Interprete

When I return to PR, my blog tends to lie fallow. Between taking care of the house, outdoor distractions (like the very overgrown garden and the very enticing beach), and most especially visiting my mother, I turn away from the computer, from my analytical mind, from writing. But since we have edged into a new year, I thought I would spend a little bit of time ruminating on 2008, which was one of the most unforgettable for me.

With each passing year, it seems that 12 months bleed right into the next 12 months. But within this swirl, there are a handful of years that retain their sharp edges (1992, 1996, 2005, 2005-2006 are the most memorable). 2008 now sits among those as it is the the year that a tube was placed into my mother’s stomach and soon after she was taken from the hospital into a nursing home without even the chance to say goodbye to the dog who was her steadfast companion and the house, which was her home for over 20 years.

Over the last 6 years while I have not written much about my mother and her Alzheimer’s, I did so fairly consistently with at least 3 entries per year, that is until March 2008 when she was put in the nursing home. Soon after being admitted, I wrote one entry and since then have not had the heart to commit much to words, something of which I am ashamed of and have sworn I would write about at least once before another years passes us by. I don’t have the desire to constantly write about my experiences with her but it seems to be that Alzheimer’s is erased far too often from public view and I would rather not contribute to that type of very pervasive silencing either.

The recipe for my silence has been made up of various ingredients. One was I was just really really busy. Last semester was frenetic so I often did not have an ounce of room/time to think, much less blog about such a difficult situation (and I spent a lot of time going back and forth to PR as well). Another is that I was trying to avoid the heartache that arises when you focus in, with some detail, care and attention, on something that is unavoidably painful. Each time I tried, I ultimately failed and told myself, I would do so later. Finally I was blogging less and less about these types of subjects so it just seemed a little out of place every time I tried to commit something to words.

For me, one of the hardest things to accept—and this probably fed into my silence—is that I played a part in prolonging her life when I know she wanted out (with a capital O U and T). But at the time the feeding tube was placed in her, she was walking and talking and it did not seem right to refuse her food (and I hoped that with some food, she would then start to eat on her own as she can swallow just fine) not to mention that her caretaker (a devout Catholic) and my sister would have never at the time been ready to refuse the feeding tube and I was not exactly quite ready either. Well, what we did not foresee was that 5 days in the hospital did her in and when she left, she could no longer walk, she could barely talk, and yet due to the feeding tube, she gained back the dramatic weight that she had shed over a year so that her body at least looked far more alive than it had been for years thanks to the steady stream of nutrition being slowly pumped into her body.

I just know she would not want to be alive under these conditions and yet at this point, there is not much I can do legally except refuse certain classes of treatments if she gets sick (such as respirator) or wait until she becomes completely vegetative and then go through the legal hoops, that ultimately may not be successful, to remove the feeding tube. It has been so hard for so many months that as I late I have been trying to approach the whole thing with at least one dash of Zen-like detachment (by which I mean an embrace/acceptance of suffering in this world) and just spend as much time as I can with my mother, which I did a lot over the summer and I am now doing this winter. I am most probably moving back over the summer as well as my sister is not faring all that well after being with her for so many years.

Even though she no longer knows my name, or who I am, I can tell she notices my presence and there are days she even seems to be happy. In fact, over the summer, she had some pretty lively days when we could manage to joke about almost nothing. Those days were rare and precious and today they don’t seem to happen at all (she did seem a bit excited that it was a New Year though I could not tell if she really knew what I was saying). Over the summer, generally I would climb into her bed and we would co-nap for a couple of hours. And then the worst were the days she was hysterical and crying, and the absolutely worst was when she was crying, pleading for her parents. Those were days that did not break my heart but my soul.

Thankfully those days of hysterics seem to be happen less and less and my mother just seems to sleep a lot. I sometimes like to think she is like those really old cats or dogs who seem to spend interminable hours sleeping and resting and don’t seem to be suffering all that much though I can still tell she is still in a bad mood from time to time.

She also has a wonderful roommate, Ana, who also pretty advanced Alzheimer’s though certainly not as bad as my mom. Unlike my mother, she is happy as a clam, so much so she is always saying things like “Isn’t this a great day?” “How wonderful the day is,” etc. etc, which is a nice counterbalance to my mom! I sort of like that my mom’s roommate is, personality wise, the polar opposite of my mother, who is not a fundamentally unhappy soul, but she was emotionally erratic one with quite a few peaks and valleys and this is still very much the case.

