As promised, the hot humid air of the eastern seaboard mixes with the cold fronts coming off the Atlantic to create some *wicked* thunderstorms. This one, on Saturday the 25th of August (2007) generated repeated severe weather warnings and sundry cries of "Auntie Em!!" from local government and public safety types.
The Overture had just started as I was leaving the library and Act One was closing in on Hayattsville when I stepped off the metro and headed for home. Though I was supposed to be going straight back to studying I just had to interrupt it a few times to run out and document the progress of the storm as the clouds piled up and the lightning developped from flashes to great forked arcs. I like the area already, but talk about value added!
Perhaps the novelty will wear off (probably next time I'm in dress clothes) but as it is, I get a kick out of the warm, steamy air combined with the cool rain. The lull and rush of the cicadas as the wind picks up and the rythym of the rain as it's driven in waves across the tree branches is so perfect it seems surreal. It's all terribly atmospheric and sensuous; to walk out into the beginnings of the storm after the quite, air-conditioned sterility of the library makes me feel invigorated and alive.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Don't try this at home...
Well, it became clear after only a few days that, much as I liked living in downtown DC, it wasn't going to last. Living in a highrise apartment is nice, but sharing a room was even less fun than I remembered. (Actually, I'm probably spoiled because I had cool er roommates/housemates than most people would be entitled to expect.) With the workload, however having an office/sanctuary to yourself is pretty much a must.
Problem is...it's the start of the school year. I've already moved into one place; I did all my looking for housing in a frantic rush at the beginning of the summer so I could leave for Europe with a place to come back to. Now what?
I don't recommend trying to duplicate this if you get into a bind housing-wise, but here's how it happened: While traveling around Europe I made sure to make mention of the fact that I was moving to DC when I met other Americans. Turns out a lot of other people live, work, and go to school in DC, too. One of those people was a woman taking summer classes at Jagiellonian University in Krakow, Poland. We met her in a hidden little university restaurant, off the street and down a flight of stairs. She mentioned she was returning to law school in the fall. When I told her I was going to start at Catholic in DC she responded that she, too, was a law student at CUA. And when I mentioned my trepidation about plunging headlong into yet ANOTHER new city at the end of the summer, she mentioned that if I needed housing her mom just so *happened* to be a real estate agent. Of all the gin joints in all the world...
Once back stateside I packed up my affairs and moved east. I arrived on a weekend so the business office of the apartment was closed; I couldn't sign papers. Orientation week kept me so busy that I couldn't get in to sign during the first few days of the week either, and by that time it had, as I said, become clear that I needed a change. So I called Lindsay. She picked me up, gave me the tour, and it was all but a done deal. I moved in the next day.
There's probably no principle to be gained here other than "It was supposed to work out this way"; I can't see how meeting your future housemate 9,000 miles from home under circumstances that simultaneously shield you from being locked into a bad lease is something I could duplicate if I tried.
I'm now living in a classic old red-brick two-story in Hayattsville, Maryland. I don't have my DC zipcode, but I'm still within the Beltway, so it counts. Hayattsville is a fairly lower middle class suburb of DC. It's closer to DC, so there's not much of a price break as compared to Silver Spring (which is *the* student zone) but it's got most everything you need within walking distance and it's not as crowded or citylike as Silver Spring. Plus, here, thanks to the magic of sharing a house with the daughter of a real estate agent, I can get a floor of house for less than the kids up north pay for a share of an apartment. Ahhh, it feels good to be putting down roots again after being in transition for so long. (Anywhere from 7 weeks to 5 years, depending on how you count.) I'm really looking forward to becoming more at home as the months go on. I'm already starting to think about whether, if and when I get visitors from out West, I will feel like a local showing them around, or still another tourist. Guess there's really only one way to find out.
Problem is...it's the start of the school year. I've already moved into one place; I did all my looking for housing in a frantic rush at the beginning of the summer so I could leave for Europe with a place to come back to. Now what?
