I've started a little online business. It's something I've been working on for the past couple week and finally I'm ready to go live. It's a little virtual bakeshop (with very real, non-virtual cakes) on Etsy.com.

Labels: Administrative, career, cooking, food, life decisions, Nerdiness, New York

My Treo buzzes every single day at either 12:03 AM or 12:07 AM. Without fail. Every day.

I have absolutely no idea why it does this. I've tried resetting it. I've removed the battery. I've called Verizon. I've checked for hidden alarms. I've downloaded Palm software updates (I have a 700p). I've spent hours and hours pouring through various Treo forums and Treo fan sites, all to no avail! (Yes. There are Treo fan sites.)

I'm not usually flustered by technology, but this thing really puzzles me. It doesn't really bother me or affect anything; it's just a question that I can't answer. And I hate those.

So I'm turning to you: have any of you ever experienced anything like this with either Treo (or other Palm) or Verizon?

Labels: Gadgets, Nerdiness, techy

Because last night I asked myself, "what could I possibly do on the Internet to waste even more time?"

Sent from My Dell Desktop now has her very own MySpace page!! The profile is still a work in progress (it's a little too dark and brooding right now), but it's ready to be revealed. Now all I need is a few friends...

A virtual profile for my virtual blog--you all knew it was just a matter of time...

Labels: Internet, Nerdiness, parties

My computer has failed me once again. It's the adaptor this time; it'll be the third one I've been forced to replace and I'm really not pleased about it. I counted the number of parts I've had to replace since getting this laptop a couple years ago. In two and a half years time I've gone through three adaptors, three motherboards, two hard drives, and two batteries. It's basically a franken-laptop at this point...merely a refurbished shadow of its former self. I've never been so disappointed with a product in my entire life--and I'm including the defective BabyTalk doll I got for Christmas in 1987 in this list.

I'm still catching up on moving expenses, so I'm not really in a place to buy the computer that I really want (and no, it is most definitely not a Dell) so I'm evaluating my options. I'm getting another adaptor, of course, because I need a computer as soon as possible, but I think that I might also invest in a used Mac Mini. I found a few on craigslist and am kind of excited about the prospect. I don't know... It's incredibly frustrating not having a working computer at home. Even when it comes to writing--there's so much that I want to put down but it seems that I have much more fluidity with pixels than with ink...

And, to answer the obvious question, I'm blogging from my phone. This Treo being the brilliant little gadget that has made the past computer-less week tolerable.

Labels: Grief caused by Dell notebooks, Nerdiness, techy

I am giddy with anticipation over my most recent purchase. I've been waiting for this for months--and I still have a few more as they don't ship until October 15th--but I am very happy to announce that I am officially the proud owner of a first, limited edition one of these.

Now I just need to think of a name...

Labels: Nerdiness, robots, techy, toys

The Blogger Meetup was fantastic.

It was wonderful to meet and chat with so many people who share an interest in this crazy thing we call blogging. I'll be back later with an actual recap of what happens when ten bloggers take over a quiet Village tea shop. Work is a little crazy today so I have to tend to that first. Suffice it say that I did not spend the evening alone with my laptop, cup of tea, and lame Meetup sign. ;)

Did I just use an emoticon in my blog? I'm blaming it on the equinox...

Labels: blogging, Nerdiness

"The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say."
-Anais Nin

Something about it felt illicit. After all, I wasn’t supposed to be there. I’d run away (again) from the bells and schedules, slipping down the halls unnoticed, hiding amongst the oft-ignored shelves.

He knew that I was there. I could feel him watching me from his desk as he stamped and catalogued. “You’re different because you love it here,” he’d told me the first time he deliberately “forgot” to ask me for my pass. I sat curled-up in a corner of the quiet library, lost in the pages that the others saw as obligation.

I had an odd bond with this man. Mr. Spear (“like the thing you throw,” he’d always say and chuckle proudly at his little joke) was the stereotypical embodiment of his occupation: bespectacled, quiet, he had a few stories that he routinely told me. My favorite being the one about a friend who owned 6 cats, each named for one of Jane Austen’s novels. “I’d hate to be Northanger Abbey,” he always added at the end. He was a friendly man who let me hide out among the stacks on the days when I wanted to skip biology, concert choir, or Phys-Ed (my three least favorite courses).

It was on one of those afternoons that I discovered her. I’d been looking for something else, when my eyes happened to stop on the fading, nearly illegible words: In Favor of the Sensitive Man and other essays. I placed my forefinger on top of the book and tilted it out slightly. Anais Nin. The name reminded me of the flowery perfume favored by several of my aunts. I pulled it out completely and studied the black and white picture on the cover. It was of an older woman with a childish face. Her long, graying hair was twisted around her head in an intricate braid, and her slim figure was wrapped in an embroidered kimono. There was an aura about her that was at once inviting and exotic. I immediately wanted to know who this woman was.

