Parting words

The old tension surfaces again: private vs. public sphere. Aside from writing little due to classes, the important topics have lately lent themselves to private expression. I tapered off this fall when school started and spat out a couple unpolished thoughts on politics. Unfortunately, I couldn’t/didn’t fill in the gaps or branch into other rumination space. This, of course, is a pattern repeated sufficiently often that I realize it’s here to stay.

2008 doesn’t get a simple verdict from me. 2007 was swiftly kicked in the ass on the way out, but 2008 deserves more thoughtful treatment. Unfortunately for you, my insatiable/nonexistent reader, that treatment doesn’t get divulged here. Suffice it to say, there was much good, yet some very challenging stuff too.

So, blogwise, what’s the point at this point? I’m not sure yet. I still foresee some evolution of this idea when things stabilize at school, but I’m not sure how it will materialize. Continue to not stay tuned….

And happy 2009.

Nice try, gamers...now go vote

As one might suppose, going back to skoooool in a math-heavy area isn't the easiest thing when you haven't touched that math for 6+ years. Unexpectedly, that coincides with me not blogging very much at a time when I should be running my yapper nonstop. If I had time to dictate here all the ways in which the McCain campaign has spiraled into the abyss of dishonesty and dishonor, I'd probably exhaust Blogger's server space. So let me just add this: Obama has placed ads inside videogames that link to the internet. These ads will run through the election, and will then be removed. Now that's change we can believe in.

A shallow show

I'll give John McCain credit. He acknowledges an ugly situation when it confronts him.

The political waters have finally started to shift away from the vacant smile of Governor Palin and focus on the potential governance of the presidential candidates. Almost across the board, the issues favor the Obama campaign and nowhere is that more true than in the economic arena. For all my ideological love of capitalism--and suffice it to say that Ayn Rand is one of the foremost influences in my adult life (in a positive way!)--I still believe, in this imperfect world, that the role of government in the financial sector is crucial. In particular, oversight must be firm when taxpayer dollars are involved and this has been a cornerstone of Obama's message since the beginning.

So now comes John McCain's utterly politically-motivated move to forestall the first debate. McCain's notion that he and Obama's presence in Washington would help and not hinder the process is ludicrous. The injection of presidential politics into this crucial piece of legislation can only hurt and McCain is again risking the well-being of american taxpayers after his irresponsible choice of vice presidential running mate. Furthermore, the idea forwarded by McCain here is that he's indispensable in solving this problem, which is the one laughable aspect of this otherwise grim scenario. He does have quite the economics background... I 100% agree with Obama that this is the ESSENTIAL time to have a presidential debate and talk about big solutions. Economics is deeply intertwined with national security and foregin policy, so it should be probed deeply in tomorrow's debate. The over-presence of those two individuals in Washington will be damaging, while the presence of those two in Mississippi will be illuminating and instructive for american voters.

A Falling Soldier

Strangely, school is very time-consuming. Who'da thunk it?

Like everyone else, I've been watching the presidential campaign play out over the last few weeks. I made no bones about my disgust regarding Sarah Palin's speech at her convention. But much more dangerous is her selection in the first place. She is so grossly unprepared for the enormity of the vice-presidential position and, most especially, the higher-than-normal possibility of transferring to the Oval Office that anyone serving under a septuagenarian McCain with a history of cancer will be assuming. This is an appalling move by John McCain to risk the well-being of the country for political expediency. Regardless, I still think this selection is actually a misguided step and won't ultimately play out to his advantage.

Anyways, I recommend taking a minute to read this article by Elizabeth Drew who penned a sympathetic biography (i admittedly haven't read it) about McCain a few years back. I agree with the things that she used to admire about McCain and wholeheartedly agree with the deterioration of those qualities as he's pandered to the Republican base, increasingly compromised his character to ugly campaign tactics, and demonstrated disturbingly spur-of-the-moment behavior with crucial decisions.

