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July 14, 2010 9:06 PM

smile and nod until you get it

"Oh, how you've grown!"

One phrase. So many awkward memories. Standing there, hoping that a cheek-pinch isn't impending, smiling and nodding. Trying to figure out if there's an appropriate response to the obvious statement and deciding that telling your distant elderly relative that one typically does grow between the ages of 12 and 16 is probably rude. Continuing to smile and nod, like an idiot. Hoping that the topic of your diapers being changed what feels like just yesterday doesn't come up. Being polite until something serves as a distraction to the fact that, yes, you've grown and that, wow, you're already in grade 10. Never being so happy to change the topic of conversation to how absolutely divine the aspic looks. And you smile and you nod because you don't understand how meat suspended in green jelly can be delightful.

And then you get it (the part before the aspic, at least). One day, over a decade later, you're perusing Facebook and come across the profile of your friend's younger sibling that you haven't seen since they were thirteen. Or, in talking with your parents, you realize that the kid you used to babysit is graduating from high school. Wow, they've grown up. They look so mature. It doesn't seem so long ago that you were changing her diaper or preventing her from climbing to the top of the pantry to get access to the cookies or allowing him to sleep at the foot of the bed during your sleepover.

Why do we find this to be such a shocker? I doubt that a koala has to pause for reflection when the joey emerges from the pouch to contemplate how, only six months ago, the furry baby was a mere quarter-inch long, hairless, and blind. Who knows, maybe they do, for a split second, before realizing that eating more eucalyptus is probably a better use of time.

Yup, time passes and people grow up. We all do. But we don't seem to acknowledge that we're growing up in the moment. When you're a kid, as Seinfeld humorously observed when his standup was actually relevant, everything is "up". As teenagers, we're too busy trying to get it over with that we don't take the time to savour the moment (I doubt that many 16-year-olds would consider that there's much worth savouring). When I was in high school, the focus was the future. Saving money for post-secondary education. Keeping grades up and participating in extracurriculars so that they'd accept my money. Sure, there were typical teenage diversions but, for the most part, these were mainly an effort to combat the boredom that is the source of most teenage angst, along with the feeling that everything fun and free and engaging is beyond ones reach. Being so eager for time to pass, it's hard to live in the moment.

And then, for reasons I have yet to comprehend, just as things get interesting, time speeds up. All of a sudden you're living in a future that seemed oh so distant no that long ago. And one of the few things that makes you stop to reflect is being forced to acknowledge it by the things around you that have changed. Of these things, people growing up is probably the most jolting and least easy to ignore. Combined with the memories that are brought back into focus, you are provided an opportunity to relive them without begrudging them.

The one typical phrase omitted from the interaction outlined at the start is the elderly person reflecting on what she was doing when she was your age. As the younger person it's easy to be cynical, assuming that the older relative thinks that you must share things in common besides DNA because you were once the same age or that they're trying to convince you that life was either more difficult (walking to school, uphill both ways) or more virtuous (none of that hanky-panky) or both back in 1935. Instead, at mere the sight of you, the older person might be just be jarred into reviving their younger years—vicariously with a dash of nostalgia. And you smile. And you nod. Until you get it.

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July 11, 2010 11:51 AM

some parts of the future are friendly (especially the @Zappos part)

There are a few things I don't particularly enjoy shopping for. Swimsuits and footwear are two of them. While I haven't found a viable alternative to layering spandex over my undergarments while standings sock-footed in a change room seemingly designed with the goal of offering the most unflattering ambiance, shoe shopping has gotten quite a bit more enjoyable since I started buying online.

When Kevin first told me about Zappos, I wasn't convinced. If shoe shopping is so hit-or-miss in person, how could it be better when you can't even try things on? At least in the U.S., Zappos has addressed this concern with their policy of taking back any purchase at no cost to the consumer within 365 days. At first glance, this seems like a loosing proposition. When I go shoe shopping, I invariably try on at least 10 pairs of shoes for each pair that I buy. Different styles, different sizes (by the way, what's the point of a sizing system if each brand decides to re-invent it slightly?). So, when I first ordered from Zappos last fall, I was fully expecting to send my footwear back.

