The Lithium Lyrics and Life

I’ve been reflecting on the lyrics to the song “Lithium” by Evanescence this morning:

Lithium – don’t wana lock me up inside
lithium – don’t wana forget how it feels without
lithium – I wana stay in love with my sorrow
oh but God I want to let it go

Not that I’m some terminally depressed person or something, but about every month or two I have an episode — usually a few days, sometimes a couple of weeks — where I just feel incredibly down and negative. By the time I recognize it myself, or that someone else calls me on it and I’m willing to believe them, I’m on the other end of it already and pretty soon I’m back to my normal, cheerful self.

I’ve been reflecting on the lyrics to the song “Lithium” by Evanescence this morning:

Lithium – don’t wana lock me up inside lithium – don’t wana forget how it feels without lithium – I wana stay in love with my sorrow oh but God I want to let it go

Not that I’m some terminally depressed person or something, but about every month or two I have an episode — usually a few days, sometimes a couple of weeks — where I just feel incredibly down and negative. By the time I recognize it myself, or that someone else calls me on it and I’m willing to believe them, I’m on the other end of it already and pretty soon I’m back to my normal, cheerful self.

It seems as if this is true about people in general, from what I can see. The person who plainly is much more negative without their meds doesn’t believe or care that they need them until they reach some point internally or externally when they have to take action. I lived in denial that the LDS temple ceremony freaked me out for a decade before I finally took action about it. Families with abuse problems keep it the “family secret”, undiscussed and buried until it inevitably leaks out.

Over, and over, and over again, we wallow in stupidity of our own making, denying the truth until we have no choice but to face it. And then once we arrive at that point, we lament the loss of the “good old days”.

Yet for some segments of society, there were no “good old days”. Imagine being a pro-equal-rights black man in the 1950s. Or being GLBT (Gay/Lesbian/Bisexual/transsexual) today, with equal rights denied under the moniker of “special rights”. Or being a woman with ten children in Utah, locked in a motherly cell of your own making and forcing yourself to wear the happy face because it’s what you’re expected to do.

It’s unfair, yet railing about it is useless. People won’t take action unless they have to, and like I mentioned in the start of this frustrated rant, I’m just as guilty as everybody else.

I sometimes wish we could just take the Red Pill and break out of our collective stupor. But, just like Neo, we won’t make that choice until we have to.

The story stinks of extinction and nothing exciting happens for centuries.

I ran across this poem in my daily newsgroup reading, and couldn’t help but to share it.

At The Smithville Methodist Church

It was supposed to be Arts & Crafts for a week,
but when she came home
with the “Jesus Saves” button, we knew what art
was up, what ancient craft.

She liked her little friends. She liked the songs
they sang when they weren’t
twisting and folding paper into dolls.

I ran across this poem in my daily newsgroup reading, and couldn’t help but to share it.

At The Smithville Methodist Church It was supposed to be Arts & Crafts for a week, but when she came home with the “Jesus Saves” button, we knew what art was up, what ancient craft.

She liked her little friends. She liked the songs they sang when they weren’t twisting and folding paper into dolls. What could be so bad?

Jesus had been a good man, and putting faith in good men was what we had to do to stay this side of cynicism, that other sadness.

OK, we said, One week. But when she came home singing “Jesus loves me, the Bible tells me so,” it was time to talk. Could we say Jesus

doesn’t love you? Could I tell her the Bible is a great book certain people use to make you feel bad? We sent her back without a word.

It had been so long since we believed, so long since we needed Jesus as our nemesis and friend, that we thought he was sufficiently dead,

that our children would think of him like Lincoln or Thomas Jefferson. Soon it became clear to us: you can’t teach disbelief to a child,

only wonderful stories, and we hadn’t a story nearly as good. On parents’ night there were the Arts & Crafts all spread out

like appetizers. Then we took our seats in the church and the children sang a song about the Ark, and Hallelujah

and one in which they had to jump up and down for Jesus. I can’t remember ever feeling so uncertain about what’s comic, what’s serious.

Evolution is magical but devoid of heroes. You can’t say to your child “Evolution loves you.” The story stinks of extinction and nothing

exciting happens for centuries. I didn’t have a wonderful story for my child and she was beaming. All the way home in the car she sang the songs,

occasionally standing up for Jesus. There was nothing to do but drive, ride it out, sing along in silence.

Stephen Dunn

The Asphalt Apocalypse

On the second Tuesday of every month, my model aircraft club meets to talk about various issues. We secured a 10-year lease on a private field last year at a very good price, and we’re working on field improvements. These include things like a clubhouse, restrooms, runway, fencing, pilot stations, benches to work on, awnings for the maintenance area, a helipad, grooming of the grounds, and that kind of thing. These are fairly typical items for any club with its own field, and often the field improvements continue for years and decades.

On the second Tuesday of every month, my model aircraft club meets to talk about various issues. We secured a 10-year lease on a private field last year at a very good price, and we’re working on field improvements. These include things like a clubhouse, restrooms, runway, fencing, pilot stations, benches to work on, awnings for the maintenance area, a helipad, grooming of the grounds, and that kind of thing. These are fairly typical items for any club with its own field, and often the field improvements continue for years and decades.