I brought it back to my chair where the book released a tender sigh as I cracked its spine for seemingly the first time in years. A turn to the faded names and dates on the brittle card in the back revealed that it had indeed been nearly two decades since it had been read. Library books are memento mori; relics read and left by students past. I thought of the others that once rummaged through these stacks—uniformed ghosts that had long since left their adolescence behind. I gently turned the pages, at first pausing randomly over the paragraphs, then hungrily going back and devouring each of the essays. The writing was dreamlike, erotic, and completely out of place within the crucifix-studded walls of my Catholic high school library. In those passages I recognized the feelings I’d long been unable to explain.

I worked my way through her words until Mr. Spear gave me the look that meant that he could no longer afford to hide me. There was something about it, though. I was loath to return it to its spot, and yet I didn’t want to check it out for the maximum two weeks. I wanted it. And not just that title, I wanted that very same book. I wanted to take home the musty pages, the fading cover. It was love at first read and I didn’t want to let go. And so, with only a slight hint of guilt, I slipped it into my black nylon book bag and walked out with the broken eighth commandment hung casually over my shoulder.

That afternoon marked the beginning of a love affair that has spanned a decade. After that moment I sought out Nin’s work in whatever form it appeared. I amassed every volume of her revolutionary diary, as well as the many volumes of fiction, erotica, and literary criticism. My favorite of these was—and still is—the intimate collection of letters she exchanged with Henry Miller, her long-time lover, friend, and literary colleague.

I was fascinated by her ethereal use of language and intrigued by her life. She was brilliant, damaged, and brazenly naked. Her work is a stunning juxtaposition of aching fragility and unapologetic strength. I find comfort in her words, often seeing bits and pieces of myself as she details her struggle as a writer, her desire for passion, her constant need to transcend reality by imagination.

Today, as I searched for a book among my own collection, I came across that well-worn copy. The catalog number is still printed in a typewritten font along the yellowed spine. Holding it in my hands, the scent of the pages transported me back to Mr. Spear’s library. Once I again I was that 14-year-old girl in droopy kneesocks and pleated plaid, escaping from the tedium of required classes in an attempt to find something bigger. It’s far from my favorite of her books, but it’s one that I hold dear for it introduced me to a world that I might have otherwise missed.

Labels: books, memories, Nerdiness, Writing

I sometimes get Google image search cravings. I'll be sitting at work, trying to figure out the best way to word something when a craving will hit. I'll start thinking about a book I read when I was seven or a tv show I used to watch, and suddenly I'm overcome with an intense desire to see it. So I pull up Google image and type away. Today's Google image search craving was of the Doozers from Fraggle Rock.

I just started thinking about their cute little green bodies, tiny construction hats, the way they built entire cities from radish sticks, and before I knew it I had to see them.

When I was a little girl, I had an entire collection of Fraggle Rock books, and my favorite was "What do Doozers do?" I read it dozens and dozens of times, but I can't for the life of me remember what exactly it is that Doozers do (did?). I know that they were always building, so I guess they were mainly architects, engineers, and construction workers.

I do remember thinking that the Fraggles were rude...knocking down and eating the Doozer cities, waking up the Trash Heap to ask for advice, stealing radishes from the Gorg's garden... Plus, they used to drive Sprocket, the dog, crazy. If you'll recall, they lived under Doc's house. Doc was an inventor and had zero clue that there was an entire universe under his house, but poor old Sprocket knew...

Through my Googling, I came across an article about Doozers that explained that they actually appreciated it when the Fraggles ate their buildings because it gave them room to create bigger and better ones. They saw destruction as an opportunity to rebuild.

I've recently been working on building a website for myself. I worked on it for quite a while, but it was never exactly right. Each time that I tried to fix it, it would only get worse, and I was becoming increasingly frustrated. Finally, this weekend, I decided to just go for it. I knocked it down. I even went a step further and just deleted the whole thing. It was tons of work, but as long as I had that code sitting on my computer it was keeping me from really going for what I want.

Now it's gone and I have to start from scratch, but I'm actually pretty excited because--like a Doozer--I now have the opportunity create something even better than before.

Labels: cartoons, Nerdiness, tv

As one who often gets a little too caught up in all things virtual, I found this little Second Life satire, which was sent to me by a certain robot blogger, to be particularly amusing.

And to answer that question: Yes, I Second Life...

Labels: Internet, Nerdiness, techy

Inspired by the brilliance that is my virtual friend Mike’s web log, I’ve decided to create my own Google Resume. A Google Resume is essentially what my potential employers would find out about “my” history if they were to search for my name on Google.

[Please note that I omitted all actual references to me as they were boring and really only revealed that I like to write, I frequent nerdy web forums, I participate in a couple multi-player alternate reality and role-playing games, and am available for babysitting on nights and weekends (Se Habla Espanol) (E Italiano).]

Education

-In June 2001, when I was a university student in Santiago, Chile, I posted an open notice on the International Jesuit Alumni Society indicating that I was interested in studying abroad during something called “pregrade” and looking for a “friend in Europe with an e-mail address.” I apparently don’t have very high standards when it comes to new friends. Especially European ones…

-I graduated from Chaffey High School in 2001 and am currently attending UC Riverside.