Having Ana around (and her family) has transformed the way I have seen this illness and my mother’s condition. I am certainly not thrilled that she is alive and in fact think how we end (or don’t end) life is something we as a society should be ashamed of. I clearly want to see her released, freed like a bird from the cage of this world (my mother loved loved birds I think because they symbolized freedom), but spending time with Ana, who again seems quite content, made me realize how part of the Alzheimer’s experience is rooted in one’s personality. My mom has always been difficult and when she was sick but still quite functional, her personality made the illness difficult for her and those around her. She never really had much luck changing her karmic personality and it sure is not going to change now. But as I said she does seem to rest a lot. I just hope her last few months, possibly years, are if nothing else peaceful and tranquil.

odd-old-san-juan-dog, originally uploaded by the biella.

We may not have did up my house like this OSJ one but you did a fine job —> thanks (and thanks for laughing with me over this odd dog and his portrait!)

Recently much ink has been spilled on the forms of micro-writing (Twitter, Facebook status updates, micro-blogging) that have captivated the hearts, minds, and especially keyboards of those, like me, who spend a lot of time in front of the blue screen (whether a computer or a phone). Lately, perhaps in part because I was home bound for days, I went on a status-update frenzy, updating my Facebook feed like there was no tomorrow and checking in as often to read the short nuggets left by friends.

Despite this recent bonanza, I don’t admit to all my friends of this addiction as some of them seem to really dislike–no the more accurate term is detest–this linguistic genre. Generally, it seems to me, there are those that love these messages, and then there are those who disparage them for being inane, short blasts of egotistical information that reflect and worse, reinforce the rampant, raw, unfiltered American love with self, performing the individual, and all that related jazz. I am sympathetic with the haters and at times, I admit I feel nothing but the hate (and perhaps this is why I have yet to Twit) but after thinking about it I have decided I am not really in their camp. Why?

Well, something I do when I am thinking through phenomenon is ask: What Would Bakhtin Think (WWBT) as he is a theorist that I adore for he avoids so many of the traps, mostly of binary thinking, that befall most academic theorists. The answer to WWBT, at least from the way I read him, would be that he would dig and find something quite significant about these linguistic ephemera. Bakhtin, who was a Russian literary critic and thinker , thought highly of the novel as a genre for, unlike poetry, it provides a window into everyday life, into the depths and heights of the prosaic, which, however prosaic, is actually where all the extraordinary stuff of life resides. For in the humdrum of life is where he locates wonder, magic, suffering, laughter, mystery, love, oppression, and joy even if its significance often slips right on by our awareness, our perceptual world, until it is unearthed by such genres as the novel (and I would add film).

You really can’t get more mundane than these micro-statements, though albeit they can be fantastically funny, frustratingly opaque, devilishly satiric, and in rare occasions, poetic; and it is for all these reasons that I find them personally enjoyable and analytically valuable. So much of our life is seeped and steeped in the mundane and yet it is whizzes by us without much reflection. We certainly don’t have much of a window into the mundane lives of others, especially in any real time sense. These updates are short pauses, like a temporal parenthesis (which any reader of this blog can I tell I am fond of) or a pleasant hiccup. While many say that they are egotistical blasts, I experience them otherwise, especially when I find myself smiling, laughing, wondering not at what I say but what others throw out there. For with the short update, I am transported, however ephemerally and momentarily, to your mundane world and share in the pleasures of life as is.

And for those that remain unconvinced, at least take my word that Bakhtin is worth paying attention to (that is, if you pay attention to academic theory), here is a review essay that might convince you (subscription required but I will try to post a full copy later)

Many people ask me why there are such few female hackers. While I think this is an important/interesting question (that is also extraordinarily hard to answer), there is another one which has captivated me for much longer, which is the followingL why are there such few females represented in the academic/activist world of free software/free culture, etc.? It seems like every turn I take, there are books galore, talks galore, essays galore being written by men with females sprinkled on top, like some confectionery after thought.

Take for example Joi Ito’s recent photograph collection, Free Souls (women are represented in the beautiful array of photographs) but in the essays which reflect on freedom/free culture/the souls of freedom, there is (I think, correct me if I am wrong), not a single female voice, despite the fact that there were clearly females authors/activists that could have potentially contributed.

