my Onion horoscope, 7/6/16

Once again, my Onion horoscope goes beyond humor into "peering deep into my soul" territory:

"It's rare that people can live a happy, healthy life without friends, so the crushing depression you're feeling is perfectly normal."

bloatware labor

I work in a University where, even in the face of budget crises and such, has an ever-increasing administrative level. This makes it much like every other university in this (and probably other) countries. Under our last administration, class sizes and teaching loads went up because of lack of funds. But at the same time, the College of Arts & Sciences was split into five separate colleges, each with its own level of administration. It never ceases to amaze me that the powers that be favor everyone except those who do the actual work of the institution.

Note I said "amaze," not "shock." When I teach my students about the traditional model of class, my undergrads are all quite clear that the middle managers don't bring any capital to production nor actually produce anything. I tell my students that some organizational theorists say that the heightened pay of middle managers is only really a symbol of power for workers who, in the end, don't really add anything of value to the chain of production. My students are not surprised by this...indeed, they already know it instinctually.

Unnecessary software on computers or phones is called bloatware. But what do you call uneccesary workers? I don't have a good term. I do know they, with their artificial power and lack of productivity are usually annoying. But there's another angle on this I did not consider until I read the article (salty language warning) On the Phenomenon of Bullshit Jobs. Yes, the article comes with an inherent bias, but to my mind, it hits pretty much spot-on. Besides, who couldn't get behind the fifteen hour work week? Imagine how much saner it would make the world.

my crazy kid ii

Yesterday, when me and my daughter were getting bagels, the bagel shop had an easy listening radio station playing. The REO Speedwagon song "I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore" came on. After a minute, my daughter quite solemnly turned to me and said, "this is my ballet song."

this is how it starts

Presented without comment, so as not to offend our future overlords: Worker Killed in Volkswagen Robot Accident.

my crazy kid

I was holding my daughter after her shower, when she told me she wanted another backpack. This isn't unusual in and of itself, as she has four of them (yes, she's a little backpack obsessed). This one, she informed me, needed to be big. Big enough to fit the whole town in. Big enough to fit people. She would take the small people and, using her magic power, turn them into dolls. The big people, she would turn them into giants. And the medium people? She is, for the record, going to turn them into (wait for it) submarines.

My kid. I'm sure she's going to rule the world one of these days.

music and math

I always have a hard time recording. It's not just because the whole process can be boring beyond belief (there is a whole lot of waiting involved). The biggest issue for me is that you are constantly under a microscope. You're not usually able to record everyone at once, so you have to go one at a time, to a click track (a computerized steady beat)...so everything can synch up.

I've always found this incredibly annoying. When i play solo, i can be fluid with my timing to greater highlight the peaks and valleys of the song. When I'm with a band, I'm used to fitting in with other musicians and their idiosyncrasies. The quirks are always what makes it real to my ears...and computers don't have quirks.

As always, it is nice to get scientific confirmation of my own unscientific biases. The article What Differentiates Human Drummer's From Machines? tells of a study which argues that "in every human performance, there are tiny flaws which follow a pleasing fractal pattern."

Once again, I discover some other cool application of mathematics which makes me wonder why my math teachers only ever talked about pyramids and trains leaving stations. If I knew there were such cool math applications, I would've tried a lot harder in those classes.

practice and play

I sat down to practice guitar. I broke out my Telecaster, plugged it into my Traynor, and started warming up. The first thing I noticed is it had been so long since I played that electric, I had forgotten how damn good it sounded. Then, after a scale or two, I started to see how many songs from my old bands I still remembered. Then I started to see how many old heavy metal songs I could sing and play. Then I looked at the clock, and two hours had passed.

Practice is good...but I forgot how fun it was to just say "the hell with it" and simply play.

a rock and roll dream

When I was younger, I was just a guitar player. I wanted to be the guy who stepped to the middle of the spotlight and let out a stream of guitar histrionics. I wanted to interrupt the flow of the song to put my virtuosity on display. I also had a desire to get the unaccompanied guitar solo, where I would keep the crowd enraptured with just my pick, my fingers, my strings, and more than a little distortion. I was, after all, a heavy metal kid.

I quickly matured out of this mindset. For one thing, I wasn't all that good, and i certainly didn't really have the coordination to be a shredder. Plus while the mindset required had many desired qualities, it became quite clear I didn't have the confidence to pull it off. Ego was not my strong suit. I was, after all, a shy, depressed kid.

Another factor, though, was that I discovered songwriting. It seemed a more complete dream. I wasn't all that good at it (in spite of being able to come up with decent riffs)...I wasn't mature enough to have any real insights about life, and I didn't have the patience to really think of structure. Plus I still wanted to show off. I was, after all, a guitar player.

