Welcome to The Chaos Continuum

Hit and Run (04/03/2005)

Man may penetrate the outer reaches of the universe, he may solve the very secret of eternity itself, but for me, the ultimate human experience is to witness the flawless execution of a hit-and-run. - Branch Rickey

I was involved in a hit and run today. It was awesome. I know what you're thinking, "Oh no! Jordan, did your pretty car get hurt?!?" No, no it didn't, because I wasn't in the car. I was on my skates on the sidewalk. Of course, I was wearing all my pads and helmet... *cough*.

I was skating down the sidewalk of Lytton, getting ready to turn on Middlefield, going about the speed of a jog, when a car came flying up from and underground parking lot.

Clearly, the car wasn't expecting someone to be on the sidewalk, and didn't think it needed to stop until it made it all the way to road. I swung down the driveway into the road, trying to avoid being hit, expecting the car to slow down. It totally didn't. The driver, for unfathomable reasons, was looking the other direction. I couldn't swing full on into the road, or I would have been hit by that traffic. I couldn't go onto the dirty grassy median without making a horrible tumble that would have surely broken a hip. The Impala made contact with me, and I gently pushed on the front with my hands and slid my ass up on the hood of the car to avoid being run down. That sure got the drivers' attention. He had this expression of, "OH MY CRAP, I've just killed someone!"

I slid off and went to the side expecting the driver to make sure that I was okay. The driver, the brilliant driver, turned onto Lytton and fled off down the street.

Sure, I instantly took down the make and model of the Chevy Impala, and license plate number of the car, time and location of the incident, and a brief description of the caucasian male in his late-thirties or early forties with grey hair. But since I'm not injured, and I'm lazy, I'm probably not going to do anything about it. At least, not for a couple weeks until I need to get some free knee surgery or something.

Way to go Tiger (04/01/2005)

A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool. - William Shakespeare

I had one requirement for April Fools: it can't cause anyone unneeded stress. I despise jokes that cause people stress.

I think the only coworkers that know about my site are already in on the joke, but I guess we can't expect to keep it secret for ever. In fact, I'm shocked that it isn't public knowledge already. Thursday my little group of four team mates pulled down the press picture of our CEO, ran to the photo shop, and printed about 150 copies of it. Then, "late" Thursday night, around 8pm, two of us that were still there ran around to every single cubical in the office and put in at least one photo. For the colleagues that were kind enough to have framed photos on their desk, we replaced every framed photo with one of the CEO. So if you went home thinking you had four pictures of your husband and children on Thursday night, you came in with four pictures of the CEO on Friday morning. With a wonderful silver pen, we autographed most with inspirational phrases like, "Execute, Dammit!" and "Way to go Tiger!" We even got the facilities people to help out to place pictures inside all of the executives offices.

I will admit, they did superb. I work at a fairly locked down facility, and it would have been a security violation to let us into the offices, so instead, they joined in the conspiracy to do it all themselves.

My personal favorites were the people who had the big frames that have 3-4 pictures in it, where we replaced all of the with the CEO. In the CEO's office itself, he got three lovely pictures of himself autographed with nice phrases like, "I'm you're #1 fan," "Take us to profitability" and "Make the share holders proud."

Oh My Crap! (03/27/2005)

When I finally got to see them [Shonen Knife] live, I was transformed into a hysterical nine-year-old girl. - Kurt Cobain

Shonen Knife is touring northern california! I totally crashed their concert on Saturday. I took a few photos with my phone camera and recorded a few minutes of them playing and have learned that my phone is neither a good camera nor a good recording device.

Favorite song from the concert: Rubber Band.

Favorite visual: three little Japanese girls throwing the goat to the audience.

Chicago is Dumb (03/25/2005)

You're kidding me. I pulled into the exit for the O'Hare airport in Chicago to be met with a set of unmanned toll booths taking an 80¢ exact change toll. "You're kidding me." I didn't have 80c on me in exact change. There was a sign that said if you didn't have exact change, call a provided number. So I pulled out of the toll booth, the light went on and the automated camera flashed the rental car license plate.

The next day I call the number and it kindly tells me to mail my missed toll back to Chicago noting the color, make and license of the car, the location of the toll booth, which toll booth number and the time. You're kidding me? So I write my 80¢ check to the Illinois Tollway, put it in the envelope with the 37¢ stamp, and mail it off. Chicago, you are dumb!

