.

The result is this blog post. I'm putting all my chips on the table. If the ol' grey matter can't take a hint by a global publication of its failings, nothing will work.

--------------------------------------------

In retrospect, perhaps I should have anonymized her name. But then, as I know multiple Lauras (five at last count), the same aim is achieved. Besides, with my luck, I've probably got the wrong name, so all is well.


Until next time,
- Daniel

Thanksgiving

Today is Thanksgiving. "Be Thankful" is the order of the day. So, in the spirit of the season, I've compiled a list of 10 things I'm thankful for. They're in no particular order (which is good, as I wouldn't want you to get the impression that I rank socks over my buddy Nick).

Also, before I begin, there's a soap box here that needs a little lovin'...

Ah, much better. Being 7-feet tall has its perks. Start rant...

The only thing Turkey and Thanksgiving have in common is that they both start with the letter 'T' (and that the former is slaughtered en-masse in preparation for the latter.)

Not to sound too grumpy, because, after all, I heart an annual Tryptophan high just as much as the next carnivore. However, can we please lose the association that Thanksgiving = Turkey Dinner? Turkeys are to Thanksgiving what Santa Claus is to Christmas and what Bunnies are to Easter.

/rant

There, I feel better now...

So, with no further ado... just what could a paranoid, introverted homeschool grad be grateful for? Here goes...

1. Socks
   For being warm, fluffy, and making it possible to run in freezing weather.
   
   
2. I Kissed Dating Goodbye
   For making me feel more holy and pure (and doing nothing to help me choose the right girl.)
   
   
3. Purdue
   For taking my money away so I couldn't do stupid things with it.
   
   
4. Puppet Labs
   For giving me money so I could give it to Purdue so I couldn't do stupid things with it.
   
   
5. English Country Dancing
   For disproving the common anatomical misconception that some people are born with two left feet.
   
   
6. Apple Inc.
   For helping me end an era of pro-Microsoft bigotry. Oh yeah... and for being cool.
   
   
7. Nick Morrissey
   For not dying (but unfortunately raising the suspicion that running with Daniel could end in premature death.)
   
   
8. Stochastic Processes
   For making me feel like an idiot.
   
   
9. Linear Algebra
   For not making me feel like an idiot.
   
   
10. TriMet
    For dealing with traffic so I can focus on Jeeves and Wooster.

And there you have it. Nobody said I was the most orthodox person in the world. What are you thankful for?

Until next time,

- Daniel

Dogfooding

Eating your own dog food. Novel concept. If you don't like the taste of your own shoe leather, don't feed it to somebody else.

At work, the entire company is spending the next six weeks executing 'Project Empathy'. We're using our own software, experiencing the pain our users experience, and hating ourselves every step of the way.

But I don't want to talk about software. For one, after a long day at work, I'm sick of the stuff. Two, nobody can put an audience to sleep faster than computer scientists talking shop.

How does dogfooding apply to real life?

Birthday gifts are a prime example. When you give a gift, it can be difficult to give something that you yourself would like to have. So... and this is entirely anecdotal... most gifts are something the giver either doesn't want or is indifferent to.

The result? You aren't eating your own dogfood.

Be willing to give. Generously. Give as you would have given to you. If you love others as you love yourself, you're doing both yourself and them a favor. You're still eating your own food, but it's good stuff: caviar for the Russians, ice cream for everybody else.

Maybe this seems petty and materialistic. And granted, if you're measuring your friendships by finery, that's just sad.

However, I'd like to propose something to you. Honesty, candor... all that stuff we like to harp on and talk about... I'd maintain that it's rooted in our wallets.

Words are cheap. Actions are more expensive. Gifts are you-did-what-with-your-bank-account???

If you won't back up verbally communicated friendship with a day at the beach, a hike in the woods, or a surprise birthday party, you probably aren't the sort of person who will invest monetarily during hard times and in desperate circumstances.

A corollary can be found in Proverbs 14:20:

The poor is hated even by his neighbor,
         But those who love the rich are many.

In the same vein, you don't go around buying everybody on your Facebook friends list an iPhone 4GS. Friendships are founded with words, developed through actions, and matured through investment. As has been astutely noted by some of you, you don't go from anonymity to intimacy in one fell blow. Don't give your heart, time, and money away without a thought.

Learn what it means to be a friend. Hold nothing back, but be wise as serpents and gentle as doves.

Me personally, if I see one more SSL error, I'm going to scream. If your computer screen spontaneously cracks, now you know why.

Until next time,
- Daniel

Practical Application (or not)

Math. The nectar of the gods. The refuge of the wise. With a pad of paper and a pencil, you can move the world.