My first Zappos order was a pair of boots. After spending the better part of a day last October on Sainte-Catherine's Street in Montreal and several boot quests along Robson in Vancouver, perusing over fifteen shoe stores and trying on several pairs of boots, I came to the conclusion that boot manufacturers have something against me. Specifically, my calves. Of the boots that actually zipped up over my rotund (there is no nice way of saying "fat", is there?) lower legs, I split the zipper on one pair and came to the conclusion that I only liked the other pair because I was excited that they zipped and that the zipper was strong enough to contain my corpulent (still trying to find a favorable synonym, still unsuccessful) calves. So I gave up on boot shopping.

Then I moved to SF and started browsing Zappos. I came across a cute pair of Teva boots that were the style I was looking for (functional without being backwoodsy):

The question remained: would they fit my tree-trunk (yup, I've given up) legs? And this is where Zappos won me over—they provide quantitative data beyond size:

Based on the circumference information and trying to extrapolate from the size 6 baseline to my size 10 (another reason why shoe shopping is not my favorite activity), I broke out a measuring tape and concluded that these boots actually might fit. And if they didn't, I could just send them back. After reading all the positive customer reviews and the added data about fit provided by fellow shoppers, I placed an order.

They arrived and I opened the box with low expectations based on historical boot-shopping experiences. I put my foot in. Good fit. I started zipping. Good. Still good. OMG, the zipper made it to the top of the boot! OMG, I don't feel like circulation in my leg is being restricted. OMG, they fit!

I put the other boot on and walked (and did a happy dance) around the apartment. But, after other experiences of shoes being comfortable for all of 10 minutes before transforming into devices of torture, I decided to wear them inside for a few hours before making the final decision to keep them (another Zappos advantage over the traditional competition—the pushy sales people and toxic smell of pleather at most shoe stores incentivizes me to get out of the store with a new pair despite relying on only a brief tour of the retail space as the comfort test drive).

So, my experience with Zappos was positive even before I witnessed the customer service prowess the company is supposedly built on. When I tweeted about my new boots, I got a reply:

When Zappos invited me to submit a review, I did. Although I rarely ever review my online purchases, I wanted to in this case because Zappos offered me such a refreshing alternative to shoe shopping.

I just placed another order through Zappos yesterday, this time for shoes:

There was less data to go on for this purchase because there was only 1 customer review. But, since I can always return them and because I've done a bit of in-store shoe shopping lately and like this pair more than anything I've seen in stores and because I've had good luck with Clarks in the past, I bought them.

I got an email from Zappos this morning and now I'm wondering if I'll ever buy shoes anywhere else again:

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July 5, 2010 9:52 PM

the land of the free(way)

My mother was hoping that I'd write a blog post about the recent G20 in Toronto, but I don't feel that I'm in the best position to do so. Not living in Canada right now, I feel removed from the whole debacle. I don't think that it got as much media coverage here. That said, I get most of my news from the Daily Show and Q so I can't say for sure. While Jon Stewart covered the G20, I don't think his comedic perspective can aid me in formulating an insightful blog post:

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart

Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c

OMG-20

www.thedailyshow.com

Jian Ghomeshi's Q monologue about the event seems more fitting, even though he doesn't address the police response to peaceful protestors (the piece was recorded at the CBC building inside the G20 security perimeter in advance of the summit). I'll include Jian's take here because I think he articulated the issues intelligently and veraciously:

http://www.cbc.ca/video/news/audioplayer.html?clipid=1530106693

I'll say amen to Jian's remarks... that's it from me on the G20 front.

In other, less worldly, news, Kevin and I just returned from a long weekend in LA. The main activity of the trip was driving. People aren't joking when they say that you need a car to get around LA. While most of our time was spent driving along the scenic 101 highway from cool and foggy NoCal to warm and sunny SoCal and back, we did find ourselves navigating LA's web of freeways to do some sightseeing and find fish tacos (thank you, Twitter).

Yesterday, Independence Day, I contemplated the etymology of the word freeway as we sped from Long Beach to Beverly Hills. Was coining the word freeway some genius way of rebranding confining networks of concrete as roads to freedom? The paths to the American dream? The word freeway sounds positive, and might make one temporarily forget about the gridlock, urban decay, displacement, and alienation created by the watersheds of the concrete jungle.

