Google is the Future

Recently there's been a lot of reasons to want to make sweet, passionate love to whatever idol of Google you can acquire. Whether it be advanced cellphones, cheap and reliable internet infrastructure, their support of an open internet, availability of free and awesome apps including the collaborative online office-clone suite Google docs, Google maps, Gmail, blogger (the platform that this blog is written from), driver-less cars, the Google search engine, Google is the best and brightest that the technology world has to offer.

Technology people fucking love Google. If any company is going to take us into the future it's going to be Google. You can basically guarantee that almost* anything they put their effort into will be shaken to its core and innovated.

* Social media notwithstanding

So why not just throw in our lot with the Googs? Clearly they are the tech dynamo end all and be all, and basically can do no wrong.

What do we see when a company finally hits critical mass? There's always contraction and what appears to be calcification; companies lose relevance. We've seen it with countless other institutions, right now basically every cell phone company in the world at one time or another offered unlimited data plans for a large sum. As prices went down², our options to even have it dried up! I have an unlimited data plan because I was grandfathered in with my last contract but now if I upgrade I'll have to choose a plan that costs the same amount as my current one, but no longer offers unlimited data.

Forget that, unlimited texting costs me almost half my phone bill each month when the actual cost of sending and receiving a text is 140 bytes³. How much does a voice call cost? That information isn't freely available from phone companies but Skype, a leader in VOIP, claims you need 30kb per second⁴ just to maintain a call at low quality. As a point of reference, one kilobyte is equal to 1024 bytes. So you would have to send 219 text messages to equal 1 second of a voice call, and yet the price difference for these two plans is negligible. Ho-hum.

We are in a country where it pays to be lazy and mysterious. Telecoms want you to pay huge premiums on newer technologies even if those technologies are a hundred times more cost effective then anything else they offer. The United States infrastructure in third-world in quality and despite making hundreds of millions of dollars these companies are doing nothing to help you. Oh wait, Time Warner bumped a lower tier's internet speed up by 5mbps to 15mbps for free. They also started making people pay a surcharge of $5 to lease their modems, a service that has been free for the last 10 years.

Google is currently offering Google Fiber in small areas as a way of threatening these other companies with competition. Google's internet is a Gigabit upload download for $70 a month or free for life for a one-time construction fee of $300. If you'd like to compare Time Warner, we'd do the unit conversion of 1 gigabit = 128 mbs. Yes, you read that right. No, I didn't fuck up the math.

There is a sad thing that seems to happen when it comes to companies now, people think that no matter what you do you're a shill for them or you have some kind of vested interest in their well-being that supports a little fervor.

This post is no different. I'm definitely a shill for Google. But it you're going to be a shill for any company, let it be one that threatens you with innovation instead of stifling our progress.

1http://stopthecap.com/2012/11/05/time-warner-cable-will-increase-standard-broadband-speed-to-151mbps-nationwide/

2http://www.newamerica.net/publications/policy/capping_the_nation_s_broadband_future

3http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Text_messaging

4https://support.skype.com/en/faq/FA1417/how-much-bandwidth-does-skype-need

Hello again!

Okay, wow, so it's been a while huh?

I always considered myself to be really careful with things, finances, my words, my actions, all that other stuff. I like to temper my optimism with realism and sometimes that can come up and bite me in the ass. I try to take on like ten things at once and keep up with it for the briefest flash in the saucepan and next thing I know I got nothing again.

A few years ago after a breakup my cousin invited me to the gym and I got really into it. I had just spent a lot of time losing weight and I was excited to be working out, which was awesome. I spent many days of my week out with that group of people and lifting, we went to some shows in the city and off in some further away places and it was grand. At some point I picked up the guitar again and started taking lessons, and a bit further down the line started rock climbing and joined a book club. Everything was in balance, and I was improving myself in a wide arc. I could have mastered all those things over the course of a few years if I had the single-mindedness to continue with everything at once.

I met a very special lady, we hit it off and have been together ever since. We go on all sorts of adventures (some of which I wrote about in this blog - Ireland is a biggie!)