It's easy to caricature a politician running against your favored candidate as races tighten and draw towards a close. The difference here is that these aren't exaggerations. The McCain campaign deliberately lied about Obama's positions to blacken his name and deliberately lied about Sarah Palin's positions to make her look like an actual reformer. This cannot pass. Any moderately inteligent American voter will have to see through this. The Palin spark is now starting to recede as any ephemeral sugar rush does and some dose of reality is returning.

In my opinon...

...you should check out my buddy Evan's Op-Ed piece published in the Seattle Times yesterday. He write stuff good.

Painful Palin

It looks like it's about time for some politics to surface here again. After hearing the substance and the optimism in Biden and Obama's speeches last week, Sarah Palin's speech was a miserable experience to behold. After spending the first significant portion dwelling on family minutiae to "introduce herself" followed by a laundry list of lines to perk the ears of different elements of the Republican base, Palin launched into an unapologetically vicious attack on Obama. The attacks were roughly half and half personal and issue-oriented. The personal attacks were many and varied. For instance, she managed to discount Obama's community organizing days in an acidic and mocking manner with a blase dismissal of anyone involved in such an undertaking. The issue-oriented attacks largely seemed half-truths phrased to blacken or distort Obama's intent. One example of this is how she talked about Obama wanting to raise a number of taxes...but she failed to point out that those will be raised for a small, wealthy percentage of the population while the overwhelming rest of us can anticipate decreases.

Most of this was to be expected. Palin certainly held her own as far as speaking and established herself as the Republican attack-dog. She accomplished well what was set out by the McCain campaign and the Republican party and she seemingly relished responding forcefully to the media storm last week. However, one can't help but feel that palpable difference in tone and message between the Democrats and Republicans this year. One side has ideas, optimism, and positive energy, the other side has energy to attack these things. I know the anger and excitement is high on the other side for the moment, but I can't help but think this will backfire in the end.

I'm an independent voter who will side with the better campaign and the better message. This year's contest is so starkly one-sided. She may have fired-up the Republican base, but she's going to fire up Obama's supporters even more. I'm donating as we speak.

A small step for a man

Well, tonight is the last night for many, many moons where I won't call myself a graduate student (read: 'poor'). After five years, 5 1/2 cities, 5 1/2 jobs, and a few overdoses of lack-of-direction, it seems I've found a good outlet for my next half-decade plus. I'll be working on a phd in biophysics here in Chicago. Namely, I'll be working on acquiring the Insert-Word-That-Starts-with-"D" + Doctor appendage to my ford-dealership-esque name. What any of what I just wrote means, please consult the authorities.

Please don't for a second fool yourself into thinking I have the first clue what I'll due upon (fingers crossed) graduation. If anything, this allows me to put off those heady questions for even longer. Huzzah! In the meantime, I plowed through alot of introspection determining the right program in the right city at the right time. For that, I am quite pleased.

I bid a fond farewell to grossly underpaying jobs that, nevertheless, were pretty cool in their own ways. I have admittedly gone through extended periods of silence over the last three years that drove most readers elsewhere. I can't blame them. Although I'm going to be busy, I anticipate that this bloggy blog will continue to stay alive...and likely morph into something a bit more involved in the near future.

Cheerio. Yummy O-ee-O.

Excuses, excuses

Among my handful of other excuses for being close-lipped this last month, I managed to make off like a bandit with my parent's car in Spokane and tear across the country back to Chicago. Please see some nifty pictures from K and I's trip.

Alaska '08

I've been less than garrulous lately. One reason for that is I disappeared to Alaska with my family for 10 days at the very end of July and into August. Here are some pictures AND (dun dun dun dun) video clips from the trip. The video comes from either a regular camera or a phone, so don't be expecting Lucas Film here.