According to Wikipedia, the concept of free is inherent in the origins of the word, albeit in a manner different than I had speculated:

The word freeway was coined by the "Father of American Zoning," Edward M. Bassett, in an influential article published in February 1930. Bassett argued that roads should be classified into three basic types: highways, parkways, and freeways. In Bassett's zoning and property law-based system (he was a Columbia-trained lawyer), abutting property owners have the rights of light, air, and access to highways, but not parkways and freeways; the latter two are distinguished in that the purpose of a parkway is recreation, while the purpose of a freeway is movement. Thus, as originally conceived, a freeway is simply a strip of public land devoted to movement to which abutting property owners do not have rights of light, air, or access.

If Bassett had predicted the lack of movement that is rush hour gridlock, I think he might have chosen a different name.

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June 16, 2010 6:23 PM

unnatural disaster

Articles like this one are infuriating.

The oil spill is NOT a natural disaster. When hurricane Katrina hit the gulf coast or an earthquake rattled Haiti, nobody was to blame. Sure, faulty decision-making and policies put people at higher risk than they might've been otherwise, but the disasters themselves were natural occurrences. Hurricanes and earthquakes are beyond our control. Oil spills (or underwater oil gushers from large pipes) are not.

In the case of the Deepwater Horizon oil spill, the entire disaster can be attributed to BP (with help from flawed and venal regulatory mechanisms). A company is at fault and should be on the hook to pay for the damages. Tax payers shouldn't subsidize the cleanup efforts. Neither should people making charitable contributions, via benefit concerts or otherwise. Sure, non-profit organizations and celebrities have a role to play in drawing attention to the issue, making sure that BP takes responsibility for the damages, and petitioning the government to seize the moment and momentum to develop overarching renewable energy strategies moving forward. But there should not be "an overwhelming response of donations, large-scale fund-raisers, contribution-driven Web sites and hotlines or public service announcements encouraging Americans to do all they can to help out the fishermen or the oil-drenched ducks" based on campaigns by celebrities and charitable organizations.

BP should pick up the tab. They can afford to.

Ultimately, as a population, we shouldn't be looking to celebrities or the government or even BP to address the issue. We should look in the mirror and be honest with ourselves: habitats have been destroyed and livelihoods have been lost because we rely on fossil fuels. BP wouldn't be drilling in the gulf if we didn't drive vehicles with internal combustion engines, enjoy air travel, manufacture plastic, ship consumer products across oceans, apply petroleum-based cosmetics, or fertilize our crops with synthetic chemicals. In the end, the current ruin in the Gulf is a result of our ongoing demand for oil. The only surefire way to prevent the future hydrocarbon contamination of our soil and water is to wean ourselves off oil and support the switch to sustainable alternatives.

BREAKING: Large Air Spill at Wind Farm. No threats reported. Some claim to enjoy the breeze.

Filed under // sustainability

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June 7, 2010 9:42 PM

SATC: silly arguments, trivial commentary

With the recent release of Sex and the City 2, it's been brought to my attention that some people deem the TV series on which it was based to be a feminist show, highlighting Carrie Bradshaw as a feminist icon. Apparently, SATC is considered "the pop culture vanguard of third-wave feminism". Sigh.

I've also become keenly aware that many women dislike the show precisely because they think that labeling it as feminist content is an insult to the feminist movement. My take on the whole "debate" is that hating the show itself is pointless if the major issue is the attribution of feminist value to a TV show that clearly flies in the face of so many feminist ideologies. Maybe if HBO described the show as feminist, there'd be cause to gripe about it. But it didn't.

The main issue here, in my opinion, is the tendency to assign value and judgements (either pro or anti) related to feminism where they don't belong. To label a comedy series as a breath of fresh air in the modern feminist movement or lauding it for making feminism mainstream are equally ridiculous. Not because the show is or isn't feminist, but because it's a TV show whose sole purpose is to provide entertainment. Is the show entertaining? Yes. End of story.

The feminist values attributed to SATC are absurd, sure. But if someone told you that seahorses were a sign of progress in the feminist movement because the males rear the offspring, would you get annoyed with seahorses or the idiot making the argument? Getting angry at the seahorse is not only pointless, but also ridiculous.