Take a cup of water. How do you calculate the volume? Good question. Glad you asked. Fortunately for us, we have this thing called calculus.

All you have to do is find a mathematical model that describes the shape of the cup, integrate, and voila, you have the volume.

Now, a standard pixie cup can be represented by a truncated circular cone, which can be described via:

The cross-section of the cup, going through the xy plane, is a circle, described by:

With a = z for any particular cross section. The area of a circle is... as we all know:

Since the radius is z for our example, the area of a cross section becomes:

Great, so we've got the area for each cross section of our pixie cup. Now, to calculate the volume, we merely integrate the area of each cross-section over the height of the cup. Simple.

Now, there's the fact that c <= z <= d, where c is the radius of the cup at the bottom and d is the radius of the cup at the top. Hence, the resulting integral becomes:

The beautiful thing about calculus is that there are various ways to visualize things. For example, instead of integrating from c to d, we could calculate two integrals from 0 to c and 0 to d, respectively, then subtract the former from the latter. This has the effect of finding the volume of a large circular cone and subtracting the volume of a smaller cone from it. This looks like:

Voila.

Up until now we've been using arbitrary constants. To find the volume for this particular cup, all we need to do is make a couple of measurements.

Ah, we find that the bottom radius is 1.5 inches and the top radius is 2 inches.

Plugging these numbers into our formula, we see that the cup contains 24.74 cubic inches of water. Now, this isn't terribly useful, so let's convert to cups.

The ratio of cubic inches to cups is 1 cubic inch to 0.06926 cups. So... multiplying by 0.06926, we have 1.71349 cups.

...or you could just use a measuring cup. That works too. Sometimes using math to solve certain problems is analogous to hunting moose with bazookas.

Until next time,
- Daniel

Catmatism

We live in a dogmatic world. (now there's a dogmatic statement.)

And sure, eh, it's understandable. We're told to be fully convinced in our own minds.

But boy, does it drive me bonkers. Even when you're talking about something that you're supposed to be dogmatic about.

Say you're in a Bible study or sunday school class. The teacher has a target, a goal, a conclusion he wants everybody to reach. He pauses, and asks for input. At this point, some intrepid student is going to raise her hand and make an observation that is entirely true and relevant to the topic, but doesn't go where the teacher wants it to go.

This is where you'll get one of two possible reactions:

1. He'll agilely take the comment in stride and affirm it as an equally valid point.
   
   
2. He'll either ignore the comment entirely or condemn it as irrelevant because it wasn't the input he desired.

This second reaction has, as of late, been driving me batty.

You're talking about Jesus. His purpose for coming into the world. The teacher stops and asks for input...

A student raises his hand.

"To save people from their sins."

The teacher responds, "no, actually, he came to disseminate the Truth."

Really?

Okay, if I were to be honest with myself, the teacher's response is absolutely valid. Jesus did come to share the Truth. What drives me batty is the dogmatism to a certain line of thinking that automatically invalidates any alternate way of approaching the question.

Gahhhhh...


If that's dogmatism, I'm going to be a catmatist from now on.

Until next time,
- Daniel

Gumption

It takes gumption to do a lot of things in life. It takes gumption to get up, brush your teeth, and head out to work five times a week, 50 weeks a year, for the rest of your useful life.

It also takes gumption to crawl out of your sleeping bag and go for a 20 mile hike in the Olympic National Forest. However, it doesn't take gumption to do this in 37° F weather with ice-cold rain seeping down your neck.

That takes stupidity.

Unfortunately, it seems I'm generously endowed with that particular characteristic, so after a fruitful business trip in Bellevue, WA, I drove 175 miles to a suspiciously empty Graves Creek campground in the Olympics. Trading a cushy hotel room for an airconditioned tent in the boondocks never seems like a bad idea when you're cozily nested in the aforementioned hotel room.

As I saw it, the weekend held promise of adventure and potential perils, Black Bears and Cougars among these. Sadly for the adventure, but happily for my life-and-limb, neither proved an issue. Ironically, it was the seemingly innocuous fauna of the region that served as the agent for my undoing.

Pay attention to these two persnickety characters:

1. Beavers
2. Elk

I was moseying along a trail, happy as a cactus in a rainforest, when it ended. Gone. It was as though the frog had leapt from the lily pad and hit the bottom, never to be seen again. Trails shouldn't do that.

Granted, there had been many puddles along the trail thus far. Rather large puddles at that. But this... This was more of a lake than a puddle.