Last night, we were discussing costs for a runway. For model aircraft, a runway is typically 400 to 700 feet long, and between 30 and 50 feet wide. Usually, this is made from typical paving material like asphalt or concrete, but many clubs use groomed grass, pea gravel, or even paving underlayment to have a flat surface to take off and land from. The club president showed some slides for cost comparisons made for other clubs, and I was flabbergasted.

The cost of asphalt has gone ballistic, and is supposed to continue to do so for at least the next four years.

Take a look at this:

Year 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010
Yearly % increase 32.4% 28.9% 15.6% 11.7% 11.1%
Runway cost $ 27,000.00 $ 38,000.00 $ 45,000.00 $ 50,269.38 $ 55,851.39
$/ton $ 42.37 $ 56.11 $ 62.09 $ 71.75 $ 80.15 $ 89.05
Increase over prior year $ 11,000.00 $ 7,000.00 $ 5,269.38 $ 5,582.00

Yes, you aren’t reading wrong. It costs LESS to take out an 8% loan over the course of five years than to save for four years and pay cash due to the dramatically-increasing cost of asphalt. We are at the point where the value of at least this one oil-based commodity is rising exponentially. UDOT has been uncannily accurate in predicting rises in asphalt prices, and I see little reason to doubt their prediction.

On a similar note, there is another commodity which is of great interest to aeromodelers: balsa wood. As you may know, this is an extremely lightweight, fast-growing hardwood grown almost exclusively in Central and South American tropical climates. It requires a prodigious amount of rainfall to thrive, although it can survive long dry seasons if necessary. What it can’t do very well is grow in more temperate climates.

Balsa wood is the primary material used in many model aircraft. While various types of foam have been making inroads in mass-production for smaller aircraft, it doesn’t have the strength to work as the primary building material for most larger planes. Balsa is also used in engineering as a substitute for steel in model versions of bridges, was used for some production aircraft, and is used in a carbon-fiber sandwich arrangement for some automobiles.

Anyway, a recent development in model aviation is the fairly sudden rise in availability and drop in price of almost-ready-to-fly aircraft. These aircraft are typically built in China or Taiwan. Ten years ago, they were considered to be heavy junk, not very well-made, and the last refuge of those incapable of or unwilling to build their own models. Today, with recent advances in carbon fiber production, automation, laser-cutting, Computer-Numerically-Controlled (CNC) lathing machines, and evolutionary improvements in production facilities, ARF aircraft rival home-built airplanes for quality, weight, and strength. The factories producing them are doing so in record numbers.

This has had a side-effect, though. The availability of raw balsa wood in the US has almost entirely dried up. The factories in China and Taiwan are ordering huge volumes of balsa wood to fill pent-up demand worldwide for low-cost, high-quality model aircraft. The sport is also growing around the globe due to recent innovations in battery technology which have ushered in a golden age of low-weight, low-cost electric airplanes to the industry.

I see, however, in the confluence of the rising cost of asphalt and the unavailability of balsa wood, a coming apocalypse for the now-dominant US economy. When most people think “oil”, they think of cars and trucks. They don’t think of asphalt, toothbrushes, and home electronics. Ours is an oil-driven economy, and the cost of labor in the US is dramatically higher than other places. The Chinese manufacturers can pay more than US companies are willing to for raw materials, like balsa wood, because they can make up far more than that little bit of lost profit due to paying their workers less. They can easily out-compete domestic producers, and the domestic ARF and kit manufacturers dwindle in size, catering only to the “Made in the USA” crowd, and those who mistakenly believe the US kits are better-made.

My club, as a result of the rising cost of asphalt, is probably going to forego spending the money on an asphalt runway. At the same time, we are buying more Chinese-made ARF airplanes than ever before, and not able to buy raw balsa wood at local hobby shops because it’s simply not available, and what little is available has tripled in price in the past three years. We are starting to experience small shortages, and losing ground to the increased buying power of the expanding Chinese economy.

A balloon with a small leak will eventually deflate to match the air pressure around it. A mountain with a small stream at the base, carrying away just a little soil at a time, will fall piece-by-piece. I’m no economist (which, obviously, opens my conclusions to some doubt) but I think that, similarly, a nation which does not produce more than it consumes will suffer a deflated economy, until it achieves parity with the pressures surrounding it and is brought low by the stream of money pouring out from it, never to be returned.

We’ve seen dramatic price shifts in recent times in the price of oil and all the industries which rely on it. Recent developments in industries which are “hidden” from your average observer, I predict, are indicative of the future status of manufacturing and technology industries as a whole. I think the 100% price increases we’ve seen over the past three years at the gas pump will just get worse as the value of the dollar falls abroad and the price of oil increases due to unrest and shortages. We are going to have to replace the asphalt in our roads, and at double the cost we’ll feel it in our tax bills.