It's just a show. Get over it. Just because you like it, it doesn't need to mean something. If anything, the whole debate is probably anti-feminist in and of itself: a bunch of women stereotypically ascribing irrational meaning and feelings to something arbitrary instead of discussing real feminist issues, like salary equality and sexual exploitation and bras. Oh right, put your lighter away...we've entered the third wave and the battle against the bra is over. The bra obviously won.

All jokes aside, women do a diservice to feminism when elevating trivial media content, like SATC, to feminist status. The women that lend credence to the argument by hating the show for its phony feminism aren't doing much in support of feminism either. All that energy could be spent making news like this as prevalent as bra burnings. The information displayed in the graphic below reveals that we have a long way to go. Too long to get distracted by trivialities, like SATC, along the way.

via http://www.cxo.eu.com/news/pay-highlighted-on-international-womens-day/

Last I checked, nobody was making claims that Entourage, arguably the male equivalent of SATC, was anything but a humorous show. People aren't raising a stink because the show's "boys will be boys" message is insulting to hard-working, polite men who don't treat women like sex objects (yup, that's aimed at you, Vince) or don't sit at home, smoking pot, mooching of their friends (I'm looking at you, Turtle). Claims of blatant sexism in response to Entourage aren't rampant either, even though the men on the show get away with things that women (not even Carrie Bradshaw) never would on TV (at least I can't think of an Ari Gold-esque character without a penis... not even Babs comes close). Why isn't there a fuss? Because it's just a silly, yet entertaining, show.

I can sum up my point with a single analogy: If you go to the beach and pay the artist sitting on the boardwalk to draw a caricature of you and the resulting picture exemplifies the things about yourself that are the most humorous, including your big ears, should you:

a) get your panties in a twist because your ears aren't really that big and spend hours crying over the travesty and telling all of your friends that the artist on the boardwalk sucks?

b) frame it and put it above the mantle and spend hours staring at it, claiming that it is pure artistic genius and encouraging all your friends to have their portraits drawn, because you love your big ears?

c) have a laugh and get on with your life (which might include fighting for the provision of better funding for arts programs so talented artist don't need to spend time away from their core endeavors drawing caricatures on the boardwalk)?

d) all of the above.

I'll let you guess where I stand (when in doubt, pick c).

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May 28, 2010 4:53 PM

sisterly love

In many ways, my sister and I are the same. We are strong. We are funny. We are smart. We are mature... sort of. Despite these similarities, or perhaps in spite of them, we are close while being apart in a way that I think only sisters can be.

While we grew up together, our age and character differences were such that we grew apart. Our paths were superficially similar but, ultimately, quite divergent mainly because we've never seen the same things the same way. When I open the box, Schrodinger's cat is thin and black and alive. When she lifts the box, the cat is... wait, who the hell is Schrodinger and why has he left his poor hungry, cat in a radioactive box with acid!?

We've also faced different challenges. From my perspective, her path was more hilly than mine. Nonetheless, we've emerged in similar places and spaces. I appreciate that her strength of character and determination and generosity and kindness got her to where she is now. And I'm proud of her.

Today, on her birthday, I'm thinking of her. Somehow, I remember her childhood birthday parties more than my own. I won't be there for this year's party in person, but I'll be there in spirit. Unfortunately, spirits can't eat yummy birthday food. But they can't get hives either (which made one of her birthdays particularly memorable, in a very itchy way). In any case, I'm sure that Houston will take care of all her light house cleaning, including any omit oil that may be spilled.

Happy birthday, Kathryn! xox

Filed under // family & friends

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May 8, 2010 9:39 AM

bivalves and the beach

Last weekend, we planned a trip up to Point Reyes for oysters. Well, not so much planned as discussed the idea over drinks on Thursday night with the conversation ending affirmatively. On Friday, a Google calendar event was created with start and end times on Sunday. On Sunday morning, half an hour before the proposed start time, we texted our friend, who had assumed the status of event organizers because: a) he had been to eat oysters in Point Reyes before and we all considered him an expert on the subject, b) he had a Zipcar membership and had volunteered to drive, and c) he had set up the calendar event, to confirm. He was running late, but we were good to go. At this point, all I knew was our day would involve oysters and a beach.