Hobbies and Extra-Curricular Activities

- For the past year I’ve dedicated myself to the art of photography. I photograph mostly cats and shadows, and occasionally I’ll combine the two (as demonstrated in my series “Cat Shadows”). I find cats and shadows mysterious and suggestive…much like myself. I’m very deep and brooding. I probably like to hang out in cafes.

-An active member of the San Pasqual High School chapter of Students Against Destructive Decisions, or SADD, I participated in a march to City Hall on Wednesday. I’m trying to motivate other kids to make good decisions and stay away from drugs. I have very few friends and am rarely invited to the “cool” parties.

-I have been modeling since the age of 10 and recently appeared on the cover of the book, titled: “How to Realize your True Beauty in just Ten Easy Minutes of Make-Up Application.” I am currently writing my own book, titled: “Why is the Title of this Book so Freaking Long?”

Honors and Publications

-Between 1983 and 1990, I represented Chile at the Ibero American Championships, a biennial track and field event for "Spain, Portugal, and Spanish or Portuguese speaking nations in the Americas." During this time I won 3 silver medals and 2 gold medals in the 1500 meter dash. Sometimes, I like to wear them all at the same time for added “bling” factor as I roam the streets of my native Chile.

-In early 2006, I published a paper titled, “Medicinal chemistry applied to a synthetic protein: Development of highly potent HIV entry inhibitors.” I’m fairly certain that nobody actually ever read it.

International Experience

-I was born 19 years ago in Lima, Peru.

-On November 26, 1979, when I was still a minor, I was hospitalized in Venezuela with serious lesions and other grave injuries, the cause of which remain unknown.

-I am an actress, director, and acting coach at the Espacio Pata de Ganso in Buenos Aires, Argentina. I have starred in a number of theater productions including Chekhov’s The Three Sisters, Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, and Antigone. (Espacio Pata de Ganso means “Goose Leg Theater” in Spanish.)

Family Connections and Background

-When I was 14, my wealthy, traditional Mexican parents hired a very non-traditional Colombian drag queen to choreograph my Quinceanera and teach my baggy-pant-wearing friends how to waltz. He encouraged me to act “feminine,” with such helpful tips as “spit out that gum” and “stick your tits out.”

-I am the daughter of the first female Chief Justice of the Nicaraguan Supreme Court.


Overall, I'd say that according to Google I'm a pretty good hire. I'm beautiful, athletic, artistic, and socially conscious. I have a mind for science, a strong command of the Spanish language, and my parents are pretty well-connected. Oh...and I'm drug free!

What does your Google Resume reveal about you?

Labels: Internet, Nerdiness

This week, Wired announced a call for nominees for their 2006 10 Sexiest Geeks of the Year feature. I must admit that since I saw the 2005 list last December, it's become my secret wish to someday be named among those lucky few...

Last years list included brainy model Elyse Sewell (forever my favorite Top Model contestant), Gawker's Nick Denton, and the very cute Chris Mooney, who I actually met and chatted with at a bar in DC last year without even realizing that I was in the presence of official sexy geekness. Other winners included Jessa Crispin of Bookslut, Judge John Jones III, and the disconcertingly handsome neuroeconomist, Paul Zak (my gpa would probably have been about 3 times what it is if GW had hired a few sexy profs like him).

Now it's evident that with exception of Miss Sewell and Professor Zak, the majority of these are not your typical magazine cover sexy types. The genius of the Wired Sexy Geek list is that the winners are recognized for the sexiness of their dorky talents, accomplishments, and personalities. As one who is just as easily turned on by a perfectly punctuated sentence as by a warm breath on my neck (whisper that well-crafted sentence in my ear and I'm putty), I find a list like this significantly more intriguing than the usual People Magazine-esque lineup.

So I've started thinking about who I'd nominate...

The first person who came to mind is my long-time pundit crush, Tucker Carlson. I've been completely smitten with his snarky conservative dorkiness since high school. When CNN started filming Crossfire on the GW campus I became his number one stalker, hanging around the School of Media and Public Affairs in the hopes of catching a glimpse of his bowtied nerdiness. The one time that I did catch him, I squealed a squeal so unearthly that I freaked the poor man out and sent him running for the parking garage.

Next on my list would be Peter Rojas, the hipstery cool co-founder and editor-in-chief of Engadget. Check out his personal site here--his CV alone makes me a drool.

I've always been a fan of CNN senior medical correspondent Dr. Sanjay Gupta, who has a weird way of making even the deadliest epidemics seem kind of fun and sexy.

These are the first three that come to mind, but I imagine I will continue to update this list as I think of it. I will also track the progress of the Wired contest and will keep you posted on all latest developments. Just because I'm that kind of a girl... ;)

Labels: Internet, Magazines, Nerdiness, tv

Ugh.

I am all kinds of frustrated right now.

Basically, technology hates me these days. It all started a little over a week ago when my phone died. It was a weird, violent, creepy Stanley Kubric kind of a death. There was zapping and shocks and a frightening blue screen with an ominous message that said “Vort Com. Emergency Download.”

And I lost it all.