I don't recommend trying to duplicate this if you get into a bind housing-wise, but here's how it happened: While traveling around Europe I made sure to make mention of the fact that I was moving to DC when I met other Americans. Turns out a lot of other people live, work, and go to school in DC, too. One of those people was a woman taking summer classes at Jagiellonian University in Krakow, Poland. We met her in a hidden little university restaurant, off the street and down a flight of stairs. She mentioned she was returning to law school in the fall. When I told her I was going to start at Catholic in DC she responded that she, too, was a law student at CUA. And when I mentioned my trepidation about plunging headlong into yet ANOTHER new city at the end of the summer, she mentioned that if I needed housing her mom just so *happened* to be a real estate agent. Of all the gin joints in all the world...
Once back stateside I packed up my affairs and moved east. I arrived on a weekend so the business office of the apartment was closed; I couldn't sign papers. Orientation week kept me so busy that I couldn't get in to sign during the first few days of the week either, and by that time it had, as I said, become clear that I needed a change. So I called Lindsay. She picked me up, gave me the tour, and it was all but a done deal. I moved in the next day.
There's probably no principle to be gained here other than "It was supposed to work out this way"; I can't see how meeting your future housemate 9,000 miles from home under circumstances that simultaneously shield you from being locked into a bad lease is something I could duplicate if I tried.
I'm now living in a classic old red-brick two-story in Hayattsville, Maryland. I don't have my DC zipcode, but I'm still within the Beltway, so it counts. Hayattsville is a fairly lower middle class suburb of DC. It's closer to DC, so there's not much of a price break as compared to Silver Spring (which is *the* student zone) but it's got most everything you need within walking distance and it's not as crowded or citylike as Silver Spring. Plus, here, thanks to the magic of sharing a house with the daughter of a real estate agent, I can get a floor of house for less than the kids up north pay for a share of an apartment. Ahhh, it feels good to be putting down roots again after being in transition for so long. (Anywhere from 7 weeks to 5 years, depending on how you count.) I'm really looking forward to becoming more at home as the months go on. I'm already starting to think about whether, if and when I get visitors from out West, I will feel like a local showing them around, or still another tourist. Guess there's really only one way to find out.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
I could get used to this
Well, two full days in the city and now I see why people like it!
I must admit, I feel pretty swell having a downtown DC zipcode. I'm living on the 2nd floor of a 10 story apartment building in what is pretty much the center of Washington. 13th and M is about 6 blocks from the White House and Capitol Mall and 7 blocks from DuPont circle. My main commute to school, 13th street, is complete with all the trappings of city life. Newspaper vendors, hotdog vendors (a Hebrew National trolley with a Vietnamese proprietress selling Polish sausages...) business men and women, and of course, homeless people wedged into out of the way cracks of buildings.
The neighborhood is neither great nor terrible, falling into that relatively sweet spot that allows for concievable affordability on a student budget but isn't palpably unsafe. I certainly don't feel unsafe, despite the litany of "Thou should nots" that I hear from well meaning friends and superior sounding longtimers alike. I don't want to have my optimish disproven by a knife to the ribs, but thus far I'm quite pleased and not the least bit intimidated.
I must admit, I feel pretty swell having a downtown DC zipcode. I'm living on the 2nd floor of a 10 story apartment building in what is pretty much the center of Washington. 13th and M is about 6 blocks from the White House and Capitol Mall and 7 blocks from DuPont circle. My main commute to school, 13th street, is complete with all the trappings of city life. Newspaper vendors, hotdog vendors (a Hebrew National trolley with a Vietnamese proprietress selling Polish sausages...) business men and women, and of course, homeless people wedged into out of the way cracks of buildings.
The neighborhood is neither great nor terrible, falling into that relatively sweet spot that allows for concievable affordability on a student budget but isn't palpably unsafe. I certainly don't feel unsafe, despite the litany of "Thou should nots" that I hear from well meaning friends and superior sounding longtimers alike. I don't want to have my optimish disproven by a knife to the ribs, but thus far I'm quite pleased and not the least bit intimidated.