I’m not exactly certain how to weather this storm I see coming. But coming, it is, and I suspect we’re going to be paying homage to the new economic super-power of the twenty-first century.

Note: For some reason, “Asphalt Apocalypse” sounds like a great name for a band. Or maybe a dessert at Wingers.

The Sleepless Night

So Christy’s out of town for the week, the kids are staying with their grandma for the week, and I’m alone in my house with the swamp cooler blasting, attempting to relieve the 103 degree heat of the day.

Combine this with intense upper back pain — I heard a “pop” a few days ago while rolling out of bed, and things haven’t been normal since — and I’m stuck staring at the ceiling, hoping this combination of Lortab and Midol will kick in and let me sleep a little bit before I am supposed to be awake in four hours to go to work.

So Christy’s out of town for the week, the kids are staying with their grandma for the week, and I’m alone in my house with the swamp cooler blasting, attempting to relieve the 103 degree heat of the day.

Combine this with intense upper back pain — I heard a “pop” a few days ago while rolling out of bed, and things haven’t been normal since — and I’m stuck staring at the ceiling, hoping this combination of Lortab and Midol will kick in and let me sleep a little bit before I am supposed to be awake in four hours to go to work.

I’ve only had this for a week. Man, chronic pain must suck much worse. And chronic loneliness even worse than that.

So, in pain, lonely in a big house with five people missing who are supposed to be here, and typing on my computer when I should be snoring because I can’t sleep. How’s your day?

The Four Truths

I just received four important truths in my inbox:

THE FOUR TRUTHS
In times of misunderstanding, it is important for Persons of diverse faith to recognize these Four Religious Truths.

1. Muslims do not recognize Jews as God’s chosen people.
2. Jews do not recognize Jesus as the Messiah.
3. Protestants do not recognize the Pope as the Leader of the Christian World.
4. Mormons do not recognize each other in Wendover, Nevada.

I just received four important truths in my inbox:

THE FOUR TRUTHS In times of misunderstanding, it is important for Persons of diverse faith to recognize these Four Religious Truths.

1. Muslims do not recognize Jews as God’s chosen people. 2. Jews do not recognize Jesus as the Messiah. 3. Protestants do not recognize the Pope as the Leader of the Christian World. 4. Mormons do not recognize each other in Wendover, Nevada.

For those not familiar with the geography, Wendover is about 100 miles west of Salt Lake City, and is a massive gaming town. Over 80% of their business comes from the Wasatch Front, which includes Salt Lake City. Mormons are not supposed to gamble, and income from gambling is not allowed to be directly contributed to the church. For many years, those who worked as dealers or security for casinos were not permitted to get temple recommends or hold certain church jobs.

Well, the old missive holds: if you have to explain a joke, it ain’t funny.

The Eric O’Shea Clip

My wife shared this clip with me… now I share it with you. I particularly like the theme song for Gas-X…

My wife shared this clip with me… now I share it with you. I particularly like the theme song for Gas-X…

The Swarm Intelligence

National Geographic just published an article discussing applications for swarm intelligence. If you aren’t familiar with computerized autonomous agents, this is a great primer for coming up to speed. I attended a presentation seven years ago about this, and understanding swarm mentality — how, working together, beings can display behavior much more intelligently than working alone — I think is critical to making accurate predictions about human behavior.

National Geographic just published an article discussing applications for swarm intelligence. If you aren’t familiar with computerized autonomous agents, this is a great primer for coming up to speed. I attended a presentation seven years ago about this, and understanding swarm mentality — how, working together, beings can display behavior much more intelligently than working alone — I think is critical to making accurate predictions about human behavior.

And for being able to exploit it for profit 🙂

The Virtue Questiion

After the festivities last night and all the T-shirts I saw — and wore — to various celebrations, parades, and whatnot yesterday, I have two questions:
* Is patriotism a virtue?
* Why?

After the festivities last night and all the T-shirts I saw — and wore — to various celebrations, parades, and whatnot yesterday, I have two questions: * Is patriotism a virtue? * Why?

We commemorated our victory of 1776 over the British with simulated explosions, and the entire valley smelled of gunpowder still this morning. John Olsen again lit off a ginormous plywood platform of legal fireworks, giving an amazing finale to a fun party full of food, Rifftrax, and good friends. Other than a great excuse to party, though, I found myself wondering if, in the balance, the twin sisters of nationalism and patriotism have been a good thing for humanity as a whole.

The Rubber Duck Saga

Read the saga of the rubber duckies who sailed ’round the world. Yep, there’s a $50 bounty per plastic ducky if you find one, report where you found it, and send it in to the company. The fifteen-year voyage of these little rubber toys has proven valuable to scientists studying ocean

Read the saga of the rubber duckies who sailed ’round the world. Yep, there’s a $50 bounty per plastic ducky if you find one, report where you found it, and send it in to the company. The fifteen-year voyage of these little rubber toys has proven valuable to scientists studying ocean currents, and proved otherwise little-known theories regarding arctic ice flows.