Apparently, there's a new Batman movie

Warning: Annoying Movie Thoughts/Spoilers Ahead:

I finally joined the ranks of Batman: The Dark Knight viewers yesterday. I went into this movie with massive expectations, so the fact that it didn’t disappoint speaks volumes. I’m guessing I’ll be watching this one for years to come. Here’s some of my thoughts:

I was looking forward to a deeply sinister Joker. However, I thought his malevolence and sadism would be counterbalanced by a twisted lovability. Although he does carry out elaborate, and carefully-crafted schemes, I was hoping he would engage in battles of verbal wits or present his diabolical plans in puzzle form. Instead, Ledger’s Joker was a demented sociopath with little to love and much to revile. Since this is surely what the directors intended, I need another viewing to see if the notion grows on me. My first reaction, however, was nostalgia for the color of past characterizations.

Michael Caine gave my favorite performance as Bruce Wayne’s butler. Urbane, wise, proper, and sensitive, all flavored by a tiny sprinkling of silliness, he pulled off the role impeccably. I also continue to like Christian Bale as Wayne/Batman, although his Batman voice makes me cringe occasionally.

It’s impossible not to leave satiated by the eye candy. And sorry, Maggie Gyllenhaal, I like you but I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about sweeping panoramic shots of Hong Kong’s and Chicago/Gotham’s skylines, the underground laboratories, the sonar-generated simulations of various scenes around Gotham delivered by cell phone signals (neato idea), and of course, the action scenes (four of which were filmed at IMAX grade)…

…which leads me to my next point: nice work showcasing yourself, Chicago. My newly adopted city opened its arms to maniacal car chases on Wacker and demolitions aplenty and carried it all off with aplomb, if I do say so myself. Let me add, though, that it’s rare to see a firebombed semi on LaSalle. I always keep my eyes open for these things and have only spotted 2 or 3 in the last year. Also, I know the ferries were departing from the pier, but where, exactly, were they headed? Michigan? I was cool with considering the Chicago River as a barrier to the north and west, but gosh, those Gothamers might have considered spilling out the South Loop and catching I-90…needless to say, those parts took some suspension of disbelief, which I was more than willing to indulge.

As far as the issues go, terrorism and balance-of-power stand out. The Joker’s terrorism, however, is better characterized as anarchy. He is a walking oxymoron in that he employs shrewd reasoning to prove logic and order non-existent. Ultimately, he partially succeeds. Dent rots as a bastardized Two-Face and Batman flees with an angry Gotham at his heels. A few people make the decision—as a few made critical decisions earlier in the movie—that the truth cannot be tolerated by the masses. So really, The Joker has played a draw.

How this movie is rated PG-13, however, is something far beyond my analytical capabilities.

In a flash

I missed my 10 year high school reunion last weekend. My buddies gave me the update and tore through a whole sequence of names that I haven't considered in a decade. He's cool. She's hot. He's a drunk. She's not cool. He wasn't there. He's married. She's engaged. I have to admit, I was pretty bummed I couldn't make it home for this. I guess I experienced the typical pattern of thoughts in the face of a 10 year reunion:

For one, holy sh*t that was fast! I remember the sights and smells of high school so distinctly at times. I envision my locker, and see my parking spot, and smell the nachos, and remember the faces. On the other hand, I've gone a long ways in those 10 years. Geographically, psychologically, intellectually, emotionally. I could carry on a conversation with nearly anybody in my class, no problem, because I was fundamentally the exact same person. But so much of me hadn't come to fruition. Probably the biggest thing that's changed is I've fallen in love with challenging my mind. Laziness covered that spot before. High school was a time of self-discovery, friendships, unrequited loves, music, the thrill of drinking, and amazing Spokane nights. High school was personality coming to the fore and emotional development...but so much has happened since. I can only assume that everyone else in my class has gone through their own evolutions in the past decade and developed into their skins somehow.

In our daily lives we can only accommodate so many friends. Those near take precedence, because as Johnny Cash says, "flesh and blood needs flesh and blood". But for those farther than a stones throw, I want to find a way to reincorporate you. Really, I just want to throw stones at you, but I'll do it lovingly. So, the wrap-up is I'm bummed i couldn't make it to my reunion because those 10 years went pretty quick, and we'll only get a handful or two of ten year windows. I think we need to put something together for Christmastime.

purrrrrdy good

Send a JibJab Sendables® eCard Today!