I couldn’t reactivate my old phone because it isn't E911 compliant. And I can’t buy a new one because I’m not eligible for an upgrade until January 15. Fortunately, BFF Matt has offered to come to the rescue by taking a break from grading papers to send me his old phone. I am now eagerly anticipating the arrival of a package from Las Vegas. [That’s a hint, Matt…]

Until then, I’d like to apologize to all of you who have either called me or sent me texts. There are only three numbers in this world that I have memorized. My house in NJ, Sara aka Fiorella’s, and BFF Matt’s. Oh and Moviefone. So if you know the name of the movie you’d like to see, I’m your gal. If you just want to talk to me, then you need to send me an e-mail or call the house in NJ. Or, you could hire one of those secret messenger guys they used in ancient Greece. The way it works is, you shave his head, write a message on it, then give him a map to my house. When he arrives two months later, I’ll shave his head again, read the message, and then send him back. [I just realized this is story my history teacher told me in 6th grade that I’d pretty much always accepted as fact, but which I’m now starting to question. ] Regardless of historical accuracy, that last method would probably be the least efficient…

I really hate being without a phone. I had a lusty dream about the LG Chocolate last night. It was so deliciously vivid that I was actually disappointed when I woke up this morning and realized that it was just a dream...

What really motivated this mini-rant in the first place though, is the fact that I had a great, long post (not at all about phones) all written out and ready to go when my laptop died. It just died…

I knew I was having issues with the adaptor because it kept flickering in and out. It's similar to what happened a few months ago when the adaptor stopped working and the battery wouldn't charge. Dell came and replaced the motherboard and then replaced the adaptor and all should have been working fine, but now the problem seems to be back.

This of course leads me to believe that the problem goes deeper than the motherboard. I've been sitting here staring at the computer and turning it over and over in my hands. I even blew in it like a Nintendo cartridge.

[Why do I feel like there is an entire generation of us that will spend the rest of our lives doing that? I can see myself, 20 years from now in my super fabulous kitchen making dinner when I'll look to the left and notice that Viola, my Robot-human hybrid maid that I named after the Shakespearean character because I like the contrast has gotten stuck in dishwashing mode again. So I'll call my husband and he'll come up from his workshop (I kind of picture myself having a husband with a workshop) and pick her up and blow in the socket on her back. And my kids will look up from the kitchen table and go, "Mama, why does dad always do that when stuff breaks?" And I'll try to explain Nintendo cartridges to them, but they'll just look at me the way I look at my dad when he talks about 8-Tracks, and I'll catch my husband's eye and we'll just shake our heads and laugh quietly to ourselves.]

Anyway, so I have this ridiculous urge to open it up and look inside, but I know that if I do that I'll a) violate the terms of my warranty and b) not have the slightest clue of what I'm looking for anyway, so I'll just have to be patient and wait until Dell sends one of their tech guys to my house.

All this just to say that if you’re trying to get in touch with me, e-mail me. And if you want to read my fabulous post, well you’re outta luck until I get someone to coax my sweet little laptop from its slumber.

Labels: Grief caused by Dell notebooks, Nerdiness, techy

The last time I felt like this I threw myself into my cooking. I woke up my roommates with thick slices of French toast covered in homemade fruit compotes and fresh muffins still warm from the oven. I skipped class to plan and shop for elaborate dinner parties. I organized the first of our swanky evenings—a classy wine, cheese, and tapas party that took three days of cooking and preparation, and completely redefined our meaning of the term college party. Looney and I were reminiscing about this party last night and he started laughing when I reminded him about it. "Oh yeah," he said. "That was a great party...I hadn't developed a taste for wine yest so spent the whole night drinking whiskey and cheese..."

Happy Homemaker became the default away message on my AIM profile while I spent hours buzzing around the kitchen experimenting with marinades and pie crusts. That was the year of my first Passover chicken, the one that was so tender at the bone that it practically disintegrated before we made it through the four questions. In the spring, armed with a French-English dictionary and a stack of cookbooks from the library, I set about on a month-long quest to bake the perfect Proustian Madeleine. My roommates would come home to tray after tray of fluffy lemon biscuits. "You're making me fat," one of them always used to say as she tried my latest experiment. Provisions Too, the gourmet market on the GW campus became a daily stop. I quickly worked my way through my meal points on ingredients like white truffle butter, porcini mushrooms, and saffron threads.

Looking back at it now, I realize that it was my way of regaining control over a situation that I found overwhelming. It wasn't about the food--I rarely even had a chance to eat the things I made--it was about the process. I’d had my heart broken for the first time and was disillusioned with my course of study. Inside I felt lonely and adrift, but all those feelings melted away once I stepped into the kitchen. Cast iron skillet in hand I could do anything. My power was limited only by my imagination (sort of a culinary Green Lantern). It was the perfect therapy for someone who refused it in its conventional forms. I made decisions in the kitchen: the Madeleines helped me realize that it was literature and not politics that I wanted to pursue, and I opted to take a semester off and attend culinary school in Italy instead of a traditional study abroad program. I set aside my textbooks and devoured food memoirs by Ruth Reichl and Jeffrey Steingarten noting the parallels—I wasn’t the only one who recognized how sadness has a way of dying in the kitchen.