My post-teenage efforts to become a musician kept failing, though, and I eventually decided to call it a day. I would focus on becoming an awesome scholar instead (snicker, snicker). So I finished my Bachelors and Masters degrees. I moved to Ohio, started my Doctorate, and started a new life. And, while I was living this new life, a funny thing happened: I grew up. Another funny thing happened: as I grew up, I became a better guitar player...and when I started writing songs again, I was a much better songwriter. I was, after all, finally a bit mature.

I never really let go of my rock and roll dreams. But when I grew up a bit, my dreams changed. I wanted to front an awesome band. I wanted to be at the helm as we went through a great rock and roll song. I wanted to be singing and bashing out chords while my band mates were all behind me, in perfect time. I wanted to feel the drums behind me, to look to either side and see friends singing and playing with me. I even wanted to hear horns. I am, after all, eclectic.

I finally reached this with the last two incarnations of my band The Antidepressants. The last two gigs were particularly great, and on numerous occasions during each, I looked around me and realized, hey, I'm living in my ideal rock and roll situation... And it was glorious. I am, after all, a dreamer.

Friday's gig was, however, an ending. My drummer is moving away soon, and since the bassist was using the drummer's equipment, it means this incarnation of the band is done. My trombone player is still gonna play with me, for which I'm thankful; the trombone as an instrument adds a unique feel to my music. Plus the trombonist is always so damn happy to play. We will do shows as a duo. I am still very much searching for a new rhythm section (so, if you're a drummer or bassist...). I am nowhere near done. I will get that dream back, no matter what it takes.

I am, for the record, nothing if not persistent.

my Onion horoscope, 6/30

You know I love my Onion horoscope:

"You're the kind of boring person doomed to be alone while trying to solve all the problems instead of hanging out with the cool people while assigning blame."

airport bars

I used to love airport bars. There was something about hanging out in the middle of the day at a bar with complete strangers, swilling a Bloody Mary (which I only ever drank in airport bars for some unknown reason).

The conversations were better. We were all completely disconnected, away from any home base, in no control over our situation or agenda. Therefore, we could be honest with each other...particularly as we were all a little lubricated and would never see each other again. It was the open honesty of no expectations, and it was beautiful...and I miss it tremendously.

I haven't flew in ages, so airport bars are out...so I have no real place to try to recreate the experience. I don't drink any more. So I have utterly no idea if I would be able to recreate it anyway. Is there even an equivalent? Maybe therapy?

I dunno...maybe I'll ask my therapist.

recapping

I was never a fan of the Iraq war. No, this is an understatement if I've ever made one. I thought the war was horribly misguided, an exercise in hubris, ego, and idiocy, more motivated by W. trying to outdo his dad than by any actual strategic need.

I got an actual hint of this the first time time I flew after 9/11. I was sitting in the airport bar drinking a Bloody Mary (as is my wont), when a guy took the bar stool next to me. We started talking, and I learned 1) he was a Merchant Marine, 2) he hadn't had a beer in over six months, 3) he had been hauling military gear and weaponry to the middle East for the duration of his deployment, and 4) the flow of arms began about a week after 9/11, almost as if (in his words) "that bastard Bush had been just waiting for an excuse."

This struck a nerve in me, because people were already dying, and as a military brat, I knew it would be people in the same position my dad was in decades earlier who would be doing the dying...on our side, at any rate. I knew a sizeably larger numbers of Iraqis would be dying, and their plight would be mostly ignored in the country of the invader.

So I have strong feelings on the matter. But they are largely just that, feelings. A more logical recap of the war will hold more weight with most people. So, when I ran across the article The Ultimate 'What If'; A World Where America Never Invaded Iraq, I knew I had to share it.

And I swear, after reading it, I'm even angrier now.

my views on drugs

I do drugs, but just the normal ones...sugar, caffeine, the infrequent cigar, and the occasional Cheez-it. I don't do any illegal drugs. I got some good opiates after my surgery, but I didn't like taking them all that much (mostly due to the unfortunate side effect of constipation). I quit drinking mostly to avoid pseudo-gout flare-ups and more kidney stones, but I've found myself not only physically but mentally more healthy.

Still, if you ask me about my attitude towards drugs, I might just point you toward the article It's Time to Legalize Drugs. Only I might be a bit stronger in my attitude.

games are important

I have always gotten more than a little upset when someone tries to counter any critical take on any story, media text, or entertainment with "it's only a joke/song/pop music/show/whatever." I am (or maybe used to be) a culture studies scholar, so I know there is no such thing as innocent entertainment.