I picked up my writing more frequently. I'd never tried to give it structure before, instead working only when I fancied to on an impulse. So I picked two days a week and started writing on those days, which further locked down my weeks.

I overextended. six out of seven days a week I was spoken for and people were asking me to make time on the remaining day. The stress of all that was too much.

I finally hit the tipping point though, something had to give. I stayed with rock climbing but was running out of time to work out, so I toned it down to just running. I kept up with the guitar but I wasn't watching my finances. When I realized it I started cutting back - the lessons went but I tried to keep it up. I injured myself running and never really got it back together. I occasionally break out and go for one and realize I'm pushing it too far too fast and get frustrated. I promise myself I'll give more and never get around to it.

Life is hard. It's not supposed to be easy, not by a longshot. We all do the best we can, but at the end of the day we all have a limit. I push mine in leaps and bounds and sometimes need to take a break. It seems like I hit that point with this blog as well, and let it languish.

I'm going to try to resurrect it soon - I've got plenty of other projects I'd like to explore and work on. I'm especially interested in Buddhism at the moment, in addition to financial stuff I was going to explore in another blog but I realized I didn't have the experience to really work on that and give advice. I might need to consolidate and just give my personal experience in the areas of finance, spirituality and entertainment from a central spot. That doesn't jive with my original plan - that this be a blog for my writing - but I don't produce at the rate that a blog like this needs to be relevant.

So I'll be back, and will be posting things differently.

Looking out - How not to suck

In a previous entry I flippantly referred to my motorcycle side mirror that was missing a nut, and how I was a huge jerk for not just getting it fixed since I knew more or less what I was doing and exactly what I'd need to get it done.

Well, riding home from work one day last week I heard the familiar sound of a small metal nut loosing from my bike and dinking it's way to the street below. Now, this noise could have been anyting: I could have run over a screw, or a car could have been clicking nearby, it didn't mean that my bike had just lost one of the precious securing devices that keep it in one piece. But I knew, somewhere deep inside, what it really was.

It wasn't until the next morning that I found out for sure. My mirror was now free to do as unsecured major visual apparatus usually do in moving vehicles: cause havoc. During a lean it shimmied a half-inch out of it's hole and I overcorrected for what had appeared to be the bike falling over by screaming like a little girl and riding nearly into a ditch. The rest of my ride was a disgruntled attempt to keep the mirror secured to my jacket without punching two new screw holes in my torso.

I want to make it loud and clear that I was literally taking my life into my own hands by not fixing this earlier: that nut could have ended up in my chain or wedged into any moving part of my bike that would have resulted in a short and likely fatal lesson in dancing with traffic. I managed to scrape by and didn't even check to see what had happened, putting myself in danger twice.

That weekend I took the freewheeling device and the freewheeling girlfriend in the car to home depot to determine the nut sizing and grab a socket wrench extension. Anyone who has worked on a bike will tell you the less often you need to dismantle things the better, and the extension would allow me to tighten it without taking apart the entire head.

Home depot is the only place where I have no shame in talking to a sales rep. I don't know if it has something to do with the inviting atmosphere of warehouse/dungeon or the cheerfully colored Halloween vests, I just feel secure among the 5-story tall bathroom fixtures and grow op hardware. I cornered the first terrorized employee in orange and grilled him for information on where to find hardware.

"Good day good sir. Might you point me towards the nuts aisle that I might repair this symbol of my irresponsibility?"
"What? Uh hardware is in aisle 9."

Off we went and shortly I had accosted another victim. He took the mirror with only my muted attempt to inform him of its metric nature in mind and quickly located the nut I needed. Before leaving I told him I appreciated his handling of my nuts and asked where I could go to find a socket wrench extension. This is not a remark that the hardware isle reps find humorous.

Final stop was the tool section where I shopped extensions for ten minutes. Did I have a Husky or Craftsman back home? Was there a difference? What if one of them was metric and the other was imperial? If I buy one and I'm wrong I'll have to go through the intense embarrassment of a tool return, which as we all know involves surrendering your man card to the authorities.