I’ve started again. Only this time, in addition to cooking, I’ve started coding with abandon. I’ve literally spent hours hand-coding a new template for this blog to mark the new chapter in my life. I researched ways to circumvent the strict default templates of MySpace to create a great new profile. I’m also working on a personal page to highlight some of my writing and have been thinking about designs for BFF Vanessa who wants a page to showcase her artwork. Just like in the kitchen, I’m limited only by my imagination. Yes, some things require more technique than I am currently in possession of, but I refuse to let that stop me—I just find a way to teach myself.

I know that this is clearly a control thing. I’m sad and there is no real way for me to change that. I have to live it. If there were a code that would make me happy, I would write it. If there were I recipe, I would follow it. As it is, I have no power over the moments of doubt…the sharp pangs of sadness…the uncertainty of what’s to come. So I focus on what I can. I focus on the things that I can do. And hopefully, while I immerse myself in those things, the rest will work itself out.

Labels: cooking, life decisions, Nerdiness

For the past four years, BFF Matt and I have made it a tradition of sorts to always buy the same cell. We both started with the V60i and then switched to the Samsung A670. A few nights ago he called me all excited.

"I want to tell you about our new phone..."

"Oooh!" I squealed, realizing that it was almost time to upgrade. "Which one are we getting?"

"It's called... "The Chocolate," he said in an unusually deep voice.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Matt?" I asked.

"No," he said, still in the sexy voice. "It's just the phone...it has that effect..."

I was laying, as I usually am, on the couch with my laptop balanced against my thighs.

"One sec," I said as I typed the words "Verizon Chocolate" into the search bar. I clicked the link for the official Chocolate page. The Flash started up, a shiny black and red phone twirled around while Goldfrapp pulsed in the background

"Ohhhh," I whispered. "I want it...."

"I know..."

I'm in love with this phone.

Only slightly longer than a credit card and about twice the width of a tube of blood red lipstick, the LG 8500 is all black and sleek. It features a glowing red touch sensitive keypad that allows users to browse, preview, download and play mp3s over Verizon's broadband network or in the V CAST Music online store. A 2GB microSD card stores up to 1,000 mp3 files. The number pad stays hidden until you slide it out from below like a little electronic trundle bed. I've always preferred the clamshell style, but I think I could quickly get used to this one.

The ad that Verizon has out for it could not be more suggestive. A pool of molten dark chocolate pulses and spikes to the beat of Goldfrapp's Strict Machine (the quintessential gadget lust song). The phone slowly rises out of the pool, chocolate slipping down the edges to reveal the various features: mp3 player, video screen, and iPod-like navigation wheel. "Everybody loves chocolate," the announcer says as the phone is wrapped in foil like a candy bar.

The reviews, which I've spent quite a bit of time reading, seem mixed. CNET ranks it at a 7.0, but the Wall Street Journal's Walter Mossberg spent quite a bit of time panning the touch-sensitive buttons and music player capabilities. Nicholas Deleon, over at Gizmodo, wrote a bit of a rant about the aforementioned buttons, saying that they froze up on him one night, leaving him unable to send out a late night text message to a lady friend. I'm taking his review with a grain of salt, however, as I suspect it was mostly a kneejerk reaction to a thwarted booty call.

I hadn't actually seen the Chocolate in real (as opposed to virtual) life until Friday afternoon when, on the bus home from work, a man sat down next to me holding it in his hand. I watched him check and send a text message, and finally leaned over and asked him if that was the LG Chocolate. He seemed surprised that I'd noticed it, but nodded and held it up. He must have recognized the lusty look in my eyes because he held it out to me and told me I could play with it if I wanted. I took it in my hands and noticed that the menu was in Danish. It was the original model that came out in Asia and Europe several months ago, which has a square navigation ring, unlike the round iPod-like one on the US version. He said he'd had it since March (he was visiting from Denmark) and that he'd never had any problems with it. He showed me how to work the touch-sensitive buttons and showed me some of the Flash wallpapers (I recently read in the Macromedia newsletter I get every week that this is one of the only phones currently out in the US which supports Flash Lite). When I reached my stop I reluctantly handed it back to him and got off the bus even more smitten than I was before.

One thing I don't understand is why the phone isn't available in brown. I read that it's being released in hot pink and white in Korea and there is also an edition with gold trim, (none of which, big surprise, are available in the US) but no plans to release a brown one yet. I guess if I really wanted a brown phone I could wait until the other model I've been dreaming about, the Sony Ericsson K800i in "Allure Brown" makes it to the US. But that will probably never happen, and I suppose that dark chocolate is ultimately more satisfying than milk chocolate anyway...

I checked my account this morning and think that I still have about a month or so before I can upgrade on my New Every Two plan, but I'm going to drop by the Verizon store near my office tomorrow to see what my options are. I've pretty much worked myself up to the point where I just might spontaneously combust if I don't get this phone soon...

Labels: BFF Matt, Gadgets, Nerdiness, techy

Slate has compiled a fantastic selection of articles about summer camp. They range from a review of the best camp movies to a first-hand account of a summer spent at nerd camp.