Still, it's always nice to get confirmation that culture is a more complex than people realize. Enter the shockingly interesting article Inside Monopoly's Secret War Against the Third Reich. If we could only get such unexpected histories out of all our culture, I could maybe get over my anger.

teaching and certainty

Teachers share many experiences, but one of the most eye-roll-inducing is the "I don't know why I failed when I think I'm brilliant" student. This semester, I had several of them, and, as usual, they were painful to deal with...and a few of them never did realize their true level of work. Similarly, all teachers can pull out tons of stories about students who firmly (fervently even) hold on to their misguided beliefs even in light of contradictory evidence. This past semester, I had a few which ignored anything that didn't directly support their own beliefs, and they did so with the tenacity of a wounded pigeon.

This is the hardest thing with which teachers must deal (other than online course management systems and administration, that is). I always tell my students that I will give them no answers, and that they will in fact leave my class with less certainty than when they entered. I tell them this, even though I suspect they don't believe me. But questioning everything, up to and including themselves, is in fact the desired state. I've always believed this.

Still, it's nice to have corroboration. This is why I was thrilled when I read We Are All Confident Idiots. It gives an overview of the science behind both the original overconfidence and the desired lack of certainty. I'm already violating my own Thou Shall Not Work Over the Break rule by trying to figure out where to fit it in to my Fall classes. And I strongly recommend all my teacher friends do the same.

I'm 100% absolutely certain they won't regret it.

watching the watchmen

If you haven't figured it out yet, I don't trust most police officers. In my life, I've had very little reason to trust them. I was a heavy metal teenager, and because I looked different, I was more likely to get singled out by them. I lost count of the times me and my brother would, while driving, get pulled over by cops for no reason. I once got kicked out of a McDonald's in the mall by a cop who kept his hand on his gun. One day on my way home from work, I got pulled over, frisked, and had my car searched... all because I had an out taillight.

And I am fully aware that all my incidents were all mild. I know that if I was an ethnic or sexual other, I would most certainly be more heavily followed, and maybe abused and attacked. I am, after all, a white male, and while I looked different than the cops, I was close enough to them to avoid any racism, homophobia, or anything else which would compound these authority figures abusing their authority.

Look, I know being a cop can't be the easiest job ever. And yes, it does have its dangers, but it's safer than being a fisherman or electrician. But even if it was the most difficult job in the world, that would still be no reason to do it badly, no excuse to abuse its power.

So, no, I don't like cops. And after reading the Interview with the Baltimore Cop Who's Revealing All the Horrible Things He Saw On the Job, well, now I'm just plain scared of them.

I mean, more than I was before.

dreams and departures

Last night, I had a dream that I was playing again with my old band Analog Revolution. We got a gig at a local music festival, and I couldn't help but fall into the illusion that we'd play together forever. It's the childhood musician's dream, to find the perfect band mates and develop together through the rest of our lives, to become a well-oiled machine.

In this dream, I was running a bit late and missed the first half of our set. But I jumped on stage and had a great time playing the songs again. After the set, we broke down our equipment and hauled it to our van, but I realized I lost some of my guitar cables. By the time I found them, however, the rest of the band had scattered, and the band van (which I had to drive) had turned into cardboard. Then that cardboard started to buckle. Then I woke up.

This means something, obviously, but I have other things on my mind. Tonight's the last practice of version 3.0 of my band. Friday is the last gig. Then I have to try and find yet another backing band. I think I have something set up, but only for 2-3 gigs a year...and more permanence would be nice.

My wife last night complimented my on how well I've been taking this ending. Frankly, though, I have a lot of practice. After Analog's drummer moved away, Black Swamp Rats lost a rhythm section via Facebook, and then the band itself broke up again via Facebook. My next band, Magnosaurus, also broke up via Facebook. And my solo band has already gone through several incarnations. So I'm kinda used to it.

When I finally got it through my thick head that any band would break up, I learned self-sufficiency. Now, no matter what happens, I'm prepared and can carry on. But, if I'm honest, I miss the illusion of that lifelong band. It would be nice to have permanence as something other than a dream. Still, I must soldier on.

This post, by the way, is both a description of my musical career and a metaphor for life.

a controversial opinion in the aftermath

In the wake of the South Carolina church shooting, there has been a groundswell movement to remove the Confederate flag from the state Capitol. For the record, I do support this. I don't think that flag should fly anywhere. It's a relic of an ugly, ugly cause.