Thanks to Kim W. for this...and (afterwards) every news organization on the planet.

Alefest, I heart thee

And on the seventh day, God rested. But in the afternoon of the seventh day, he became antsy from inactivity. Those preceeding 144 hours of brilliance left him craving invention. So God poured all his omnibenevolent forces into one last creation: Alefest. And it was good.

So needless to say, Alefest Chicago trucked into town on Saturday and I partook in the festivities along with some jolly companions (thanks to Annie for unwittingly providing a picture!). For a pittance of monetary input, we received the joy of sampling 20 potions from over 50 breweries worldwide. Let it be known that we went expecting small "tastings" and ended up getting about 1/2 a pint per tasting. Considering some of the belgian and framboise selections topped 10% alcohol and the tendency of some volunteers to forget taking tickets, 20 was streeeeeeeeeeeeetching it. I will proudly say that although I didn't finish the full tastings towards the end, I did indeed sample 20 beers. Actually 18, because I revisited my two favorites.

The fest took place on the grass directly outside the Chicago Bears' Soldier Field. My scheming to clandestinely enter the stadium either via scaling the walls or tunnelling underneath became more elaborate and idiotic as time elapsed. Sadly, these brilliant ideas did not come to fruition. Meanwhile, we endured some mugginess with an occasional rain and made the most of the stupendous libations flowing freely.

So let me quickly dispense with the beer-related criticism: One, I simply don't like pilsners. The aftertaste will never agree with me and I find them pungent. I've tried, maybe for the last time. Two, wheat beers are hit or miss for me. I love a good hefeweisen as much as the next summer reveler (think Widmer Brothers in Portland), but alot of wheat beers bear hints of Belgian white ales...which brings me to my third, and last, criticism. I'm not a fan of most Belgian whites. Again, there are exceptions like the widely distributed Blue Moon Belgian White. Add an orange slice to that beer and I'm in heaven. But that's the exception, unfortunately.

Okay, enough of the bad stuff, let's get to the good stuff...which was roughly 90% of the tastings. I'm going to list off my five favorites, counting towards the cream of the crop:

5) Samuel Smith's Pale Ale (Yorkshire, England): I liked the nuttiness and chocolatey flavor of this moderately dark ale. SS's brown is a favorite of mine, and you could taste the aroma of the brewery pervading their other selections. For me, that's a big winner.
4) St. Peter's Cream Stout (somewhere old, England): This will be a great winter selection. Creamy's the word with a full, lasting flavor.
3) Podkovan Dark Lager (Czech Republic): I liked this beer because it tasted like a delicious brown ale, but finished lighter.
2) Floris Apple (Belgium): I was surprised by this. A lambic brew akin to a cider. Fruity, light, and dry on the finish. A tiny bit of carbonation washes it down perfectly. So refreshing and not too sweet.
1) Breckenridge Brewery Vanilla Porter (Breckenridge, Colorado): I love vanilla for its simplicity and its rich tones, so when crafted into a smooth, delicious porter I was in heaven. This was hands down my favorite discovery.

If I would enhance this joyous experience in any way, I'd encourage some volunteers to learn more about the samples they poured. Many tables had representatives from the breweries or really knowledgeable volunteers, which was great. But there were a few instances where reading the bottle offered more information than the server. Also, they might want to beef up the food selections in order to keep the drinking merry and appease the hungry stomachs. All things considered, however, they did a phenomenal job with Alefest Chicago version 2.0 and I can't wait to upgrade a year from now!

Cheers to you, Alefest.

Rachmaninoff at Ravinia

There are a few professions I observe where, for a split second, it seems there is no comparable outlet for the myriad intellectual and emotional charges surging inside our bodies. When you see a person at the peak of that profession those feelings multiply. When you have a moment, kindly add ‘pianist’ to this short list of unrequited professional loves.