"Hi, I want to return this extension."
"Was it defective?"
"Uh, no."
A pregnant pause.
"Is there something wrong with the device?"
"Nope."
The clerk becomes suspicious. He narrows his eye and sizes me up. "Sir, did you purchase the wrong extension?"
"Possibly."
"Get out sir."
"But-"
"Sir, don't make me repeat myself."

Becoming bored of my silent reverie of several minutes (I'm prone to retreating into a fantasy world when I've been given too many options) my girlfriend finally got tired and pointed out a full metric set with a snake extension that was about the same price as the solid extension I was agonizing over. We then narrowly avoided the armed Home Depot security guards and absconded with the merchandise through trickery and deceit.

Pictured: Trickery and deceit

There's not much to it after that, I reinstalled my mirror and fitted the nuts on by hand before turning to my new best friend to tighten them up. The mirror is no longer a problem and I learned a valuable lesson about not procrastinating.

Note: I was originally going to end this with one of those goofy half-sentences like I can't ever finish anything but then two weeks later I peeked at my post drafts and noticed I'd never posted it, so I think that seals it then, no?

Dodging Storms

A study in opposites: a computer tech programming websites next to a full-face white helmet, white armored leather jacket, black armored pants.
I hurry my gear on, throwing the jacket with the spine protector over a canary yellow polo. My wallet, phone, ipod, and car keys are nestled in the backpack beside 2 laptops and a kindle. A struggle later and it’s slipped over my armored forearm. I’ll be the most expensive thing on two wheels in a minute or two.
It doesn’t look great out, the clouds are a little too ominous, the air is a little too sweet for less than a mile off the parkway. It’s going to come down, and I’m not quite ready for slick roads on two wheels.
“Hold on, your backpack is open.”
“Are the zippers on the side? Can you put them there?”
“Huh?”
“Uh, can you pull the zippers around to the side? When they’re on the top it opens. I’ve gotten home two or three times and it’s been wide open.”
“Yeah.” He closes my backpack up and I can feel him pull the zippers over.
“Thanks man! Have a good weekend.”
I snatch my helmet off the desk and walk down the hall. It occurs to me that I look huge; the armor adds a good inch to my frame, riding boots add another to my height, and I’m moving fast. I smirk at the thought of secretaries hurling stacks of paper as they dodge me.
I wave to the security guard as I pass his desk then pull my helmet over my head, snug against my face. Every piece of gear is important, every piece protects. When I see someone on a bike with shorts and a wifebeater, I wonder how long they’ll have their skin.
My bike stands out among behemoth SUVs, a dwarf there in the center of its allotted space.
My visor collects tiny gems. The storm is here.
Grasping the right handbrake I throw a leg over and sit in the saddle, turn the key, and kick up my kickstand.
Ignition.
Now to dance.
I slip through the parking lot, weaving on the asphalt floor and slithering around cement islands. Is it coming from the West, or the East? How long do I have until downpour?
The light to the on-ramp is red and I can see traffic is stopped going East from my vantage point opposite. If I go left I can do a few traffic tricks and jump the gridlock, but I’ll miss the HOV entrance. And the rain is coming.
The light changes.
Now the race.
I pull around the car in front of me and take the inner lane, jumping to the speed limit with a throttle wring then jumping lanes again to get around an SUV napping at the newly changed light. If traffic is light at the overpass…
Bingo! I slip in before the light changes and ride the service road. Traffic is still backed up. What a mess.
I wring the throttle again and leapfrog a line of cars using the entry to cut off the traffic, nestling in to the highway and starting the slow migration left toward the HOV.
There’s that feeling you get in traffic sometimes, after you’ve made a decision you wouldn’t normally make because of some new data - a sign blinking ‘Two Lanes Closed Exit 53’ and you wonder how close to 53 you should go before jumping on to the service road to dodge the bulk of traffic - and I’ve got it.
Thing is, in the car I’d just be in for a boring crawl in climate control. On the bike I’ll be taking a shower. Soppy wet underwear in waterlogged khakis. Raindrops at 55 miles an hour hurt.
