Toast for Brekkie

Somnio Ergo Sum

I tend to think that the basis for consciousness is analogy. I've probably mentioned before my fixation with association and how the internet is so easily compared to the brain. But if the consciousness that I experience is a macroscopic result of the functions of trillions of tiny associations, where does the internet experience itself? And what does it think? Trying to comprehend that is like one of my brain cells asking about my thoughts. If I may use an analogy.

Ok, so where am I going with this? A question: have you ever felt like a single day was a condensed version of your entire life? It's the same way a poem can distill an entire relationship. Those days are like pearls to me, because they show you the wide expanse of your awareness while remaining part of life itself. I'll stop lest I get lost in the recursion.

It started with vivid dreams. I know that's supposed to mean that you didn't sleep well, but I relish remembering the details of my night visions. People also say that you never hit the bottom when you dream you're falling; that if you ever do, you'll die in your sleep. That's funny, because I had a dream a few nights ago that I died. And for the first time in my life, it was a good dream. The details don't matter; what matters was the all-encompassing relief. It was like a two-dimensional being experiencing the third dimension for the first time. Like the happiness I'd known before was exposed as a tepid facsimile. As if analogy itself was no comparison.

Last night I dreamt of hiking through verdant mountains with my two best friends from college. We came upon a dilapidated warehouse and upon sneaking in found a perfectly quiescent olympic-size pool filled to the brim with crystal clear rain water that had fallen through the damaged roof, shafts of sunlight streaming down from above. That's about all that I remember (other than the alarm and the armed guards waiting outside) but the important part is that the dream was so real it was almost like being with those guys again. I awoke with the realization of how much I miss them, how much I still care about them.

Every song I listened to today while working or driving matched the moment. I made cookies for my coworkers last night and relished being able to offer to each of them a small piece of happiness in the shape of nuts and chocolate. For lunch my cubemate and I tried a new restaurant, and it turned out to be a true gourmet French bistro with unbeatable prices. From that point on I decided to log the day in pictures, which you can see on the moblog.

The clouds really put on a show today. Some hung so low it seemed you could almost reach out and touch them. They had a three-dimensional character, and yielded tantalizing glimpses at the cerulean spaces beyond. The calm air meant that a spoil island from the digging of a shipping channel suddenly took on the air of a tropical paradise.

Back at work I received an email cancelling a barbecue tonight, and seconds later recieved another message inviting me to a last-minute birthday party at 7 o'clock. This was in addition to the already-planned birthday party that started at 5:30. I made it to both just in time and celebrated the day with two sets of hilarious friends. Two dinners, two cakes, two languages (American Sign Language and Spanish). Infinite smiles and laughter. At the first restaurant there was another birthday besides Kristie's. At the second, besides Vivi's, there were five.

I sit here now realizing the futility of trying to capture the sand of these epiphanies as it slides through my fingers. This is why I usually just let the pearls lie along the string of time, rather that clutching tightly to something so ephemeral. The harder I squeeze the quicker it runs out. Better to breathe deep and enjoy the fragrant gift of awareness when the flower deigns to blossom.

I'll end with this: perhaps the most surprising event of the day was discovering an island on Google Earth whose outline matches a map I scrawled out years ago after waking from a dream. If today was any indication, perhaps someday I'll live to see it, and further revel in the reality of this waking dream.

Bloggers of the World

So Lay-c and I were cracking each other up on the phone this weekend and I'd like to share a little of the hilarity. You can be forgiven for not finding these funny, especially if you're not a blogger. That, and they're wildly stereotypical. But it's all in good fun. And now, may I present, Bloggers of the World.

Back to the Moon

It looks like Homer Hickam's wish is finally coming true. Count your lucky stars, kids, because our generation is going back to the moon.

You can be forgiven, in light of Katrina, Rita and the potential for Hurricane Alpha, if you haven't yet heard about this. As of this moment it doesn't even rank as front page news on msnbc.com.

In his address today, NASA Administrator Mike Griffin dubbed the new Crew Exploration Vehicle "Apollo on Steroids." Here's why.

Survey of America

Mad props to Mandar for the hookup on the following mind-blowing treatise from The Economist, entitled Survey of America. If you're looking for piercing insight into the current state of the union, look no further that this concise, fact-based, contextual tour de force. I can't wait to see what you have to say about it. If you're pressed for time, the two articles you don't want to miss are The Americano Dream and Middle of the Class. But it's all quite good. Thank you, Economist. You rock.

The Other America

I don't normally post just to share a link, but I was fascinated with this article about the poverty that Katrina has unearthed and would love to see some comments on the topic. An excerpt:

Consider the case of Delores Ellis. Before Katrina turned her world upside down, the 51-year-old resident of New Orleans's Ninth Ward was earning the highest salary of her life as a school janitor—$6.50 an hour, no health insurance or pension. Pregnant at 17 and forced to drop out of high school, she went on welfare for a time, then bounced around minimum-wage jobs. "I worked hard all my life and I can't afford nothing," Ellis says. "I'm not saying that I want to keep up with the Joneses, I just want to live better."