A certain someone I know harbors a questionably-healthy obsession for Rachmaninoff’s 3rd Piano Concerto. Therefore, when word surfaced that the Chicago Symphony Orchestra (CSO), along with a world reknown Russian pianist, Denis Matsuev, would be performing this number at the outdoor music venue Ravinia, nothing short of Lake Michigan drying up would stop us from attending.

CSO performed two other Rachmaninoff pieces without a featured piano part beforehand, which were both spectacular. That gave us a chance to appreciate the violin and cellos (among others) before the pianist absolutely dominated the show. After a brief intermission, Matsuev took center stage. As a bit of background, the 3rd Piano Concerto has driven accomplished pianists mad with its technical difficulty. Supposedly, only a handful of people on earth can complete a flawless performance and imbue the piece with all the nuances it requires.

Luckily, we stumbled upon one of these living legends. Matsuev, himself, evoked thoughts of a (relatively speaking) attractive Frankenstein. But that is neither here nor there. Well, it might be here a bit. Standing over 6 feet tall and fairly well-built with blocky shoulders and face, he almost made the huge piano look small. Matsuev exhibited a stage flair while playing, but it didn’t seem fabricated. The concerto was so demanding that at points he would drop one of his arms to the side for a brief rest and continue on with the other. Some moments I honestly thought the keyboard would crack under his relentless, but precise, hammering only to find respite a moment later in a soft, feather-light section demanding utmost delicacy. Within a nanosecond he could switch modes seamlessly. Throughout it all, the haunting melody of the concerto spun the threads together. You could physically see Matsuev pouring himself into the piece that lasted roughly 30 minutes and upon finishing it, he burst from the bench and embraced the orchestra conductor. We were positioned to the side of the stage near the front so I had a good view of Matsuev as he strode from the stage. His face looked exhalted and beaming.

Without exaggeration, I can say that was the most moving musical performance I’ve ever witnessed. Also, it surpassed Tim Reynolds’ solo guitar as the most technically challenging show I’ve witnessed at such close range.

Aside from the music, the venue itself made memories. Ravinia consists of the covered orchestra seating (our seats) that is, nevertheless, still open to the elements for 270degrees. Outside this orchestra area, large grassy swaths invite people to bring food and wine and enjoy the music from loudspeakers scattered throughout the grounds. From what I saw, these seats don’t offer a view of the stage, but they also only cost $10. Pretty sweet deal…..barring bad weather.

Unfortunately, bad weather came. And it came. And it came.

Thunderstorms swept through the area throughout the day, but a relative calm pervaded before the start of the show. We went up and met with some friends preparing their grassy perch just prior to the show but, alas, the rains returned. The sky was unforgettable: a solid bank of incredibly dark clouds came roaring in from the west bringing the storms with it. I’m pretty sure the four horsemen galloped on their steeds amidst that turmoil. K and I scrambled for cover down below and left our poor friends to fend for themselves. As it turns out, they found refuge under a covered area in one of the food/drink buildings and managed to make the most of the show. That does go to illustrate the dangers, however, of the grassy seats.

Anyways, the storms ripped and roared throughout the show. There were moments when the orchestra mounted a charge with drums banging, horns blowing, gongs ringing when, meanwhile, lightening blazed through the sky and deafening thunder followed shortly thereafter. All in all, mother nature choreographed herself impressively with the music.

Amazing

An incredible visual trip inside the body.
Coolest Animation Ever - Inside your body - Watch more free videos

A dip

Nothing short of a revelation dawned upon me last week: you can swim in Lake Michigan along the Chicago shoreline. Call it absurd (it is) that it took me 15 months to grasp this fact, but it made it no less exciting. Tonight, after babbling a week straight about intending to do so, I finally swam in Lake Michigan.

