We took the brace to NYC with us (via train, not plane or automobile), and both because it is hard to pack and I was certain I would be in pain, I wore the brace on the train. It is my feeling that the brace contributed to the pain I had afterwards, which was considerable. The problem, I believe, stems from the fact that in physical therapy and on my own, I have been trying to strengthen the muscles that the brace is designed to prevent from moving.
In terms of my spine not moving, it did what it was supposed to: my spine did not move, at least not my lumbar spine. But all those muscles I'd been so carefully strengthening and limbering up were constrained in this plastic tube, preventing them from doing what I'd been teaching them to do. So, naturally, they're sore as hell. This is of course counter to what the stupid brace is supposed to do to begin with. In fact, as I stretched myself on Sunday (after missing the second day of the fucking Summit, goddammit), I got to a point where I could get out of bed, walk around, and generally felt better.
It seems to me in this case that the brace didn't allow a weaker muscle to function where otherwise it would have hurt; instead, it took a healing, useful muscle, and put it in a position where I couldn't use it, causing me more pain than I otherwise would have had. That makes me angry. I paid for that summit. I missed a venture capital panel, and Spun desperately needs VC.
On a positive note, I did get to have a sort of Sunday brunch with a friend that included a pretty good (since I last had one at Fins in San Diego) shrimp burrito. Of course, by the end of the day, either the NYC water (really hard, for some reason) or the Mexican food turned my stomach into cholera in bullet-time, so it wasn't all butterflies and unicorns.
I did enough damage this weekend that I am doubtful I will be able to do any stretching tonight or even this week for PT. I think what I need right now is anti-inflammatories at the facet joints or a local toradol administration, which the PT people may be able to do (but they're not MD's...). I think it might be time to push forward the date with the orthopede.
Just a complete and utter wreck. Oh, and my impression of NYC? Eh. It's like southeast DC grew some really big appendages and moved north. The cabs are exorbitant and no more competent than those of tijuana.
I'm going to go scrub the filth of the subway and amtrack off my poor beaten corpse.
05 October, 2009
04 October, 2009
Singularity Summit 09 notes
I'll be publishing excerpts of my notes from the Singularity Summit here in the days to come. Overall, it was fantastic, despite my not being able to attend the last day. The first day, though I attended in a wheelchair, the activity of getting into and out of the chair, managing the (mostly pretty decent) subway, and up the stairs to the fourth-floor loft we're staying at have, taken a serious toll on my muscles. Legs, back, obliques, abdomen. I have some skeletal pain in my pelvis, but in my experience the stretches will fix that (but were super duper painful this morning and last night).
One thing's for sure, PT this week is going to be a bitch.
One thing's for sure, PT this week is going to be a bitch.
01 October, 2009
A split has occurred
For details relating to the device I've been building, which has taken a lot of my time these last few months, I've actually started a company, Spun Flight Research, which accordingly has its own facebook, twitter, and weblog pages which are necessarily separate from mine. I work for Spun. I am not Spun, as it were, by myself. This causes a necessary split. Most of the stuff over there will be boring, business-related stuff, and the stuff here will be more of me bitching and moaning. (sorry sambo)
Fate of the hammer
While we are (and by me, I mean my wife) terrorizing Arlington on the gixxer, the Hammer has officially changed hands. We are now a one-bike family, with the war chest to buy on the cheap this winter. She is thinking Ducatis, I am thinking BMW's, but the sad truth of the matter is that both of us would have bought the Gixxer Thou', were it not for the stupendous insurance rates. The BMW and Duc bikes are a lot cheaper to insure because I suppose there are fewer hooligans on them.
Another note given to me by my insurance company is the reason our policy is so much despite our driving records is that (according to Geico) the Subaru STI is the #1 most damage-causing vehicle they insure. He went on, "think about all the honda accords out there, and how few of these STI's are. Yet, they dwarf the amount of damage done to both their cars and other cars compared to even the car next down on the list (#2), which he declined to identify.
So, along with having the very-evil STI, it would seem Geico just isn't real happy about us owning a Japanese litrebike, but they're cool with us buying a 1300cc self-proclaimed "streetfighter" from Ducati or BMW, or even Bimota.
At least now, with the Hammer sold, we do have the war chest to go out and buy pretty much whatever we damn like. I am leaning towards a K1200R. I think Wifey wants an 800 Dark Ducati. She likes the 848 and 1098/1198 (who wouldn't?), but is prepared to admit that it's Too Fucking Expensive. If the R800R comes to the US as a 2010 model, I will be very interested in that bike.