Just before noon, we all pilled into the swanky Zipcar. "All" consisted of five people and a small dog. We bough snacks (first things first) at Trader Joe's before navigating (i.e., Google mapping) our way to the Golden Gate and through Marin County. Some motion sickness ensued, but was tempered by ginger chews and playing the front-seat-of-the-car version of musical chairs at the stops that were required to locate ourselves when we lost cell coverage.

Oysters were procured. A spot on the beach was claimed. The spot was adjacent to a group of people listening to Van Morrison followed by Tom Petty. Their conversation was at once asinine and entertaining (e.g., "Imagine if Tom Petty cruised by on a boat playing this song. Wouldn't you just have to run down to the water's edge and dance? You'd just have to. How cool would that be?").

We ate oysters. Kevin and I learned how to shuck (a skill which I'm contemplating adding to my resume). Amidst the perceived lack of planning, the event organizer had brought a charcoal grill and all the ingredients for a yummy horseradish sauce. Soda cans served as wine glasses. A lid to a container was a cutting board for shallots (which were added to some of the larger oysters, along with some thyme and wine, before putting them on the grill just long enough to cook ever so slightly). We ate more oysters. We lounged in the late-day sun before packing up and heading home, back over the Golden Gate with the last remnants of sunlight highlighting the horizon. A great day.

The necessary postscript to this story is that if you told me ten years ago that I'd get excited and derive enjoyment from eating loads of oysters in one sitting, I would've call you crazy. Everything about oysters made me cringe: the mucousy texture, the fact that they're consumed raw and alive, the risk of food poisoning. But, I've gotten past the texture issue by sticking to the smaller ones (the really big ones are still gag-inducing to some extent) and I've gotten to a point where I'm not willing to sacrifice amazing eats for a fear of food poisoning. Some risks are worth it, especially those with relatively low probabilities. Admittedly, the alive factor was the last hurdle. I got past that by not thinking too much about it (which is exactly how most people are able to stomach eating meat, right?) until I read this really interesting article in the New York Times. Now, I can think about it without it affecting my appetite. The sustainability argument is an added bonus. In any case, I'm doubtful that any vegans will be jumping on the oyster bandwagon anytime soon. If they do, oysters might be the gateway substance of the meat and animal products realm. It's a slippery slope.

Click here to download:

bivalves_and_the_beach.zip (2228 KB)

Filed under // family & friends food San Francisco sustainability

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April 26, 2010 11:19 AM

public transit

There was no public transit where I grew up, unless you count the yellow school bus that I rode daily, bouncing along country backroads at 100kph for 45 minutes each way (which I don't).

When I moved to Montreal, I rode STCUM (now known as the STM) buses and the Metro to get to and from school and other places. Riding the Montreal transit system was simultaneously the bane of my existence (consistently late buses, pannes de Metro, suffering from hyperthermia in the bowels of the underground regardless of whether is was 30°C above or 30°C below freezing) and a captivating delight: the newfound freedom of being able to go practically anywhere, almost anytime; the opportunities to people-watch in a place that was a gazillion (literally) times more diverse than the small town life I had left behind; taking in the unique architectural and retro design features of each station while subconsciously appreciating the reassuringly constant hum, rush, and tri-tone sounds associated with the Metro system; deciphering layers of multicoloured graffiti and tags forming a tattered patchwork across the interior of the bus. I fostered a complicated love-hate relationship with the 105 and the Metro and now feel nostalgic riding it when I go home to visit.

In Vancouver, transit felt more efficient and sterile. Riding the SkyTrain made me miss the Metro, although being able to see the cars trapped in traffic on the street below and taking in the beautiful scenery were bonuses. When we moved to the West End from Burnaby, I barely rode the SkyTrain. Instead, I rode the articulated 135 (the bus that every tourist should ride if they want to see a good cross-section of the city - from commercial core, to depressed Downtown Eastside, to East Van and into suburbia) to get to campus. Beyond the daily commute, I enjoyed riding the antique (in Vancouver, antique means anything that predates Expo86) electric trolley buses to get around in the vicinity of downtown. The character of the old buses had a retro vibe that I appreciated even though they often lost contact with the wires above, forcing a cursing driver out into the rain to re-align the poles. A new fleet of modern buses replaced the old-school vehicles, complete with robotic voices announcing the next stop. All charm was lost, but the loss was offset by the launch of Google Maps transit mode which, given my affinity for maps, made me happy.