However, I can't help think the campaign, while well-intentioned, is more a distraction than anything else. The flag is a hateful symbol, yes, but in the end, I'd rather eradicate that for which it stands than the just symbol. Getting rid of the flag is fine, but why not instead fight the ignorance behind it? Maybe battle the ugly institutions behind it (such as the ugly hate groups and fundamentalist organizations)? How about instead battle for better and better funded education? You know, so people might be less stupid? Do this, and people might realize on their own how stupid that flag is.

Or is this too controversial of an opinion?

subtlety

I am (warning: shocking news coming) not always the most subtle person in the world. This is particularly true when it comes to my music. I tend to have a fairly "smack you in the face" style of applying guitar effects. I have been, in my last two rock bands, the "throw in a loud guitar solo" guy (which, to be fair, was my assigned band role; my last singer used to, when describing new songs, say "and Mike goes crazy here"). And my guitar tone has been, until lately, of the "how much distortion can one add?" variety (although to be fair, I have been trying to rectify the situation, and my new amp really helps).

Writing-wise, I am also not the most subtle person. As an example, last night, I started writing a song called "The Hate Blues"; it's about (warning: shocking news coming) everything that I hate, everything that makes me wanna strangle baby ducks. I do have some more subtle songs, but subtle artistry is something on which I need to seriously work.

So it was with great admiration that I read a great interview with Chuck Palahniuk about Fight Club 2. I loved the original. On the surface, it was a very in-your-face film, from the direction, to the photography, to the acting. Then you got to the twist, and you realized you were watching a much more subtle, in-depth film than you thought. This is exactly the thing I love in narratives.

The sequel also looks intriguing. Instead of a film, it's a comic book...so it employs a completely different set of writing tricks. One of the things Palahniuk and his collaborators talk about in the interview is deliberately obscuring panels by overlaying objects over the art and dialogue.

This idea of designed obscurity utterly fascinates me. I don't exactly know what the musical analogue would be...yet, that is. This is definitely an avenue for further investigation.

Being not-so-subtle and subtle at the same time would be very zen. It would also be pretty cool.

father's day

Yesterday was Father's Day. It was a strange and random weekend...which, in the end, ended up being about emotional extremes.

My wife and kid were staying at the in-laws, so I spent Saturday and early Sunday with my time divided between working on my home recording acoustic guitar technique and watching brainless television (my latest is Xena: Warrior Princess) while learning blues licks on my electric.

I don't spend a lot of time by myself anymore. It is one of the costs of being a father, I guess...that and being the designated household fixer/assembler of goods. About the only alone time I normally have is when using the bathroom or showering, but even that is still open for daughter invasion. So when I do get solo time, it's an adjustment.

It's not so much the quiet, or the ability to concentrate with fewer distractions, or actually control the television. No, it is the related dulling down of emotions. When I'm alone, I get less emotionally involved in...pretty much everything. I'm not sure if this is something which happens to everyone or if it's all the fault of my faulty brain, but it does happen to me. About the only time when the family was gone that I did get "the feels" was quite honestly when I saw the Google doodle of the day.

Then the family came home, and I got the best hug-and-a-kiss from my girl ever. Then we went out to eat at Tony Packo's (my brother-in-law's choice, which was fine by me, even though it was not the most vegetarian-friendly place; I had to order the only two meat-free appetizers on the menu...which is neither here nor there, actually), and I got to have more family time. Then, when we got back home, we got to show my kid the new fish tank we got for her...and I got to share in her estaticness. Then I called my dad, and that felt great as well.

Final judgment? I got more done by myself, but I got emotions and hugs with my family. I'll take the latter.

a wandering perspective

When I was still doing scholarship, I had a real issue trying to limit my critical approach to just one area. I got my Masters in English, but I couldn't just use literary scholarship or theory...I had to include work from other disciplines (such as psychiatry).

This had both positives and negatives. Bringing in outside stuff did help me stand out and add some real depth to my work. However, it increased the amount of work I had to do. As well as gaining fluency in my own field, I also had to be reasonably conversant in other fields. This, of course, made going into Culture Studies a perfect fit, but my doctoral area of concentration just compounded the issue. I realized I was out of control when I found myself sitting at a table in the library with a two-foot stack of books on Sociology theory...all for a single footnote.

I did eventually give this all up (aided by me bombing out of the academic market). Still, I continue to have a semi-serious interest in a bunch of other fields, including chaos theory, network intelligence, complexity, and urban planning...and I particularly love discovering folk who apply one of these areas to other fields. So when I discovered an article about the show Sesame Street redesigning their sets using the principles of urban planning, I was stoked.

It's always nice to see the creative application of neat theory...even when it's not me doing it.