Another note given to me by my insurance company is the reason our policy is so much despite our driving records is that (according to Geico) the Subaru STI is the #1 most damage-causing vehicle they insure. He went on, "think about all the honda accords out there, and how few of these STI's are. Yet, they dwarf the amount of damage done to both their cars and other cars compared to even the car next down on the list (#2), which he declined to identify.
So, along with having the very-evil STI, it would seem Geico just isn't real happy about us owning a Japanese litrebike, but they're cool with us buying a 1300cc self-proclaimed "streetfighter" from Ducati or BMW, or even Bimota.
At least now, with the Hammer sold, we do have the war chest to go out and buy pretty much whatever we damn like. I am leaning towards a K1200R. I think Wifey wants an 800 Dark Ducati. She likes the 848 and 1098/1198 (who wouldn't?), but is prepared to admit that it's Too Fucking Expensive. If the R800R comes to the US as a 2010 model, I will be very interested in that bike.
30 September, 2009
Spinning up…
Spun is alive. The business cards showed up today and the links are live. Please note that the SR-71, X-43, U-2, and other aircraft depicted are not Spun products and do their job well enough that unless you're really serious and funded well enough to, we're not going to build one for you.
A lifetime [of spinal injury]
short: eh, it's me flapping my gums about drugs and life in general.
So I have both kyphosis and scoliosis (curvature forward and laterally, respectively) of my lumbar spine. I owe both of these to auto accidents, although carrying some additional weight around my belt line has not helped things (the concussion I sustained in February has resulted, in a way rather opaque to me, in my losing around seventy pounds[!!]). This has, in a peculiar twist of fate, resulted in my becoming an inch shorter than I was in 1993 – when I got my first driver's license. I guess this sort of makes me smaller in several directions.
The mechanical damage is four fractured, in total, of five (six?) lumbar vertebrae. I am not especially hopeful about this condition. Looking forward, I am almost certainly going to have osteoarthritis and back pain for the rest of my life. Today, it's an effort to move around, stand, and even sit (I am getting my first hair cut this year because of the spine shenanigans this year, having been unable to sit in a chair until now).
I don't know what that means, medically. I am in fact a rather active dude when permitted to be. I quite frankly don't see much cessation in my normal activity, stupid or hazardous though it may be. Wife and I are presently in the market for a litre-sized sportbike (having borrowed the excellent and rather striking GSXR 1000 from a friend for two weeks, only to discover that while we can easily afford the bike, the insurance is on the order of $100/mo for both of us, who have "perfect" driving records), and if anything, I see that activity as increasing, rather than flagging at all.
The obvious concern to me is that, as I am just now easing into my thirties, that for the next seventy-or-more years, I will be using, and likely dependent upon, palliative care. The consequences of long-term opioid use vary by individual, and while I seem mostly not susceptible to too much physical addiction, I consider the usage of e.g., fentanyl to be crucial as an enabler for me to get out and do the things, including working, that I like to do. Doctors, of course, are not terribly thrilled about enabling somebody to use opioids long-term, especially if there is zero chance of the patient being rehabilitated. I suspect one or more of my doctors, in the next couple months, will set the tone of the coming decade and indeed the rest of my life. As I said, I am not hopeful. We frequently make exceptions with the very high dosage or potency of analgesics for patients who are terminal, but as I am obviously not terminal, and yet obviously substantially broken, I have no idea whatever how doctors will react to my condition. To be honest, even I don't really know how I feel about it. I don't like thinking about being dependent upon fentanyl patches for the rest of my life, but it hardly seems like a real problem if somebody cuts out all the red tape and suspicious faces that the drug comes with.
In a way, it's rather like accepting the responsibility of riding a motorcycle. I have in fact driven somewhat north of 140mph without a helmet on a slightly damp freeway, but for the most part, I very much behave, and in fact, drive more slowly and cautiously than anyone I know. The same is true of the drug: there is the opportunity, handed to you every day, to kill yourself if you screw around, but for the most part if you keep your eyes and ears open and use responsibly, there's little fuss.