Guess which I clicked on first...

I've written before about my summers at nerd camp. Each spring I would receive piles of brochures from various nerd camps organizations that I had written to for information earlier in the year--places like CTY (which the Slate writer attended) and the Summer Institute for the Gifted (which I did). I found most of them in the back section of The New Yorker or advertised in my Cricket magazine. Others would be sent to me automatically for scoring in the top 5 percont of whatever standardized test we had been required to take that year. Occasionally, a teacher would recommend me for a particular camp or course. As a weird, dorky girl with a strange love of mail, nerd camp brochure season was a delight. I'd spend hours poring over the brochures, reading course descriptions, creating possible schedules, and writing application essays.

Unlike other kids, my summer camp fantasies were of air conditioned college classrooms, the hum of a slide projector, and best of all--the company of kids who like me, preferred learning over playing tag. The Slate writer expresses this sentiment perfectly: "But what I remember is less the hum of the quadratic equation in the air—though there was plenty of that—than the sense of relief at finally being in a place where people felt, in some sense, normal. It was a place where kids could be cool without having to downplay their interests." She remembers nights spent discussing nuclear proliferation that reminded me of the whispered midnight conversations I had with my SIG floormates.

Even more accurate is her recollection of "mandatory fun time," during which we nerdy campers were required to participate in two torturous hours of "fun" recreational activities. I'm assuming that this was based on some kind of government regulation requiring at least a minimum 5-to-1 flourescent lighting to sun ratio. I can imagine the horrific task it is to organize social activities for the socially awkward. For the kids who are dying to spend the summer taking robotics courses or learning latin, there is nothing worse than being forced to spend time engaged in less intellectual, more physical pursuits. At SIG, our schedule went like this: Breakfast, Class 1, Class 2, lunch, 2 hours of "fun time," Class 3, Class 4, dinner, evening activity. The SIG program that I attended was held on the Vassar College campus in Poughkeepsie, NY-- a gorgeous, sprawling campus of rolling hills, grassy noles, and hundreds of trees that we were specifically warned "not to climb" (as if we actually would want to). We could choose from organized activities like hiking and volleyball, or "free activities," like swimming or tennis. I quickly learned that if you chose "free activities," nobody would check up on what you did, so I was able to sneak back into my climate-controlled dorm room to spend two happy hours reading Jane Austen novels. On Saturdays we went on field trips to nearby museums, amusement parks, or fairs. We generally had a selection to choose from and I happily chose the NY Renaissance Fair, year after year. (I still have a box full of paper "medallions" somewhere at home.)

So yes, while I'm the first to admit that I may have missed out on some of the healthy, more outdoorsy benefits of a normal camp experience, I still wouldn't trade my dorky summers for the world...

Enjoy the articles.

Labels: Nerdiness

I'm generally a pretty sunny person, but there are a few things that I find really disappointing. Rainy saturdays, artificial lemonade, bad sequels... This is a story about a very bad sequel.

I thought I was doing well last weekend. It was a beautiful, sunny day, I had a full carton of Newman's Own Virgin Lemonade in my fridge, and plans to see X-Men: The Last Stand, which I'd been anticipating for months.

I was positively giddy when we got to the theatre. I was quick with the snide comments about my "regular" sized tub of Cherry Coke and marveled at the freakishly smiley ticket-taker's large teeth. We got good seats. All was well.

And then the movie started. And it was bad. It just...sucked.

Now, I don't profess to be some kind of X-Men expert. I did, however, love the first two movies, and thanks to a few of my friends (two in particular) I’ve been pretty well-briefed in the original storyline from the comic books. But as I said before, I’m not an expert and walked into the theater with only slightly more background than someone who has only seen the first two installments. And even from my layman viewpoint, the movie just plain sucked.

It could have been great. Centered on the discovery of a “cure” for the mutant-creating X-gene, the film, much like the first two, could have touched upon the ethics of a multitude of socio-political issues. The ideas were there, but unlike the first two films, they were barely explored and just left hanging, like much of the plot. What I loved most about the other films was the way they brought together the external superhero action film with the deeper themes of identity and persecution.

This film lacked subtext. It was more of a schizophrenic summary of the film it could have been had director Bret Ratner put a bit more effort into it. Characters ran on and off screen in a constantly revolving door that left little time for development or exploration. At times it was as if Ratner was so overwhelmed with the horde of new and old characters that he simply just forgot (or opted not to deal with) some of them. Main characters disappear, are killed off, or are stripped of their powers unceremoniously and seemingly indiscriminately. New characters are thrown in with little more than a line or two, their powers introduced with patronizingly worthless dialogue (my favorite bad line: Iceman to Kitty Pryde, while convincing her to sneak outside with him: "you can walk through walls, you know!") and their roles diverging greatly from those in the original books. (In the words of one friend, "Since when was Juggernaut a mutant?!")

