I followed a random link today that took me to jointcontact, another website that uses "web 2.0" in its branding. I was a little puzzled at the image at the top of the page:

And then it dawned on me. I had seen it on one of my (now former) clients' sites:

I don't know why this should surprise me. Maybe the late (early?) hour?

Or maybe I was expecting this IntarWeb™ thing to be bigger. So big, in fact, that what's old is new again, and I don't stumble upon the same image twice.

I don't know why I thought that would be. This world just isn't that big.

I used to subscribe to the Economist.

I was inspired by conversations with Greg Wolff, and his ability to discuss global happenings and policy ramifications in ways that made me feel young, inexperienced and incompetent. I asked him for help, and he suggested reading the Economist regularly.

I followed up on his suggestion, and subscribed. For about two years, I read the Economist with near religious fervor. My knowledge grew. I was able to talk about world policies, events and economies, tragedies and triumphs as I was never expecting, couldn't predict and thrilled about. I started to understand the reasons behind policies, the fears of economic problems and excitement of developments outside of my usual areas of interest.

However (is there always a downside to every good side?), I also became aware of the world in ways I couldn't have predicted. I knew about conflicts in Darfur long before it was politically vogue to talk about them. I learned about the dangers of Myanmar and the upheaval happening in that part of the world. I worried about the economic shifts occurring globally.

And that knowledge caused a downward spiral.

I knew about the conflicts. I knew about the wars. I knew about the upheavals, the problems, the issues. I understood just how devastating the policies of the village idiot in the United States government was, and how badly the average citizen was going to fare in the upcoming years.

I read, and I understood, until the knowledge was too painful.

And I stopped.

My Economist magazines grew in an unread pile. The realization of the world's suffering and being unable to stop it, unable to change the course, impotent against the tidal wave of disaster overwhelming this world (my, my, overly dramatic today, eh?) caused a mental shutdown, and I wanted to be like the average American: obvlious to the outside world, small in the small cocoon of existance, not knowing and not caring for the outside world.

Except that knowledge once gained never really goes away. You can't pretend you don't know once that link has been made.

I'm going to subscribe to the Economist again. Maybe I'll be able to drink from the firehouse again, maybe I won't. But half knowledge is worse than no knowledge, and I want to know again. Maybe I can figure out a good balance, maybe I can't. Of course, having the magazine in portable, electronic format would be most ideal.

Does the Economist come in Kindle or Sony reader format?

Does anyone local want to share a subscription?

That headache I woke up with this morning was a migraine. I knew it was from the pattern of the pain (one side of my head, the left this morning), the intensity of the pain (not quite 'kill me now' but definitely no working out today) and the insiduous way it appeared. That I cringed at the sunlight streaming in from my bedroom window as I closed the drapes sorta rather sealed the deal, eh?

I wasn't sure about the arm numbness. I was hoping it was just from my arm resting funny on the desk.

But now that you're here, now that you're starting to steal my vision, slowly, surely, without mercy, I'm ready to give up and go back to bed. Kinda sad, really, as I was just getting into the groove of my work.

I'll have to try again this evening, I guess.

Not sure how happy the clients are going to be about this.

I have a long torso. Short legs and a long torso.

I first discovered this fact when I was in high school. I was over at Jenny's house, having a water balloon fight, when her dad, Ken, took a bunch of pictures of us. We were clearly having a grand time with these water balloons (I'm pretty sure Jenny crushed me in that fight, she was much better with her aim than I with mine), based on the pictures.

One of the pictures was a view of me from behind, arm outstretched above my head, launching a balloon in Jenny's direction. I was wearing a black swimsuit in the fashion of the time: a one piece with a low cut back and high cut legs. I had my back to the camera, which is what I noticed first in the pictures, and what I still remember to this day, decades later.

I was hunched over in my throw, with my back accentuated. Even without the accentuation, all you could see was my back. Back back back. I was all torso, no legs. I wish I were exaggerating. I'm not. My inseam is shorter than my torso by many inches. Why can I twist and put my feet behind my neck? Because my torso is so freaking long.

