• Contributors: Those who actually contribute the code to the community. They might have ethical reasons to do what they do, but they either enjoy sharing knowledge with the rest of the world, or work on a project to improve on certain skills. These are the guys who usually contribute to or run projects on the side.
• Advocates: Those who don’t code, but push the cause with their action (also known as computer show coordinators for their respective user groups.) These guys spend a good chunk of their time evangelizing open source, much like video game golfers spend much of their time exalting golf and all its wonders and glory. Usually try to cover up their inability to contribute code with their ability to blend in well with society. Sadly, many of these guys need a lesson in hygiene.
• Fans: Guys who don’t really do much for open source other than use it and recommend it to their friends. Ironically, they’ll be both the biggest and least effective word of mouth advertisers.Their main interest is “Free as in Beer”. They’re somewhere between Advocates and Users.
• Capitalists: People who use open source because it best suits their needs. Usually corporate heads fall into this category, and force their employees to become users if they’re not already one of the first three. They’re the least likely to care about the “Free” part of FOSS, and rarely know the difference between Free Software and Open Source Software.

So why did I write this? To show you what type of people you’ll be dealing with. It might be that you’re only writing software because you’re a contributor and you’re trying to help other contributors (e.g., you’re trying to fill a need). Or it might be that you’re a contributor with a dream of reaching all four categories. Or you might be a capitalist who doesn’t see the difference between Open Source and Free Software, and who doesn’t care. In any case, remember that the most successful projects start with contributors who create fans who lure in the capitalists. At last, when the capitalists are lured in, maybe–just maybe–they’ll begin to understand the true value of a contributor to the Free and Open Source Software movement.

I belong to more than a few email groups. Usually, these are for subjects I wish to learn on: psychology, health, writing, philosophy, etc. Recently I joined a particular health group because I wanted to find out more about a particular condition, one that isn’t well studied but which is being revealed as being more prominent than people once thought. I did this in order to learn, and to help others. However, the old adage “No good deed goes unpunished” proved true, as it was my helping others that cost me my ability to learn more about it. I’ll explain:

For months, I had been part of this group. I spent my time in the shadows, reading messages and learning, since there wasn’t anything I could really jump in and teach or help. Frankly, it was a bit of a relief, since I’m used to being the person who steps in and is instantly a factor in the conversation. Don’t ask me why that is, it just is. Probably because I make it a point to learn by teaching.

As I read, I learned. A lot. More than I could have ever learned by reading some web page (and I read a lot of them). More than I could have ever learned by listening to a lecture. More than I could have learned by asking a doctor during a visit. I learned about the personal struggles of some, their victories, and their frustrations. Their world became real to me, not because of knowledge, but because of emotion. I finally understood their pain, and I knew that, at least as far as I was concerned, they weren’t alone. Turns out many people with this condition are, and they’re afraid because they don’t know what life now holds in store for them.

Yet, I never pitied them. Never. I empathized, I felt for them, and I prayed. In fact, with the knowledge I’d gained in this group, I started helping others in different forums, helping them see that their diagnosis wasn’t the end of the world, just the beginning of a challenge, that there was still good to come. And it felt good when someone would come back and tell me “Listen, your information was spot on, and I’m now on the path to feeling better because I followed your advice.”

That’s a really, really good feeling. Times like these make me wonder whether perhaps I should indeed go into the medical profession. I’ve certainly considered it more than once.

A few months after I joined, a message came up in the group: one of its members was having a problem with her daughter. The girl had gone off her ADHD medications and was engaging in self-destructive behavior, causing her mom to worry and the condition to worsen.

Now it was my time to give back to the group, even though it was off-topic.

I wrote her mom in order to talk to her about Dabrowski’s theory of positive disintegration. Based on what she had described, it seemed her daughter was at Level II, spontaneous disintegration, espressed in her case by both prurient behavior (possibly due to sensual and emotional overexcitability) and self-destructive tendencies (drugs, alcohol, and very likely suicidal thoughts; possibly psychomotor and intellectual overexcitabilities). Many of these overexcitabilities often cause people to be labled as ADD or ADHD, and stuck on medication to suppress these symptoms, when in actuality it’s just the mind screaming for proper stimuli. I explained in my letter that her daughter would do well to be evaluated by someone familiar with TPD, and bore my soul as I told her, in very detailed terms, of my own experiences.

The email never made it through the filters.

Don’t get me wrong, the reason was very valid: the email was not within the scope of the group’s intent. No problem, totally understood. It was the next part of the letter that floored me.

See, it was with this letter than I introduced myself to the group. I told them that while I was not diagnosed with the particular condition, I had stuck around in order to learn. I thanked them for the knowledge given me, since I’d been able to help others with what I learned. The response I received from the moderator was essentially this: You don’t have the condition, therefore you shouldn’t be in this group. If you want to learn more and raise awareness, here’s a website.

Turns out I had seen that website before, and read it in about six minutes. It gave me a great intellectual overview of the condition, but it was devoid of all emotion, the root of all desire to learn. Then I was kicked out of the group.

I couldn’t help wondering about this, couldn’t help questioning when I should start caring. Seriously, when is it OK for me to get into learning about issues on the personal level instead of the intellectual? Should I be as selfish as most people generally are (including myself) and be concerned only with conditions which affect me directly? Too often, wealthy folks and Hollywood elites are lampooned for caring about causes only after something affects them: autism, AIDS, cancer, multiple sclerosis… They’re called selfish and self-serving because they didn’t put their face out for that or some other issue when they were healthy. Yet, when someone genuinely goes out of their way to get to the personal level with an issue, trying to not just learn about the issue, but also to care enough to be stirred to action, should they be shunned?