Ellis is hampered by cultural habits, too. Like almost all poor evacuees interviewed by NEWSWEEK, she has no bank account. Before the storm, she did own a stereo, refrigerator, washer and dryer, two color TVs and a 1992 Chevy Lumina with more than 100,000 miles on it. This, too, is common among the poor; like more comfortable Americans, they spend on consumer goods beyond their means. But these are often their only assets. The reason that more African-Americans didn't heed warnings to leave New Orleans before the hurricane hit goes beyond the much-publicized lack of cars. They were reluctant to abandon their entire net worth to looters. John Edwards, who has spent much of the year since he lost the vice presidency studying the problems of "the two Americas," says that establishing thousands of bank accounts is critical—not just for Katrina evacuees, but for others in poverty.

Supplements include this article that reminded me of Shokufeh's post on the phoenix from the flood, and this one about the president's response to Katrina. Discuss!

Cyclone

In Coral Gables we found a bike shop. Now I have a new seat and no excuses not to ride. Not even Hurricane Ophelia, hovering 50 miles offshore, winding up for her knockout punch.

As a human being, I find there to be something profoundly satisfying about order. Organizing. Assembling. Repairing. Folding and putting away clothing. Solving a math problem. Writing computer code. Learning a piece of music. Shaving lap times. Putting thoughts down into words. Even something as simple as tightening a bolt to secure my bike seat reaches down inside me and presses a happy button. It's as if I'm built to derive pleasure from my own personal crusade against entropy. My very sense of self is merely an organization of cells that map out a conscious framework of past experience and networked concepts.

Hurricanes are self-organizing. Yet their very nature is defined by destruction. Perhaps it's simply the scale. If we were larger, they might be as amusing as the vortex of water spinning down the sink. Things being as they are, it was only appropriate I don the mantle of futility and stand in the face of something so great it is scarcely aware of my existence.

It's strange being out in a hurricane. Watching clouds fly by overhead at fifteen to thirty knots is a bit of a melon-twister. It simply does not compute with the brain's experiential concept of weather. The wind comes in gusts and the rain in spurts. Surprisingly my practice riding against the nightly sea breeze prepared my legs for the former. But there was nothing to be done about the stinging drops of rain pelting my skin and blurring my vision.

Fast-moving clouds aren't the only weirdness. The light can almost disappear, as if the sun has set, then a small slit will break open and pink sunlight bathe the surroundings. My new seat was performing just as I'd expected, and I stretched out the pace, riding in top gear against the wind. When headed south with the wind I must have set a few personal speed records. It also gave me time to enjoy the light massage down my spine as the rear wheel kicked up its spray. Birds seemed at a loss for what to do. A red-tailed hawk was startled by my progress and lit into the air. He flew against the wind to alight on a branch further down my path only to bolt again.

One hour and four laps later I was as fresh as ever, but called it a day as night truly had fallen, and the rain was picking up. I stood in the yard and soaked in the experience as the cool water mingled with my sweat and fell to the earth at my feet.

In the shower I was scrubbing my face when the shape of my eye socket sparked a realization from childhood. "Hello!" a little voice said, "There's someone inside this skull!" I wish I could phrase it in a way that would cause you to stop in your tracks and recognize your own consciousness, maybe send you on a strange loop or two in the land of recursion. Suffice it to say I am renewed in my sense of wonder and awe that my spark exists inside this wonderful, self-healing machine; I am thankful to have been given control of such a versatile vessel. That it can be improved through application is a gift heaped on gifts.

The thought stuck with me even as I enjoyed my poor man's pizza (that's low-fat string cheese melted on five-grain sourdough dipped in tomato basil soup). I sat back and recalled a dream I had last night of a long-lost friend and wondered if I'd ever get to talk with him again, perhaps to relate the story of the time I cycled the cyclone.

Bienvenido a Miami

So my father calls me up on the Thursday night before Labor Day. "Son, I just booked a last minute deal to South Beach for the weekend. Would you like to join me and your mother?" No, Dad, I'd rather stay home and trim my cuticles. Are you kidding me? South Beach? Why do you think I've been hitting the gym so hard?

Now I know what you're thinking, but I'll tell you the truth: my parents are cool. We always have a blast no matter where we are. Combine that with Papi Jorge's generosity and a weekend vacation in the Capital of the Americas is a deal you can't refuse.

I was so glad that I'd already had the local's introduction to Florida's melting pot courtesy of my friend Edsel "Miami" Sanchez a couple months back. Come to think of it, I don't remember blogging about that trip. Or the recent one to Nashville. Or Seth's visit to Florida to pick up his Porsche (what up, dogg?). Or Lacey's wedding?! Come on, man, where have you been? Um, duh, I've been traveling. And at Lacey's wedding I was *ahem* too busy dancing to take pictures.

But seriously, have you ever thought you said something but in fact didn't? I could swear I wrote about those trips. As a nascent blogger I'm just discovering that you often write copy in your head as you experience life, only to never type it out for lack of time or laziness. It's funny, too, the sense of immediacy that arises from spending so much time on the internet. "You went where last week? Hmm? Oh, nevermind, that's old news anyway."

Another blogger trick I picked up from Lay-c by way of Nas is the bullet. I shall use it to list the places we visited in greater Miami and follow up with photos. Keep in mind these are sites you can visit if you make the trip south. Though preferably after hurricane season is over.