Move and Copy

In the analogue, tactile world, the primary mode of translation is moving. When i want to give you a book i liked, i mail it to you. you get the very same book that i had and i no longer have the object. Copies are always inexact, if very close. We have lots of name for this: duplication, replicas, forgery, fascimile.

In the digital realm, precisely the converse holds. When i send you a file, you receive a duplicate. I retain the original, but the copy is exact. To move a file on a computer, a copy is first made at the destination, then the original is deleted. There is fundamentally no way to move the original, except to do this. In fact, a deletion usually only de-references the data. The information remains, until that space is over-written; it is as though you take the label off the file-cabinet drawer, but leave the papers inside until you need to put something else in that drawer.

This is the sort of thing that at times seems mundane, merely the state of things. Yet at other times, it fascinates me that the two realms in which we function daily are so inherently dissimilar.

Intermediate Civics

Here's the results of my research. It's not too encouraging. The motivation is to lower my monthly payments. The idea was based on the two word-of-mouth assumptions, that cars lose a big part of their value the moment they're driven off the lot, and that Honda's don't deprecate quickly after that. Don't pay too much attention to the exact values, they're taken from the NAPA book, rather than Kelly's Blue Book, because that's what the library has. Of note is that the trend is similar for all the models considered. The point is that the trend is linear over the first five or so years, rather than the sharp initial drop and soft flattening out the two assumptions would lead you to suspect. Something like figure 2.

The motivation was that i could sell sabado in, say, three years, recover roughly the cost of the loan on it, and buy a cheaper honda (a prelude, say, or a model without a navigation system), thus reducing my monthly payments. In the big book of caleb's budget, car payments are the second-largest monthly expense (rent is the undisputed winner). This is a class of analysis (if you have a name for it, please volunteer), based on the idea that, of several factors, two or three will be by far the largest contributors. So, in this case, my Netflix subscription is just shy of 1% of my monthly expenses, whereas my rent is a solid 31%. Lots of other things can be looked at in this manner (process time of elements of a piece of software, say, or cooking times of parts of thanksgiving dinner).

I guess i'll be driving sabado for the next five years, at least. Mind you, i love the car. But optimization is my speshee-alitee. This is the life of the engineer.

First readings and Doing it Over

I like to do things again. Like when i play video games, i usually blunder about at the outset, running down every little alley and looking for hidden packages and good views. Then, after i've run it out, i start over and do it all efficient. Somewhere in there i go look up the FAQs people have written and go find the things i missed the first time.

So it is with books, sometimes. Usually, i feel like what's in the story i can pretty much get just reading it through the first time. At least, that's how standard narrative fiction works. Textbooks and poetry are precisely different: they i have to read paragraphs or even sentences over five, six times at the get-go. But narrative fiction mostly is pretty on the level.

When the narrative breaks down, or there isn't one to begin with, that's when it gets tricky. The prototypes are Joyce's Ulysses and Pynchon's Gravity's Rainbow, neither of which i've gotten anywhere with. But my more moderate and topical example is Riddley Walker. Here is a book that one can read simply as a good story (assuming you can forget that the language is non-standard). Then Do It Over with a literary comb. Why does his journey over the wall, through to his meeting with Goodparley-- a solid 75-odd pages-- all occur in one night? And obviously everything's built on top of Canterbury, England, so there's all sorts to get from that. But don't tell me anything because i haven't even half finished the book.

But the whole idea is true everywhere else, too. It's why we make and cook the same meals over: to get better at it and try different things out. It applies everywhere. But what's troubling is the idea of the first attempt. There's some things that you can only do once, so you have to do them right the first time. Like a mission to the moon, or missile defense. You can practice similar things a lot, and run simulations, but the real run has to be right the first time, and every unique time afterwards, too. If we miss the moon, we could be off by hundreds of miles and left to drift, lost in space. If we miss the missile, well, there goes DC.

It's those right-the-first-time requirements that i think about when i restart the game for the twentieth time in half an hour. It's two fundamentally different ways of being. Planning and engineering, or trial and error. Each has it's place, i suppose.

Latch, buckle, clasp

Flourbook, my laptop, has been kicking around with me for over three years now. The first thing to go was the latch that holds it closed. When you push the screen down to the keyboard, this little hook is supposed to pop out of the screen part and latch into the lower part (i think it's magnetic). But one day, the durn thing just up and broke. I actually still have the latch, in a little glass jar somewhere, but it has long been divorced from the computer.

After that, it was the battery. I can now get about five minutes of time on a full charge, though i don't know whether it's full or what, because it doesn't communicate that correctly to the battery display either. They have an inherent finite life. Also, the feet, such as they were, came off at various times (i got furniture feet from Bed Bath and Beyond and superglued them to the bottom-- works great). Finally, the `/~-key, the one just to the left of the number 1 key, fell off (i have that in the jar too). But this post is about the latch.

