We worked out post-visit from the kitchen company because, by Gosh, I’m not only training for the Urbathon, we’re trying to get our kitchen renovated, too! It was 15 minutes on the cross-trainer, 20 minutes on the treadmill, and 10 minutes in the pool (they were closing, so I had to leave).
Aw. I like this story — while traditional newspapers are collapsing, small towns are finding ways to spread local news (with or without teh Ingterneck). I, for one, would love to help with our local community newsletter, but I’m not sure they’d want the help!
Training for the Urbathon has begun with a visit to the gym.
I wasn’t about to overdo things and be in pain for days after a workout, so I decided to ease myself into it, with 15 minutes on the treadmill, 15 minutes on the cross-trainer, and some pool time to work on my upper body strength. The goal for October is to be able to be on the treadmill for 60 minutes and working on increasing my pace, 15 minutes on the cross-trainer, and around 30 minutes of swimming.
Over the years I’ve become less and less keen on doing things (running jumping climbing trees) that pose any sort of risk to my joints and bones. I’m not exactly known for my grace and balance, plus we have this strange thing that runs in the family where wobbly ankles cause us to trip and/or fall over on a regular basis. When I was a kid it was simply part of the adventure; now I’d just like to be able to stay upright, thank you very much. So an urban obstacle course isn’t exactly the thing to keep my ankles sprain-free.
There should be some news about fundraising to come — I wouldn’t sign myself up to do something this demanding without seeking out a proper reason to be embarrassed if I quit.
The manager saw Stitch Wars and thought of me. Apparently. Can’t imagine why.
The Parliament building was reportedly open today to the public at no charge. I happen to think this banner ad indicates that the right hand doesn’t know what the left is doing.
But we did go for a walk outside the Parliament building, and there are loads of carved sayings by Scottish luminaries all over the exterior walls that run along the Canongate.
They misspelled Alasdair Gray‘s name. I hope they’re embarrassed. What a disgrace.
I went lindy hopping this week. I am in no way intending to improve on my basic knowledge and I think my main reason for going these days is because the music is great to listen to. Some relaxed social dancing without trying to apply some newly-learned step is what I’m after — emphasis on social. Plus it can get the heart rate going if the beat is really fast, so I think it counts towards Urbathon training, right?
So. I did it. I went and registered for Urbathon. That’s 10 kilometres worth of running jumping climbing trees. I have just over two months to get ready for it, and we haven’t even been motivated enough to join the gym yet.
But the gym has a pool and some nice cardio machines so maybe I have a hope in hell. And the race is being held in the same general area as the 5 kilometre run route I minced around last month, so I should probably try to take advantage of summer daylight for as long as possible, huh?
* I’m terrible at coming up with clever post titles, so I’m going to use irrelevant ones instead.
ZOMG! A Glasgow steampunk fair! How fun (and weird).
Why would you mount an expensive mobile phone on your bike rather than keep it safely stored when you go cycling? I think the answer is that people who actually think it’s a good idea to show off they have an iPhone by using it as a brake light are idiots.
This, oddly, is one of those novels that I think I had to read in order to appreciate (and not hate) the film treatment*.
I’ve had an appreciation for Philip K Dick for a long time, not least for his amazing The Man in the High Castle (note to self: reread this). But given the number of books available for reading on this good green earth, I never got round to reading Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, something I’ve been meaning to read since I took that science fiction film and literature course at uni.
So I started off really enjoying the novel, devouring most of it within a night, and when I got to the last few chapters, that’s when things got really weird. I don’t do well with weird in fiction (the point of reading is to lose yourself in the story, not to be plagued with wondering what the hell it all means, IMHO), which is why I don’t read fantasy. If it was anyone less that Dick I’d probably leave it at weird and rate the novel lower than I did in the end, but since I’ve decided to drop in on a local book club in August (run by an acquaintance, I’m not just imposing my socially-discomfiting quietness at random) when they’re discussing this very novel, I was determined to puzzle it out — at least to my own satisfaction.
