Tuesdays with Media: Song Names

I've mentioned before that I often use Pandora to discover new instrumental musicians to listen to while I'm at work.  For the most part, I just focus on whatever project I'm working on, but if a song is really good, I'll take a moment to write down the song name and artist so I can find it again later.  At my current job (which I've worked at now for seven months), I have two large Post-It notes stuck to my cubicle wall, filled with song names.

What's interesting about this is that some songs have names that change how you interpreted the song from when you first heard it.  Take Antoine Dufour's song "Mother," it doesn't sound particularly motherly to me, at least at first -- thinking more about it, there's a lot of care taken with every string plucked, every chord strummed, just as mothers take care with their children.  Or take Andy McKee's song "Samus' Stardrive," which I just thought was a thoughtful, moving song, perhaps about a lost love, but the name makes it clear that it's about a video game.  And Stephen Bennett's song "In Memory of Joe LoMastro," just sounds exciting, like you can't wait to take on the world, but it's about a man's passing.

Now, just because these song titles don't match what I imagine, doesn't make my interpretation wrong, just different from what the artist intended.  Having my own stories interpreted differently than what I intended, I know that that's fine (at least it is for me).  But what about when a piece's title is distracting?  I recently discovered Kaki King, who has a fun, often pounding, percussive style to her playing, though she can also make songs that sound ethereal.  I remember when I heard one of her songs, played on a lap guitar, that had a strong electronica-feel to it.  I decided I liked it enough to want to write the title down and was surprised by what I found: "Gay Sons of Lesbian Mothers."  What on earth does that have to do with the song I just heard?  There are no words, so it's not like she can force that interpretation on me ... unless I see the title, I guess?

My point to all of this is that what a song is named can be a glimpse of what the artist was trying to convey with their music, but it doesn't have to be what we get out of it.  Song lyrics will get in your head even if you ignore them, but the same is not true for instrumental song titles.  Good thing too, because I've never seen the German TV show for which Don Ross' "Klimbim" is named so if I had have his interpretation, I'd be lost.

Time of Transition

I went to my new ward yesterday.

I had a little trouble finding the meeting house.  I need to go back and look around, but I don't recall seeing a sign facing the street saying what kind of church it was.  Having not seen the building, I passed where my GPS said it should have been and had to turn around.  What stood out to me was that I noticed that a large satellite dish, which I then saw was attached to a church.  The parking lot was large and mostly empty.

Inside, the ward was definitely smaller than my last ward.  One thing I found odd: they never opened the curtain to the overflow.  They didn't need to, but I still found it surprising.  Apparently, my ward building is also the Stake Center, but my ward is the only one that meets there regularly, which I find odd.  Perhaps its the most centrally located building but there's not enough membership in the area to warrant another ward.

A good portion of Sacrament Meeting was taken up with reorganizing most of the ward leadership.  We got a brand new Elder's Quorum Presidency, a new Relief Society Presidency, a new Primary Presidency, new Ward Mission Leadership, and a few other auxiliary leaders.  I don't know anyone, but this seems like a good time for a new member like myself to move in, what with everything in flux.  I do wonder how long I'll have to wait before I get my first calling.

Not a lot of people introduced themselves to me.  I made a point to meet the Bishop and I got to chat with one of his counselors for a bit.  I didn't get his name, but when I mentioned that I was a technical writer, he commended me for doing a job that is so important (not the usual response I get) and he mentioned that he spent some time in Solana Beach and spoke highly of Oceanside when I said that was where I grew up.  The member of the Stake Presidency who was visiting also introduced himself, as did one of the counselors of the new Elder's Quorum Presidency, but that was it.  There were a few other people that welcomed me to the ward, but none of them told me their names or shook my hand.  Maybe they need to warm up to me a bit?  I don't know, but it does seem a bit strange.

Or perhaps with so much of the ward leadership in flux, one new guy was easy to get lost in the shuffle.  I'm hoping that next week things will be a bit friendlier.

Apartment Pros and Cons

I like my new apartment, but there are some things that were nicer about my old place.  Here's a list of pros and cons regarding my new home.

Pro
It's close enough to my office that my commute is only about twelve minutes long.

Con
I have to figure out a new morning routine since I don't have enough time to listen to the scriptures on the way to work.

Pro
I'm halfway underground, which should make a huge difference in my heating/cooling bill.