It was so easy. I put on my running shoes, grabbed an old towel, and took my apartment keys. That's it. In the hot and slightly humid early-evening sunlight, I ran down to the lake shore. There are two popular sandy beaches within a mile of my apartment, Fullerton and North Ave, so I picked a less congested spot between them. Although asphalt and concrete replaced sand, I could jump off a 5 foot ledge and get a real plunge into the lake.

I run along that shoreline multiple times each week, but I erected a mental barrier of non-possibility regarding swimming. Summer appetites, however, usurp caution so I started asking around. As it turns out, the water is tested a minimum of 5 times each week for safety conditions. Info is available here. Although unhealthy conditions do arise a couple times each year, the lake is almost always suitable for swimming and you can check online for updated status.

So that's all I needed to know. I hurled myself into the cold waters of Lake Michigan and let my body adjust to the temperature. Like Priest Lake in Idaho, after you get past the initial rush of icy chill, the water feels supremely refreshing. The high rise condos lining Lake Shore Drive started to shield the dropping sun, but I managed to find a 100 foot swath between buildings where I had all the sunlight I ever needed. There, in my little gap of heaven, I swam towards the John Hancock Building towering a mile south, but it looked like I could reach out and grab it (I swam in the bit of water just to the right of this photo). It was a surreal feeling to glide through that water with the Magnificent Mile so close, the runners and bikers and rollerbladers zooming along the lake path, and a pair of tennis shoes and a towel waiting for me up the ladder.

Ahh, summer in Chicago.

EuroCup '08

Along with the other 6.6 billion humans on earth, I watched the EuroCup soccer final between Spain and Germany (congrats to Spain!). Before the final, I managed to catch select games throughout the tournament. It struck me during the competition, as it strikes me every World Cup, that these international soccer matches surpass all other sporting events for viewer satisfaction.

One important explanation is the nature of soccer, itself. A soccer match plays two 45-minute halves, followed by extra periods or shootouts in the case of ties. Barring a particularly brutal injury or penalty, play essentially never stops throughout those 45 minutes. Whereas commercials, timeouts, pauses between pitches, or huddles slow other sporting events, the intensity remains high and constant throughout a good match. This also demands that soccer players exhibit not only quick-burst speed, but also formidable endurance. I am drawn to that well-rounded conditioning.

Furthermore, soccer requires relatively few accoutrements. Players wear cleats and shin guards—goalies wear gloves—but no other padding, protection, or tools are allowed. To me, there’s something elemental and fundamentally satisfying about that. The simplicity of the sport seems to focus your attention on the athleticism and the strategy without distraction. Also, if a ball of any kind can be found, any impoverished person throughout the globe can setup makeshift goalposts with shirts and play soccer. I love the inclusiveness of the sport.

But those explanations apply to any soccer match. What distinguishes international play is the rarity of so many people passionately uniting under a common, positive cause. I guarantee you that the Basques, Catalans, and Galicians never align themselves with the bulk of Spain as they do during an international soccer match. The 45million Spaniards would have married off their daughters in a heartbeat to rival ethnic groups yesterday evening! Although I always fear overzealous nationalism, in some ways, those drives can minimize internecine and interminable strife, if only momentarily. Now that’s rare. Watching that match and seeing images of Madrid, Barcelona, Berlin, and Munich, you honestly believed those cities were on the verge of erupting. The majority of that energy was positive. Compare, instead, other huge gatherings of similar energy, and you likely pinpoint a protest. These matches truly do supply something incredible in a uniquely positive light.

In general, I love all kinds of sports. If, however, an evil genie came and stripped all other competitions from me except one, I would choose the World Cup.

I Pee Ale

India Pale Ale, to be exact (I wrote this post just so I could use that title, followed by that line).

But it’s true. An important development has transpired over the last 1 ½ months. Heretofore, I’ve always found IPAs too bitter. However, since combining a Lagunitas IPA with Sonoma cuisine and discovering true euphoria, nothing less complex can satisfy right now.