Monday, August 13, 2007
And Hello to you too!
Arriving into DC via Washington Regan (DCA) is quite an introduction to the city. Though Baltimore (BWI) is the cheaper choice for people not going directly into the city, DCA seems to be almost deliberately placed to provide tantalazing glimpses of familar landmarks to wide-eyed passengers as the plane taxis to the jetway. Driving into downtown DC the freeway signs were almost as comical as they were gratifying to me as a newly minted "local". So dense are the noteworthy sights, monuments, buildings, and institutions that the signs seem to rattle them off like a breathless maitre'd at a restaurant with 60 specials.
I couldn't help smiling at the peak of the Washington Monument off the port bow of our SuperShuttle, and I had to remind myself that locals don't gawk at the tourist sights.
Out for an orienting constitutional later that evening with my new roommate I was soaking in the pace of city life and delighting in the hordes of pedestrians vying bravely with cars for use of the crosswalk. I learned very quickly that tourists watch the stoplights, locals watch the cars. Slipping across a busy street right before a red light I had just commented on how city traffic moved to a different rythm than suburban traffic when *BANG!!* -- right behind us, an SUV t-bones a sedan.
We laughed for about two seconds, watching the karmically-chastised red light runner limp his 4-door off to the side of the road, then noticed that the SUV wasn't moving. No one else seemed to be doing anything and I didn't think citified indifference extended to car accidents, so I hustled over and poked my head in the window.
Me: Whoaaaa. Everyone ok? Anyone hurt?
...silence...
Me: Uhhhh...{Shiiiiiiit} I'm only gonna ask one more time then I'm calling an ambulance
...silence...
Passenger 1: Y-yes. Help. Ambulance.
And wouldn't you know it, I hadn't brought my cell phone. Fortunately Brendan, my roommate, had, and I called it in while being mercifully sidelined by the pros who showed up in a squad car as I was stepping away. Welcome to DC indeed!
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
First they came for the level designers...
Student designs computer game level based off of his school, is removed as a "terroristic threat."
Articles here, here, and here. (May 2nd, 2007)
This one hit home and I'm mad. I'm not sure where to start so I'll begin with the easiest to criticize aspect on ANY story in the mass media that involves computer games, that of context.
It's clear that computer gaming is still a relative niche in terms of the general public consciousness. Substitution of the clunky "shoot 'em up game" for the more standard term "First Person Shooter" and confusion about terms of art (such as whether a Counter-Strike map is a "game" a "mod" or a "level") all illustrate the general ignorance of the journalism community and, by extension, the public at large. Sadly, our educational, administrative and investigative personal are generally drawn from this same public, producing a cadre of individuals and organizations that must, by their nature, step up and act in these situations, but are also by their make-up doomed to act in ignorance much of the time. Put more succinctly, school officials, journalists, and law-enforcement personnel have essentially NO idea how to interpret situations in which video games are involved because they lack the context for interpreting them. I shall attempt to provide some context to this particular incident and I would like to see if this somehow mitigates the appearance of danger.
Counter-Strike is, as many of you reading this will know, a first person shooter designed around the scenario of Counter-Terrorists attempting to neutralize a Terrorist plot in progress. This basic scenario plays out on dozens to hundreds of maps hosted on internet servers. Many of these maps were created by professional map designers working for game developers. The lion's share, however, were created by amateur enthusiasts of the game, many of whom are young adults. Map layouts and designs are drawn from every conceivable source; famous buildings, abstract architecture, surreal mazes, even the sit-com Simpson's house. And yes, even schools. Viewed in context, a level designer's choice of using his school is not only less sinister, it grows greatly more natural. School is a young adult's domain, his or her place of work, living, and playing. He knows its geography and architecture intimately and feels a sense of ownership of that space. I have designed my whole house using Google sketch-up and once I was done, I was disappointed to notice that, though it made a great map for furniture layout, it would make an uninspiring CS level. My highschool, on the other hand, would have made a fabulous map. Perhaps that's what scares me; that THIS COULD HAVE BEEN ME. Had I the tools at the time I certainly might have tried to design a map inspired by my school, and I would have done so in the almost naive innocence that because I meant no harm it wouldn't be a problem. Almost. I might not have, for fear of exactly this sort of overreaction, ignorance, and fear. And I apparently would have been right.
