The Casual Blog

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May 2, 2010

After the trial, some great music

After a week in trial in Marshall, Texas, Red Hat and Novell won a jury verdict over a patent troll, and I headed home.  Trials are exhausting.  Exhilarating, too.  In our case, we had great lawyers from Gibson, Dunn & Crutcher, who worked incredibly hard.  I was proud of them, their staffs, our experts, and our witnesses, and proud to be a part of history:  the first jury trial against Red Hat, the first full case in the preferred district for patent trolls, and the first jury verdict for open source software.  I’m writing about it in my professional capacity at opensource.com.

I was still feeling the warm glow of victory last night when Sally and I headed out for dinner and a concert by the N.C. Symphony.  We ate at Gravy, an oddly named Italian restaurant on Wilmington Street, where I had eggplant with tons of cheese and tomato sauce, my  traditional Italian comfort food.  The concert was all opera excerpts, featuring baritone Stephen Powell and mezzo Phyllis Pancella.  The programming was an odd mix of music — Bizet, Saint-Saens, Delius, Sondheim, Mozart, Wagner, Strauss, Puccini, Rossini, and Verdi — but it worked.

Powell was superb — rich, resonant voice, great characterization, and a wonderful musician.  When he did the aria O du mein holder Abenstern from Tannhauser, I got both goosebumps and teary eyes.   Pancella had a a pleasing voice and big personality, and showed agility worthy of a true bel canto artist in her aria from Cenerentola.  The orchestra sounded particularly fine in the Don Giovanni overture, the prelude to act three of Lohengrin, and the Triumphal March from Aida.

We had drinks after at Buku with Paul and Jenny.  As principal trumpet, Paul knows the inner workings of the orchestra, and gives a great perspective on how the music gets made.  We got caught up on the hirings and departures of various musicians, and heard stories of the musician’s life, including many crossings of  North Carolina by bus.  Then we walked home.

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April 24, 2010

About cross-dressing for entertainment

We’ve been on a documentary kick recently, and saw a good one from Netflicks on demand last week. Pageant is behind-the-scenes view of  the Miss Gay America pageant, a contest for female impersonators. We meet and follow the paths of five or so contenders for the throne.

At first blush, the subject matter sounded a bit off putting.  Why would a male want to dress as a female?  Of those who would, who would want to go as public as possible with it?  I’d never given much thought to the subject of cross-dressing, but vaguely thought of it as a somewhat bizarre subculture. Plainly, cross-dressing violates a fairly powerful taboo. Again, without thinking much about it, I’d considered it as a little sad.

Pageant made me think in a completely new way. The contestants vary considerably in their looks, smarts, and manners, but they’re all completely sane and highly sociable. They’re all nice. And they’re all incredibly gifted in a particular way: transforming their appearance from male to female. The transformations are truly uncanny. Watching the various stages – choosing clothes, practicing movements, applying makeup (lots!) — it’s impossible not to respect their craft. These are very creative people with great eyes and imaginations. Artists, in an unusual form.

The Miss Gay America pageant followed the traditional Miss America format, with separate contests for evening ware, judges’ questions, and talent (lip synching, dancing, ventriloquism, etc.). The top contenders were professional drag show entertainers, and they were very polished, elegant, and funny.

The more surprising thing was how passionate they were about their art. In the behind-the-scenes interviews, we learned that most had spent years working on their personas and acts.  Some had spent many thousands of dollars on their wardrobes, and it didn’t look like any of them were getting rich. One noted that cross dressing is not a good way to get a date with a gay guy, who generally prefer guys who look like guys. From what we could see, these people just love what they do. And, although the film made little of this, they plainly have a lot of courage. The mainstream society isn’t about to get comfortable with what they do. Some people are violently opposed.

In the end, I found the stories in Pageant inspiring.  It’s a good reminder that some people who are really unusual like being unusual.  There are a lot of different ideas of fun and of beauty.  It makes the world interesting.

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April 11, 2010

Another speech, with normal anxieties

Some months back, I agreed to do a talk on software patents for the NC Bar Association’s IP Section annual meeting.  When I accepted the invitation, I thought of the task as something of a public service.  I also thought there was plenty of time to do it, which there was.  By last weekend, though, there was not plenty of time; the talk was less than a week away.  My plate was overloaded with time sensitive matters, and there was no room in the schedule for philosophical reflection.  In the middle of the week, I finally carved out a bit of time to work on some slides, and I used the drive to Greensboro for the event as my one and only practice session.