Con
I'm no longer on the top floor, so I get to hear my neighbors whenever they move around, despite them not being particularly noisy.

Pro
The rent is much lower than my previous place, meaning I don't need a roommate in order to live comfortably.

Con
I'm not in as nice a neighborhood.  I don't fear for my safety or my property, but there's a reason this place is cheaper.

Pro
I get free access to a pool and a small gym.

Con
Being that the neighborhood isn't as nice, I don't have access to several miles of non-busy streets to go running on, so I may end up using the gym more often than I'd like (I ran for about an hour yesterday, but nearly all of it was spent on the sidewalk of a main road).

Pro
I've already found a tasty and inexpensive Chinese/Japanese restaurant within walking distance -- the only Chinese or Japanese places near my old place were either expensive, not very good, or both.

Con
I have yet to find any Korean restaurants in the area.  My old place had five or six Korean places nearby and they were all great.  Maybe I just haven't found it yet...

Pro
I'm where the Lord wants me to be.  I'd put a "Con" about how I'll miss my old ward, but that would make my complaint appear to have equal weight to the Lord's desires for me, which it does not.

So, while I'll miss certain things about my old place, it's nice that I've so quickly found things that I like about my new home.

The Big Move

I guess I've put it off long enough.  So, how'd the move go?

I stayed up late the night before, packing.  I didn't quite finish, but I was ninety percent done, so I figured I was close enough.  I then slept fitfully, probably due to the stress of moving the next day.

The morning arrived and I realized that I hadn't planned for picking up the U-Haul, so I made a few calls and found someone who could give me a ride so I wouldn't have to leave my car at the rental place.  Picking up the truck was a little weird: there were no signs that this place rented out trucks other than half-a-dozen trucks parked out front, the building looked like it was abandoned, and I signed a hand-written contract.  If that wasn't strange enough, I made it half-way to my apartment when I got a call asking me to come back since they had rented me the wrong truck.

When I finally got back home, I made it just as the first mover, my friend Mark Simcik, arrived.  We started moving some things, but with my left arm still out of commission from my seizure, we mostly just planned things out.  Soon enough, the missionary Elders arrived and moved the four major pieces of furniture for us, before they had to leave.  Luckily, that's right when another family from the ward came to help with the rest.  Ian showed up towards the end, but he brought pizza, so he was heartily welcomed.

When it came time to drive to my new place, the father of the other family asked if we would need any help unloading.  We accepted his help and drove to the new place.  After some traffic issues, we made it and started unpacking.  The unloading went much faster and right at the end, the first two Elders from before showed up to lend a hand one more time -- apparently, they were in the area to help out with a baptism, so I'm certain they got tons of extra blessings for all of the work they put in that day.

One problem that I discovered when we first got to my new place was that the power was off.  I had planned ahead and had contacted the electric company, asking them to start the service in my new place.  They assured me it was all taken care of, but such was not the case.  And, because it was the weekend, my power stayed off until I could call and talk to someone on Monday, which is when it was actually activated.  I asked Ian if he would mind me staying at his place over the weekend, which he was happy to accommodate.  I packed a bag, threw it in Ian's truck, and we went to deliver the moving truck.

The first place that we went to (address provided by Google) was just a gas station with a drop box for the key.  With only my hand-written contract, I decided to try for something a little more official.  There was an actual U-Haul center not far away, so we set off again.  When we got there, they had no record of me renting the truck.  They had the truck on file, but not my rental agreement.  I showed them the contract (actually, a carbon-copy of the contract), which they didn't know how to process.  After a few calls to managers were made, they figured it out and gave me an official, laser-printed receipt saying that I had paid my balance and that I owed nothing.  Happy with the result, we drove back to my old place for me to pick up my car (and to drop the other Brother off).

My weekend at the Larsen's was enjoyable, as expected.