This morning I was watching the news, and a commercial came up about a walk to raise money for research into the causes of premature births. The organizer? A local news anchor whose twins were born four months early. How would she be perceived if she gave more than a passing rip had her babies been born at 9 months? Would she be seen as someone who truly cared, or seen just as another celebrity looking for a cause in order to get more of the spotlight?

Don’t get me wrong, I understand that some may fear that their suffering is being exploited for someone’s sick form of entertainment. You’re going through something completely life changing, possibly life threatening. You don’t want someone there gawking, offering nothing more than their pity, or even worse offering bad advice which makes you feel weak or like if this is somehow your fault. But do you prevent that by shunning both the good and the bad, those who would gawk as well as those who could potentially help?

I realize the answer to this is very personal, and I don’t expect there to be a universal response one way or another. Still, I can’t help wonder: if you want people to really get emotionally involved in your cause, why wouldn’t you let them see the human side of things? Do the benefits of secrecy outweigh the risks? Consider also whether you really expect people to be inspired to action by a pamphlet’s worth of information on a condition that’s little understood.

So here I am, left wondering. I still help those I can with the information I gained, but the loss of that resource was cataclysmic; sadly, I now find myself being less able to help those who come for help regarding that particular condition, not the least of reasons being because I no longer have a teacher, and frankly, I don’t have the time to do a ton of my own research. Maybe the onus is on me to go out and read up on this. (To a certain extent, I thought I had.) I haven’t seen any local support groups, so that’s out of the question. And if I’m left to be a one-man army on this, without getting any sort of personal experience, would my help do more harm than good? That strikes at the heart of my fear.

For now, all I can do is pray. Maybe I can start something, start an organization or a web group, but given I don’t have the condition, would anyone really take me seriously? Probably not, and for good reason. It reminds me of a story wherein a pig and a chicken are standing on the side of the road and see a billboard which reads “Bacon and Eggs: America’s Breakfast.” The chicken says, “Wow, isn’t it inspiring to be a part of that.” The pig responds, “Sure, it’s easy for you to say. For you it’s merely dedication. For me it’s total commitment.” The selfish passion of someone who’s in the trenches, battling the monsters themselves will always be greater than that of someone whose only passions spawn from a non-selfish desire to help. One person’s fighting for their life while another is fighting for what the perceive to be a good cause.

For now I’m only truly welcome to learn if I’m committed, instead of just dedicated, which leaves me wondering when I should start caring.

“Now is the time to design the next ten years of your life–not once they’re over.
– Anthony Robbins, Awaken the Giant Within

Driving to my parent’s house last night, I was listening to the Gnarles Barkley song “Crazy”. Over and over again. That’s because it was the first time I’d ever caught this passage:

My heroes have the heart
to live the life I want to live.
And all I remember
is thinking
“I want to be like them.”

Thing is, I’d been giving a lot of thought to exactly that: my heroes, the lives they live, and what it takes to be like them. At the same time, I’ve been thinking about my future, where I am, and where I’m going, starting with goals for the next year.

It didn’t take long for me to start writing down these thoughts. What I came up with was not a list of what makes these people successful, what makes them my heroes, but a list of things I’ve found keep me from succeeding to the highest possible level. Unfortunately, succeeding only 90% is sort of like jumping across a gorge only 90%. Anything short of all the way keeps us from where we hope to end up.

At the top of that list was productivity, which can be broken down into the following: useful information gathering, action, and growth. If I’m to become more productive, here’s where I begin.

Last night at Border’s Books, I found myself spending more time than usual in the Self Help section. For the past week I’ve been eying some of the books in my library, particularly those by Anthony Robins. I listened to some of his stuff earlier in the day, so my being there was a directed coincidence.

When I got back home, I looked through the stack of writing magazines I picked up a few days before. I thought about the last year, my goals then, what I’d written and, most importantly, read. Someone once told me that if you were to read just one book in your field every month for a year, by the end of that year you would become an expert in that profession. In his book, On Writing, Stephen King talks about keeping a novel with him at all times, and how he reads over 50 per year. Thinking back through 2008, I realized this is one of the areas where I’ve faltered. Badly.

Taking this to heart, I resolve to read considerably more. Offline. Don’t get me wrong, I still plan to do a lot of reading online. But the fact remains that on most subjects, blogs haven’t yet come close to replacing the depth with which a book covers a topic. (The only area I’ve really seen this be any different is SEO, and that only because SEO is such a dynamic, web-specific field that print media doesn’t have much hope of catching up.) As of now, topics of interest are fiction writing, technical writing, business, and self improvement;

(In case you’re wondering, I’ve already started on Awaken the Giant Within. I had been reading Nancy Kress’ Nano Comes to Clifford Falls: And Other Stories, which is inline with my desire to focus on short fiction, a genre I believe will make a very strong comeback over the next few years.)

As for my reading online, I realize more and more every day how much I loathe sitting for long periods of time when I could instead be walking. (I already sit for 8 hours at my job, I don’t need to do it for any part of the other 8+ I spend awake.) While I’ll be reading more books, there’s a lot I can still gain from reading online. That’s why I’ve decided to get an iPhone, or at least a phone plan which also allows for unlimited internet plus a better phone than I have now. Obviously, an iPhone is preferred, but any phone with a good screen where I can comfortably resize the text will do, since I plan to do most of my blog reading while either on an elliptical glider or walking around the neigborhood. Oh, and FYI, I’m still using Google Reader and couldn’t be happier.