Though the articles note that the student was "questioned" it is unclear what questions he was asked. The biggest question (the unspoken elephant in all these articles) is whether he planned on doing ANYTHING that posed a threat to anyone. He was released without charges and a search of his room turned up.....a hammer.
A hammer. This is the best that the police could come up with on a kid they clearly wanted to nail. Not even a rubber-band gun, a Red Rider, or, God forbid, an airsoft. Oh wait! Upon further inspection they found 5 SWORDS. What 17 year old (?) Asian boy wants five swords? No, wait, better question: What 17 year old boy *wouldn't* want five swords. Here, too, I find myself personally. I am a fencer. I have 3 swords under my bed. I have one hanging on my wall. And until last year I lived in a house with upwards of 30 different swords counting wooden, sport, replica, and cut-you-in-half-not-an-imitation samurai swords. What does this tell us about me, about my roomates, and about this Clements High School student? NOTHING. It tells us nothing because the journalists and, more than likely, the school and investigative personal failed to adequately take into account the context of the "evidence."
I haven't mentioned that the student is Chinese because it is largely immaterial to the main point that I had to make, but I would like to note it out as a post-script because it would be improper not to acknowledge that this non-event probably suffered inflation by being viewed in the context of the Virginia Tech shootings so recently ago. Maybe the student's race was a component here; maybe it was not. It certainly will not be acknowledged factor, but if I can think of it so can millions of others. It sickens my soul to think that some people are now adding "Asians" onto the end of some ever-stretching list, perhaps below to "Muslims" or "Middle Eastern People." What comes next? "Level designers?"
Articles here, here, and here. (May 2nd, 2007)
This one hit home and I'm mad. I'm not sure where to start so I'll begin with the easiest to criticize aspect on ANY story in the mass media that involves computer games, that of context.
It's clear that computer gaming is still a relative niche in terms of the general public consciousness. Substitution of the clunky "shoot 'em up game" for the more standard term "First Person Shooter" and confusion about terms of art (such as whether a Counter-Strike map is a "game" a "mod" or a "level") all illustrate the general ignorance of the journalism community and, by extension, the public at large. Sadly, our educational, administrative and investigative personal are generally drawn from this same public, producing a cadre of individuals and organizations that must, by their nature, step up and act in these situations, but are also by their make-up doomed to act in ignorance much of the time. Put more succinctly, school officials, journalists, and law-enforcement personnel have essentially NO idea how to interpret situations in which video games are involved because they lack the context for interpreting them. I shall attempt to provide some context to this particular incident and I would like to see if this somehow mitigates the appearance of danger.
Counter-Strike is, as many of you reading this will know, a first person shooter designed around the scenario of Counter-Terrorists attempting to neutralize a Terrorist plot in progress. This basic scenario plays out on dozens to hundreds of maps hosted on internet servers. Many of these maps were created by professional map designers working for game developers. The lion's share, however, were created by amateur enthusiasts of the game, many of whom are young adults. Map layouts and designs are drawn from every conceivable source; famous buildings, abstract architecture, surreal mazes, even the sit-com Simpson's house. And yes, even schools. Viewed in context, a level designer's choice of using his school is not only less sinister, it grows greatly more natural. School is a young adult's domain, his or her place of work, living, and playing. He knows its geography and architecture intimately and feels a sense of ownership of that space. I have designed my whole house using Google sketch-up and once I was done, I was disappointed to notice that, though it made a great map for furniture layout, it would make an uninspiring CS level. My highschool, on the other hand, would have made a fabulous map. Perhaps that's what scares me; that THIS COULD HAVE BEEN ME. Had I the tools at the time I certainly might have tried to design a map inspired by my school, and I would have done so in the almost naive innocence that because I meant no harm it wouldn't be a problem. Almost. I might not have, for fear of exactly this sort of overreaction, ignorance, and fear. And I apparently would have been right.
