General Thoughts

When Do You Read?

by

I have books. I have eBooks. I have eBook readers. (Yes, plural) I have eBook conversion tools. I have shelves. I have books on those shelves. I have a “shame pile” of books to read that could easily intimidate the most avid bookworm.

Yet I can’t seem to find the time to read.

When I do, I’m never sorry. Ever. Any time I’ve stayed up late reading a book, any sleepiness in the morning is worth it, because books are like magic. Real magic, the kind you get to live out just by reading them.

So my question is, when do YOU do most of your reading? I know many of you read like crazy, so much so that I’m bitterly jealous. *cough* Candy *cough* So I’m curious, when do you do the bulk of your reading? Is it right before bed? Do you read in bed? Is it in the morning? At lunch? All of the above?

I also wonder if you have to make yourself stop what you’re doing to take time to read. I think if I want to actually do some reading, I’ll have to make myself stop working. I know I work too much, so that might be a good thing.

So simply put, when do you read?

The Defattification Process Has Begun

by

OK, here’s the deal. Those of you that know me know I struggle with migraines. Like, really really struggle with them. Well, I’m on a new cocktail of prescription drugs that seems to be working at keeping migraines at bay — but one of the side effects is that I am gaining weight. And boobs. I suspect the two are closely related. 🙂

Anyway, while my life certainly hasn’t gotten any less busy, it’s still true that for the majority of my day, I sit in a chair and type on a computer. I figured it would be awesome if I could transform my work desk into a standing treadmill desk. It would help me lose weight, make me healthier in general, promote a healthy mindset at school, and not take any MORE time out of my already crazy life. I say that’s win-win. (Well, actually win win win win, but who’s counting)

One of the first problems with building a treadmill desk is that such endeavors can be quite expensive. Since we just bought a house (yes insurance covered some, but we ended paying upwards of 80K, so needless to say, money is tight) I figured I had about a $10 budget. 🙂 Thankfully, my mother in law said I could use her treadmill, which was collecting dust in the shed of the last person that borrowed it. That was the first big expense, and it cost me $0. Well within budget.

The next hurdle was to get my desk, well, on the treadmill. Or in front of it, or something like that. This treadmill is on the small side, so I guesstimated it would fit under the desk, and I could just raise my desk up to accommodate the height of me standing on the treadmill. I guessed on how high it would have to go, and went to the lumber yard. I bought 12 cinder blocks. (Bricks, the kind you build houses with.) They were just over a buck a piece, so while I went over my $10 budget, it wasn’t by much. So here are the materials I had to work with:

Hauling bricks is hard work. I just want to put that out in the universe. Go hug a bricklayer or something, those folks work hard for a living. Anyway, I never really measured, but I sorta figured raising the desk by 3 blocks would allow the treadmill to fit underneath it. I had no idea if that would make the desk too high — and quite honestly, when I stacked the bricks, I was a little nervous.

As it turns out, I had to rearrange this really nice brick layout, because my electrical outlet is behind one of the bricks on the right. After asking Donna (my wife) to help me lift the desk, it was time to hook stuff back up and get the treadmill in place. Why did I ask Donna to help me? Because if it was a colossal failure, I knew she’d be kind. 🙂 Here is the finished treadmill desk:

How does it work? Well, I only walked on it for about two hours today, since I put it in place during my lunch hour. In those few hours though, I learned a few things.

  1. Converse All-Stars, while the most amazing and awesome shoe ever created, are not good for walking on a treadmill. I will be wearing my walking shoes to work from now on.
  2. Treadmills are rather loud. Probably not all of them, but this one is kinda noisy. For the price, I’m not complaining, and Donna says she can’t hear it out in the library, so I’ll live with the noise. It’s something to consider if your situation calls for more hush hush though.
  3. There are very few things that can’t be done while walking on the treadmill. Really. I’m surprised and amazed at how well I can manipulate my keyboard, mouse, etc. I can even drink coffee without spilling.
  4. I need a fan. Even walking slowly, it gets hot quickly. My office is always uncomfortably hot anyway, and walking doesn’t help. Since the treadmill is noisy anyway, I don’t think a fan will be too bad.
  5. So far, I’ve gotten many more compliments than rolled eyes. I suspected people would think I was crazy, or just playing in my office — but both students and adults alike thought it was a great idea. In fact, our phys-ed instructor was REALLY impressed with the idea.
  6. Oddly enough, I get a feeling of accomplishment when I work while walking on the treadmill. It’s not as if I’m doing anything differently, but while my “never get everything done” sort of job is often frustrating, the fact that I walked a few miles really makes the day seem more productive. It’s quite nice.