In addition to reading, I also need to review the tools I use. At my job, the tools are fairly simple: RoboHelp, Microsoft Word, Microsoft Outlook, SnagIt, and Adobe Acrobat are the standard. Over the years I’ve found these to be the best for what I do (though I’ve yet to try FrameMaker), and just about everything else is extra. As far as blogging goes, while I love the new Wordpress 2.7 administrator interface, running multiple blogs means logging into multiple sites and keeping track of multiple article lists, schedules, etc. It’s far easier to use a tool like MarsEdit (which costs US$29.95) or even Flock (which is free) in order to post to multiple sites from a single interface. The fact that the Internet is not always accessible also makes it somewhat of a necessity. Currently, I’m evaluating some of these tools to see which meet my needs. (MarsEdit seems to be winning. Ecto, which costs US$17.95, also looks like an option.)

But what about the tools I use at other times? When I write (as opposed to blog), how do I leverage my time? For not-necessarily-online writing projects, should I use WriteRoom, Ulysses, Scrivener? Or is it better–though seemingly less productive–to instead use my typewriter for first drafts? (It is considerably more fun than my Mac, love it as I do. And since it forces one to think before hitting the page as opposed to thinking on the page, it might actually make for faster creation of a finished product.)

Of course, lest we not forget, paper and pencil still can’t be beat.

Strangely, part of this drive to narrow down my tool set has brought with it a desire to redesign this site in a way that would make it simpler, better suited for a reader, since the bulk of what I do here involves words. (I realize some people are thrown off by the lack of pictures. Maybe the next theme will include some.) Wordpress.com has a wonderful theme called Journal v3 which I can’t seem to find anywhere else. Maybe instead I’ll just do a little rewriting of the current theme (based on Derek Punsalan’s Grid Focus). The point is that while I’m working to be more productive, I’d also like to help you, which is why you should sign up for the RSS feed, if you haven’t already.

On a similar note, I’ve discovered that my accounting needs are not currently being adequately met by current organizational methods, so an exploration of tools like Mint and Quicken Online is underway. The possibility of hiring a bookkeeper also comes to mind, particularly if The Wife and I decide to start another business (mostly, though not exclusively, online endeavors).

Alright, so you can see where this is all leading. I resolve to become a more productive person in 2009, to not waste time, and to use the best tools available to me towards that end. And I’m not waiting until January 1 to start. Right now I’m on vacation from the job; during this time, in addition to some hiking, biking, and driving we’re planning on, I intend to get this process started and resolve to finish what I responsibly can before returning to work. For the record, I’ve already cleared my email clutter, opted out of a bunch of newsletters I didn’t need to be receiving, unsubscribed from a bunch of blogs I know I won’t be reading, organized and de-cluttered much of my iTunes library, and organized my computer clutter both at the home and work computers. Not bad for two days, though I’m sure I’ll learn a lot more when I read The Power of Less by Leo Babauta.

By the way, you’re probably wondering why I opened up with the quote from Anthony Robbins. I don’t know about you, but I spend a lot of time imagining what life would be like had I done one thing or another different in my past. This is tantamount to planning the life that has already passed. I know, I should spend the time planning the life that’s ahead of me, but sometimes I get caught playing a bit too much “What If”. I’m not talking about ignoring the lessons that need to be learned, but there’s a difference between reviewing a memory and sitting there, nurturing it, and growing it into what I wish had happened. Maybe this is normal and maybe not. In either case, it’s something I resolve not to allow myself to do from hereon out. I seriously doubt my heroes are people who allow that to happen to them. Instead, they use that time to be productive and think about the future, being more sure of it than the past.

Most people overestimate what can be accomplished in one year. Paradoxically, they underestimate what can be accomplished in ten. While this might sound a lot like Kurzweil’s Law of Accelerating Returns, it’s actually an axiom in personal development.

I still haven’t finalized my plans for the year, and all of this is subject to change, pending any future ideas, but while I understand that 2008 was a year of overcoming challenges, 2009 will be a year of succeeding where I had previously failed. This year I’ll lay the groundwork for the next ten years of my life.

After seeing as much as we’ve seen, as as many prices as we’ve seen, I decided to walk to the local Walmart (which is in the same strip as a used furniture store and a Goodwill) to remind myself what crap looked like, and how it was priced. (This way I could get my bearings again.) Now, I know that going to Walmart is bad for your self esteem: when you go in, demons land on your shoulders and begin feeding on your soul. But walking around the store I saw signs which made me think that Walmart finally came clean, after a swift double-take. Compare the pictures and see if you can spot the similarities.

(On the left, a sign I saw all over Walmart. On the right, the Chinese flag.)

Yes, China’s prices ARE unbeatable. Thanks for telling us, Walmart! Thing is, it’s easy to be unbeatable when you artificially devalue your currency and peg it to that of your biggest potential economic competitor, thereby ensuring a price imbalance. But hey, at least Walmart’s finally being (mostly) honest as to where their loyalties lie. Has the company finally (un)officially admitted to becoming the commercial wing of the Chinese government? The signs point to yes.

Quality.

Recent events

I started examining that aspect of my work after a few recent events: a couple of recent posts in blogs and forums, and the cancellation of an appointment.