Basically, the question I’m going to want discussed is this: Is Rick Deckard any more human than Rachael Rosen, Luba Luft, the Batys, or Polokov? I’d argue not. The Nexus-6 are trying to survive. We are only told that they last about four years, we don’t actually read about one winding down and stopping (as opposed to the Roy Baty character in the film).
Rick and JR Isidore strike me as the androids who are programmed to believe they are human and are on earth to exterminate the last of the humans, or beat out other versions of androids. It’s all a new type of survival of the fittest. I was going to strike out that first sentence but I think it holds true. The Nexus-6 may stop working after four years or so but production can continue, and the novel indicates that they exist on the colony planets as servants. So how different is our version of existence? We’ve had other humans exist as indentured servants until they rebelled and fought for their freedom and this practice is (generally) no longer acceptable. Why not androids fighting for freedom? What makes humans think they are better?
I think this comes up a lot in science fiction. That’s probably what I like best about the genre — it asks questions of morality and holier-than-thouness: Is our ‘breed’ superior? How arrogant are we to think that we’re better than others because of our intelligence or morality, that we should want to dominate for reasons other than that of Darwinism?
Biologically the Nexus-6 are no different, so an android Rick is much more likely to hallucinate Wilbur Mercer, as is JR (an inferior type of android but with the same controller). The others simply, if they believe in Mercerism, use their ‘empathy boxes’ because there is no need for the designer / controller, aka Mercer, to appear to them in the story to help them along. They commune with Mercer to empathise with other humans — WTF is up with that? It only makes sense if they’re all androids (hello, the Borg)!
I’m sure if I looked up essays and fora on Do Androids Dream… I’ll be told I’m totally wrong, but I’d like to hang on to this opinion for a little while.
* Although I’ll have to watch the DVD again to confirm this.
We took delivery of our first organic vegetable box this week — in it were cherry tomatoes, carrots, an oddly pointy cabbage, round courgette (at least I hope that’s what it is), broccoli, basil, and some fruit. At £11 it ain’t exactly the cheapest, but I’m of the opinion that the quality of the veg is enough to make up for the price comparison with, say, Asda.
For starters, I’ve never tasted carrots as amazing as these IN MY LIFE. As a child I ate carrots (grudgingly) because I was born in the year of the rabbit — seriously. I tried to take to one of Kristen’s favourite snacks, raw baby carrots, but it just wasn’t happening. But these carrots, oh man, they have just the right amount of sweetness when cooked and it’s so fresh I’m not sure I can look at a supermarket carrot ever again.
I took this photo just in case the dish turned out tasty. We’re big fans of pancetta, even though this one was pretty fatty (I like the fat, Neil hates it).
And that’s how it looked at the end. It’s made up of pancetta, carrots, shallots, sweet orange peppers, pointed cabbage and The Indestructible Chives. We added garlic pepper and dried chilli flakes, too. It was pretty decent.
* As opposed to vagetable.
ZOMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The Living End are playing at The Garage in November. I hope they play some old stuff. *runs off to buy the last three albums* (A lot of involuntary clapping happened here.)
It’s amazing what passes for news reporting / quality editorial on Fox News (Hannity, no link because I’m disgusted). Smartarse remarks of the same editorial standard as what goes on in my head really shouldn’t make the cut. Geez.
I’ve been rekindling my love for Salon.com over the past couple of weeks. One of my favourite sections has always been the advice column, and I’m glad to see that Cary Tennis is still dispensing advice to the troubled. Today’s piece is particularly important:
So here is my plea in as simple language as I can muster: You can always stop and look at the person you love and say, Well, you’re what’s important here. Let’s let that other stuff go. You’re what’s important.
Despite my wibbling on about Chris Isaak and Gary Barlow and Zachary Quinto (heh), I pretty much live by this idea in my relationship with Neil. You can’t build a relationship while hanging onto grudges — talk it out and then let it go. All together now… *awwww*
Oo-er. I’d date Chris Isaak. Ummm… oh yeah, hi Neil! You understand, don’t you?!
(I want his new album. No, I don’t need to try before I buy.)