People are astounded when I recall the number of broken bones I've had, dislocations, injuries in general, and how casual about it I am. I see it, perhaps foolishly, the way professional athletes approach injury. MotoGP riders are generally never at "100% health", as we've seen Dovizioso riding and winning with broken ankles. For my part, I am rarely ever uninjured. Whether through stupidity, clumsiness, stubbornness or hubris, I get injured. A lot. This has gotten one physician to ask for a bone density test, to see if perhaps I am just more fragile than the rest of you. That's actually rather perceptive, although I suspect I will again be shown to be "normal with a touch of stupidity." The one thing that leaves us with some question about bone density is the year of the yeast infection, in which I stayed on prednisone for what might have been four to six months. Again, I'm not sure even a declaration that I am far more likely to break a bone than others will actually slow my level of risk-taking behavior. Is that, itself, a disorder? Probably, but it's not one I care to be treated for. I am not the boy in the bubble, or the hemophiliac heir, hoping to propagate my legacy, genes, or anything so noble.
A friend of mine recently referred to me as "starting a, no shit, rocket science company." I am in fact doing that. Spun, my company, is sort of emerging this weekend. I will be looking to talk to people that think big and do things that may be perceived as stupid–getting into space with a turbojet comes to mind. It really is true, that ad astra per aspera business. I may have just stepped up the speed, risk, and pace to levels I hadn't reached in the past; what greater way to live, or die, than on a column of human will, reaching into the sky? It sounds melodramatic, but how could one possibly overstate the drama, passion, or single-mindedness that is clawing your way out of a gravity well? This is the stuff that kept folks like Einstein and Newton awake at night, to say nothing of von Braun.
I think I've previously stated that the status was situation normal, all fucked up. Today is not much different. Things are moving along with or without my input, and to quote another friend of mine, "where are we going? and what is this handbasket?" So, there's a fair amount of – to use the literal rather than vernacular meaning of the word – drama afoot, but this is hardly out of the ordinary. The dude abides.
At any rate, I wanted to update those who pay attention. I had a very bad day at physical therapy, as regards the back. I couldn't complete one of the series of stretches (of four or five), nor three of the exercises (of five), none of which had been a problem for me before. I had more pain today than I've had in a very long time, and to be perfectly honest, I don't think 75 mikes is actually doing the job with the fentanyl. I really don't. It's not "breakthrough pain" if it is static and in one location. My surgeon has talked about possibly going after these spinal "joints" that are, according to him, rather like fingers (broken a number of those so far, too). I think his plan of attack was to locally administer anti-inflammatories. This seems akin to the first treatment I had for the injury, and injection of Toradol, which, happily, worked (which is to say, made a positive impact on pain for a few hours, but not to go as far as saying it was panacea). The people at the hospital are concerned but cheerful in that way that people who work at hospitals are, telling me that everyone has bad days or bad weeks. They didn't seem to react to my stating a preference for "good" and "better" weeks, which is rather a disappointment. I don't recall when I see the surgeon again, but I may step up the pace if I continue to see as much pain as I did today, or the non-effectiveness of the fentanyl (today, "patch day," I feel approximately no effect from the patch).
I have no further trite quotes or allegory to add. The situation, fucked up as it is, is status quo.
So I have both kyphosis and scoliosis (curvature forward and laterally, respectively) of my lumbar spine. I owe both of these to auto accidents, although carrying some additional weight around my belt line has not helped things (the concussion I sustained in February has resulted, in a way rather opaque to me, in my losing around seventy pounds[!!]). This has, in a peculiar twist of fate, resulted in my becoming an inch shorter than I was in 1993 – when I got my first driver's license. I guess this sort of makes me smaller in several directions.
The mechanical damage is four fractured, in total, of five (six?) lumbar vertebrae. I am not especially hopeful about this condition. Looking forward, I am almost certainly going to have osteoarthritis and back pain for the rest of my life. Today, it's an effort to move around, stand, and even sit (I am getting my first hair cut this year because of the spine shenanigans this year, having been unable to sit in a chair until now).
I don't know what that means, medically. I am in fact a rather active dude when permitted to be. I quite frankly don't see much cessation in my normal activity, stupid or hazardous though it may be. Wife and I are presently in the market for a litre-sized sportbike (having borrowed the excellent and rather striking GSXR 1000 from a friend for two weeks, only to discover that while we can easily afford the bike, the insurance is on the order of $100/mo for both of us, who have "perfect" driving records), and if anything, I see that activity as increasing, rather than flagging at all.