First, there was a post by my favorite mommy blogger, Melissa, who questioned whether she should keep blogging past this year (and the ensuing followup). There she said something most of us don’t really have the guts to say, to ourselves or out loud, though anyone who’s blogged consistently for more than a few months has come across:

I’m running out of things to say that I think really matter

As a blogger, that’s one of the most important things to keep in mind. What happens when you no longer believe that what you say really matters? (If you want to see where I stand on that, read the first post, then read my overtly verbose comment in that post.)

The second thing that got me thinking was a question asked by Scrivs in the 9Rules Members forum:

This is something that I think about at times and the question basically is would you take yourself out of 9rules because you know that your content is slipping? How many of you know that your content isn’t what it used to be, but convince yourselves that you will pick it back up eventually?

I suppose even Camelot has its errant knights.

Along with that question came this link which asks about original blogging, and why it’s so difficult. Fact is, if you’ve never run a blog you don’t know how challenging it can be to keep content coming on a steady basis. If you have or do run a blog, then I’m sure you can appreciate where I’m coming from. And through all this comes the question of quality.

Speaking of which, recently 9Rules celebrated the conclusion to Submission Round 6, which netted some excellent, phenomenal blogs like Novelr, Dumb Little Man, and Newly Ancient. I’ll be honest, the quality of these entrants made me wonder whether I should re-apply for my membership, in order to ensure that my quality really is to the level it should be. Unfortunately, this type of judgment isn’t one I can always makes subjectively. I am, after all, human, with and ego, with insecurities, with hopes, fears, dreams and doubts. So why didn’t I? Because I still believe I’m good enough. But to alleviate any fears, I started working on improving my quality, not just here, but in all areas of my life.

How much is too much?

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a bit of a perfectionist. Mind you, not everything has to be perfect, but I’m always wondering about what I bring to the table in terms of quality. Not just in blogging (though it is supremely important to me), but in all I do. Whenever I write a script, I wonder about it. Whenever I’m working on a Visio diagram, it’s the foremost thing on my mind. Whenever I write a short story, or set up a computer system or do anything which will eventually affect anyone else — especially something to which my name will be attached — I think about quality.

But with all this wondering about whether or not something is of quality, I’m often left wondering “how much is too much?”

The simple answer, I believe, would go something like this: Use the law of diminishing returns as your guide. If you’re working harder and harder to attain increasingly smaller gains, then maybe you should call it quits. But then this raises another question: even if you’re getting diminishing returns, will that extra bit of quality make the difference? Conventional wisdom says “no”: if your work can’t stand without it then there’s a problem with the rest of the work, not with that bit. Unconventionally, one could argue that the extra bit of quality is what makes the difference between great and memorable, between that which is held in high esteem and that by which all others are judged. I suppose that’s why Hemingway was so picky about his sentences. (If you go according to popular folklore, Hemingway would spend days ensuring that a line was just right.)

Between two masters

For the past week, I’ve been working on a project for work, one on which a major contract depends. Due to its importance, I’ve treated everything for this is with utmost import, focusing on both the speed (due to an approaching headline) and, more importantly, the quality with which it is accomplished, to the point where it’s less important for me to go home on time than it is to get things done just right.

The funny thing about quality is that if you’re working hard on something, something else usually has to suffer. Because of this project, during the week I had to cancel an appointment. I hated doing it because it was so very last minute. I despise when people cancel on me last minute, and I despise even more when I have to do it to others, since what suffers there is often the quality of my word. But I couldn’t help thinking — after the fact, unfortunately — that I could have gotten away with doing a little less in the way of quality for the project in order to keep my appointment. On one hand, I had a project which needed to be finished. On the other, I had an appointment to keep. Had I hurried the project, I could have kept my appointment. The work would have been good, mind you. Not great, but good. Instead, I decided to go for the gold, so I sat there, reviewing what I had written and touching up the illustrations which had been made, in order to ensure that whatever work I turned in, whatever was associated with me, would also be associated with excellence. The price of this was, of course, a tarnish to someone’s idea of my accountability. Was it worth it?

In feudal Japan, if a samurai had two masters, and he received conflicting orders from each, he would instead choose death, so that he would not disgrace either, nor disgrace his name or family. I didn’t have two masters, but I can’t say I didn’t feel the convergence of two conflicting orders forcing me to sacrifice a part of myself. Had I a sword I wouldn’t have used it for seppuku or anything, but maybe I would have poked myself with it.

The next day, I returned to find a complement from the project leader on the work I’d done the day before, specifically referencing something I could only have accomplished by staying late. While the complement was good and all, I can’t help wondering whether it really made a difference, and whether the price paid for that was too high.

A search, a hindrance

Often times, when I don’t post for a while, it’s not because I’m not writing. It’s because I’m writing and I’m completely dissatisfied with the product. I write stories, short ideas, little funny quips… none of which satisfy. At those points I can’t help but wonder whether I’m simply writing a lot of crap or whether I’m being too hard on myself. (You know, like when you’re at a forum and want to reply in a thread, but don’t feel you have anything interesting to say, so you write a reply out anyway and then decide not to press “Submit” because you don’t think it’s any good. Wait, does that happen to anyone else?) I’ve seen that happen lately. A lot. And it’s getting annoying. But what can I do?

When does the search for quality become a hindrance? When it brings you to a grinding halt? Could be. Then again, maybe “searching for quality” is an excuse to be lazy.

As for that Fark post, maybe I’ll just post it in a forum somewhere, and if it isn’t any good, then it isn’t.