There are a few people I've met over the years with the same affliction. Richard Reid at Tech was the first one who completely commiserated with me on the long torso (his inseam was as short as a classmate who was 8" shorter than he was). Recently, I've commiserated with Keebler, whose back and legs have similar proportions to mine.

Today, while at shopping with Mom, I was helped by a sales guy wearing his pants in the modern style of crotch-by-the-knees. He was wearing a tie. He had his dress shirt tucked into his pants. His pant's crotch was about two-thirds of the way to his knees.

As he turned away from me, I realized that this particular look extends the visible length of his torso. Since he already had a long torso, the man looked ALL torso.

I had to chuckle when I realized that my body is now in the height of fashion. My attempts at hiding my long torso with long waisted pants that make my legs look longer (while giving me the flattest butt ever) are no longer needed, as I am now the definition of fashion.

Now, about that crotch height...

Mom arrived in town this morning. The lazy three day weekend ("Today feels like Sunday, but it's only Friday, yeee-haw!") meant that getting to the gym would be wonderful. Instead, I drove to the airport to pick up Mom. Gym. Mom. Gym. Mom. Yeah, Mom will win every time.

I noticed traffic was unusually light heading to the airport. I wasn't sure if the time of the drive (8:00 am) was the cause (I didn't think so), or the first day after a holiday (when people might still be travelling home, or staying away), but I admittedly enjoyed being able to go door to door in less than 20 minutes.

I was also amused by the cop who parked at the end of the 87 to 101N interchange, hopped out of his car, and stood at the median next to the interchange's carpool lane. The way traffic was stopped for the non-carpool lane, and his placement meant that there was exactly no way for a carpool violator to avoid being caught. Of course, "caught" and "avoiding a ticket" really are two different things.

Mom's visiting me to attend a class in Palo Alto. She asked me if I was interested in taking the class, too. I said yes, mostly to spend more time with Mom, but the class was also interesting.

It's a class on posture: how to stand, sit, walk, and lie with proper back alignment to reduce back stress and pain. Two years ago, at the multiple recommendation and near insistence of my chiropractor, I went to the Balance Center, and learned how to sit, stand, lie, and walk in balance. The problem I had with the class was I now knew how to sit, stand, lie and walk in balance, but I wasn't able (willing?) to apply the knowledge I gained. So, now, not only did I not stand, sit, walk, and lie in balance, but I also felt guilty for not doing so. Suckasaurus.

Well, no time like the present to make a change, so I agreed to attend the class with Mom, who was very excited about the class, which was with another facility that taught proper back alignment.

I can't say I was particularly excited about the class when the woman at the front desk measured my height and declared I was 1/2" shorter than I was when I measured myself two weeks ago. Honestly, this set off all sorts of alarms in my head: measure them short at the beginning of the class, and LOOK HOW TALL YOU ARE at the end of the class.

Right.

So, I went to the class with an open mind. I figured, if nothing else, this could be a review of the other class, perhaps inspiration to start my journey again to good posture.

After the class, Mom was very, very excited. She was talking about how this made sense, and how that was so right, and very, very excited (did I mention excited?). I, on the other hand, wasn't so impressed with the first class. The instructor didn't give us an introduction, but rather launched into sitting properly, without any background on why we were doing what we were doing. I need that. I need to know WHY before I can DO. No luck.

I also couldn't get past the fact that all the pictures shown were of statues and babies. Statues are stylized versions of people, not necessarily a mirror or accurate portrayal of a person, so they seem like cheating. Or maybe it felt like the instructor was trying to find data to fit a theory instead of finding a theory to fit the data.

I don't know. There are six more classes. We'll see if I change my mind.

The best quote of the day was from Mom, as we were walking back from the local Fresh Choice. She was telling me about home and how the temperature was "one hundred and fuck out." I stopped walking, and just stared at her. I think the last time I heard her curse, I was still living in Southern California.