In days gone by, I would get more anxious about this sort of situation.  It’s been a long time since I experienced a full dose of the terror of public speaking, but there’s always a concern that it might be lurking with a view to one more attack.  These days, my worries are more about whether my audience will find my talk interesting, meaningful, and helpful.  Or at least not boring.  And of course, I’m hoping the audience won’t think badly of me.

In the talk on Friday, I shared the stage with a very fine lawyer, Tom Irving.  I knew coming in that Tom was a very experienced speaker, with views quite different from mine on the issues at hand, and more than enough intellectual firepower to make my task uncomfortable.  In the event he was  gracious and personable.  In fact, our presentations were an interesting contrast of views and styles.  Our audience of perhaps 100 seemed interested, asked questions, and applauded.

As usual, after the varying worries, I enjoyed doing the presentation.  Also as usual, it was a great feeling to have it behind me.  It was a beautiful warm spring day when I climbed into my 911 to return to Raleigh.  I enjoyed the drive.

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March 27, 2010

Talking about big problems, like healthcare

What strange political times we live in!  The lunatic fringe has seized the Republican party and is spewing forth venom and hysteria about the just-passed health care reform law.  With the new law, we moved some, but not a lot, in the direction of a more humane society.  It’s hard to believe any one thinks that this augers dramatic social change, either positive or negative.  But there’s a vocal minority that believe passionately that the law portends the end of democracy.  Some subgroup of that minority is advocating violent resistance.  This is craziness, and a bit scary.

It would certainly be possible to worry all the time about this and other big problems (global warming, nuclear and non-nuclear war, economic meltdown, political corruption, jihadism, failed states & etc.).   But worrying by itself doesn’t change anything, and is itself bad for your health.   What’s needed is dialog, plans for action, and action.  But it’s hard even to have a dialog.  Politics has become polarized, so that people who disagree find it difficult even to talk.  It’s unclear how we got into this box, and unclear how we get out.  But at a minimum, we need to try more talking.

Sally and I finally got around to watching Al Gore’s movie An Inconvenient Truth last week.  The basic message is now familiar to most of those willing to listen to it, and certainly familiar to us.  And the facts about global warming aren’t getting any better.  But it was inspiring to hear again the story of Al Gore, a failed presidential candidate, who passionately pursued an issue that he thought was vital.  He stayed with the message for years and played an important role on getting it onto the agenda.  I really admire him for that.  Now we’ve got to address the problem.

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March 13, 2010

Ski adventures at Aspen

Why would a sensible person take up skiing?  The negatives are many.  It’s expensive.  The logistics are complicated.  It’s difficult to do well.  It’s physically arduous.  There is an element of danger and an element of fear.

But the transcendent beauty and wealth of sensations overwhelms all logic.  I had three ski days based in Aspen last week with Charles, Chuck, David, Emily, Steve, and Beau, in a small condo situated a block from the Ajax gondola.  We did Ajax on day one, and Gabe drove up from Telluride and joined us for days two and three.

As we started our day at Snowmass, Gabe declared that his primary interest was finding challenging terrain.  I quickly learned that he was not kidding.  He led David and me for most of the day in several long runs with many bumps, steeps, and glades.  It snowed heavily throughout the day with an eventual accumulation of about eight new inches.  With lots of powder, I quickly logged at least double my previous lifetime experience of tree skiing.

There were, of course, mishaps.  During aggressive mogul skiing I had four or five tumbles.  (I blame my bindings for releasing too soon on a couple.)  Falling in deep powder usually does not hurt, and I had only one minor injury (a sprained thumb).  But getting back into the skis in the steep and deep stuff is hard.  Once I had to ascend a good ways to retrieve a ski.  I stand by my theory that more falls correlate positively with improvement, and that if I’m not falling at all, I’m probably not trying hard enough.  At any rate, it wasn’t always pretty, but I skied with heart and integrity.

After lunch with the whole group at  Ulrhoff,  Gabe persuaded me to come with him to the famed Cirque headwall.  We started up the T-bar in heavy snow conditions, and it got worse and worse.  At the top, we found a total whiteout.  I couldn’t see enough of the snow to tell up from down, and at first had the odd sensation of skiing upwards.  The terrain was rated double black diamond EX, but it was impossible to see either threats or safety.  The only distinguishable features were orange marker disks, and we decided to follow those.  We turned, then turned, then turned.  A few hundred yards down, visibility improved, and we made our way into and out of some glades.

