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Breath of the Wild

Over the holidays, I decided to devote some time to playing Breath of the Wild. The game was released almost two years ago and, although it made me drool a bit at the time, I hadn't felt like I had time to devote to games. And I still didn't have the time. But I decided I needed some distraction from depressing real life issues and made the time for it.

It's an amazing game. I've played most of the previous Zelda games and this was a worthy example of the craft with significant enhancements. The open world gameplay and hyper-realistic landscape made for a highly relaxing and aesthetic experience. There was little pressure, so you could just wander aimlessly to discover things, or make targeted efforts to complete various kinds of "quests". And then there were the overarching story arcs.

My least favorite part of the game was using the controller. The controller has 12 buttons plus two joysticks and a D-pad. Ugh. Too many buttons for my monkey brain. I remember playing a combat game for the Wii that used a wiimote plus the attached "nunchuk" controller and finding that very enjoyable. Then I tried the version of the game for X-Box that used a standard controller and was never able to really make it work: it was easy to aim by pointing -- aiming with a joystick was just beyond me.

In point of fact, though, I got lazy about playing this game: when I would get to difficult bosses or puzzles (that required too much controller puissance) I would get one of my boys to do it. Over the weekend, however, one of them who had never finished his game file realized that I was ahead of where he had left off his file. So he scrambled around and finished the game on Saturday so I wouldn't finish ahead of him. So Sunday night, I had him fight the final boss to finish my game so I could see the ending. Pretty satisfying.

I might go back and play some more -- there are a bunch more side-quests I would do. But perhaps not: it was a good distraction, but now that the semester's started again, it's hard to justify the time.

Trusting myself

I pursued higher education with the goal of being able to work on the questions I was genuinely interested in. As a doctoral student, I would bring proposals to my advisor with the questions I wanted to study and he would always rebuff them with various objections. He often told me, in asides, about various questions he was interested in, but it took me more than a year to realize that this was his way of telling me what kinds of questions I was supposed to study for my dissertation. When I was visiting one time, my brother Phil said, "I've got to show you this cool thing". He took me to his office where he had a Sun workstation with a huge CRT and opened up a window with a grey background. He said, "This is a file on a server in Switzerland, but if you click these blue words [click] NOW we're looking at a file that's here in Champaign. And if you click these words [click] NOW we're looking at a file on a server in Minnesota." It was an early version of Mosaic, because he knew Eric Bina and some of the other people that were building the first graphical web-browser at NCSA. When I got back to Western, I set up perhaps the first webserver on campus and created some webpages for the laboratory activities we were building in our computer lab. I wrote up a proposal and took it to my advisor and said, "Now I know what I want to do. I want do do my dissertation on the educational uses of hypertext." He made a grimace and said, "Well… I don't know much about that and this whole 'world-wide-web' thing? Nothing might ever come of that." Eventually, I got the hint and worked on what he was interested in: An Account of Expert Phylogenetic Tree Construction from the Problem-Solving Research Tradition in Science Education. It was a good dissertation and I learned a lot. And it got me my position. But I think if I'd graduated in 1996 with a dissertation on the topic I was originally interested in, it might have been more timely and relevant. And taken me farther. So when I write a proposal and someone with an administrative role tries to tell me how, rather than working on what I'm interested in, perhaps I should work on what they're interested in, it doesn't go over so well. Nope, nope, nope. No.


Recently, I re-read the Curse of Chalion which I hadn't read since it was new. I had found one of the Penric books at the library, which led to buy the other Penric novellas. Ultimately, I was inspired to go back, check out, and reread the entire series by Lois McMaster Bujold, of which Curse of Chalion is the first.

Be warned: if you haven't read Curse of Chalion this post contains spoilers.

I remembered finding the Curse of Chalion very stressful to read. One of the major plot points (greatly simplified) is that the protagonist believes he is terminally ill. There is extensive description of his symptoms and worries. In the end, the character is saved (literally by a miracle). My stress from this plot point colored my whole perception of it, which I am certain is why I hadn't re-read it previously. But this time, I did not find this aspect of the book stressful. I don't think it was because I knew the ending. Instead, I think it was that my own perspective about life, sickness, and death has evolved since then.