On Monday, I got to have a long commute again, since I was driving from even farther away than I was used to when living at my old place.  I called the electric company as soon as their office was opened and I was promised that the power would be turned on as soon as a technician could get there.  I went by my apartment on my lunch break to see if the power was indeed on, which it was.  I set the A/C to something reasonable so that everything would be nice and comfortable when I got home from work.  That was a good plan, since it was particularly hot and humid that day.  Unfortunately, maintenance had done a lousy job of preparing my apartment, because when I got home, it was hotter inside than out.  The thermostat said it was 92 °F and what little air was blowing out of the vents felt only slightly cooler than my skin temperature.  I called emergency maintenance to come take a look and when the technician arrived, he discovered that my apartment was equipped with a "manual override" on the heater, which had been left on.  So the A/C was on, but so was the heater.  He also found that the air filter was filthy and in desperate need of replacing.  With these issues taken care of, the place finally started cooling down and was a comfortable 75 °F when I went to bed that night.

So, I'm all moved in.  It wasn't as easy as I was hoping for, but it was still mostly straight forward.  Now I just need to learn the area I'm living in now and I should be all set.  With my sense of direction, that should only take a year or two.

Moved

I successfully moved into my new apartment this weekend with the help of Ian and the good people of the ward that I moved out of.  Unfortunately, it took until Monday morning for my electricity to be activated Monday night for my internet to be turned on.  Because of all of this, I'm barely posting today and skipping tomorrow.

Sorry.

Expect more details of the move on Wednesday.

Dare I?

Here's an interesting dilemma I'm facing this weekend: I should be moving into my new place tomorrow, but my muscles are still recovering.  How much do I do?  Dare I do any of the heavy lifting myself?

That's right, I found my new home last week.  I was surprised, but last Saturday I was prompted to submit an application and yesterday I signed the lease.  It's not perfect -- no place is -- but it has all of the features that I was looking for and it's ten minutes from the office.  Best of all, the Spirit confirmed that I should move into the ward associated with this apartment.  I am sad to be leaving the good people of the Ellicott City Ward, but I'm excited to meet the new people who are going to be a part of my life.

Hopefully, I'll hear back from the Elder's Quorums of both my current ward and future ward so I;ll be able to move without having to put myself at risk.  That's gotta be a weird introduction: "Hi!  Thanks for helping me out with this move.  I only have a few items, so it should go quick.  By the way, I injured myself earlier this week, so I'll simply be supervising.  Great to be here!"

Seizure Update

When I have a seizure, I black out, so I have to guess as to what happened.  Like this last time, I came to and had a sore neck and pair of legs and my left shoulder was so sore that it took multiple days for me to even be able to move my arm again (and that's not even pain-free).  But since I was unconscious during the actual event, I'll never know for sure what happened.

Looks like I'll need some help moving this Saturday...

Tuesdays with Media: Sheldon

Comic strips are great: in a small space, they give you the setup and punchline for a joke.  Since there are so many comic strips, it easy for creators to set their's apart by giving their setup a unique spin or theme.  Maybe their comic is about the army or about vikings or about a chubby cat.  And with the internet, webcomics are available to more people than ever before.  In particular, I enjoy Sheldon, a comic that often pokes fun at nerd topics:

Those are all real comic book characters.

Written by Dave Kellett, Sheldon is about a genius ten-year-old boy that runs his own software company.  He downloaded some speech-recognition software into his pet duck's head, Arthur, who can now talk.  He lives with his grandpa, "Gramps" and is friends with the two other kids in the neighborhood: Dante, who wants to be and artist, and Emily, who wants to be an actress.  Despite some fun characters to play with, Kellett sometimes drops everything for fun diversions.  For example, lately he's been doing "Anatomy of ..." comics about different animals:

One thing that can be dangerous about webcomics (verses traditionally printed ones) is that they may not appropriate for all audiences.  Kellett, however, keeps things kid-friendly.  That's not to say that kids will get all of the jokes, but there won't be anything inappropriate.

If you're looking for a fun comic with a nerdy bend that you can share with your kids, Sheldon is a great pick.

Seize, Again

On Sunday, I had a seizure.  This one wasn't has severe as the first on, but it was still pretty bad.

Sunday was Stake Conference.  I felt sick, so once it was over, I asked for a blessing from Samuel and Mark.  When it was over, I stood up and shook their hands, and then woke up lying on the couch in the foyer.

Earlier in the week, there had been some trouble getting my anti-seizure prescription refilled, so I hadn't taken my meds in two or three days.  I wasn't too worried since in the past if I missed a round of medication, I experience aphasia, which isn't fun, but it also isn't dangerous like a seizure. Well, this time I seized.