As I woke this past Saturday morning, I looked out at a tree standing just outside our bedroom window. The leaves were turning, and what had been a shady, green canopy was now a green and orange and brown collage of life that is, and life that was, and in some areas. Somewhere in there lies the promise of life that will again be. The turning, of course, came as a bit of a surprise, since signs of the seasons aren’t often that visible in south Florida. Yet, there they were, the leaves which now dressed themselves with the colors of the season with a simple, natural majesty designers can only dream of. The morning, the moment which defined it, was both ephemeral and eternal.

That night, for the first time since the beginning of this year, we slept with the windows open. The air conditioning was off, and all we breathed was the smooth, comforting air of an October night. It was breezy, which I suppose is why we decided to leave the windows open in the first place. But the cool breeze, not quite crisp, was refreshing in a way reminiscent of laying in a hammock on the beach.

Outside our window we could hear the sounds of the town at night, which like the wind, flowed in, impeded only by the light clatter of the blinds. We could hear neighbors we’ve never seen moving about, getting in their cars, heading somewhere we’ll never know. Probably to work at a job where rejecting the light of day isn’t looked down upon.

There I lay, listening to the sounds, wondering how many times I had left the house before the sun rose, headed to work, and only came out with enough time to see the it set as the night started anew. It’s easy to lose track of days that way.

I thought about the passing of the days and the weeks, the ones that slip through in plain sight, without notice, until the day ended, and the cold realization that this day will never again return set in. That capital had been spent. What did I get in return?

And now it was autumn. It seemed as if it was just last week we were in North Carolina for Christmas vacation. And not long before then that we had been wondering whether we’d get any visitors for Halloween, that we were moving to the new apartment, that we got married, that we met.

Taking a deep breath I released the thoughts. They would do me no good know. This was a time where it was best that I just be. And there, laying on the bed, my wife by my side now breathing deeply and calmly, I was. And I slept.

When I awoke the next morning I took a deep breath and stretched. It was about 5:30, and the autumn air had, during the passage of the evening, replaced all remnants of the artificial atmosphere of recycled air. It was fresh, calming, and invited me to lay just a bit longer to enjoy it. The light which through the window would eventually flow was still at least an hour away, and so there I lay, in darkness enjoying the moment.

Again I found myself thinking about life, realizing that the day in front of me was itself the soil for greatness. But the seed — that I would need to plant. What would I do to ensure that the day wasn’t wasted, that I used to move forward?

Laying there thinking, I drifted back into vividly dreaming slumber.

Next time I opened my eyes, I found my wife gone: she had taken the dog out for her morning walk. I sat up on the empty bed, breathed the morning air, and got to my feet. The morning light started making its way through the multicolored canopy outside the window. The cool air began warning, and the breeze began to settle, and the day again grew warm as summer stretched out its warm fingers, trying to hold on to the day. Autumn acquiesced, and just as quickly as it came, it was gone, the only proof of its visit being the browning leaves just outside the window.

This weekend, autumn came to visit. Maybe next time it’ll decide to stay for a while longer.

A story about a young Puerto Rican boy growing up in the city of Tampa and overcoming cultural differences.

And here’s a clip:

Like everyone else that comes to the States, I thought that people here spoke only English, lived in either Disney World and New York, wore jeans and denim jackets and sunglasses, break danced, and ate nothing but hamburgers and pizza. Well, heck, except for the English, the Disney World/New York thing, I was pretty much an American-by-proxy: I watched all the movies, wore all the clothes, and ate all the deliciously fattening McFood. I even tried my hand at break dancing, though that failed rather miserably. And I, like the rest of the world, got my chance to make fun of Americans for being… well, Americans.

The site’s run by fellow 9Rules member Andrew Eglinton, who also runs the London Theatre Blog, and his brother, Alan. Both wanted to create a site where Americans could share stories about the US in their own words, stories which the mass media wouldn’t cover because they may not be flashy, and to show the 90% of America overshadowed by Hollywood and foreign policy.

The idea for the site came after their first visit across the pond. From their About page:

American without ever having been to the United States. American without ever having met an American person face to face. More intimate with America than perhaps with our own native England. But soon came the New Millennium, and with it a great shock. We had reached maturity and had begun to think for ourselves. And in analyzing our youth, we had grown critical of America: it was all a construct, a figment of some wealthy Hollywood director’s imagination, a lie greater than the myth of Santa Claus! – And indeed the source of our malaise. We had built the foundations of our youth on an imaginary land and the cracks were beginning to show.

In 2004 I was fortunate to travel to the US for the first time. It was all too brief a visit that took me to a few cities along the North-East coast: New York, Philadelphia and Washington DC. But in the space of that week and as writer and friend, Patrick Judd, has described it, “all the clichés were at once confirmed and rejected”.

(By the way, Andrew, I just realized that I borrowed that “American by proxy” line from you. Great descriptor, though.)

The site is open to submissions, so if you feel like you have a story to share, drop them a line. You don’t need to be a professional writer. You don’t need to invent or embroider, just tell it like it is. And you certainly don’t need to write a novel, since most of the entires they look for should be between 500 and 1500 words, with videos and pictures also accepted. (I must confess that, in my verbosity, I sinned and wrote a 2500 word monster. Mia culpa, mia culpa, mia big time culpa.)

Again the site’s CallingAmerica.co.uk. Check it out. And read my article. You’ll like it.

Edit: I just realized how well timed this is. In the article, I talk about Tampa’s pirate history. Turns out that today is (once again) International Talk Like A Pirate Day. Hurray!

I know, I know… probably has to do more with the extensions than with the browser.