Segway (03/24/2005)

I think it [the Segway] sucks! - Steve Jobs

So yesterday, one of the customers's mentioned that they have Segways at the office. I talked them into brining one today. They pulled up in it, I put in the medium strength key, and went cruising around the building. Now that's what should happen at every customer meeting. I couldn't convince any of my coworkers to move more than just a few feet. Chickens! CHICKENS!

I have it planned out to try and convince our head of engineering to get one as well. Let's be honest, the other side of the building from his literally (I'm not exaggerating at all here) HUNDREDS of feet away. Imagine the productivity increase? Just imagine.

Sleep (03/23/2005)

I didn't sleep. Wow! WOW! Worst night I have had in ages. 2am. 3am. 4am. 5am. The clock just ticked by without any shuteye. 7am and the alarm went off. Maybe I got in two hours. Maybe.

Running for the Plane (03/22/2005)

I wouldn't mind dying in a plane crash. It'd be a good way to go. I don't want to die in my sleep, or of old age, or OD... I want to feel what it's like. I want to taste it, hear it, smell it. Death is only going to happen to you once; I don't want to miss it. - Jim Morrison

I was out in Chicago at a customer site over the past two days. At the old consulting companies I always called these people the clients, but at a product agency we call them the company. I'm not a huge fan of a traveling, but I have a really hard time traveling with other people. I'm about as unstressed a traveller as one can get when I'm traveling alone. I always allow for ridiculous amounts of buffer time. I like being at the gate at the airport right around an hour before the flight is leaving. Give me a book or a laptop and I can hang out for ages without get antsy.

This time going to the airport I didn't reach the gate until far too close to the flight leaving. I was running down the hallways at SFO worried the door would shut. I take the advice of my grandfather and always wear good running shoes when going to the airport. I made it, but I hate having to reassure myself. I know the worst-case scenario isn't that bad, it's just frustrating to have to repeat that to myself, "no need to freak out, you'll just catch a later flight. The world isn't going to end." Just don't forget to breathe.

Vacuuming (03/21/2005)

A vacuum is a hell of a lot better than some of the stuff that nature replaces it with. - Tennessee Williams

I never owned a real vacuum in my old apartment. I had one of those upright dust-buster devices and that was all I needed. Still, to actually vacuum with that took time. Time that is better spent sleeping or drinking.

I bought a Roomba. If you're a visitor to Shaper Image or SkyMall than you've seen it. It's the three inch tall robotic vacuum cleaner. Put him in the middle of the room, hit the "clean" button and he'll go at it for an hour. Vacuuming and drinking are no longer exclusive activities for me. Actually, I'm building up the confidence to just hit the clean button when I leave for work. After one or two more observed vacuumings, he'll be ready.

I've named him Herbert, Herby for short, and that name contains three references all rolled into one. I find myself offering him words of encouragement when he really works the edge of a piece of furniture or circles around a table leg, "Good job Herby!" When he slinks by the side of the couch I reach down and pet him.

I'm fairly confident this is how God intended man to vacuum. I'm going to start pimping him out.

Redwoods (03/19/2005)

Parrots, tortoises and redwoods live a longer life than men do; Men a longer life than dogs do; Dogs a longer life than love does. - Edna St. Vincent Millay

Lately I've been thinking about redwoods. It didn't quite go down how I had planned. I suppose it never does. When Annie had swung through the bay area a few months ago she was highly impressed by the redwood trees. Who wouldn't be? They are these awe inspiring woods of antiquity. When I heard her describe how being among them made her feel more in touch with existence, I came to realize I had no real memories of wandering through redwood groves. Mix this with a recent chat I'd had with my grandfather about a redwood grove dedicated to him and his sister in Portola Valley, and it was time to go!

I grabbed a new audio-book, "The Time Machine," jumped in the car and headed for the hills. It was only a dozen miles away, but it took nearly an hour through the windy hills to make it to the Portola Valley Redwood Grove. The drive reminded me of driving in rurally area of Scotland where the roads weren't really big enough for two cars. I would whip around a corner on the curvy slopes and there was another car! Slow down! Slow down! We'd be forced to pass each other at a crawl, just inches keeping us apart. Then it was over, and I would floor it again. Zoom. Zoom. At least I didn't need to remember to drive on the left side of the road here.

Finally, I made it to the grove. It was on the side of the road and required no hiking. I pulled out my GPS, but failed to get a signal. The soaring trees blocked the satellites better than the buildings in downtown San Francisco do. I just started going up the trail. I left behind the GPS and the audio-book. I was just intending to see if I could get a better view.