If you’ve been considering building a treadmill desk, or even just a standing desk, I’d recommend doing it similar to how I did. Try to be cheap. I have no idea if I’ll stick with this for a long time (I really hope I do), but since it cost me about $12 total — I’m not going to feel bad if I fail miserably. However, since Donna immediately claimed my awesome desk chair, if I do give up the treadmill, I don’t think I’ll get back my comfy chair… 🙂

Remember When We Killed That Bum?

by

I was sitting at work, happily working hours of overtime for no pay, when I got an instant message from a young lady that used to live with us. (She’s now in college, doing quite well — I’m incredibly proud of her, but that’s another story altogether…) Anyway, here’s how the conversation went:

Jess: hi
Jess: hw u doing?

Me: Eh.
Me: I’m alive. 🙂

Jess: i need your help fast

Me: What’s up?

[the next lines came faster than any human being can type]

Jess: I’m writing this with tears in my eyes, I came down here to London, United Kingdom for a short vacation unfortunately i was mugged at the park of the hotel where i stayed, all cash, credit card and cell were stolen off me but luckily for me i still have my passport with me. I’ve been to the embassy and the Police here but they’re not helping issues at all and my flight leaves soonest from now but am having problems settling the hotel bills and the hotel manager won’t let me leave until i settle the bills.

[I didn’t think it was a scammer, I actually thought it was Jess pretending to be a scammer, which was funny, so I played along]

Me: But you’ve got WiFi, so that’s good.

Jess: Please, all I need now is just lend me $900 or any amount you have at hand now and you can have it wired to my name via Western Union I’ll have to show my passport as ID to pick it up here and i promise to pay you back as soon as I get back home

Me: You know — you could probably hock that laptop you’re on for 900 bones.

Jess: am on someone elses computer system here in the hotel where i am

Me: And that’s a problem?

Jess: and i won’t stay here for long

Me: Even better! Grab the computer and go!

Jess: pls do something

Me: What are you talking about, anyway?

Jess: am serious
Jess: in UK now

Me: Your IP address does not trace to the UK

Jess disconnected

At which point I thought the fun was over. I texted the real Jess to let her know her Yahoo account was compromised, and went back to work. A minute later though…

Jess: are u there?

Me: Yes, I’m here. You want me to send money to your name, to Western Union in London?

Jess: yes

Me: Who went with you?

Jess: me alone

Me: Does Marge even know you left? I saw her yesterday!
Me: Jess?

[long pause, at which point “Jess” is obviously looking over our previous conversations]

Jess: dad

[Jess calls me Dad, true, but it wasn’t really an answer to the question!]

Me: Did you tell Marge you were leaving?

[oh yeah, there is no Marge, I was watching the Simpsons in the background]

Jess: no
Jess: am sorry
Jess: i never knew it will result all this

Me: I’ll let her know you’re OK. Do you have a local Western Union I can send it to?

Jess: yes
Jess: there is one close to the hotel

Me: I actually only have $750… perhaps the hotel will let you settle?

Jess: yes

Me: Otherwise it will be a day or so before I can get the rest, the bank is closed.

Jess: am scared
Jess: the hotel management is threatening to hand me over to the police

Me: I understand. Let me know the Western Union address, and I’ll go up to the Hippry Market and send it out.

[“Hippry” was actually a typo, I was going to make up some OTHER funny name, but since it was made up anyway, it didn’t really matter]

Jess: can u go and send it now

Me: Yeah, but they need to know where
Me: When I sent money to your sister for her boob job, they needed the address of the place it was going

[Jess has no sister. I also didn’t really say boob job, but I wish I had…]

Jess: just tell them u want to send it to the information i gave to u

Me: Sweety, you just said you’re in the UK. I’m sure you’re scared, but can you get more info?

Jess: this is the address to send it to
Jess: Name: Jessica , State: London W10 4AH, Country: United Kingdom
Jess: when u get there, send it like this
Jess: Dad…. are u there

Me: Yes, I’m here.

Jess: are u going to send it now

Me: I’m calling your sister to see if she has the other $150

Jess: why not send me the $750 u have with u
Jess: send it first, so that i can settle the hotel bills

Me: I don’t want the hotel to give you a hard time, those people in the UK can be nasty

Jess: i know

[at this point I started to get tired of the conversation, so I figured I should just have fun]

Me: I hear they kill Americans sometimes if they don’t pay!