On my last day we went to Aspen Highlands, where we looked for and found fresh powder.   We had a few fine bump runs before we met the group for lunch at Merry Go Round.  Gabe then declared he wanted to go to Highlands Bowl, with the summit at 12,500 feet.  This involved riding to the top of the highest chair, taking a snow cat ride, and then hiking another several hundred feet up.  David and I agreed to have a go.  I bought a strap ($8) to put my skis on my back, and we headed up.

The hike was along a narrow ridge that at places was barely wide enough for one person.   It ascended sharply enough that most of the way felt like walking up stairs.  And it turned out to be incredibly arduous for those not well-acclimated to the altitude.  It was difficult to breathe, and eventually became difficult to place one foot in front of the other.  At one point, I proposed to David that we ski down without completing the route.  He told me he’d heard from another pilgrim that we were most of the way there.  It turned out that his informant had said we were not halfway there, which was wrong; we were in fact two-thirds finished.   A lucky call.  After almost an hour, David and I reached the summit, where Gabe had been waiting for fifteen minutes.  I was drenched in sweat and had a serious cramp in my left leg.  Such happiness!

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February 27, 2010

War and the unfortunate killers (our children)

We should recognize that the young people we send to foreign lands to kill others on our behalf pay a terrible price.  Killing, even when sanctioned by governments and rules of war, typically leaves soldiers with chronic problems of depression, anxiety, and self-loathing.  They are prone to substance abuse and suicide.  The individuals soldiers themselves often assume these problems are due to their own weakness of character.  At any rate, they seldom care to discuss this issue, and their psychological injuries from their wartime actions is not a popular media subject.

It isn’t surprising that this subject doesn’t get much airplay.  In military recruiting commercials, soldiering is shown as a chance to prove oneself, gain respect, and serve one’s country for the greater good.  Battle is depicted as an adventure, with incredibly powerful weapons.   The meta message is that battle is ennobling, socially beneficial, and also a lot of fun.  Hollywood and major media are complicit in amplifying this message.  Exploding the myths and making clear that killing in battle leaves soldiers permanently scarred would be highly detrimental to recruiting.

Every now and again, the NY Time has  piece about the trauma suffered by veterans who’ve done what they were trained to do.  Last week, it ran an op ed piece titled Distant Wars, Constant Ghosts by Shannon P. Meehan, an Army lieutenant who served in Iraq.  http://tiny.cc/zc2AP Meehan described her rage and self-loathing after calling in an air strike that resulted in several civilian deaths.  She explained that the killing caused soldiers to lose regard for human life, including their own lives.

The NY Times also had a story this month on increasing recognition that veterans who killed in battle suffer post traumatic stress and a variety of psychological problems. _ http://tiny.cc/7Mchz The piece focussed on the difficulty of getting therapy for these soldiers, who are often unwilling to discuss their problems or seek help.  We do need to work hard to help these veterans, who are themselves victims of war.

But we also need to address the larger problem of reducing the incidence of war and politically motivated killing.   I realize that sounds sort of obvious, and at time a bit utopian.  To be sure, universal peace is probably an unrealistic goal.  But what if we tried to have just a little less killing?  Wouldn’t most agree that that would be good?

Here’s a thought experiment:  for every death we administer or suffer, what if we asked, is this act achieving a clear objective worth the terrible cost to all the victims?   We need to devote scholarly effort to study of  the best alternatives to violent conflict.  We need to have some difficult conversations on this subject.  And to sustain us in this effort, we need to learn at an emotional level what war really means.  I highly recommend as one source  the sublime poetry of Wilfred Owen, who wrote about the battlefield experience in WWI.  http://tiny.cc/xypcN Owen died at age 25 one week before the end of the war.