The worst offense, in my opinion, was the utter neglect of Famke Janssen’s Jean Grey. Resurrected from the dead she rises “more powerful and dangerous” than ever before, in line with the famous Dark Phoenix Saga from the comic books, but while that storyline in itself would have made for a far more effective and poignant film, it is relegated to little more than a subplot. Janssen spends the vast majority of the film staring blankly in silence, her cranberry-red Feria extensions flailing about her head (not unlike the movie posters of her which grace bus stops all over this city—in fact, you could probably just stare at one of those for a couple minutes and save yourself the 10 bucks).

The clashing themes and storylines culminated in a ridiculous final battle sequence that, like much of the film, could have been wonderful, but really just proved laughable. There were moments when there was so much going on at once that I wasn’t sure where to focus. Once the film ended, my friend and I (and the rest of the theater) jumped out of our seats and left without waiting for the credits to end. We missed a bonus scene that added absolutely nothing to the film, but is available online if you are curious.

I’ve always thought disappointment was one of the worst emotions because it holds within in it the promise of what could have been great. It might be trivial in the grand scheme of things, but this film disappointed a lot of fans who expected a lot more than this.

Labels: movies, Nerdiness, reviews, X-Men

The sad thing is that I'm fairly certain that this isn't even close to being the dorkiest conversation I will have this week:

Me: There is this wonderfully entertaining debate over on Salon about the usage of the word "adamantine" in regards to a description of Wolverine's claws [in a review of X-Men: The Last Stand]
vs. Adamantium that is
Him: the latter is correct
Me: I know...but that's the debate, because the writer used adamantine
Him: well he is stupid and shouldnt be writing about things that he doesnt know about...
f*ckin jerk
Me: and they're arguing over whether or not that could work too since Adamantium is technically adamantine
and it was a woman
Him: 1) Adamantium is NOT adamantine...
they sound the same...however, Adamantium has different properties (in the book) than adamantine...
Me: yes it is. adamantine is an adjective and the fictional substance of Adamantium is by definition adamantine
ahh i see
Him: no its not...
Me: not even when used as an adjective?
Him: the creator named it a similar name, but not the same name...
Me: just to mean hard as a diamond?
Him: no. its pronunciation has nothing to with it...it’s a different 'element'
Me: no I understand that
but I mean that "element"
when described
could be described as being adamantine, couldn't it?
in it's classical Greek sense
I mean
Him: I’ve never seen it referred to as such...
Me: well of course not, because it was obviously an error...more likely a copy editor who changed it, but I mean as a way of justifying it's usage
on a technicality
Him: I’ve seen..."his claws are made of adamantium" AND "he has adamantium claws"
Me: yeah but those are describing what they are actually made of
the substance
but you can also say “his claws are shiny”
Him: right...
Me: and adamantine means "hard as a diamond"
so you could, technically, say "his claws are adamantine"
you can even say "his Adamantium claws are adamantine"
Him: no...
Me: why not?
Him: because you would be wrong when saying that...
Wolverine's adamantium claws are harder than diamond...they are the only indestructible material on Earth (this is from the book)...
Me: hmmm...but "hard as diamond" isn't meant to be literal...
like I could say "ugh, talking to you is adamantine sometimes"
Him: but even saying it figuratively would not express its indestructibility
Me: okay I see what you mean...although I still don't think it's technically wrong...if used figuratively
Him: Is this what’s going on at Salon?
Me: basically
lol
i think that we got into it a lot more than they did though…
Him: a collection of losers...
Me: i should just cut and paste our convo
Him: of course we did
please dont
Me: lol
Can I put it in the blog?
Him: Id almost rather it at Salon...
but do what you need to do...
Me: I won't say it's you
Him: thanks
Me: although anyone that knows both of us will know it is
Him: yea...people will have no idea

Labels: Nerdiness, X-Men

For the past month or so, I've been totally consumed by an alternate reality/puzzle trading card game called Perplex City. I've mentioned it once or twice, and promise to go into further detail at some point, but for the purpose of this post all you need to know is that this game appeals to a very, very nerdy audience (and I am definitely included in this group).

This conversation, which I had with a friend earlier today, describes our master plot to drive the thousands of other players to distraction, thereby allowing us to effortlessly claim the grand prize for ourselves. I know it probably won't make much sense to anyone--but I still think it's worth sharing.