After I came to, Samuel drove my car home and Mark took me to the pharmacy -- the medication had only come in the day before, so the earliest I could have taken it would have been if I had picked it up that morning.  Once I was home, I ate some lunch (which took me 45 minutes just to eat a sandwich and an apple) and undressed so I could lay down.

When I woke up a few hours later, I could barely move my left shoulder.  When I last had a seizure, I tore my rotator cuff, so I think I may have done that again.  My thighs, neck, right shoulder and knees are sore as well.

Since yesterday, I've gain some mobility back, but I've still got some healing to do before I'm back to normal.

Brains...

My brain is fried from looking at so many apartments this week.  I think I'm getting close, but it's very stressful and I'll be very happy when it's over.

(Sorry for two cop-out posts in a row, but as already stated, my skull boss is a crumpled, worthless heap.  Hopefully, next week will be better.)

New Fatigue

When your average day at work consists of you sitting at your desk typing -- occasionally getting up to discuss a project with a coworker or work on a side project (like taking product photographs) for a couple of hours -- it's what your body comes to expect.  Unfortunately for me, the entirety of the last two days has been spent standing and shooting video, leaving me exhausted both physically and mentally.  I know, it lame of me to complain that I didn't get to sit in my comfy office chair for eight hours, but it think the change in activity was more mentally tiring since I had to think about different kinds of problems and how to fix them.

I don't want to insinuate that I'm dissatisfied with my job.  I'm just happy that I'm a technical writer and that the videos only count as a side project, at least on day like today.

Tuesdays with Media: Fractional Compressor Wiring

I should warn you: the following video's subject matter is pretty boring, but you find it interesting from a technical perspective.

As you probably guessed, this video was made for Danfoss, with the major players on the production team being Ian and I.  I helped write the script and was behind the camera for all of the raw footage, which combined both video and still photos.  And while that's important work, the real magic was provided by Ian.  The voice-over, Ken Burns effects, schematic overlays, and other editing marvels are all him.  The background music and opening and closing animations were provided by Danfoss, but Ian still implemented them well.

The video has gotten a lot of praise and has been passed around the office, even by people who aren't involved with the project.  And now, since it's finally been posted to YouTube, I can share it with you.  Be sure to tell Ian how much you enjoyed the video, despite the less-than-interesting subject matter.

Unexpected Answer

I've been having trouble finding a new place to move to that suits my needs.  I've been looking for a place that's within my current ward's boundaries, but as close to my job as I can get and costs less than I'm paying per month now (I am losing my roommate in the process).  That left me with only two options, though I preferred one complex over the other.  I was about to submit the application when I decided to pray about it.  The answer I got was that I needed to keep searching.  Frustrated, I thought to myself, I don't have a lot of options left if I want to stay in my ward.  In response, the Spirit had one word stand out to me: if.  I had honestly not considered the idea of moving out of my ward.  I've lived here for over two years and I've really grown close with a lot of the members here.

With the next day being Fast Sunday, I took the opportunity to fast on the matter -- should I move out of the ward?  At Church, we had our new Bishopric announced and with all of the testimonies shared by both those leaving and those incoming, the presence of the Spirit was high.  I felt about 60% sure that it was time to leave before the meeting, but by the time it was over, that level of assurance rose to about 90%.  Just to be sure, I pulled my Home Teacher aside and asked for a blessing.  While there were no specific instructions that I needed to move out of the ward, I still received my answer that, yes, it was time to move out.

One big reason is that I need to be in the right place to meet the next Mrs. Larsen.  It's weird to think that moving to a new place is going to facilitate meeting my wife, but that's basically the story of how my parents met.  Even as I write this post, I can feel the Holy Ghost confirm the truth of the motivation behind this move.  Now I need to follow the Spirit and move into the right ward.  Prayers on my (our?) behalf in this matter would be very much appreciated.

At Least One Native is Restless

Yesterday at work, I received an email requesting my help proof-reading some instructions.  As I've mentioned before, this isn't an unusual request, so I thought little of it when I opened the attached document.  What I found was different from what I usually work on.  For one, the document was written by someone in my office who is, presumably, a native English-speaker.  For two, the document was much longer than those that I normally help out with: nearly thirty pages as opposed to three to five.  Still, this is a standard part of my job, so I dove right in.