It reminds me of when I first saw the War of the Roses. As a callow youth, watching a couple grow apart and their love turn to hatred and bitterness, was utterly horrifying. It was supposed to be dark humor, but for me it was pure horror and tragedy. After another 20 years, however, I found it resonated with me a lot more than it had when I was young.

I've often said that I feel like the same person I was when I was younger. But sometimes it's clear that I'm not. It's helpful to me to reflect on how my own perspective has evolved: from child to parent, from student to teacher -- and that it continues to evolve.

Not Creepy At All

This is a story that Phil and I have been trying to tell, but have been reluctant because it sounds kind of creepy. But my goal is to persuade you that it isn't creepy at all. Well, not very creepy anyway.

When Phil and I attended the Esperanto "Landa Kongreso" in St. Louis, Darcy Ross also attended. She brought with her a whole contingent of other students she had organized from the student Esperanto club at the University of Illinois. A bunch of us other (older) folks were hanging out in the hotel lobby when Darcy breezed in chattered with us for a few minutes in Esperanto and then breezed out. All the men sighed as she left and a grandmotherly Maria Murphy said, "Ŝi estas tre ĉarma, ĉu ne?" ("She's very charming, isn't she?") And all the men agreed, "Jes, jes. Tre ĉarma!"

Dr. Robert Read, one of the other esperantists, upon hearing that there was suddenly an Esperanto club in Champaign with 14 or 15 such active learners, wanted very much to meet with them -- to see whether there was some factor or technique that could be replicated to initiate an Esperanto revolution all across the country. So we all had lunch together.

d-ro Robert Read

After lunch, I asked Dr. Read what he had learned. He thought for a moment and said (in the penetrating way he does), "Well, I understand it now. To produce this kind of fantastic change in any community, all you need is Darcy." And we mused for a few minutes about how it was just too bad you couldn't clone people.

And for a day or two, Phil and I were wistful about how every club couldn't have their own Darcy. And at some point one of us had the insight that, not only Esperanto clubs could use a Darcy: that EVERYONE needed a Darcy. A Darcy of their very own.

So for 10 years, Phil and I have quietly mused about the idea of everyone having a Darcy of their very own. See? It's not creepy. Not creepy at all.

And what would you do with your very own Darcy? Whatever she tells you to.


This summer, for the first time ever, I decided I would take seriously the idea that, as an employee on a 9-month contract, I have a period of non-responsibility. In the past, I've simply gone into my office and worked all summer (with exception of holidays and occasional research trips or family vacations).

It didn't help that within two days of starting, I got another flu-like virus that progressed to viral pneumonia and had everyone threatening to take me to the emergency room. Nor that the following week, my dear colleague had organized a science education workshop that had me going in for 8 hours a day. But after that, I began to actually shift into another gear.

I stayed home. I worked in the yard, doing battle with the weeds. I did some repairs around the house that, previously, I would have simply given up on.

I let my son convince me to start playing Pokémon Go. I started walking more.

And finally, after two or three weeks, I realized I had reached a different baseline for stress. I wasn't constantly feeling punchy. I was able to sit back and consider things from a different perspective. It's been good.

I also was able to start getting caught up with my Global Voices editorial responsibilities. I had fallen behind in March and hadn't been able to pick them up again. Now I'm almost caught up.

This week, the on-line class I'm teaching becomes available to students, tho doesn't formally start until next week. I've been spending some time during the past couple of weeks getting ready.

Of course, the email never ends. I've still been spending a couple of hours every day keeping on top of email. I also have made time to meet with the technical staff, have an exit interview with our outgoing CIO, write letters of recommendation for students, etc.

I've also been enjoying the chance to take a nap now and again. And on a hot day like today, I'll think that's what I'll do now.