She gave me a look only a mother could, telling me without words, but in no uncertain terms, “I gave birth to you so you could get me my newspaper.” Gotcha. Also, Dixie the dog was still sleeping.

I fetched the newspaper and plopped it on the table. Since I’m once again contemplating a move back to the Tampa Bay area, I thought I’d look through the paper’s pages to see what’s been going on in the town.

Front page, St. Pete Times: a story about the Largo mayor who wanted a sex change operation. “Presenting Susan”, I think it was titled.

Wait… what? The front page story is about a sex change operation? Was this the St. Pete Times or The Onion?

Maybe this was a fluke, maybe page two held the real story, because page two always… err… nevermind.

It didn’t get better from there.

Sure, there were stories about the shortages in national guard levels causing problems for Kansas, Florida and California, but those were all in the middle of the news paper. To the paper’s credit, they managed mark the importance of those stories by putting huge pictures of beautiful, busty women in the can-we-make-them-any-less-sexy granny bra advertisements newspapers have been relying on since time began. Sex sells, and these sexy undergarments are aimed squarely at the over-60 crowd, even with the models being in their 30’s. That’ll get ‘em.

I’ll admit, the whole Largo mayor story was important to the region, especially when you look at the various civil rights angles, but how do you justify a front page story on a follow up when so much else is happening? What editor got drunk and landed a dart on this with his “cover story” picker? Damn liberal media. (Seriously, the St. Pete Times is a pretty liberal newspaper.)

Later on in the newspaper, in the Mother’s Day stories section, there was a wonderful story about a mother/daughter stripper team. The mother always knew one of her three daughters would follow in her high-heel steps, or so the story said. She’s planning to write a book about it, to tell us her inspiring tale.

At this point I put the paper down. I might as well have been reading The National Enquirer or The World. Seriously, when did the St. Pete Times become such a rag?! Of course, it’s really not all that bad. I mean, at least it’s a well written rag.

The morning’s Tampa Tribune was better, but not by much. (It used to be that the reporting was supposed to be better in the Times. What happened? In what bizzaro world have I landed?) The front page story was about how people in Cuba are often paid under the table and take foreign money, like American dollars. I think this story came from the U.S. Department of the Blindingly Obvious, though I’ll have to check my sources on that. The rest of the paper stuck to other news of national and local interest, most in better taste than the St. Pete Times, and most in the paper’s traditionally conservative vein, but nothing I’d bother to read if it hadn’t been right in front of my face.

I’ll put it succinctly, I wouldn’t pay for either of these. If I got one for free, it’d probably be the Trib. But I’d happily pay for the New York Times or the Washington Post, and instead check the online versions of both the Times and the Trib for Bay area specific news.

For any Tampa and Tampa-at-heart readers, maybe you can tell me which newspaper do you choose and why? Am I missing something here? Given the level of journalism I remember from not all that long ago, before I was transplanted to south Florida, I’ll be willing to bet that, sadly, I’m not.

“Hello?” he says at what seems to be the top of his lungs. He continues, “Hey, buddy! How are you?… Yeah… Hey, that’s awesome. Listen, I was talking to…”

As he’s talking I figure something must be going on with either the phone, the road, or the person at the other side of the conversation because his voice is getting increasingly louder… and louder… And Louder With Every… WITH EVERY SENTENCE. It wasn’t too long before I simply had to cover my ears, just so I wouldn’t go deaf.

If this had been an isolated incident then I would simply presume that maybe there was something wrong with the cell phone. Or maybe the cell phone was just that good. After all, the car was very quiet, even though we were driving at almost 80mph down an asphalt road. But this wasn’t the first time I heard this person do this. I’d heard him do it indoors, outdoors, in cars, in soundproof anechoic chambers — everywhere.

Here’s what really gets me: he’s not the first person I’ve seen do this. Other friends have done it, I’ve seen family do it, and of course, I’ve seen total strangers doing it. Did I ever tell you about the time I overheard someone’s conversation two cars away?

Seriously, what’s the deal? Do these people believe that they have to talk louder on a cell phone because the receiver on it sucks? Do they normally only talk to almost-deaf people? Or do they just assume that since there are no wires you have to talk louder so your voice carries through the air? It’s like the kid who, after seeing all the other kids with cups and strings, “phoning” each other, brings two cups and and calls it a cell. “How does the sound go across?” the teacher asks. The kid gives a cup to her and yells into the other, “LIKE THIS!”

*Urgh* Anyway, that’s the end of my short rant. Sorry, but I had to get this out. Maybe it’s a Florida thing and you won’t be able to relate. You know, the whole old-people-crawling-here-to-grow-older-and-die phenomenon. Any readers in Arizona? You probably know exactly what I’m talking about.

The press — newspapers, reporters, investigators, and yes, even blogs (well, some of them) — is, collectively, like the “Maintenance Required” light on your car.

Once in a while — for what reason no one can really determine except to say that it varies from occasion to occasion — the maintenance light on your car’s dashboard lights up. When this happens, there are two courses of actions which one may take. The first, and most prudent, is to pay attention to it, to take the car to a mechanic or someone who truly knows how to work with the car, and ask them what may be wrong. It may simply be that the light went on for some formulaic reason, some pre-programmed time in which maintenance is required. At other times, the light may simply go on accidentally, not really indicating that there is anything wrong other than the maintenance light itself requiring attention. Finally, there are those situations in which there is something actually wrong with the engine, requiring immediate intervention by an experienced mechanic. It is during these times that the light “earns its keep,” to use an old adage. Of course, there are times when there is something wrong with the car which requires immediate attention which is not reported by the check engine light, perhaps due to a malfunctioning of the light itself, or more commonly, because it is outside the scope of the maintenance checking system which activates the light. In these cases, only after the problem has arisen will the problem be known to exist, and only afterward can it be addressed.