It’s nothing novel to enter a new stage of preferences. I spent October ’07 through April ’08 salivating non-stop over New Belgium’s 1554, which will undoubtedly remain among my favorites. This latest stage, however, is a leap compared to historical trends. Although not a connoisseur by any means, I am a beer lover and many trysts litter my past (amber ales, brown ales, stouts, oatmeal stouts, lagers, hefeweizens, etc.). For all their character, none of these carried themselves with the sassiness of an IPA. Is this my mid-beer-drinking life crisis? Will I return to the past, mellow favorites after IPAs run their comparatively-flashy course?

All signs point to yes and no. Yes, as in, “Duh, Phil. IPA’s don’t mesh well with lots of foods and, just as moods shift and revisit themselves, so too do beer tastes.” No, in that my palette seems to have taken a seismic shift towards accommodating—and craving—more adventurous flavors. Coincidentally, my food tastes seem to be tracing a parallel course. All I can do is credit Sonoma with making it a lot harder to appreciate a $6 burrito and a Pabst.

Now we all know harder does not mean impossible. Nor, even, necessarily difficult, in an absolute sense. Just harder.

Fantas-y-tic

Chockronial Salamandus de Rosenstern bestowed upon me, a naïve peasant, George R.R. Martin’s (let’s be cool; let’s call him GRRM) fantasy series, A Song of Ice and Fire. I just finished the first book, A Game of Thrones. Here’s a couple thoughts on why this book rocked not only my world, but my solar system, too:

-GRRM includes a dauntingly large cast of characters in this first book. Furthermore, any author would impress with the number of characters alive. Martin, however, tops himself by referencing countless detailed legends of past heroes and relatives. Based on what I’ve heard of the subsequent books, these character threads—even those seemingly insignificant—continue. In a desirable twist of irony, this lends a sense of verisimilitude to his fantasy world.

-In a similar vein, rarely have I read an author who details clothing and related accoutrements without driving me comatose. I guess the pseudo-Middle Ages context of the story makes these details enticing. Examples include the broach fastening a cape, the rippled pattern of a princess’ dress, the velvet robes of a eunuch, or the bronze mold of a warrior’s helm.

-My just-barely-second favorite part of the book is GRRM’s willingness to treat primary characters, and notably, likeable characters with brutality. A head rolled in this book that I never anticipated losing through the entirety of the series. Some don’t die; they’re simply crippled, mutilated, or banished. It requires an incredible amount of time and imaginative force to develop a prominent character and your readers would start to develop an affinity for them. You sacrifice so much by severing a character's role, but GRRM understands that tragedy is gripping and elevates the fabric of a story. That’s when you know these books aren’t for the faint of heart, but they are for someone who wants an intense experience.

-Probably my favorite element of this book—and I think this might be what attracts his most ardent fans who came many years before me—is the human complexity. In other words, the characters become so nuanced that, unlike the preponderance of fantasy novels (atleast those I’ve read), it’s sometimes difficult to establish a moral hierarchy. GRRM accomplishes this partly through the narrative itself. Each chapter’s content comes from the perspective of a main character. You gather that individual’s thoughts for a short time, but then you’re left to guess until later. While inside someone’s mind, you discover that exterior gallantry need not always equate with fundamental goodness. Characters embody complex motives, some less than noble. Lastly, the perspectives of many of the more intriguing characters remain hidden from the reader. For example, the crafty and calculating members of the King’s counsel are seen only through the eyes of others.

Miura's bright idea

In honor of T-Hall and his Celtics' triumph, I need to give another shout out. The first, of course, ushered forth after he recommended the greatest restaurant in the western hemisphere. Today, however, I pay tribute for a movie recommendation that the transplanted Montanan provided.

The Man Who Skied Down Everest, documents Japenese skier/adventurer Yuichiro Miura's quest to ascend Mount Everest in 1970 and ski down a considerable portion of the upper mountain. (Warning: although they subtract nothing from the movie, some spoilers follow. You know all you need to know at this point to either be interested or disinterested in seeing the movie.)