The obvious concern to me is that, as I am just now easing into my thirties, that for the next seventy-or-more years, I will be using, and likely dependent upon, palliative care. The consequences of long-term opioid use vary by individual, and while I seem mostly not susceptible to too much physical addiction, I consider the usage of e.g., fentanyl to be crucial as an enabler for me to get out and do the things, including working, that I like to do. Doctors, of course, are not terribly thrilled about enabling somebody to use opioids long-term, especially if there is zero chance of the patient being rehabilitated. I suspect one or more of my doctors, in the next couple months, will set the tone of the coming decade and indeed the rest of my life. As I said, I am not hopeful. We frequently make exceptions with the very high dosage or potency of analgesics for patients who are terminal, but as I am obviously not terminal, and yet obviously substantially broken, I have no idea whatever how doctors will react to my condition. To be honest, even I don't really know how I feel about it. I don't like thinking about being dependent upon fentanyl patches for the rest of my life, but it hardly seems like a real problem if somebody cuts out all the red tape and suspicious faces that the drug comes with.
In a way, it's rather like accepting the responsibility of riding a motorcycle. I have in fact driven somewhat north of 140mph without a helmet on a slightly damp freeway, but for the most part, I very much behave, and in fact, drive more slowly and cautiously than anyone I know. The same is true of the drug: there is the opportunity, handed to you every day, to kill yourself if you screw around, but for the most part if you keep your eyes and ears open and use responsibly, there's little fuss.
People are astounded when I recall the number of broken bones I've had, dislocations, injuries in general, and how casual about it I am. I see it, perhaps foolishly, the way professional athletes approach injury. MotoGP riders are generally never at "100% health", as we've seen Dovizioso riding and winning with broken ankles. For my part, I am rarely ever uninjured. Whether through stupidity, clumsiness, stubbornness or hubris, I get injured. A lot. This has gotten one physician to ask for a bone density test, to see if perhaps I am just more fragile than the rest of you. That's actually rather perceptive, although I suspect I will again be shown to be "normal with a touch of stupidity." The one thing that leaves us with some question about bone density is the year of the yeast infection, in which I stayed on prednisone for what might have been four to six months. Again, I'm not sure even a declaration that I am far more likely to break a bone than others will actually slow my level of risk-taking behavior. Is that, itself, a disorder? Probably, but it's not one I care to be treated for. I am not the boy in the bubble, or the hemophiliac heir, hoping to propagate my legacy, genes, or anything so noble.
A friend of mine recently referred to me as "starting a, no shit, rocket science company." I am in fact doing that. Spun, my company, is sort of emerging this weekend. I will be looking to talk to people that think big and do things that may be perceived as stupid–getting into space with a turbojet comes to mind. It really is true, that ad astra per aspera business. I may have just stepped up the speed, risk, and pace to levels I hadn't reached in the past; what greater way to live, or die, than on a column of human will, reaching into the sky? It sounds melodramatic, but how could one possibly overstate the drama, passion, or single-mindedness that is clawing your way out of a gravity well? This is the stuff that kept folks like Einstein and Newton awake at night, to say nothing of von Braun.
I think I've previously stated that the status was situation normal, all fucked up. Today is not much different. Things are moving along with or without my input, and to quote another friend of mine, "where are we going? and what is this handbasket?" So, there's a fair amount of – to use the literal rather than vernacular meaning of the word – drama afoot, but this is hardly out of the ordinary. The dude abides.
At any rate, I wanted to update those who pay attention. I had a very bad day at physical therapy, as regards the back. I couldn't complete one of the series of stretches (of four or five), nor three of the exercises (of five), none of which had been a problem for me before. I had more pain today than I've had in a very long time, and to be perfectly honest, I don't think 75 mikes is actually doing the job with the fentanyl. I really don't. It's not "breakthrough pain" if it is static and in one location. My surgeon has talked about possibly going after these spinal "joints" that are, according to him, rather like fingers (broken a number of those so far, too). I think his plan of attack was to locally administer anti-inflammatories. This seems akin to the first treatment I had for the injury, and injection of Toradol, which, happily, worked (which is to say, made a positive impact on pain for a few hours, but not to go as far as saying it was panacea). The people at the hospital are concerned but cheerful in that way that people who work at hospitals are, telling me that everyone has bad days or bad weeks. They didn't seem to react to my stating a preference for "good" and "better" weeks, which is rather a disappointment. I don't recall when I see the surgeon again, but I may step up the pace if I continue to see as much pain as I did today, or the non-effectiveness of the fentanyl (today, "patch day," I feel approximately no effect from the patch).