The second course of action involves gambling by inaction, when the light, instead of being heeded, is ignored. At these times, the light is treated only as a bothersome cricket chirping away as as your retina listens, with no actual purpose to its existence other than to annoy. While it may be that the driver by ignoring the light is taking the correct course of action — that the light is merely on because it is malfunctioning, or because it is flagging something so small as to be inconsequential to the functioning of the vehicle — to do so is nothing short of a high stakes gamble. After all, if there is something actually wrong with the vehicle then ignoring the light is no wiser than putting a sticker over it or smashing it with a hammer in order to make it go away. If left unheeded too long, may cause the engine to be damaged, sometime irreparably, leaving the car usable again only after the replacement thereof. To ignore the system when it indicates that there is something wrong is to invite disaster, in the same way disaster is invited when the driver hears an unfamiliar sound emanating from the vehicle, and instead of taking it to a mechanic, decides to turn up the radio so that the sound is drowned out. The radio can only play so loudly before the driver notices that the car has stopped, and by this time it is too late: the car will need major repairs.

The lesson of all this, of course, is to pay attention to your car’s maintenance warning signals by inspecting the vehicle whenever an issue arises. This ensures the longevity of our vehicle. Of course, the question remains as to what this has to do with the free press. I will explain:

The free press, for all intents and purposes, serves as the vehicle’s engine checking system for a government of free peoples. When it is working properly, the function of the press is to oversee the government’s actions and delve deeper into anything which may be cause for concern, raising a red flag if necessary. Some times — many times — some ambitious, young investigative reporter will uncover what he believes to be government corruption at all levels, his only evidence being that the town’s elected dog catcher has just added shrubbery to the dog park next to his house with funds intended for the welfare of dogs. (It could be argued that the actions are related, but I digress.) While serious enough that the issue should be investigated, the issue can probably be safely ignored, with no serious long-term harm done to the system.

If, on the other hand, that ambitious, young reporter discovers that the government has been using funds intended for the welfare of the public as a no-interest loan to a multinational corporation, or using the funds to give himself and a select few some “bonus” money, or found that the government has been fabricating evidence in order to propagate the idea that an unnecessary war is actually necessary, then it is the responsibility of the people to press on and investigate the issue more closely, by taking it to the vanguard of our constitutional republic itself: the system of checks and balances. If that system is not properly working, then it is the responsibility of the people to find a way in which to properly investigate possible improprieties and determine whether or not there really is something wrong, usually by firing the members of the group that isn’t working and bringing in new members who will perform the duty asked of them, like one would fire a mechanic who was looking at the engine and insisting nothing was wrong and to ignore the light, only to have the car breakdown a day later. A good mechanic would make sure to look through the car with a careful eye, performing tests which will tell conclusively whether there really is something wrong with the vehicle. Likewise, good public servants would investigate their own in order to ensure that the governmental vehicle is functioning properly. To do otherwise would be to invite disaster.

Currently, there are a number of investigations going on involving possible corruption by people in the highest levels of our government. Many are calling these witch hunts, and calling for the press to discontinue their relentless investigating of these officials, even if the answers for their actions are antithetical to the spirit of the law. These who call these investigations witch hunts would do well to remember that it is the job of the press to not only make sure everything is running as it should be, but also to report on and flag situations where not all is quite as it seems, and that it is the job of the different branches of government to find out why the maintenance light on the government’s vehicle is on. To do otherwise would be to invite disaster, and eventually lose the vehicle.

Freedom loving peoples all over the world will forever know intrinsically that it is the job of their press to flag even the smallest impropriety for further investigation, to be the maintenance light in the vehicle of their system of government. If this press is instead found to be serving as an arm of the government, to work only at the beckoning of the mechanic, then the people must realize that it is no longer of any real use and must be discarded, as must the system of government itself.

I am thankful every day that we live in a society in which free press still exists, where reporters write not propaganda for the government, or even one political party — at least not on the whole, despite what some who follow political parties blindly believe — but instead write what they see. It is the job of our elected officials, like our mechanics, to ensure that the vehicle is working properly, and that any issues be addressed immediately if necessary. And it is our job as a people to be the ultimate check and balance, to ensure that our vehicle runs at optimal performance, and to verify that the mechanic is really doing his job. If either the maintenance checking systems on the vehicle or the mechanics are not doing their job, then it is our job to fire the mechanic, replace the maintenance requirement checking system, and if necessary discard the vehicle (and the mechanic) and acquire another more suited for our needs.

• No government ought to be without censors; and where the press is free no one ever will.
• The basis of our governments being the opinion of the people, the very first object should be to keep that right; and were it left to me to decide whether we should have a government without newspapers or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter. But I should mean that every man should receive those papers and be capable of reading them.
• Our liberty cannot be guarded but by the freedom of the press, nor that be limited without danger of losing it.
• I am… for freedom of the press, and against all violations of the Constitution to silence by force and not by reason the complaints or criticisms, just or unjust, of our citizens against the conduct of their agents.

All of these are quotes by one of history’s most ardent supporter of the free press: Thomas Jefferson, a man who thought far ahead of his own time. You can read more of Jefferson’s quotes, including those involving the responsibilities of the press and his criticisms of it, online. The lesson here is that no one side has a lock on fairness, not even the press itself, and it is ultimately the job of the people to ensure that their freedom is protected by protecting their vehicles, and taking action as necessary in order to ensure that their needs and wants are met.