Jess: if i get that,i can settle them and they will be patient with me

Me: I just want to get you home

Jess: i know
Jess: just go and send the $750 first

Me: Also, your sister just texted me, she’s in Amsterdam. She can fly to London and meet you.

Jess: I need to settle the hotel bills as soon as possible

Me: Marge is going to be really upset though… I can’t believe you didn’t tell her!

Jess: Dad,pls don’t tell her anything about it
Jess: Dad, pls act fast am scared and starving here

Me: Hmm… Who is letting you use their computer? Is it a private location?
Me: Remember when we killed that bum so he wouldn’t rat us out?
Me: Maybe you can do the same to this computer person… Take their computer, and if they chase you… you know what to do. It’s a foreign country, they’ll never find you.

Jess: Dad… I can’t believe u are saying such things now, that i really need your help the most

Me: I mean, don’t be as cruel as you were to that person that stole your identity… They never could identify the body…

Jess disconnected

Oh well, fun while it lasted. 🙂

How McDonald’s Messed Up Styrofoam

by

I’m posted before about how wonderful McDonald’s Premium Roast coffee tastes. I’ve also expressed how that seems to go against everything that’s right in the universe. I mean, really good coffee? From McDonald’s??!?!?!. But alas, it’s true.

That being said, while they may understand how to brew good coffee, they apparently haven’t figured out physics. Or perhaps they haven’t figured out Styrofoam. Let me explain.

In the photo above, you’ll see that McDonald’s has taken a regular Styrofoam cup, and covered it with paper. Perhaps so no one realizes they are still using Styrofoam, since it’s so environmentally taboo? Who knows. Anyway, you’ll see the mysterious coffee that happens to be under the paper. Anyone who drinks McDonald’s coffee very often has had a cup drip from the bottom. It’s very frustrating because you don’t expect a drip from the bottom, and since it’s dripping from underneath the paper sheath — there is no way to stop the drip. It stains your pants, your shirt, your desk, your paperwork, etc.

How does the coffee get there you might ask? Well, the answer is physics. Look at the following photo:

What starts as a small imperfection in the top of the Styrofoam cup, turns into a physics dynamo, which pumps coffee directly from under the lid onto your pants. If the paper weren’t there, you’d get an occasional drip, which your thumb would catch, at which point you’d simply adjust the lid so it no longer leaks. Thanks to the paper coating, however, the drip is quietly and sinisterly absorbed into the paper. It then wicks all the way down the cup, and begins randomly dripping from around the entire bottom of the cup.

The first few months of this were maddening. I thought I just kept getting leaky cups. It turns out it was much more complex. So my only suggestion to fellow McDonald’s coffee drinkers? Drink fast. Wicking is relatively slow. And the most frustrating part? Throw the cup away after you’re finished. I tended to use my McDonald’s cup all day, to save on disposables. If you keep using the flawed design, the dripping gets worse and worse.

So there you have it, your lunchtime physics lesson. 🙂

Dear Universe,

by

Hi! How have you been? I realize it’s been a while since I last wrote you, and quite frankly I was hoping another letter wouldn’t be necessary. It turns out, however, that you sent another one of your famous conundrums my way. I realize it may be your little brother Karma that has been shanking me in the shower for most of the year for burning ants with a magnifying glass as a child, but to mess things up this much, I suspect you had a part in it.

See, while the house you so lovingly destroyed is just about replaced — the little catch 22 you threw into the mix is quite a beauty. The manufacturer won’t release the house until they get paid, and the escrow company won’t release the money until they inspect the house. I’m sure you see the problem, and I suspect you planned it this way. Anyway, I just wanted to write and let you know I’ve adopted a supermassive black hole. Oh, it will take some time, but ol’ Blackey will eventually suck all your belongings into nothingness.

If you’d like to work things out, I’ll be in my basement. Don’t worry, you’ll be able to see me — there’s no house covering it. I’ll be down there burning ants. Feel free to put on your ant costume and come for a visit.

Sincerely,
Your buddy and pal,
Shawn Powers

Hello World

by

July should be the last month The Powers Family is displaced. This is something I find profoundly awesome. My birthday is on the 19th, and I would be quite happy for my belated birthday present to be a home. Also, school is out. ALSO, I’m half done with the super sekrit project I’ve been working on. (It’s a two part endeavor, so half done is significant, it means one part is completely done!) What does that all mean for you? Well, it means you will hopefully be hearing more from me. You will be seeing more of me in odd videos I’ll likely shoot and post. You’ll be reading more about me here. Basically, it will be as if my life were returning to normal, because as abnormal as normal is, I rather fancy it. 🙂

So, whether I’m talking about my latest escapades with weight loss and exercise, explaining why charcoal grilling is the only real grilling (Hank Hill can disagree all he wants), or speaking geek over at Linux Journal (I’m horribly behind on blogging and videos over there) — I expect in the near future you will hear more from me.