The transit system in San Francisco takes some getting used to. First of all, there are two separate systems - BART and Muni. BART is the underground commuter train, which has the most unintuitive ticketing system I've ever used. Although BART is in someways reminiscent of the Metro (probably because both systems were designed and constructed in the same era), BART differs in that the floors of the trains are carpeted (and, as one might expect, carpet and transit are not a match made in heaven), the seats are upholstered, the announcements are actually comprehensible from the platform, and the trains venture outdoors. The Muni, including street cars, light rail, and buses, is an interesting fusion of very old (the street cars are actual antiques with lots of character) and the new (the light rails cars were all replaced about ten years ago). The transfer system consists of flimsy newsprint-esque strips of paper torn by the driver to indicate the expiry time. Most drivers seem to be generous when tearing, making it possible to ride the Muni to multiple destinations in an afternoon on a single fare. The combination of Google Maps and unlimited iPhone data has made riding transit in SF quite effortless. In addition to walking, Muni has offered a really good way to explore the city and get a feel for its neighbourhoods and communities through its comprehensive coverage of the city, as shown in this visuallization:

Interestingly, the buses apparently turn off their GPS tracking at the end of the day when they return to the depots (including a large depot in our neighbourhood), as explained by the folks who put together the video:

there’s a point at which all the buses seem to start floating away, leaving the grid of the city and clustering in strange locations. We thought this was a bug at first, but really it’s an outcome of the data. At the end of the day, the buses seem to turn off the GPS as they return home. We simply interpolate their positions as they float back to (what we think are) their depots. And when they day starts anew, they quickly being zooming about, retracing the grid of the city as the morning commute begins.

I only got my driver's license last year and people often wonder how I managed without one for so long. Living in cities with decent public transit was a major factor. When I lived in Montreal and was asked how I got around, my answer was "BMW". Bus. Metro. Walk. I suppose the acronym is still viable in SF: BART, Muni, Walk.

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April 22, 2010 9:29 AM

the techvolution continues

Preface

Hyphenated celebrated it's one year anniversary last Sunday without much fanfare or, unfortunately, cake. I suppose that the Go Daddy automatic renewal email for my domain could be considered an e-card, albeit a really lame one. In any case, the least I can do to mark the date is dedicate a blog post to the milestone. It's belated, partly because I was hosting a third (and final, for now) consecutive set of visitors and spent Sunday touring Alcatraz, but here it is.

♻♻♻

Just over a year ago, my first post listed some of the reasons I started a blog. All of the reasons still apply a year later, especially the one related to keeping in touch with family. Still no sign of my parents on Facebook or Twitter. Knowing that my grandmother will read this makes me smile. I also still envision the blog as a creative outlet. I try to write posts that are extensions of my thoughts and voice, and I resist the urge to use Posterous as a simple way to share photos and online content without any value added beyond the title. The goal of keeping it interesting remains important too.

In addition to the reasons for starting the blog are the reasons to continue blogging. The great feeling that comes from a friend saying that they're reading and enjoying my blog and enjoying it is one. While many don't post comments, I get direct personal feedback that means a lot to me. Storytelling is another unforeseen aspect of blogging that appeals to me. So many of the posts that resonate, with me and my audience, include stories. Whether they be from my childhood or last weekend, I really enjoy telling stories and the blog is a great way to share them.

Looking back, the blog was my initial independent foray into unknown online territory. Given the developments of the last year and living in what seems to be the center of the technology universe, I haven't stopped exploring. When friends come to visit me in San Francisco, I show them around the city and I give them a tour of my iPhone apps. I usually end up talking a lot about FourSquare tips and trending locations. The techvolution continues.

♻♻♻

Postscript

Seeing as it's April 22nd, a blog post isn't complete without some Earth Day content:

Filed under // family & friends science & technology sustainability

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April 9, 2010 3:00 PM

the california coast

Sometimes, pictures are worth a thousand words. A drive down the coast from San Francisco is usually one of those times. Last weekend was no exception. Fresh strawberries, salty air, scallop tacos, good friends. Enough said... I'll let the pictures do the rest of the talking.

Click here to download:

the_california_coast.zip (6717 KB)

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