And what’s even better, at 3 PM it’ll be even MORE Pi day, since Pi isn’t just 3.14, it’s 3.1415. (Actually, Pi is approximately 3.141592653589793… but celebrating it this accurately would be just plain silly.)

So take out your protractors and pencils, boys and girls, stretch your arms and spin on a field, and take some time today to appreciate your car tire (hopefully without the protractor in hand) because today is the day for Ï€. At least in America. The Europeans celebrate it on July 22 (22/7) and the Chinese are way out there, celebrating it on December 21 at 1:13, since the Chinese approximation of Pi is 355/113. But who cares, right? We’re Americans, and just like we don’t care that Canada celebrates Thanksgiving early, so too do we not care that the rest of the world uses different approximations.

By the way March 14th is also Einstein’s birthday, so go out and have some round cake pie.

Thuper Ranger: May I be in your orchestra?

Conductor: Well, we have a long application procedure with 3 rehearsal trials. It usually takes about 2 weeks. What do you play?

Thuper Ranger: The viola.

Conductor: We meet every Tuesday. Here’s your music. Welcome to the team.

Having played the viola for a few years, I can confidently say he hit the nail on the head. In fact, violists are often so rare that bad violinists will be forced to play the instrument in order to fill the ranks, as a punishment by conductors. Also, bad violinists tend to run away to the viola section in order to escape being made obsolete.

I know I haven’t asked this before, but if there are any violists reading this I’d like to hear from you. How did you get started on the viola? What are some interesting observations you’ve made? Also, if you have any corny musical jokes (let’s face it: they all are), go ahead and share them here.

1. Maybe it was the age, maybe it was the author’s sick mind, but for some reason, this book’s pages are almost literally dripping in blood. Seriously, there’s death everywhere, all the time, in just about every page. In fact, within the first 1/10 of the book over 60,000 people are already dead. At that rate I can only infer that all those people being shipped in from France were doing so not to support any sort of invasion, as the history books would like you to believe, but for the sole purpose of dying gruesomely, which is the only logical explanation as to why, with numbers like these, the entire population of England didn’t die out during the time of Arthur. Frankly, I can’t help but wonder how in the hell Britain didn’t become a deserted island, or a land full of inbreeds. (I’ll come back to that last item in a minute.)
2. Arthur isn’t exactly the sharpest crayon in the box. In fact, it seems as if every five minutes or so the guy is heading off into a fight with someone else, usually at the call and beckon of Merlin (I’ll talk more about him later). The king, it seems, sees it fit to challenge random strangers to fight over insipid little things like wells and where they’re standing. Arthur’s lack of intelligence is a fact apparently not lost on Merlin, who gets his giggles from making Arthur look like an idiot on a regular basis, usually by shape-shifting and telling Arthur all manner of strange tales in order to get him to fight or to make him paranoid. Seriously, Merlin must be incredibly bored. In fact, this little mock-conversation of something which actually happens in the book should tell you a little bit about the beloved wizard:
   

   Merlin: Hey Arthur, you know that sword and scabbard you just got from that lady in the lake?

   Arthur: Yeah, what about them?

   Merlin: Uhm, well, if you had to pick one, which would you pick: the sword or the scabbard?

   Arthur: Well, from my understanding, the sword is what you fight with, block with, and generally survive by during battle, while the scabbard just sort of sits there and holds the sword. I’m gonna have to go with the sword on this one.

   Merlin: YOU FOOL! YOU FOOLISH FOOLISH FOOL! That scabbard is a magical scabbard which makes it so that you never ever bleed no matter how bad your injuries.

   Arthur: What the… how what I supposed to know that?!

   Merlin: Never mind, stupid, let’s just go back home.

   Arthur: Hey, can I go fight that guy at the well? The one who beat me when we were heading over here?

   Merlin: Nope. Your magic sword won’t make up for what an utter loser you are, stupid. Let’s just go home and I’ll introduce you to a few of the fine ladies over yonder…

   Note that Merlin eventually gets buried alive: I’m betting he pisses someone off with the whole doppleganger bit, but continually insulting people plays its part in the event, I’m sure.

3. Almost as much as he loves killing, Arthur loves finding beautiful women to knock boots with. To put it bluntly, Arthur is a hornball. Of course, given the level of deaths that take place it’s no surprise that the chicks he ends up banging are almost always directly related to him: his aunt, his sister, his cousin… you get the picture. To be fair, most of this is Merlin’s fault who, taking advantage of Arthur’s room temperature IQ, makes himself Arthur’s pimp and goes out representing him to these ladies. (“Hey, baby, how about one night with the king? Awwww yeah…”) This entire situation is made all the worse by Arthur’s apparent magic super-sperm, which has a habit of quickly impregnating any woman the dude walks close enough to. Enter Mordred.

   (Side note: The combination of the king’s low intelligence and Merlin’s “incest is best” attitude makes you wonder whether Uther Pendragon — who also went to Merlin for help with the ladies — was Arthur’s father and uncle.)

   Here’s a prediction: by the end of the book, England is covered in French people and the Pendragon family tree looks more like a pretzel than a tree.

After about the first hundred pages I had to put the book down. This whole episode leaves me wondering why on Earth the British are so keen on laying claim to this guy. Still, given the level of death and incest, it’s no wonder attempts have been made by historians to tie every British royal family for the past thousand years to Arthur: they’re all probably right.