And stuff has been happening. It’s just that you don’t know about it. If you follow me on Twitter you know more than some people — but really I’ve been pretty silent for half a year or so.

Can you believe it’s been that long since our house burned down? Dang.

Anyway this post serves 2 purposes:

  1. To prepare the world for the tomfoolery I’ll likely spew upon it, and
  2. To commit to actually returning to life as I used to know it. Saying it publicly kinda makes me a jerk if I don’t follow through.

So, how have you been? 😀

Imagine If Apple Used Their Powers For Good

by

I like Apple products. No, really. Yes I’m fanatical about Linux and open ideals, but Apple makes really nice hardware and software that “just works” well. Their products are expensive, but if the elegance is something you like, you’re willing to pay for that premium.

And it’s a free market. So that’s OK.

The thing that fascinates me is just how much obsession and fanaticism Apple gets from their fans. It’s creepy. One look at the coverage of the iPhone 4 release day will show you just how loyal/crazy/creepy people are about Apple products. I don’t get it, and for that I’m rather thankful.

Ick factor aside, however, imagine if Apple wielded its forces for something that would benefit humanity. Imagine if all opening day iPhone purchasers had to donate $20 to fight cancer. (C’mon, they have disposable income to work with…) Or better yet, what if Apple donated $20 for every iPhone they sold on opening day. We KNOW they have some excess profits that day.

Whether you love Apple or hate them, you have to admit they do something right when it comes to keeping loyal fans. Until they go bonkers that is…

Tigger

by

Yesterday, my family went to a local animal shelter to walk some dogs and pet some cats. As I walked “Taz”, an old dog with a mellow personality, I realized that I haven’t mourned the loss of Tigger. I want to tell you about Tigger, and while it won’t bring him back, perhaps it will help him to never be forgotten. And maybe, I’ll be able to get past his loss instead of just bottling it away inside.

I didn’t want a dog. Really. I didn’t want to housebreak a puppy, I didn’t want to worry about feeding and caring for a dog every day. I didn’t want to find a dog sitter every time we left town. Dogs were messy, stinky, hairy, and stressful. That day so many years ago when the girls were staring over the fence next to the church, and gawking at puppies, it was very clear to everyone we were NOT getting one. Still, puppies are cute, so I walked over to the pen myself in order to gather my girls and look at the clumsy little pups as all the kids from church reached through the fence to pet their noses.

When I got to the fence, I saw just what I expected. Sure enough, there were puppies gathered at the fence, stepping on each other to get closer to the children that were giving them affection (and possibly crumbs of cookie still stuck on their fingers from Sunday School.) What I didn’t expect to see was a puppy halfway to the fence laying spread eagle and wagging his stub of a tail, but not coming over to get scritched. I thought perhaps he was shy, or scared, or that he had just eaten so much food that he ran out of gas on the way over to the kids. Moments later, however, I saw the problem.

All the pups had slight neurological problems, and walked a bit more awkward than a normal clumsy puppy. I hadn’t noticed before, but realized it after looking for a while. This pup, however, was much much worse. He had spent the 15 minutes or so since church got out trying to get over to the fence, but had only made it halfway before collapsing from exhaustion. His back legs couldn’t quite support his weight, and try as he might, he never made it over to the giddy children. It was in that heartbreaking moment of realization that Tigger became my dog. Honestly, I didn’t even know it yet, but looking back — it was that moment.

I jumped the fence, decked out in my Sunday best, and walked over to the squirmy puppy. Since he was unable to walk, he was covered in mud (and probably other things), but I picked him up anyway. I wish I could describe the joy that little puppy showed when I picked him up. There are some amazing joyful times in life for people: The birth of a child, scoring the winning point in a game, marrying your spouse — but in the life of a dog, I don’t think it’s possible to be more happy than Tigger was at that moment.

I carried him out of the gate, over to our van, and into our lives.

Looking back, it seems like a rather bold move for me to make, introducing a dog, especially a crippled dog, into our house without talking to Donna about it. I don’t recall her ever questioning me though. We took him home, cleaned him up, and let him play in the front yard with the girls. It was that day he got his name. See, Tigger wasn’t strong enough to walk, but when he tried, his back legs would bounce his butt up and down. He didn’t walk, but he sure could bounce! Thus, Tigger was his name.