Obstinate people and their fairy stories

Phil shared an article with me today about two towns in Colorado where there's a cultural conflict: the hardscrabble mining town of Nucla with the wealthy, cosmopolitan Telluride right next door. There's a lot of fascinating history (the town of Nucla was built by socialists), but the central point of the article is the cultural differences that form the flashpoint for conflict.

Residents in Nucla want to re-open a uranium mill which the people in Telluride oppose. A Nucla resident says, “They’re the most wasteful people, yet they tell us that, you know, we can’t have our uranium […]." Which made me think of other ways to complete that sentence “They’re the most wasteful people, yet they tell us that, you know, we can’t have our ebola factory" or “They’re the most wasteful people, yet they tell us that, you know, we can’t have our africanized bee colonies." (Or "sarin gas storage tanks." Or "rabid raccoon breeding facility.")

One woman says, of her grandfather who died of cancer (from smoking and working in a uranium mine) “If you had told my grandpa that he was going to die when he was 70 a horrible, painful death, he would have continued to mine. That’s how he supported his family."

It reminded me of miners in West Virginia during the presidential election. I remember that Hillary told people, pretty frankly, "Look. The coal jobs ain't coming back, so we need to do retraining and get people into other jobs and careers." And they said "Fuck you, bitch!" and voted for Donald Trump. Yet when you ask them today they say, "Yeah, he said he's bringing the coal jobs back, but we know it's not going to happen." Hillary actually understood the problem and had the right answer, but people didn't want to hear an actual solution to their problem: they would rather have someone lie to them and tell them the fairy story they want to hear.

Life goes on

When the BCRC was renovated a couple of years ago, we had to give up the room where we'd had a coffee maker. I tried using the café one floor down, but they were closed at inopportune times (like "summer" and "holidays" and "night"). So I ended up getting a Keurig coffee maker.

I was skeptical about the Keurig model -- indeed the inventor of the Keurig system regretted creating it. At home, I won't use one -- I much prefer to having a pot of coffee and being able to just pour myself a cup. But, without a sink to easily clean and fill a coffee pot, the Keurig is a necessary evil.

My colleague and I often try different kinds of coffee. (Usually whatever is on sale from week to week). I often get the inexpensive grocery store brand of coffee — which has many varieties. I noticed, however, when I recently went to switch from one variety to another, that although the boxes are different, the "pods" instead look identical. And I wondered if they were really different.


This morning, I can attest that they are, in fact, different. Quite different. And that this one (the "house blend") is extremely nasty as compared with the Sumatran. I won't be getting this one again.

Unsuccesful Errands

After weeks traveling, visiting, hosting, and doing, I finally got a weekend to stay home and relax. First, we had the wonderful trip to Illinois, then Pedal to Pints, then my physical, then St. Croix, then visitors, and then finally a day to myself. Oh, my. But then Lucy got sick. Normally, we would go together to do errands on Saturday: go to the library, the farmer's market, and the supermarket. But Lucy wanted to stay home. I decided that, since Lucy didn't want to go, I would just go to the supermarket and get ingredients to make chili. I mentioned to Alisa that she might want to go to the farmer's market to get the stuff that Lucy would normally get, so she got up and went with me. Well, normally, I'm pretty goal directed about running errands: I go to get specific things and, if I see something else, well OK then. But I don't wander up and down and up and down looking at every single thing several times. But that's just how Alisa rolls. Eventually, we finish up at the farmer's market and Alisa says she wants to go to Maple Farm Foods. I'm like "Where?" I mean, I've seen it before -- it's near the bike trail -- but I've never been inside there. "You mean that ice-cream place?" She's like, "Wut?"

When we get there, I head for the front door and she's all "I didn't even know they *had* this door!" And we get inside and I'm like, "Wow! There's like a whole grocery store in here!" Well, sorta. It's an odd, eclectic mix with a bit of everything: ice-cream and candy, hot food, deli, salad bar, produce, beer, wine, and lots of weird ethnic foods.