Should have made the left.
But, I’m not wet yet. Keep crawling. Still have time.
I look over at a woman in an SUV scowling at the backup. Everyone seems to notice when you look at them from a bike, or they’re always about to look at the bike and you only sometimes notice. She turns to me, looks down at my two wheels and gives me a snide look. You’re fucked. Yep.
The lane moves. We’re a good quarter mile off and I swing out to peer down the lane. It’s open, the cars are favoring the right. That’s an invitation, right?
A drop of rain on the back of my neck. Go!
The white striped pre-entrance zone to the HOV will be deadly in another five minutes, coated by rain and slick as oil. For now its an ally against the traffic. I pass over it like a bird gliding over the ocean. Before me the sky is open, bright and blue but behind it is dark, ominous and vivid.
The entrance opens and I transition, no one near me.
I pull the throttle all the way out and catch the wind like an open parachute: every gust shakes me, I lock my neck to resist the buffeting winds. The storm approaches, gnashing at my back. Always check the weather in the morning. Idiot.
Little gemstones populate my visor, headlights flash on in my mirror. The clouds dance above, wisps and tails twist like tendrils, a shadow growing behind. 56. 55. Exits and miles between. A midnight blue Honda Accord, a white pickup truck. I wouldn’t wish a white pickup truck on my worst enemy.
Green sign overlooking the lane. “Motorcycles Permitted”. Thank god.
It’s darker. Raindrops on my windscreen. You never know when the rain will make every strip of paint a frictionless plane. Coming up on a bumper and the HOV exit to my real exit approaches.
I dart over the dotted line and pull the throttle, popping up to 70 and jumping past about fifteen queued cars. The road at the head of the snake is clear, I swing out and migrate to the outside lane.
The sky roars, a fine burning slice of light in the dark behind me. There’s a particular way the front of a storm looks, like a haze masking the vehicles, the paint on each car a shade darker then they should be.
I jump into the entrance lane, discarding all pretense of politeness. I’m about to be soaked, you’ll all be warm and dry. Let me squeeze on by, I swear you won’t even see me in a quarter mile.
I come up on backup up traffic at the merge, pick my spot between two cars, and slow for it. But the car I’ve picked isn’t moving as traffic accelerates. Is he napping? I jam the break, slow to a stop beside him.
He waves, knows perhaps. Or realizes why I am urgently darting between the hulking metal death machines. I wave, throw into gear and move up a spot. No time for pleasantry's my good man. Storms to dodge and all that.
The traffic eases, unbinds. We move. Storms comes.
There’s my exit. What’s another traffic violation? Go!
The great round burn. Exit arc.
Green light at the intersection: Bonus time! Left turn and I’m parallel to the storm front.
Weave like a skier, burst like a sprinter. Those your strengths, wouldn’t you know?
A grand curve, a switchback. Heading back at it. Can you dodge something you’re driving straight toward?
Answer: Yes. Dodging storms.
Home stretch, coasting to my parking spot.
Cover it, protect it, engine’s burning hot.
But we’re safe and dry.

Ireland Friday August 10th - Ballybogey

Downhill Estate & Mussenden Temple - ***

The National Trust group is currently trying to conserve the grounds around the Mussenden Temple and Estate. Also inside is the Downhill Forest and a short nature walk.

The Estate itself is a sprawling stone fort on the road to the Temple and is easily one of the coolest things I saw in Northern Ireland. We tromped around the grounds. There was a wild viking running about on the walls trying to scare us as well, always a pleasure.

The Temple itself is a circular stone building on a cliff edge along the Northern coast and there’s probably only fifteen feet between the edge of the building and the edge of the cliff. I of course jumped on to it and ran around the outer perimeter trying to get some pictures but there wasn’t a lot to capture out there since I was clutching the wall and trying not to have a wee on to the shore.

We hopped a barred off fence into the Downhill forest and walked along the upper paths over the valley just taking in the extraordinarily beautiful day. The paths through the forest were not to be missed.