The documents that I normally proof have been reviewed at least once already.  I usually just catch some awkward phrasing that slipped through or fix punctuation errors.  This time, it was pretty clear that whoever worked on the document before me hadn't even read through it once.  There were three sentences that just ended in the middle (something like "To set the temperature access the. To set the time ...").  Three!  One or even two would be surprising enough but three makes it seem like he was trying to slip in mistakes.  Remember how it was really long?  Well that wasn't that big a deal because the last half of it wasn't written: it was just a bunch of headings and sub-headings, but no body text.

I tried really hard to be as polite as possible with the questions I asked ("This sentence appears to end in the middle. Was that intentional?"), but I had to correct so many errors and ask a lot of clarifying questions that I wonder if the original author will be offended.  If he takes offence, I'll be honest and point out that I had to ask so many questions because the instructions he wrote were so unclear.  Maybe it'll be fine and he'll recognize that I'm just doing my job.

Who would have guessed that proofing a (presumed) native English-speaker's work would be so much more annoying than a non-native one's?  Maybe the stuff from Danish writers is more fun because I can look for patterns to learn about some of the difference between the languages.  Whatever the reason for the difference in enjoyment, I was very pleased to discover that the page count was inflated.

Same Experience, Different Lessons

Since my job requires a substantial drive everyday, I've decided to move closer to it.  However, since all of my friends are in my Ward, I decided to still stay within its boundaries, just farther east.  With my notice given, I'm on the hunt for a new apartment.

Alone.  Samuel won't be coming with me, but that's mostly a good thing because his family should be approved to come to the US any day now.  Even so, knowing that our time together is limited has made me a bit too eager to for us to part ways.  More and more frequently I find myself saying silently to myself, "I won't miss you when you're gone."  Admittedly, that's unfair, but I'm mostly being sarcastic and just trying to vent (to myself?) about my frustrations.

That was my state when Samuel came home yesterday evening.  I had treated myself to some take-out from a local Korean place and was finishing up the large meal when he walked in visibly downtrodden.  I asked what had happened and he told me that he was at his final attempt to take the behind-the-wheel test to get his driver's license, but the tester refused to ride with him because he was "panicked."  I protested that of course he was anxious because he had failed the test twice before and if he failed again, he would have to start all over with taking the written exam and taking driver's classes.  He agreed, but, of course, it was in vain.  I encouraged him to cheer up and told him that things will get better.

Then he asked for a blessing.  I was surprised, but of course accommodated his request.  I cleaned up my meal and had him sit in the chair I had been using.  When I open placed my hands on him and opened my mouth, the spirit of revelation came stronger than I can ever remember experiencing it before.  I won't share the details of the blessing, but I will say that there were words of love and encouragement and also instruction for Samuel.  When it was all over, he was crying, but I knew that they were not tears of sorrow.

When it was all over, I realized how much of a jerk I've been.  No, I haven't said anything rude to his face, but I've thought the rude words repeatedly.  And despite my eagerness to be on my own again, Samuel came to me as a friend in need of uplifting.

The instruction may have been for Samuel, but he wasn't the only one to learn something from the experience.

Tuesdays with Media: Lights ...

In last weeks' Tuesdays with Media, I wrote about how Ian and I failed in our attempt to make a movie with his kids.  What I left out was that that was our attempt to film a second movie.  Our first attempt was successful:

As can be seen above, Clara was our subject so that we could do a lighting demo, showcasing the homemade lights that Ian and I built.  Clara was chosen because little kids are cute and Ian figured that she'd follow directions fairly well (he was correct).  And for those paying attention at home, Clara is sporting a new hairstyle that I gave her (e.g., I put a part in her hair on the right side and gave her a ponytail).

While it's nice that we were able to get the footage we needed for this video completed, it was an admittedly easier project to work on.  Clara stood in place while Ian ran the camera and I flipped on the lights in sequence.  Even having the microphone turned off didn't get in the way.

I passed around the video at work last week and got some positive feedback.  I must say, it's nice to be recognized that we know what we're doing, even if we're only figuring it out as we go.

Trials of the Gainfully Employed

Once again, I got to be sick this weekend.  I've spent most of the last two days either unconscious or treating my symptoms.  The good news is that I seem to be gotten over the worst of it in about 48 hours -- I'm still not 100%, but I'm fairing much better.   The bad news is that just to be safe, I'm not going to exercise this next week, since I think overdoing it is what made me sick in the first place.