I have no further trite quotes or allegory to add. The situation, fucked up as it is, is status quo.
29 September, 2009
Hello World
It's always kind of peculiar to try and reverse-engineer what other people are likely to think of you from reading what you've written, be it yesterday or ten years ago.
Hi.
Hi.
17 September, 2009
Year of the Project
To me, YOTP was an opportunity to indulge some of my ambition. To date, and I am probably forgetting a few things, I wanted to:
- Ride a motorcycle to Alaska
- Build the Z into a Redline Time Attack car
- Build a telemetry system for the motorcycle
- And, if possible, create an EFI system with said software
- I had four editorial pieces I wanted published
- I had a book that was about half-finished and figured it wouldn't take much work to finish
- I had an outline, character sketches, a great idea (if I say so myself), and even some work done on another book, which I hoped I could finish this year.
Almost none of that happened. As it does, Life got in the way. Anyone looking at that list would raise an eyebrow and say "all that? in one year? are you nuts?", and they would be right.
But the interesting thing about YOTP – and it's not quite over – is that it has brought forth new ideas as I thrashed around with the old ideas. Ideas that are probably no more or less complex than any of the above, but somehow, the new ideas are the ones that are gaining traction, and may well be the ones that settle life down a little. 2009 has been a tough year, if the pictures of my spine hadn't spelled that out clearly enough.
The next few months, the last dregs of YOTP, will be interesting. I am being necessarily cagey because I have to at the moment; I can't really disclose what I'm working on. And, while I'm not entirely satisfied with the way things have turned out, I am content with things the way they are.
Although I stand by my statement that we should nuke Frederick, MD from orbit. Because it's the only way to be sure.
11 September, 2009
Wow
Snow Leopard is fast. I had no idea. I was originally going to hold out, but I liked some of the visual sugar they'd layered onto it, so I just sort of decided to upgrade and wow, it is fucking fast. It ported all my stuff over from time machine so my home directory was intact – including my subversion repositories – and it even left my applications alone. Which, incidentally, is how I was able to make my initial sketches of the (wait for it) STUPENDOUS AVRIETTE TURBOMACHINE.
I have finally gotten on the good side of the Wacom Bamboo, and now I am seriously drooling over the Intuous 4 and the Cintiq 21. When I get my venture capital squared away, the first thing I'm going to do is build a design workstation so I can finally build the motor. I have a supplier and builder for the airframe, but the turbine part is a little harder to source.
I have finally gotten on the good side of the Wacom Bamboo, and now I am seriously drooling over the Intuous 4 and the Cintiq 21. When I get my venture capital squared away, the first thing I'm going to do is build a design workstation so I can finally build the motor. I have a supplier and builder for the airframe, but the turbine part is a little harder to source.
10 September, 2009
The world makes Alex angry.
I am busting my ass to come up with proper illustrations, do research for prior art, to make sure that I'm not stepping on anyone's toes. Then there's this chick. Let me show you, for purposes of illustration, what Irene H. Patukonis, of Boston (where else?) would like to patent:
Note that this is in fact figure 5, and that there are eleven figures included in the patent form. The invention is listed as "The ornamental design for a combined toy stuffed with Tyrannosaurus Rex dinosaur and egg container as shown." I really wish I could say this was, you know, some 1950's toy that somebody made up and thought it was really innovative at the time, but it was filed in 1994, and Irene actually hired a patent lawyer, who, instead of throwing her out on the street, actually took on the case, and made sure that whole dinosaur-egg-omelet thing was given a patent. That lawyer, in case you're wondering, is a Mr. John P. McGonagle (which, incidentally, is a name from a particular area of Ireland, so you may actually be kin to this guy if you're Irish or have the same last name — the horror). The patent examiner was a Melvin B. Feifer who was obviously either so enamored with the cuddly T-Rex drawings or just hadn't had his morning coffee.
So why am I busting my ass to make sure that my patents are as solid as they can be; that my patents reflect the diligence and hard work I put into everything I do when clearly a cute drawing a turbojet and line or two that says "refer to cuddly turbojet figure 5 and 7 for front elevational view thereof as well as a top plan view thereof"? Why do I bother? I know what I want to patent, and I know it's never been done before because nobody's ever been blessed with my particular strain of stupidity (again, quoting Rutan, research is what happens when 50% of everyone says it'll never work and the other 50% scratch their chins and say Iiiiiiiii dunnno about that.... Maaaaybe.).