Dunluce Castle - ***

We probably picked the best day to visit this attraction and the best time of day (mid-morning) because there weren’t a lot of other tourists and we had plenty of time to line up fun shots amidst the ruins of this iconic castle. They have a looped video detailing the history of the castle as it passed hands among the Ulster, McQuillan, and MacDonnel families.

The castle is built on a stone peninsula overlooking the ocean on the Northern Coast. The castle proper is separated from the old town of Dunluce by a bridge that connects the two landmasses. Passing among the ruins really gets you thinking about the kind of conditions that people lived in, and it’s also a great place to take pictures of the coast. We separated and met up fifteen minutes later to bounce back and forth.

Go see Dunluce, if not for the natural beauty, for the fact that it’s a big part of Northern Ireland’s history. And, as always, beware the vikings lurking…

Carrick-a-rede Rope Bridge - ***

Carrick-a-rede is a short ride out from Dunluce castle and is a short hike from the parking lot to the bridge. Don’t forget to buy your crossing ticket before you leave or you won’t be allowed to cross teh bridge when you arrive! Along the way you’ll be treated to plenty of goats lounging along the path and great vistas of the bridge and your fellow pilgrims.

Actually crossing the bridge is completely safe but you will be queued and waiting for a short period as only eight people are allowed to cross at a time. Make sure to make an attempt at getting any crossing pictures you want in both directions, it will be considered rude to stop your fellow daredevils for the ‘perfect pic’.

The bridge leads to a smaller island with practically no safety fences; for the most part it’s just you and your finely tuned sense of balance (further honed by lingering hangover symptoms). The island, however, is beautiful and peaceful, we laid out on a grassy knoll and just soaked up the rare sunshine for a good half hour before turning back and snapping our last pictures of the fabled rope bridge.

Torr’s Head - ***

Something tells me this one is a nice secret ferreted away from the prying eyes of the public, because I didn’t remember coming across any information on it while I was searching for things to do in the North. I could be totally wrong though; the only reason we had any clue of it’s existence was because our hosts at the B&B raved about it long enough to catch our attention.

It’s a ways off the beaten path and we got a little lost on our way. Never fret, however, as stopping basically anywhere and asking something will bolster your confidence in short order. Once you leave the town proper you’ll encounter a series of blind, harrowing turns on roads that are not much wider then your average smartcar. Those will take you practically to sea level you’ll arrive at the landing for Torr’s head.

It’s a small parking lot with a dilapidated 3 story building flanking it which opens a hike at a worse grade then the ride down. You’ll be in for a good stagger up to the bungalow at the top, but if you make it there on a clear, cool day it’s worth every step.

The small building had, at the time I was there, a ladder up to the roof which you can climb up to look across the ocean. That day we were actually able to see the next destination: Scotland!

Ireland Thursday August 9th - Ballybogey

Leaving The Villa Maria was upsetting, it was our longest stay and we had an awesome room, the proprietor was an amateur photographer and we walked out every morning to pictures of all her wonderful trips along the walls. Ireland is, unfortunately, meant for this level of activity. Stay in one place and really enjoy it.

We had a long day ahead of us and unfortunately there isn’t much to say. We were driving all the way from Galway to Dublin then up through to Northern Ireland. We were ambushed by the conversion to the pound at a gas station with a broken ATM! Luckily I had the foresight to take ~30 pounds out when we did our money conversion. I’ll be doing a separate post on how to get around Ireland by car to better explain how this went, but suffice to say we lost a day and many hours to this drive.

Take it in parts if you must, trade with your other driver if you can legally, and get some soft serve at the midway point, just for your own sanity.

Side note - Northern Ireland stinks! No, just kidding, but we did happen to visit during the one month out of the year they are allowed to harvest animal dung. We had some very stinky drives because of that.

Kilmail Country Chalet - ***

The country chalet is hidden away off a main road inbetween a few nearby towns and, as advertised, is centrally located to most of the main coastal sights. You can stay one day over in this area and trust yourself to the owners. We took their advice several times and even pegged on a sight at the end of the trip that really tied everything up perfectly.