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January 10, 2010

Frontiers of Terrorist Sociology

Why do individuals agree to strap on a bomb and blow themselves and others up?   The rhetoric of the “War on Terror” suggests that individual terrorists are soldiers, but such calculated self-destruction is not typical military behavior.  Indeed, it is so far outside the norms of any behavior I’ve encountered that it seems completely insane.  Yet it also seems increasingly commonplace.  A piece by Sarah Kershaw in today’s NY Times takes a quick survey of the state of research on this question.  http://tiny.cc/awmDM

No matter how much hatred an individual feels, it is difficult to explain the decision to kill unknown strangers and oneself.  The most intriguing perspective, I thought, was thinking of the terrorist less as an individual and more as part of a radical group.  The group’s self isolation allows for increasing radicalization.  The individual feels social pressure to conform to the group consensus.  Being part of the group allays feelings of loneliness and worthlessness.  A prospective bomber gains status once the decision made.  At the same time, the prospect of loss of face discourages changing one’s mind.

It was encouraging to learn that some radical terrorist recruits leave their organizations when they find the reality of  life in the groups is harsh and boring.  What can we do to stop creating more terrorists and get more of them to leave?

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December 31, 2009

Jocelyn’s latest epic journey

Last Saturday with much of the mid-section of the U.S. still in the grips of a devastating storm, Jocelyn, a new graduate of NCSU, loaded up the car with all her indefensible possessions and headed for Telluride, Colorado to start the next phase of her life.  She’d made the 30-plus hour drive to Telluride twice before, but never in the face of a storm.  We conferred on how to evaluate the danger and contingency planning, and then, with trepidation, I wished her good luck.  Sally and I left for our flight to Telluride a couple of hours before Jocelyn left, with our own travel anxieties, and no great confidence that our flight would either get into or out of Chicago.

Chicago was snowy, and the de-icing procedure was prolonged, but our flight made it, as did all of our luggage except for my skis.  Jocelyn and her friend Britt reported in every few hours that skies and roads were clear and they were steaming ahead. I tried to convey confidence and good cheer, and not to think of the many hazards of the road.  At about the halfway point, she reported that she’d arranged for a place to live located near the gondola in Telluride.

It was of course a sweet relief when she finally arrived Monday afternoon.  She and Britt, after little sleep and minimal food, were amazingly cheerful.  We went to a Mexican place for dinner and had margaritas, burritos, and a few too many corn chips.  Jocelyn said she would be seeing friends, renting skis, and starting the job hunt the next day.  My beautiful daughter is on her way.

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December 25, 2009

An Xmas Carol

As a nonbeliever, I feel a deep ambivalence about Christmas.  The customs and traditions are strongly evocative of a many happy episodes in my childhood — longed-for toys, rich food, friendship and love.  But it also evokes memories and feeling of sadness and loss for loved ones now gone, who were integral to those early years.

And I’m deeply ambivalent at the sweet and absurd idea of Santa Claus.  The red felt suit, the jolliness, the limitless generosity are all great ideas.  But even now, I feel a slight bitterness and chagrin that my normally reliable and credible parents, when I put the “Is he really real?” question  to them squarely, gave some type of yes and set me up to make a fool of myself in defending the existence of Santa to the neighborhood kids.  I trusted them to tell the truth!  There may be, as recent studies suggest, some value in Santa for developing children’s imaginative powers.  But for me, even years later, there was a cost in terms of injured trust.  My Mom’s solution was to let me read the old chestnut Yes Virginia, There is a Santa Claus, which proposes to escape the problem of no Santa by redefining Santa as the Christmas spirit.  Really?

I know I’m not the only one with complicated feelings about Christmas.  Some love the shopping and the happy surprises, some love the story of the baby Jesus, some love being with family.  With all the pain and confusion in the world, I have no wish to add to the store without good reason.  I usually keep a low profile about my own irreligion, and especially so at Christmas time, when it seems that Christian beliefs are  for many on balance a source of joy.  But I don’t like flying under false colors, and I feel less than forthright when I say Merry Christmas.  There’s no problem with “merry,” but I don’t care to suggest I’m on board with the Christ part.  I usually go with “happy holidays” or something like that, but really, that just doesn’t sound as happy.  Yet another problem with no good solution.

Still, yesterday, after playing some really rich and beautiful music of Debussy, I found myself digging through the bottom of the music pile for my rarely used Xmas sheet music, and without any particular internal discussion I was soon playing through some favorite carols of my youth:  Angels We have Heard on High, Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Come All Ye Faithful, Joy to the World, Hark the Herald Angels Sing, and the Chipmunk Song.  It was a bit like Proust’s madeleine:  memories of family gatherings caroling, happy shopping, beginner band concerts, presents, vacations from schoolwork, trips to see grandparents, fresh smelling decorated trees, wrapping presents, and houses smelling of fresh-baked cookies hit me all at once.  I felt the pure childlike joy of Christmas.