I tried skirting around the perimeter, but it was hopeless. The trail was lost and I was about to follow duitifully in its footsteps. Just then, I saw it...

A downed aspen tree. And not just downed. Hewn. Aimed perpendicular to a now-submerged plank bridge.

Yes sirree, some overgrown rodent had decided to sabotage the bridge. There's no need for questioning on that point. Trust me. Those buck teeth would fail any polygraph test in the country.

That was day one. After crossing the submerged bridge, I completed a mostly-uneventful 14 mile out-and-back through the rain forest. After returning to base camp, I proceeded to enjoy a long, mostly-sleepless night.

Day two, the elk had their way with me.

I never knew this before, but elk follow very predetermined paths through the forest. Paths that can--to the untrained eye--appear like legitimate hiking trails.

And so they did.

Ten miles into the hike, all of a sudden the trail took on a mind of its own. It began twisting back and forth as though an insane lumberjack (or twisted NPS employee) was the mastermind. And not just one trail, mind you, but multiple trails that would branch off at the most inopportune times, making me wonder which was truly legitimate (hint: none of them were).

The result? Instead of hitting my desired terminus at the Enchanted Valley, I was stymied and sent back at the 10 mile mark, forever wary of the evil mind of the Elk.

Be wary, O lover of Beaver or ensign of Elk. I'm onto you now.

Cheap thrills. They'll kill me yet.

Until next time,
- Daniel

Upscale Eating

I've never been much of an upscale eater. Spending more than $15 on a single meal doesn't... usually... happen. Still, being on my own in Washington with nothing better to do, I decided to go undercover and double that figure.

Granted, this is small fry in a world where $100+ meals aren't uncommon affairs. Little matter that you could feed yourself at McDonalds for a month on that sum. (The question of whether that's a good idea is a different question altogether. There's more than one documentary on the subject, so I'll let you ponder the theological implications of supersizing later.)

Regardless, I think we can agree, $30, $100, or $1000, restaurants that save ink by rounding all prices to the nearest dollar are in a different class than the Dairy Queen around the corner. It's a class where the food is more an attraction than a means to an end. A class where style and service are more important than bang-for-the-buck.

One day, when I've made my fortune selling toothpicks and programming toasters, these indulgences may make more sense. Until then, I'm content to indulge once for the street cred. (yes, I have been forced to tip more than $5 on a meal.)

Thus is posed the question. What exactly does $30 get you at a mid-scale restaurant? In the spirit of humorists of old, here goes...

What you get...	Downside...
Darker ambiance	Harder to find your salad
More attentive servers	They never go away
Unlimited refills	You will float out the door
Gourmet recipes	Enough spices to kill a cockroach
All-black staff uniforms	Collisions are inevitable
Expensive decor	$12,000 fish mounted to wall

Do the pros outweigh the cons? While you're deciding, I'll be making my way to a pack of Dentyne Ice to sooth my hyperactive taste buds...

Until next time,
- Daniel

Olympic Expedition

Farewell, dear friends. As I write these words, the clock is spinning rapidly toward the point of my departure. Farewell Seattle. Farewell urban life.

In short, this techno-geek is flying the coop. Goodbye road running. Hellloo trail running. (where have you been all my life?)

Where am I going?

The Olympics.

Where?

Well, not Greece, unfortunately. I couldn't get the time off from work, and transatlantic flights are hideously expensive. This was the next best thing.

Olympic National Park is a 922,650 acre park that sits within the Olympic peninsula of the state of Washington. There aren't any roads that traverse the interior. The best you can do is drive around the perimeter and find a stub that probes a few miles inward. After that, you're on your own in the exploration department.

Me? I have my eyes set on the trails of the southwestern corner of the region. Taking highway 101 into the interior past Lake Quinault, there's a campsite that provides access to trails that follow the east and north forks of the Quinault river upstream. The campground is named Graves Creek. That'll be home for the weekend. (I'm purposely not searching Google for the backstory behind the name. If you do, don't tell me. I like surprises.)

On Friday, I'll be tackling an out-and-back from North Fork campground to Kimta Peak (elevation 5399 ft.). Saturday, a lower-altitude trail run along the North Fork Quinault River to Low Divide. Sunday, if I'm still able to walk, I'll close out the trip with another out-and-back along the East Fork Quinault River to Enchanted Valley.

What's better, I'll be bringing my DSLR with me so you can feast your eyes on the broad swaths of cloudy nothingness that NOAA is predicting. It's Washington... and November... so I guess I shouldn't complain.

If the bears get me, make sure you grab the GPS track from my watch. I'd like it to be immortalized in some way. Maybe on a new brand of bear repellent or... perhaps... a map for directionally challenged hikers... but I don't want to ask too much.