me: I read the forums for like three hours last night...how insane is that?
Him: very...
And you didn’t make friends...?
Do you think there are Puzzlers meeting and having intercourse? Or would such a notion be too low-brow...
me: yeah and they call it "intercourse" too, not sex, or f**king or anything like that
Him: nice...then ill fit in perfectly...
Maybe even 'coitus'...
me: that's perfect
Do you think there will be any perplex city couples?
Babies, even?
A whole generation of people who wouldn't exist if not for this game
Very nerdy people, mind you
Actually this is probably the perfect way to bring together men and women who would otherwise never get laid
Him: maybe....even if subconsciously, creating a Perplex City world here on Earth....
me: maybe, when I start my website, I’ll have a dating site
Or, they should add that feature on the current perplex city profile site
Him: i think you should start your site...then include the dating part....then splash your link all over the forums...
me: yeah...you can trade cards OR find a date
Him: or give sexual favors in exchange for silver cards....
me: people can specify "NSA play, dating, long-term relationship"
Him: um...that may be pushing the envelope
me: gives new meaning to the phrase "pay for play"
Him: true...haha
me: I’ll be the Heidi Fleiss of the nerd world
Him: then everyone would be occupied with dating and screwing and the puzzles would never get solved...
i think this could really work...
me: yes! Then we'd quickly rise to the top of the leaderboard
Him: sweet!
me: what's wrong with us?!
:-)
Him: maybe lead in the water, probably nothing...
me: should we see someone about this?
Him: no... not until the underlying sexscapade of your PC site takes over our lives...
me: unlike other madams, who lounge around by swimming pools with piles of coke everywhere, I’ll lounge by my laptop with piles of silvers
Him: nice...there would certainly be a growth of US players...
I could go for a trading/orgy...
Let me know when this starts getting weird...
me: oh, my tolerance for weirdness is extremely high
Him: obviously, mine is too
me: yes... I was actually just trying to figure out the logistics of a trading/orgy
Him: how so?
me: I wouldn't want the sex to overshadow the trading
Him: how could it possibly?
You have to consider the members...
me: oh...right
I think I’m going to have to screen participants
No one exceedingly attractive can join.
It’ll throw everything out of whack...make the nerdier ones feel inadequate
Oh! I’ll have them take that "ruhot.net" quiz...remember that?
That way i can quantify hotness and cut out anyone that is overqualified
Him: yes
must have cards to trade...
and be clean...
but some D&D is encouraged...
me: lol yes...
but that has to be limited too
Him: of course...
me: no wizard hats
Him: and no dice of any kind, 6 sided or otherwise...
me: certainly not
this is like the nerd phone sex line
"I want to do something logical to you..."
Him: haha
I think you have work to do tonight...
me: hmm...yeah, maybe I should skip happy hour
Him: where were you doing that?
me: daily grill
Him: those people don’t need you....the unsocial hordes of puzzle fighters need you to organize them into a sexual frenzy the likes of which engineering schools across the world have never seen...
me: this is true...but, I'm not about to neglect my own social life in the process
Him: listen....
me: although I do like the idea of whipping hordes of puzzle fighters into a sexual frenzy
Him: you will be looked at like a savior to these people....there is a humanitarian issue here which you cannot forget...
be the philanthropist that I hope you will become...
me: but what kind of role model would i be if i were to stay home every night slaving away on Dreamweaver?
wouldn't it be better to teach by example?
Him: no one is asking you to be a role model...there are examples in these people faces 24/7 and where has it got them....playing card puzzles in the darkness....they need organization, desire from a third party, hope, and an opportunity that only you can provide...
me: what are you getting out of this?
you seem a bit too eager to have me set this up
I doubt that your motives are purely altruistic
Him: what else would they be?
me: self-serving and evil
Him: well....i think you are going a little far with self-serving...
i truly believe your guidance and hand holding can get these people to a world they have never been....the Red Light District of Perplex City....
me: ...and while the multitudes of cube searchers find themselves lost to the soma of perplex sex, you will swoop in and claim the cube for yourself
is that what you left out?
Him: within your cynicisms lies the true answer....PerplexSex.com
a name that stands for the origin of the game and the character of its players...
me: creepily brilliant
Him: a-thank-you...
me: I love that we've quadra-handedly managed to blight what was once pure and true
Him: into what it always was meant to become...?
me: of course
they just needed us to help them realize it
Him: well that’s obvious...
we've broken into their culture...we simply need to grab their hands and pull them out of the mire....with the help of your site...
me: they have no idea what's coming
Him: (btw...much more relaxed idolized rants have led to militias and federal involvement...)
me: I know...and Google saves everything
Him: I wonder what the ads will be for.
3-D jigsaw puzzles with pictures of porn stars on them?
me: vibrating protractors
Him: ow
me: some people like that
Him: some, but not all...
me: true, but we can't discriminate
Him: no, I will not stand for any discrimination....
well, maybe some...
but very little...
me: sanctioned discrimination is ok
Him: I concur, counselor...

Labels: Nerdiness

I finally popped my GMail Chat cherry yesterday. It was kind of surprising because I didn't know that a) this feature existed and b) I was logged into it. A message window just kind of popped up on my screen out of nowhere and made me feel a little violated...a little watched. And the fact that it recorded our conversation certainly did little to soothe my uneasy feelings about Google and my undefined right to privacy.

I was really disappointed with the program. It's pretty crappy. I kept thinking about it yesterday...on my walk home, during dinner, while I was brushing my teeth before bed. (yeah, I don't have much going on these days.) Seriously though, it's like something written by an awkward, yet brainy 17-year-old in a high school computer programming class in Suffern, NY. I'm usually so impressed with Google and its multifarious features, but this...this is bad. I know it's a beta release, but still...

The one cool feature are the rotating emoticons. In fact, they almost redeem the entire crappy program. We discovered them by accident and then spent a full 16 minutes (I know this because of the creepy recording feature) trying out different combinations just to see what they would do. I'm usually really anti-emoticon, but in this forum they're just fun.

My friend is easily distracted; I'm easily amused.

Labels: Nerdiness, techy