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December 24, 2009

A scuba voyage of discovery

Sally and I got back late last night from a four-day trip to Ambergris Caye, Belize.  We accomplished our primary objective of scuba diving the beautiful coral reefs, and had several unexpected pleasures in addition.

Travel consumes a lot of physical and emotional resources.  Even when things are going well, they may at any moment suddenly stop going well and require swift and decisive action.  There are many ups and downs. I’ve gradually refined by baseline holiday travel model, so I usually remember to bring the essentials, anticipate the common annoyances, avoid the greatest risk of infectious diseases, and leave reasonable space for some relaxation and reflection.  Especially when travelling, I love my iPod and noise-canceling headphones.  Lately on the road, I’ve been listening to Mozart operas, which I find at once nourishing, comforting, and exhilarating, and I’m happy to have the time to listen.  I always carry at least a couple of books, and appreciate a chunk of uninterrupted time for reading.  But it isn’t completely relaxing; there’s always some residual vigilance.  I generally notice if the plane, or another passenger, starts making strange noises.  I always note the location of the nearest exit.

We flew from Belize City to Ambergris Caye in a single-engine plane in which I was able to read the pilot’s instruments (we flew at 2100 feet).  We stayed at the Mayan Princess, a clean, unfancy, and convenient hotel in San Pedro, a bustling little town with hotels, restaurants and bars along a narrow beach.  San Pedro has an interesting stew of cultures — Hispanic, English, Indian, West Indian, creole, and of course tourists from all over.  At first, I thought that everyone who greeted us in a friendly manner was hustling to sell something, but I soon figured out that that many people were just being friendly (though others were hustling).  The streets were narrow with few sidewalks, and at times we had to dodge heavy traffic of golf carts and minivan cabs.  We saw more people who seemed to be working for a living than we did tourists.  As Sally observed, the local vibe was very casual.  All the men’s shirt  tails were out.  The buildings were bright but many could have used a new coat of paint.  Over all, it seemed a little down at the heels, but full of life.

We did all our diving with Amigos del Mar, which was located about 50 yards from our room.  On the first and last diving days, we did short boat trips to local reef hot spots.  They did not disappoint.  The coral was abundant and varied, and the wall and canyon topography was fascinating.  We saw several nurse sharks at close hand, and at one point were in the midst of a dozen of them in a feeding frenzy.  Like many people, from long socialization I’ve inherited some fear of sharks, but very quickly I felt comfortable with the sharks swimming close enough to touch.  They seemed curious about us.  I suspect part of the explanation is that some dive operators feed them.   At least these particular sharks seemed a lot like our cats, except much bigger and with more teeth.  We also saw swimming green moray eels, sting rays, barricudas, a scorpion fish, and many gorgeous smaller species.  We also encountered a couple of lionfish, which are poisonous and highly destructive, and which our guide captured.

Our biggest adventure was a trip to the Blue Hole, a circular reef formation that is about 60 miles from Ambergris Caye.  On the trip out, it was drizzly and windy, and the seas were very choppy.  It was even choppier coming back, and we were wet.  All told, we had around 8 tough hours on the water.   We did not get sick, though others were not so fortunate.

The main draw of the Blue Hole is stalactite formations, which are about 130 feet down.  There was not much except the divers swimming at that depth.  We had better luck seeing fish at 60-80 feet at Half Moon Caye and West Point Wall at Long Caye.  At lunch time, we also visited an observation deck at tree top level where there were hundreds of roosting magnificent frigatebird pairs, with males displaying enormous bright red inflatable throats.  There were also many roosting red-footed boobies.

At dinner after the Blue Hole trip, I asked Sally to explain how it is possible that some people do not care for scuba diving.  Her theory was that it does not suffice simply to have a love of nature, the absence of certain phobias, and a modicum of courage.  As she said, you have to be a trooper.  Put another way, you must have some fortitude.  I suddenly realized that fortitude is a necessary but seldom discussed virtue that makes scuba, and other adventures, possible, and makes them richer.  WIthout fortitude, a significant part of the experience could be counted as unfun.  But developing and exercising fortitude is part of the satisfaction of the thing.

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