And just so we're clear, if I get lost, there's no obligation to send in a rescue party. I mean, it would be nice and all, but I don't like twisting arms. Hikers gotta hike, bears gotta eat. However, if you need some exercise and happen to be in the area, keep an eye out for signal flares.

Until next time,
- Daniel

My Monster

The last two years have been a bit of a facade. I've lost passion, drive, and interest in education, work, and life in general. Church has been the source of some disillusionment and the target of some frustration. Things came to a head this semester, as it came time to face the music and realize that I'm not academically or financially capable of earning my graduate degree in electrical and computer engineering.

And then, things got better...

Brian Plett was instrumental in starting my running addiction. Last December, he invited me to join him in an April race, so I accepted and started training. It's been a gradual process, but consistent exercise has been instrumental in improving my physical and mental conditioning, and has played a key role in getting me to think rationally about my future (if you don't have answers to your problems after a 3-hour run, you ain't getting them).

In August, I was offered an internship with Puppet Labs in Portland. It has been a fantastically stretching experience, enabling me to turn a long-time passion of web development into a paid opportunity to work with some of the best designers and front-end engineers in the business. Never have 14-hour days in the office and on the bus passed so quickly.

In September, I went on a camping trip to the John Day area with several friends. It further helped to clear my mind and give me proper perspective on the important things in life. Ashamed as I am to admit it, the financial stress involved in studying at Purdue has negatively affected my behavior towards my family and friends. Obvious as it may seemed, this trip helped me realize that family and friends should take priority over education, and solidified my resolve to make changes to my academic program.

In October, I notified the head of the Electrical Engineering department at Purdue of my desire to drop out of the program. While I'd dreaded the moment for a long time, making the decision brought a good deal of stress relief. Trusting God to direct my future is the right thing to do. The definition of insanity is trying the same thing and expecting different results. My past couple years have met that definition.

In November, I met with my manager at Puppet Labs for a one-on-one, giving him an honest evaluation of my academic prospects. Not only was he understanding, and eager to support my desire to switch majors from ECE to Computer Science (my undergraduate degree is in CS, so pursuing a graduate degree in the same was an obvious choice), but offered me a full-time position until I move to Indiana in Fall of 2012.

Where do I go from here?

God has provided abundantly. He's given me hope again for the future. Even though my application to the School of Computer Science at Purdue is by no means guaranteed to be accepted, I don't fear rejection. He's provided a full-time job (a job I love) which will provide enough money for me to focus on school full-time during Fall 2012 and Spring 2013, if that's indeed what I end up doing.

Even though I can't fully express my appreciation to everyone who has been involved in my life, I'd like to thank each one of you for your role in bringing me to where I am now. God is good, and I pray I never think otherwise, no matter what the future may bring.

Until next time,
- Daniel

Change

Life is like rolling down a mossy embankment.

Life is not like hiding under your bedsheets writing blog posts.

But ignore that for the moment. Suppose life were more like a DVR. That second analogy would make more sense. You could blog about the good parts while skipping through the bad parts. Watch the movie until the boogie monster comes out of the closet, then skip out and let the rest of the family experience the carnage.

...or maybe you like carnage, and you'd rather leave the love scenes to the family. Your mileage may vary. I for one get enough carnage at the dentist office.

Alas, reality strikes. It seems our lives more closely resemble the Man in Black rolling down a hill yelling "asss yooouuu wisshhh". We're actors in an action film. A film with a script and a very strict director who hates ad-libbing.

The Arminians can have at me in the comments below, but it at least seems that life will move on with or without us.

Now, before you crucify me for comparing God and His Will to Rob Reiner and William Goldman, let me say I believe that God's plan is much better than the Pit of Despair and Miracle Max. (believe me, if Billy Crystal showed up as the answer to prayer, I would have some serious questions).

There seems to be considerable merit behind the idea that God is the Director of Life (not the cereal, and definitely not the magazine). He formed the foundations of the world, created man in his own image, and is intimately involved in our lives from beginning to end. Is it such a stretch to think that he orchestrates the day-to-day fabric of our lives?

All we have to do is face the music and play what he's composed for us. All things work together for good, and I for one am not going to think my Savior means me harm when life seems less than perfect.

Yup, change is part of the equation. Ups and downs are part of the ride. The boogie monster is a-comin', and there ain't a lot you can do about it.

So, what am I going to do about it? One second. Hand a superman costume under the covers and release that bad boy. I'm ready to ride my monster.

Until next time,
- Daniel