It had rained the day before. It sprinkled a little on my drive up. The ground was muddy and slippery and the sky threatened to rain on me again. I had my good hiking boots on. The lingering sense of rain made the air all the more crisp and wonderful and a fey ambiance saturated the entire forest. I took many moments to close my eyes and listen. The trees would rustle from the wind and mix with the distant sound of birds. There was the soft falling of water dripping down from the branches of the trees, crying off the morning rain.

About thirty minutes into the hike I started thinking I had no water, no food and no trail map. That's where you get with spontaneity. At the same time, I had already seen a dozen banana slugs and a couple of salamander like lizards. I was inspired with brio that I would have been better off without. Trail signs talked of the "Hiker's Hut" and it seems like a good place to turn around. So I pushed on.

Even a year ago, this hike would have been impossible for me. Some of my physical limitations made it idiotic for me to go out into the wilderness away from human comforts. So beyond the wonder of the woods, I was also immensely pleased with overcoming my personal distress at trying it. That's what kept me going beyond good judgment.

An hour into the hike I broke onto the summit of the hill. It opened up in a giant meadow with no trees at all. I wish I'd had the GPS, because I would have gotten something there. There was another sign for "Hiker's Hut," but I was weary and not prepared to keep going towards the mythical goal. I laid down on the wet grass and looked up at the cloudy sky. The strong wind was pushing the murkiness quickly across the blue background.

I succumbed to good sense and went back down the trail. It was steep and slick on the way down and I was thankful to have brought my cane with me as a third leg. There were numerous times when my boots slid multiple feet before giving me a frictional piece of ground to put my weight on.

I kept running into the little salamanders moving slowly along the ground. They reminded me of gecko's, but slow. Their backs were the same color as wood chips from the trees so that they blended beautifully. It was only when they moved that one would catch my eye. I would thump my cane on the ground next to them, I even poked and flipped one with a small twig, but they never hurried. They just crawled slowly along the ground.

I paused at the bottom on a wooden bridge over a creek and looked out. My vision pin-cushioned. It reminded me of my favorite camera affect where the lens zooms on a target while the camera is pulled back causing a zoom out on the surrounding areas. I tried it a few times, closing my eyes, and looking again, transfixed by the effect and making me feel more purblind than usual. Eventually it stopped occurring, or I didn't notice it, and I climbed back into my car. Maybe it was exhaustion, lack of water and lack of food. Maybe it was the LSD. Next time I go, I'll take water and snacks and make it all the way to the mythical Hiker's Hut.

Final count was sixteen banana slugs, four lizards and one squirrel.

Dapple in the HOV (03/19/2005)

I've been told that I have a lot of energy. The secret is that I use renewable resources. Some days I'm solar powered. Some days I'm wind powered. And some people in this room might think I'm hybrid gas-powered. You'll just have to guess which it is today. - Bill Richardson

Did you know? Did you know? H.R. 3 passed quickly this past week. That's the transportation bill that would give states the ability to pass laws allowing hybrids in the carpool lanes. California has already passed this law and is just waiting it to get through the federal government before they start issuing stickers to socially responsible people like me.

There was some hubub that it may not get through because Detroit has been throwing lobbying money against it claiming it discrimantes against American car manufactures. Why? Because no state has yet to pass a hybrid carpool law that would allow a single one of the planned american hybrids in it. They have all passed laws saying your hybrid must get a high enough MPG, and since the American car makers are just building SUV hybrids that still only get about twenty MPG on the highway, they don't qualify.

Still, it looks like the bill passed 417-9-9 in the House, so that is a healthy sign it should fly through the Senate as well.

Saint Patty (03/18/2005)

Saint Patrick's Day came and so my roommate and I celebrated the only way we knew how. He's Catholic, so I planted land mines outside his door. I'm theoretically protestant, so he placed a car bomb into my Prius. It all works out.

Team Awesome (03/14/2005)

And here they developed that most awesome of all ideas - the idea of eternity. - Walter Cronkite

Two companies ago I met a lot of people that I love. They were brilliant and shared a lot of common interests with me. I jokingly have always referred to these people as "Team Awesome." The basic criteria of Team Awesome is that if I were going to begin a startup company and could pick who ever I wanted to be there with me, I would pick Team Awesome. They are brilliant minds with good working attitudes.