Maybe I should just make some chicken scratching on the Wacom, submit that with the patent, and hope I get, uh.... Mr. Feifer as my patent "Primary Examiner."
Seriously, though. A patent for an extinct lizard that can come out of a fake eggshell. Good grief. Somebody should put me in charge of weeding out the retarded patents so we'd have a more streamlined process of getting patents through.
Fucking dinosaur toys. Unbelievable.
So why am I busting my ass to make sure that my patents are as solid as they can be; that my patents reflect the diligence and hard work I put into everything I do when clearly a cute drawing a turbojet and line or two that says "refer to cuddly turbojet figure 5 and 7 for front elevational view thereof as well as a top plan view thereof"? Why do I bother? I know what I want to patent, and I know it's never been done before because nobody's ever been blessed with my particular strain of stupidity (again, quoting Rutan, research is what happens when 50% of everyone says it'll never work and the other 50% scratch their chins and say Iiiiiiiii dunnno about that.... Maaaaybe.).
Maybe I should just make some chicken scratching on the Wacom, submit that with the patent, and hope I get, uh.... Mr. Feifer as my patent "Primary Examiner."
Seriously, though. A patent for an extinct lizard that can come out of a fake eggshell. Good grief. Somebody should put me in charge of weeding out the retarded patents so we'd have a more streamlined process of getting patents through.
Fucking dinosaur toys. Unbelievable.
(Living with) broken vertebrae
subtext: the things I do for science. sheesh.
I am hereby uploading pictures of my spine which were taken from an MRI at Virginia Hospital Center (and, no, I don't care to do it again). I'll add commentary where I feel it's helpful. But mostly, this is for those of you who will never lead such an active life that you'd break a vertebrae.
So, first up, what does our spine look like?
(note: all pictures are fairly large and click-through-able). This is a spine, apparently supporting me, but of course I was on the bed in the big old donut of death that is the MRI machine. You can't really make it out in these photos, but a trained eye can spot the transition from the T-spine to the L-spine, and might even notice that the L-spine is looking a little worse for wear.
Here, though, we start to see that the vertebrae don't really look evenly spaced, nor do they really look symmetrical, which they kind of should (not perfectly symmetrical of course, but anyone who's seen a side of beef can tell you that doesn't look right. Note the strange, irregular gaps between the vertebrae.
Now this one is special. First, the three vertebrae you see at the top are the three that are fractured. Notice how they have that "W" shape to them? Do you see that two of them are smashed so close together it's almost as though the disc (the space between the vertebrae) has nowhere to go? Well, the good news is, nerves live in there, and they tell you "hey, brain, quit fucking up the spine, or I'm gonna send you the most agonizing pain you can imagine!" Really, they do. It hurts a lot. What's also interesting is the lowest vertebrae (looks almost like a sideways "7", with the curve facing down) was injured in a car accident in 1997, caused me enormous pain (still does cause me pain), and it took twelve years and innumerable doctors (hey state farm: GFY, ok?) before my orthopedic surgeon actually notice that it had been broken, scarred over, and sort-of healed. This was vindicating for me, but of course I'd rather have been treated by better doctors back then.
If you look at the top four vertebrae in this photo, you'll see that the bottom three of those (that is the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th from the top) are quite broken and misshapen. There's all kinds of ickiness there, and it won't ever really heal. I've probably got osteoarthritis to live through in my older years, unless we come up with a way to grow bone grafts or those steel-lattice spinal implants become a) more affordable and b) commonplace.
I wanted to share this, though, as when I say "my back hurts" it could mean anything from "I have a tummy ache" to "my spinal column has been severed." Thankfully, we're somewhere in between. I have three fractured vertebrae, and I have one that healed very poorly and causes pain because it's little spurs on it – as a matter of fact, it reminds me of Alastair Reynolds' melding plague.
Alas, I digress. You've been filled in. That's the back injury that I've been talking about. The same one that's kept me out of the job market (although I've done a phenomenal amount of research for an aeronautics company I want to seed).