They were doing an open house with a bunch of demos and samples and were just getting set up. We walked through once and then again. After the third time, I was starting to flip out. And then I realized what it really was: the place had narrow aisles and had become stuffed with people. I can only take being crowded in with a lot of people for a few minutes before I need to get out. Once I realized that, was what it was I went outside and sat calmly in the shade while Alisa made her purchases. There are lovely Rose of Charon bushes all around the front of the building that I could sit and look at.

In the end, however, I never got to the store to buy ingredients for chili -- the one thing I had wanted to get done. But Alisa got to buy random weird stuff -- her favorite thing! And I went to the store on Sunday morning to get fixings for chili. Problem solved.

A lovely day

Today, I had to attend an MSP board meeting. Afterwards, I headed off campus, ran a few errands, and then I and spent the rest of the day at a special retreat.

I first visited Hope and Feathers Framing where I arranged to have my Conlang special poster framed. I spent 5 times as much on the framing as I did on my contribution for the video, but I figured that the poster might someday be a collectors item. And I couldn't stand the idea that I'd just stick it up on a bulletin board -- it was signed by the director.

Next, I stopped by Staples. We'd gotten some gift surfertickets, so I wandered around looking at the office supply porn -- I love looking at pens and paper and envelopes and stuff. Eventually, I got some replacement headphones for Charlie, whose headphones had broken recently.

Then I went to Thornes Market, got a cup of coffee at Raos, and worked on writing until Tom arrived.

We've both been working hard on the digital sign project for CNS. Using the same recipe I used to the digital signs in Biology, Tom has built an elegant system for people to maintain signs across multiple departments. I built the players that the sign system uses and elaborated them a bit so that they could work for Tom's system at the college level.

We talked a bit about the sign system, but talked mostly about other things: about our families, about work, about the Biology department, about other projects. It was great to have a chance to catch up on everything else.

Then, at 1pm, Buzz arrived and we went to the Northampton Brewery. Buzz and I tried the Sno-Day IPA, which was wonderful: fresh and crisp and nicely bitter. We had lunch and talked about getting old and elementary schools and Sandy Point and our many other common interests. It was a wonderful afternoon with dear friends.

More errands, another meeting, and then home before bedtime. A long day, but a very satisfying one.


I'm back from Brazil. It was an intense trip that got off to a rough start: from the tickets on a bankrupt airline, the visa that never came, and the last-minute frantic drive through Boston due to the collapsed big-dig tunnel, it looked for a while like I might not make it. But I did and I had a tremendous experience.

I spent several days in São Paulo. Its a huge, incredibly polluted city absolutely wracked with fear over a criminal insurgency that conducted around 150 attacks during the week I was there. More than a dozen buses were burned, a fact I was painfully aware of everytime I rode a bus. Many houses and buildings had two, three, or four layers of security to prevent attacks: One house I visited had a huge barred fence, topped with razor wire, topped with an electric fence -- you had to be buzzed through one gate, enter a small barred space and, only after closing the first gate would the second be opened. It is a different sort of place than the Happy Valley.

The congress was fantastic -- Esperanto in the US is often treated as a joke, but people in Brazil really love Esperanto and it really shows. I met scores of people and had very interesting conversations with everyone regarding everything from US foreign policy to showerheads to pets. Next year's congress is in Rio. It would be worth learning Esperanto just to attend a Brazilian conference -- it was a wonderful atmosphere and a tremendous experience. You can read more about the trip in Esperanto.

Coming home has been rough, though. Plato, my beloved dog, was diagnosed with canine lymphoma just before I left and succumbed yesterday. He collapsed in the early morning and we rushed him to the animal hospital unconcious. They got some fluids into and brought him around, but we decided it was better to let him go. We got a few good minutes with him to pet him and say goodbye and then we had them come in and help him go. It was hard, but I feel better knowing that he won't have to go through something like that again.

On the way home, I also strained my shoulder -- the rotator cuff is inflamed and extremely painful. I got a shot of cortisone (with the longest needle I've ever seen) and some painkillers to take the edge off. It's very distracting, however, and hard to get work done.


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