Today, one of the members put out a wonderful suggestion to start up a mailing list with all of his favorite people. A high percentage of Team Awesome was on his list and that is neat.

We're scattered around the world, but I think it's a great concept. I'll admit when I let my imagination go crazy, I think of us like a modern day version of the Inklings.

The Beach (03/14/2005)

If I should paint my fingernails green and it just so happens I do paint them green, well, if anyone should ask me why, I say: 'I think it's pretty!' - Sally Bowles (Cabaret)

I take a great pleasure when Debbie makes her world-wind trips through town. There was a time when I was frustrated with my life being disrupted, but I think I'm past that all now. I like a little disruption. Maybe I've mellowed in my old age. Who knows.

One thing I do know is that when she called me at 3pm on Friday and asked me to head up and have a picnic on the beach with her, it was brilliant. How often have I gone to the beach in San Francisco in my last nine years in the bay area? Four times.

She asked me that Friday, "Was it worth wasting the day with me on the beach?" and I said exactly what I thought, "It would have been more of a waste staying at the office." Sure, I spent four hours working on Sunday to make up for my earlier departure, but it was easy.

She also painted mytoe nails purple, because why not? Why not?

That's the Sound of the Men (03/06/2005)

Natural grass is a wonderful thing for little bugs and sinkerball pitchers. - Dan Quisenberry

I've been searching for a new coffee house in the Palo Alto area to replace my lovely Zocalo. The requirements are (1) organic coffee and (2) free WiFi. Today, I am proud to say that I found it. Rock. On. This is going up while I'm sitting out font.

This weekend had no skating, jogging or biking. Instead, it had digging. Right behind the apartment complex is a meadow-land, and part of the deal when the property was built, was to restore the meadow to native foliage. On Saturday, a few of us went out, grabbed some shovels and started planting. The apartment complex is full children, and as we were digging tons of toddlers would swing by to lend a hand. The kids usually didn't get through planting an entire shrub before they were tuckered out, but they were great inspirations to keep me going.

I had the pleasure of getting help from a little four year old. This adorable little blond boy walked up quietly and watched as I was digging. "Hello," I said to him, though he was silent. "Do you want to help?" I asked. He peered up at me shyly, clearly wanting to help, but not ready. I bent down and started crumpling the dirt in my hands to raise the base of the hole to the right level. "What's your name?"

His mother, who had been standing away, wandered over to us. "¿Como te llama?" He blushed. His mother continue to urge him on. "Dígale su nombre. En inglés."

So I try again with him, "Bueno mañana. Me llamo Jordan." He still says nothing.

It had been pouring rain the day before, so the ground was muddy. He picks up some of the dirt like I have been doing, but drops it immediately. "¡La tierra es mojada!"

I chuckle. "Sí. Es muy sucia. ¿Como Playdough, no?"

He picks up one of the plastic toy shovels and starts scooping the dirt. I try again, "Gracias. ¿Como te llama?"

"Me llamo Max."

"Hola Max." I turn over the pot and pull out the plant that is about to go into the ground.

Max's eyes widen, "¿Son esas raíces?" I'm lost. Little Max has defeated my high school Spanish. I look at his mother questioningly.

"Roots..." she says to me under her breath.

"¡Vale! Sí. Son raíces." The plant went into the ground, and Max was done. He went running over to the playground.

His mother said some long string of Spanish that began with "Gracias."

"Sé hablar solamente un poco español."

"Well, you did very well. Thanks."

Got Stains on my T-Shirt (03/03/2005)

Got bruises on my heart and sometimes I get dark - Ashlee Simpson

I've been trying to get in at least five miles of movement on the weekends. In my lazy weekends this is done on the bike, but on my more active ones I do it on either skates or sneakers. I managed to get in a good twelve mile skate recently (listening to Ashlee Simpson... shut up!) and finished up my first successful geo-cache around the new apartment.

It was a particularly miserable day outside and I when the rain is coming down, there is nothing better than strapping wheels onto one's feet. I slipped twice, and though I never fell, I knew it was stupid pretty quickly. The cache itself was on Stanford campus, and it was one of the largest caches I have ever found. I was particularly annoyed with the number of people wandering around the grassy knoll bay the art center while the rain was falling.

My grandfather has this chunk of redwood groove set aside somewhere in Portola Valley, and I keep thinking how much fun it would be to plant a geo-cache there. I can't think of a better place for it.