It's also the injury that CACI fired me for. I think this bears mentioning not because I'm whining – I'm fairly comfortable with a moderate level of pain (and I started physical therapy today!!) – but because I feel the need to warn people that all the talk CACI gives new hires about it being a family oriented company and their #1 concern is their employees (haven't you heard this speech a bazillion times? "We are here because you [the audience, the non-executive-pay people] are so bright and make this company such a great place to work." I'll channel Ballmer for a second to add to the interlude: "I. Love. This. Company.") CACI had a flex schedule for everyone. Nobody showed up at meetings, they called in from coffee shops. We began referring to Peregrine Espresso as the "peregrine annex" because so many people were in fact not in the office. But, I broke my back, and they began the machinery to fire me. If I'd been hit by a bus or something, this never would have happened (the firing; not the injury). So if you take anything from this other than "your spine is more fragile than you think", turn down every offer CACI throws at you. I have met person after person who has said that their benefits were terrible, their timekeeping apparatus (if you could call it that) was abysmal... The place is just run as if by amateurs. Admin assistants or something. You won't like working there, it's back-biting customer-dick-sucking company, and you just don't want to be there. Take it from the guy who got fired for breaking his back.
I am hereby uploading pictures of my spine which were taken from an MRI at Virginia Hospital Center (and, no, I don't care to do it again). I'll add commentary where I feel it's helpful. But mostly, this is for those of you who will never lead such an active life that you'd break a vertebrae.
So, first up, what does our spine look like?
I wanted to share this, though, as when I say "my back hurts" it could mean anything from "I have a tummy ache" to "my spinal column has been severed." Thankfully, we're somewhere in between. I have three fractured vertebrae, and I have one that healed very poorly and causes pain because it's little spurs on it – as a matter of fact, it reminds me of Alastair Reynolds' melding plague.
Alas, I digress. You've been filled in. That's the back injury that I've been talking about. The same one that's kept me out of the job market (although I've done a phenomenal amount of research for an aeronautics company I want to seed).
It's also the injury that CACI fired me for. I think this bears mentioning not because I'm whining – I'm fairly comfortable with a moderate level of pain (and I started physical therapy today!!) – but because I feel the need to warn people that all the talk CACI gives new hires about it being a family oriented company and their #1 concern is their employees (haven't you heard this speech a bazillion times? "We are here because you [the audience, the non-executive-pay people] are so bright and make this company such a great place to work." I'll channel Ballmer for a second to add to the interlude: "I. Love. This. Company.") CACI had a flex schedule for everyone. Nobody showed up at meetings, they called in from coffee shops. We began referring to Peregrine Espresso as the "peregrine annex" because so many people were in fact not in the office. But, I broke my back, and they began the machinery to fire me. If I'd been hit by a bus or something, this never would have happened (the firing; not the injury). So if you take anything from this other than "your spine is more fragile than you think", turn down every offer CACI throws at you. I have met person after person who has said that their benefits were terrible, their timekeeping apparatus (if you could call it that) was abysmal... The place is just run as if by amateurs. Admin assistants or something. You won't like working there, it's back-biting customer-dick-sucking company, and you just don't want to be there. Take it from the guy who got fired for breaking his back.
08 September, 2009
If there's one conference this year to attend
It's the singularity summit. I write about the singularity, and I read about it in books from the likes of Charlie Stross. Did you read Accelerando or Stephen Baxter's Ring and pause to think about the implications? How about Tipler's Anthropic Cosmological Principle or Physics of Immortality? Even, if I may, Shane Williams and Sean Dix own, somewhat less "ambitious" Orphans trilogy? What could be more interesting than a Summit whose sole purpose is to discuss the prolonging human life, to escape this moribund and earth-bound existence for something truly remarkable.
Provided I can physically make it, I'll be doing my damnedest to attend. So we're looking for friends to maybe put us up in New York and taking the Acela up. I can think of a few of you who could help us out there.
Wifey will probably be coming along to push me about a wheelchair as I'm still not able to walk or sit quietly in a conference chair for the entire time (which isn't especially different, on reflection, from my time at SC05 or any of the other conferences I attended in 05/06, and I was nominally uninjured back then).
The conference is important because Humanity needs to be driving towards the singularity. I understand that people are scared; it's only natural to think of post-humans as terrifying. However, it is inevitable. We are going to get there. Let's make sure we get there in a way that's safe. Let's nurture computer intelligence that doesn't immediately become SkyNet or Agent Smith. Instead, let's focus on a more Tiplerian brain-computer-interface and the simulation argument.
Death, folks, is so outdated.