For a year or two-- well, i don't know what i did. You can still tap the thing down and it will go to sleep, as it's supposed to. But it doesn't fully close, just sort of stays ajar. If you try to put it in your shoulder bag, to go to the coffee shop, invariably it gets tapped again and wakes up, just as you ready to go.

At some point, i got the idea to construct a strap to go around the laptop and click closed, using the sort of plastic buckle your hiker's backpack might use. The two feet or so of fabric strap and the buckle i got from Piece Gardens, run by Amy Moore, a friend of the family. It works well, you close the computer, wrap the strap underneath and over the computer, careful not to tap it awake again, close the buckle, then sinch the strap tight. Works well, but it's a bit bulky and elaborate.

Last week, i got around to the idea that i could use a clasp. Since i've already superglued feet to the computer, why not add some more personalizations? The clasp i had in mind was the sort you can find at a crafts store for to go on little jewelry boxes or whatever. This time, it was Hobby Lobby which supplied the hardware, for 99 cents. It's small and unobtrusive, and now the computer stays firmly closed until un-clasped. I just don't know why i didn't think of this years ago.

New Digs

Me mum wanted to see pictures of my new apartment. I thought i'd save her inbox and let you see, too. I think i'll start with the fireplace. Yes, my new apartment has an honest-to-god fireplace. it has a gas supply, but i can use it regular, too. but that means i have to buy firewood (or travel out of the city to collect it). What you see in figure one is the eastern half of my living room. the front door is on the left, followed by the fireplace (the butterfly is a kite from my sister's family, which i think would fly in a strong wind), then the door to a closet, and finishing with a goofy but comfortable chair.

As we turn to the right, we scan over the back door, leading to the deck, overlooking the pond (with ducks AND geese, and a fountain which i can't see but hear). Turning further, we pass over my essentially vacant living room. I happen to like having my books spread out so. a bookshelf would just confine them and be either rickety or too rich for my blood.

I'll just briefly mention the kitchen, which is functional if unassuming. I need'nt go into detail for want of an over-long post. but it does feature a counter open to the dining area (by which is meant a bit of extra space which really just extends the living room). if i had bar stools, they would go there. i find the placement of the kitchen sink in the middle of that counter to be an afront, but no matter.

I took more pictures than needed. Do you really want to see a picture of the bathtub? In fact, I took photo-documentation of the cleanliness of the entire apartment before i unpacked. Dirt build gradually and i forget what 'clean' is upon move-out. I even have a picture of the inside of the oven. Turning away from the bar, you enter the short hallway, passing the closet containing the half-height, stackable washer and dryer (if even a feature deserved a photo....). I do more, smaller loads of laundry now and can separate colors if i'm feeling domestic.

From there you either turn right into the bathroom or left into the one bedroom. And here we reach the heart of the madder. Lacking a sofa or coffee table or what-not, the bedroom is home to basically my entire existence. This is mainly due to the fact that this bedroom is larger than that of my former abode. Where my last apartment had 1000 sq. ft. spread over two bedrooms, with a large living room, this apartment, while only 600 sq. ft. has only one bedroom and a modest living room. As a result, my own bedroom (the only one i used) is larger.

So what do we find? as you enter, the walk-in (but don't-go-very-far) closet is to the hard left. on that, the western edge of the room, you see my bed-cum-couch, now that i bought a frame for it. The frame came in a very thin, narrow box, tightly packed, and is held together by 18 screws and as many wooden dowels. it was a pleasure to assemble, using the six-step visual instructions. but that is another story (which i unfortunately did not photo-document). The quilt on the bed was made by my sister (a Madam Seamstress, for want of the phrase-- she is not a Master, but a master quilter). It has seen a few years. If you will turn to the right, ignoring the south-facing window (excellent afternoon light), your eyes will come to rest at my office(space). Here you can see the desk from which i pay my bills, the pack-horse laptop, flourbook, and a few other items. The turntable on the left, and the box of LPs in the corner, is my on-going project to convert vinyl to digital (mp3 or mp4). If you send me your records, i will add them to the box, but know that i have set no delivery date for the whole project. On the right, please note the to-go coffee cup. coffee fuels our activities ever and anon. At the extreme right, you will notice the abundant light which the window allows.

That, dear reader, is the sum of my new home. I quite like it. The final note is of the landscape: Front of the building is entry-level. From the parking just outside we enter by way of secure foyer (the buzz-box for such as the pizza man i saw when returning this evening). Entering by key into the middle of the building, there is an atrium open to the floor below and to the balcony of the one above. The entrance to number six is off to the left and at the back of this entry-level. But the land outside slopes down from the parking at the front to the pond at the back, such that all windows of my apartment are a floor about the ground. Thus, i have the best of both worlds: ground-level entrance and second-floor windows (which allow for more light and less burglars, you see). Yes, i like my new home, but for the little ants that smell a bit of oranges when squished.