That summer proved to be quite challenging for Tigger. The vet told us he would probably never walk right. He had about a 3/4″ overbite, bad legs, he shook constantly, and had possible brain damage — but his brain didn’t appear to be swollen, and he wasn’t in any pain. The best we could do would be to walk him often and strengthen his back legs so he could get around.

Yes, house training a dog that can’t walk is a challenge. Thankfully, since he constantly shook, Tigger liked to sleep wedged between the couch and the wall to help hold still. We knew when to take him outside, because as he came out from behind the couch, he would bang against the wall as he tried to get up. “THUMP THUMP THUMP!” It was time to carry Tigger outside to do his business. 🙂

Every day we would walk and walk with Tigger. At first he would only make it to the end of the driveway before collapsing, but as days turned into weeks he was able to go for short walks. We’d generally walk him as far as we could get him to go, and then I’d carry him on the way back home. The bigger and stronger (and heavier and harder to carry!) he got, the further he was able to go. We started tying his leash to the stroller, and he would pull the girls along on our walk. It was good for him, and the girls though it was awesome. Summertime sled dog!

While he had a taste for garbage (not so much in his older years), and he liked tangling with skunks (actually more often the older he got), Tigger was the best dog I could ever imagine having. He spent almost a year sequestered from the family due to an undiagnosed thyroid problem, which caused a constant nasty skin infection. But his last days were spent with the freedom to roam around the house again. He lived longer than the vets ever expected, and almost fully overcame his leg problems. Tigger had a funny little limp when he ran, but he was able to run and play throughout most of his life.

Sadly, Tigger was in the house when it burned in January. When I opened the front door to search for the animals, I found him, already gone right by the front door. With all the grown up responsibilities, duties to perform, children to care for, home to provide — I’ve never really taken the time to think about Tigger. My dog. My friend. My loyal companion.

So Tigger, it breaks my heart that you’re gone. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. And while your passing rips out my heart, I can honestly say that even though I’m typing this through the blur of tears — that look on your face when I picked you up after church all those years ago makes my pain bearable. Thanks for being there for me, when I didn’t even know I needed you.

Send in the Zombies, I’m Done with this Brain

by

They say fear is the mind killer. I’d guess the one that wrote that never had migraine pain. Unless of course it’s the fear a migraine won’t go away. Because that might actually be true.

Don’t worry, I’m not getting suicidal or anything — I’m just swinging precariously at the end of my sanity rope. (Yes yes, there’s an argument to made as to whether I ever had that rope to begin with…) See the problem isn’t so much with the pain, it’s with the consequences. Spending 60 hours a week with a headache so bad you can’t function (or at least not well) takes its toll on other aspects of a person’s life.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I kept up with my early-adulthood trend of doing jobs that were manual labor type. But I went and started using my brain. So all those things I need to get done can’t be done by a temp. That sucks. I’m not brilliant or anything, but I have unique and specialized skills. Ah, notoriety, thou art a heartless wench.

Friggen migraine. Ok, I’m off to go take another prescription assault on my liver. If you know any zombies, send them my way. I think my brain might be a bitter, bitter snack, but I’m fed up with it myself.

Shawn’s Super Quick Netflix Wii-view

by

Got my disk in the mail, and thought I’d stop home at lunch to try it out. Here are my thoughts, shot out into quick bullets:

  • The interface is the best Netflix interface I’ve used yet. It’s easy to navigate your queue, similar titles, recent additions to the streaming library, etc.
  • Activating your Wii is painless, and done online. (Like the PS3 and Roku) No need to try typing your email address and password into the Wii.
  • For those of you that have a hacked Wii with a USB drive for storing games — good news, the Netflix disk rips quickly, and runs from USB with no problems whatsoever.

So basically, I have a Netflix disk for a Wii if anyone wants to use it. AND, I suspect you’ll be able to download the Netflix Wii ISO from nefarious sites everywhere shortly. Heck, if you twist my arm I might rip it myself. (But I’ll never admit it online, because that would be RONG. 🙂 )

And now? Back to work… ttfn

UPDATE: Wow, look, a fancy download link for a WiiNetflix.iso file. I’m not claiming to be responsible, but, um… Yeah. You can trust the link. 🙂

UPDATE THE SECOND: Yes, it’s only 37MB compressed. It expands to 4.7GB. Also, contrary to popular belief, I’m not a douche. 😉

UPDATE THE LAST: You don’t need an ISO file anymore, there is a Netflix channel. If you need to install the new shopping channel so you can download Netflix, but don’t want to update your system, check out THIS LINK. Cheers!