Miura departed from Katmandu, Nepal with 800 people lugging supplies on their backs. The team included scientists, photographers, video crews, other skiers, and many hundreds of Nepalese helping to transport heavy equipment and rations up into the mountains. When the team reached the base of Everest, itself, experienced sherpas relieved the Katmandu residents of the remaining supplies, and a much smaller group ascended up into the perilous heights.

In a way, the plan was straighforward: climb to just below 27,000ft (Everest peaks at 29,028ft) to the South Col and ski down 8,000 vertical feet to the Bergschrund—a mammoth crevasse at the bottom of the Lhotse Face that cannot be crossed. Beyond 8,000 vertical feet spelled certain doom. Rescue crews were deployed along the route. Camera crews would capture the descent from the point of departure at 27,000ft, and also from three spots below with telescopic lenses.

Miura correctly calculated that his speed would reach unsustainable levels if unchecked. Therefore, they designed a parachute to deploy behind him as he skied to keep his speeds somewhat manageable. Astronauts, pilots, and sky divers had never deployed parachutes at 27,000ft above sea level, so there was no telling how the parachute might behave. Air is thin at that altitude, hence, many feared the parachute wouldn't catch and Miura would have no check on breakneck speed. Alternatively, imagine the winds that whip across the rooftop of the world. Perhaps, the wind would catch the parachute and literally lift Miura from the mountainside to an elegant, but inescapable death.

The climb itself proved hazardous and, for a few, fatal. Regardless, Miura persevered and decided to ski. He skied an unfathomable 6,600 vertical feet down Everest in 2minutes and 20seconds, and that was with a parachute! He slid an additional 1320 vertical feet to just above the crevasse. Furthermore, the slope angled at ~45degrees, which any recreational skier knows is treacherous in icy conditions. Imagine trying to control a rickety pair of skis under these conditions on Everest's wind-battered icy ramparts that laugh at the mere thought of a grooming machine?

This dramatic feat inevitably begs the question: was it worth it? A team of Japanese scientists participated in this adventure and managed to collect data ranging from physiological performance under alpine duress, geophysical measurements of Everest, and, of course, the behavior of a parachute at 27,000ft. They surely gathered some important data. The financial cost (3.5million dollars) far outpaced any immediate scientific/medical benefits, however. Furthermore, although no one forced them to participate, a number of Nepalese sherpas lost their lives when a monster ice field caved-in. All this for what?

Well, all this for the purpose of pushing human limitations and eking the most out of our fleeting existence on earth. In our own small ways, we each do this everyday. I can pinpoint people who don’t live out some measure of this philosophy; these people remain unfulfilled and unhappy. The impositions we place on ourselves regarding risk and reward are largely arbitrary. There’s no absolute barometer for knowing when your risk is justified or not. Only individuals can answer this question for themselves. No resident of Katmandu, no sherpa, no scientist, no skier, no photographer participated in this quest against their free will. The only element that gives me pause is when I consider those, including Miura, who had young children at the time. You assume additional obligations as a parent and have a responsibility to those you bring into this world who cannot yet fend for themselves. Judging by Miura’s thoughtful journal excerpts read (translated into English) throughout the movie, I trust Miura understood and cherished his obligations and settled this issue with his family (and himself) beforehand. I don’t think it’s a risk I could take as a young father, but my tenets are only my own, and I do understand the elation and importance of conquering what seems impossible. So, yes, with qualifications, I certainly think it is worthwhile.

In 1985, Miura claimed another remarkable feat: he had skied the tallest mountains on all 7 continents. To add to his already firmly established legend, Miura summited Everest in 2003 to become the oldest person to accomplish this at 70 years old. That's not all. This year, 2008, Miura set about to reclaim this coveted record which had been surpassed by a 71 year old a couple years back. Although his accomplishment was slightly eclipsed by a 76 year old Nepalese climber who summited 2 days beforehand, Miura did, indeed, summit Everest again last month. He is 75 years old and likely plotting his next challenge.

I've decided upon a little project: watch all the winners of Documentary Film for the Academy Awards.