Though the articles note that the student was "questioned" it is unclear what questions he was asked. The biggest question (the unspoken elephant in all these articles) is whether he planned on doing ANYTHING that posed a threat to anyone. He was released without charges and a search of his room turned up.....a hammer.
A hammer. This is the best that the police could come up with on a kid they clearly wanted to nail. Not even a rubber-band gun, a Red Rider, or, God forbid, an airsoft. Oh wait! Upon further inspection they found 5 SWORDS. What 17 year old (?) Asian boy wants five swords? No, wait, better question: What 17 year old boy *wouldn't* want five swords. Here, too, I find myself personally. I am a fencer. I have 3 swords under my bed. I have one hanging on my wall. And until last year I lived in a house with upwards of 30 different swords counting wooden, sport, replica, and cut-you-in-half-not-an-imitation samurai swords. What does this tell us about me, about my roomates, and about this Clements High School student? NOTHING. It tells us nothing because the journalists and, more than likely, the school and investigative personal failed to adequately take into account the context of the "evidence."
I haven't mentioned that the student is Chinese because it is largely immaterial to the main point that I had to make, but I would like to note it out as a post-script because it would be improper not to acknowledge that this non-event probably suffered inflation by being viewed in the context of the Virginia Tech shootings so recently ago. Maybe the student's race was a component here; maybe it was not. It certainly will not be acknowledged factor, but if I can think of it so can millions of others. It sickens my soul to think that some people are now adding "Asians" onto the end of some ever-stretching list, perhaps below to "Muslims" or "Middle Eastern People." What comes next? "Level designers?"
Friday, January 26, 2007
FIRE!
Going in and out of the LSAC (Law School Admissions Council) website with its pictures of smiling or stern looking future lawyers scrolling by got me thinking. These same kids could be on the cover of an MCAT prep book posing as aspiring doctors and no one would be the wiser. Even so though, it gives the whole process a face. There's this gut assumption when you're working on your application that you're actually competing against HIM, and his great-great grandfater was on Amistad, his father was a supreme court justice, he has a 180 on his LSAT and he's a Peace Corps veteran with a commendation from the Shiek of Petrolstan. Why do they even HAVE these folks on the website? Is it like the personals sites where they show you a heavily doctored picture of a buxom lady up there with the tacit implication that they *all* look like that once you've payed your $9.99 for a peek inside? If that's so then the LSAC folks should have pictures of wheelbarrows full of CASH. Or nice cars. Somehow "serving my fellow man and protecting the moral fiber of this nation" doesn't translate into a jpeg. Don't worry; I didn't use that phrase in my essay. Though, as an endcap, I did have this great idea for an essay if I ever decide to throw my hands up and shoot the moon. Everyone is looking for their "angle" in the personal essays, something that shows how they represent some aspect of diversity and they've overcome an unimagiable hardship to stand before the admissions committee. I figured it would be great to do one on my struggle with LYCANTHROPY. Oh, how I was a happy young child until I was diagnosed with this terrible affliction. How *hard* it was to fit in. I just wanted to run and play and be like the other children but instead I found myself EATING them. I overcame discrimination by EATING THE VILLAGERS and now I want to go to law school so I can EAT--er, advocate for the rights of the less fortunate. I figure they'll give that one readthrough and decide "Well, he's brilliant or he's batshit insane, but either way he's diversity."
Here's to the dog and pony show. Even if you win, you're still an animal.
~PNT
Here's to the dog and pony show. Even if you win, you're still an animal.
~PNT
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