(Aside: My phone ringtone is a Hilary Duff song. It rang today and a coworker said, "you should be embarrassed by that." Heck, he should be embarrassed for recognizing it.)

High Hopes (02/28/2005)

How can you not like Britney Spears? - Lindsay Lohan

I finally got around to acquiring the Ashlee's and Lindsey's CDs over the weekend. Bubblegum pop is part of my guilty music pleasure. I officially decree them both crap. What has happened to the teeny boppers? Even Avril's second album didn't do it for me. In a couple of days Hilary's new CD comes out. I hear that it's more punkish than before. I certainly hope so.

I think the industry is ready for a new breakout teen pop-star. Doesn't even have to be a girl. Another teen bubblegum punk band like Simple Plan would be great.

Yeah, Your Dilbert Mug Screams 'High Class' (02/27/2005)

I just want to say one word to you - just one word - plastics. - (The Graduate)

She opens the cabinet and looks around for a split second. "Can I have a grownup glass?" she asks me. Though I didn't mean to, I guess I had a pained look on my face because a moment later she grabs a plastic cup and blurts out, "never mind, I can just use one of these." Of course, there are four glass cups up there. Idiot. She pouring salt into a wound.

It puts me at a loss as friends and family consistently open up the cabinet and say, "Ohh, you should really get new dishes." Really? Maybe you should get a new face! Can't be. I'm so consistently told I need new plates and cups that it hurts. Every time someone says it, I drill into them for an explanation. In the beginning I wasn't trying to be an ass about it. I thought maybe i was going to hear how plastic released toxic chemicals that would slowly kill me. Why do I need to replace these dishes? What great functional failing do they have that I just haven't caught on to yet? What wonderful new feature will a ceramic dish provide to me? No one seems to know. Seriously, is a cabinet of 90% plastic dish ware really going to cause God to rain down the hellfire and turn people into salt?

I despise replacing something that is functional with another something that provides no additional value. What a gluttonous consumer-oriented society. I don't need new dishes. I don't need new cups. I don't need a new sofa. I don't need new clothes. I don't need new table clothes. I have all these wonderful things. Wonderful things I have spent a lifetime collecting that fill consistently fill my needs. I've had them for years. I will have them for years to come.

Sure, I've grown stubborn for the purpose of being stubborn. I know it.

My plastic cups, bought four for a dollar at Michael's a dozen years ago, are a treasure. I will pass them on to my grandkids as inheritance. Sure, it will take centuries, but these cheap items will become a family heirloom.

Granola (02/24/2005)

I'll quit coffee. It won't be easy drinking my Bailey's straight, but I'll get used to it. - Megan Mullally

Binzar: What kind of coffee do you drink?

Jordan: Why?

Binzar: You don't drink the office coffee; so what do you drink?

Jordan: Organically grown fair trade coffee. The current blend is from Heifer. Why?

Binzar: Will you drink Peet's?

Jordan: Peet's has some fair trade blends. Why?

Binzar: Is that why you don't wear jeans? Some sort of hippie reason? Destroys the earth?

Jordan: Nope. Are you changing the office coffee?

Binzar: Where do your parents live? Berkeley? Canada? Some other socialist state?

Jordan: Sacramento. It's actually somewhat conservative.

Binzar: What do they do?

Jordan: My dad is a land developer.

Wonder Will: Doesn't he own, like, a dozen SUVs?

Jordan: No. Only around four.

Binzar: Is your granola behavior some sort of guilt?

Jordan: Keeps me from going to hell.

12,132 Steps (02/20/2005)

I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat. - Winston Churchill

I stole an awesome Peugeot bike from a friend complete with front light and bike lock. Unfortunately, he couldn't find the key for the lock. I spent a little while with a Bic (R) pen trying to do the magic trick of popping the lock without success. Anyway, with the fear of those nefarious Stanford students, I couldn't dare leave the bike out unshackled and that left me forced to perambulate.

Today being one of those days for a blood letting, I trekked 2,792 steps to the medical center, a vast improvement on the thirty mile drive it used to take. My pheblotomist asked me how many tubes she should take. I'm fairly confident that people performing medical procedures on me should not be asking me how to do their job.

Then I strutted over to the Cantor Center to see the On the Edge exhibit. I sketched a tad; something I haven't done in a while because I'm just not very good at it. I fell asleep in the courtyard. It was probably the best sleep I've had in weeks. Guess I should spend more time sleeping at museums.

On day left of this three day weekend. I baked cookies.

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