Portrush - **

Cute little town that we stopped in for dinner. A big pain in the butt at dinner time though! Most of the places had more then a forty-five minute wait. We ended up finding a nice restaurant on the second floor of a theatre that had some good food.

Giant’s Causeway — ***

We took the advice of our hosts and checked out Giant’s Causeway that night. The causeway is a natural phenomenon created by volcanic activity off the northern coast creating several huge clusters of stone pillars you can climb on and take pictures from.

There's also a cultural center at the top of the path that leads down to the causeway. While we were there it was closed but it looked very modern and sleek and I'm sure there's a ton of information there. We would normally had to pay for parking but there was no one there for it besides two guys who were clearly employees but couldn't be arsed to have us pay since they were on their way out. Hey, I'm not complaining!
 A friendly tip though: the big clusters of yellow flowers are called Ragwort which happens to be poisonous.

Do not try this at home, Vikings only

So unless your significant other is like a viking or something, and they find the flowers haunting the area to be cool and wants you to pick some, you may want to inform them that those flowers are toxic. (Seriously though, you can’t really hurt yourself with these unless you’re eating them fairly regularly. But I think I’d play the straight man on this one)

Ireland Wednesday August 8th - Kinvara

Galway - **

Galway was a chill town with an active medieval quarter we wanted to check out along the way. We had planned for a little time to putz around and check out the shops in the area. I know Janet got her money’s worth in slammin’ dresses and there was a pretty cool Army Surplus store in the area. The quarter got pretty busy with performers and I think a major Irish (euro) soccer team was there kicking a ball around and taking pictures.
Parking was a bit of a nightmare and at one point between arrival and lunch I had to run back to the car to move it and put more time in. It’s a pretty busy place and if you’re not there early or at the right time, I’m not sure how you’d really find parking.
All around there were kids and adults setting up with instruments and singing. Once of the nicest places to eat turned out to be here. There was a small bistro at one end of the quarter where a young girl had set up shop across the street. We picked out this restaurant because the menu sounded good and it was a beautiful day.
We spent probably a good two hours there, listening to traditional irish folk music from a variety of instruments (she cycled through bagpipes and a flute). Sitting in the open-air restaurant and reading a book on the Kindle turned out to be one of my clearest memories of my time there.

Knappogue Castle Banquet - ***

To start the experience you drive in from an entrance far from the castle to a verdant green lawn lined with trees. Your first glimpse of the castle through the trees and the grounds are beautiful, I remember turning to the girlfriend and flashing her a shit-eating grin, proud of my ingenuity in finding the site. Once you’re squared away and parked you get to tour the gardens right outside of the castle. There’s also a separate garden you can check out early on any night the banquet is open so I’d suggest getting there early to check it out, we were told only good things.
Unfortunately we missed the other garden because we got there late but I had a great time just taking pictures outside and checking out the area. We were decked out for the experience in our Sunday bests (Janet wore one of the dresses she got in Galway and I had on the best sweater in existence).
We were ushered into a small room shared by every other tourist in County Galway. The show begins in this first room where you’re handed a complimentary cup of mead and given a little time to talk. We had a great time chatting about the Cliffs which we had so recently conquered and hearing about all the other things the people around us had been doing. They opened up with a choral piece about the show and the castle then moved us on to the main banquet room.
The food was delicious and they keep you placated with a never-ending supply of red or white wine for the duration of your visit. Throughout the meal right as you get tired of talking with people they start the show which involved more singing, dancing and folklore. Janet and I agreed that though the show bordered on goofy sometimes, it was fun overall. I liked it enough that I’d trust Shannon Heritage sites with a night of my vacation again.

Unfortunately at Knappogue we also had our car hit by someone. We didn’t catch them and had to call the Gardai to get a police report. They were prompt despite the obvious fact that we were tourists, did the normal ‘ask them questions to see how drunk they are’ thing and were generally pleasant. The Gardai get ***!