Essays

1. Lawrence Lessig
Foreword by Lawrence Lessig
2. Christopher Adams
Share this book
3. Joi Ito
Just another free soul
4. Howard Rheingold
Participative Pedagogy for a Literacy of Literacies
5. Lawrence Liang
Free as in Soul: The Anti-image Politics of Copyright
6. Cory Doctorow
You Can’t Own Knowledge
7. Yochai Benkler
Complexity and Humanity
8. Isaac Mao
Sharism: A Mind Revolution
9. Marko Ahtisaari
Intelligent Travel

Now, am I overreacting here; or is this reason for worry?

I consider myself a fairly creative thinker but not even close to outrageously creative. I do have a few friends that fit that later category and one of them is my ex-roommate, Zack Brown (of kernel traffic fame.

After many, really too many months of not seeing him, I met him for dinner last night under very snowy NYC conditions and as is always the case, he opened our evening meeting with an unusual and compelling story (and I usually am skeptical of his claims but my skepticism is most often totally unwarranted).

Last night, his declaration was the following. He let me know that he has been working on a game, since before we met in 2001, which I was never knew about, and just recently all the pieces–and this is metaphorical and literal for there are many pieces in the game–have come together and has filed a patent for the game (news to me that you could patent a game).

After thinking about it for 7 years(!!!), he has invented a game that I have to say looks stunningly interesting Crumble. It is simple in its rules and format but the strategy is quite demanding and complex. It is requires deep thought but also, it seems, a very visual mind.

If you are interested in following its development and marketing (he is looking for manufacturers), you can keep track of developments on his blog. If you are a daring and patient soul (who can refrain from sneezing and laughing) you can make your own pieces and play sooner. And if you work at Google (NYC office) apparently, people are already playing, so you can join and Crumble Away!

Since they beat me to it and I am swamped with stuff/errands/cleaning/grading/everything else, here is the audio from Anon’s great visit to my class on Dec 8th. I will throw up a copy on my server tonight as well.

Warning: Not lots but in fact tons of expletives.

Not Ballistic, Monastic, originally uploaded by the biella.

Have you ever gone monastic, taken a step away from the rough tumble of life to throw yourself totally and completely in one or just a few things? I have been in this state a few times before, sometimes by my own volition, other times I was forced into such state, as when I spent nearly a year homebound, sick.

The last time I went monastic, I did so to finish my dissertation in 2005 and it worked rather well. In fact, I recall those few months where I barely left home (and as result my PJs) with deep fondness. I just loved the intensity and simplicity of it all, which is why I loved my other periods of self-enforced solitude/simplicity and often yearn for those moments again.

The pile of writing projects I am trying to complete (or start) are mounting and honestly, I want the pile to move from a mountain to at least a hill and in order to do so, I think I will have to retreat. So tonight, I declared that upon my return from PR, I will once again “go monastic” but given that I have a pretty demanding full time job, I can’t really go full-on monastic. I can only go semi-monastic, shirking some of my extracurricular activities and duties but I still think that I can enter into a more seclusionary (I know not really a word) mode than has been my life for the last year. I will report back in a few months with a story of success or failure about entering Monastic Mode

x

I am sure this is making the rounds but this seems like an appropriate place for this list: If Programming Languages Were Religions. My favorite description:

Lisp would be Zen Buddhism - There is no syntax, there is no centralization of dogma, there are no deities to worship. The entire universe is there at your reach - if only you are enlightened enough to grasp it. Some say that it’s not a language at all; others say that it’s the only language that makes sense.

Speaking of computer languages and projects and religious holy wars, in the last few weeks I have been totally intrigued by the culture being built by the Ruby on Rails “guys.” As a researcher of Free and Open Source Software, I, like others, actually tend to see the similarities more than the difference between these two poles (in part because I focus on practice, not on the purist ideologies or two ideologues, you know who I am taking about) but it seems to me—-and I could be wrong here but I suspect I am not—-that Ruby on Rails is producing a unique Open Source culture, one that really diverges from some of the core principles of Free Software, much more so than other Open Source projects like Apache.

The rail guys as I have heard, are Open Source evangelists of a certain stripe, who are quite “cultish” (you know, it is “weird if you don’t use github, a Mac, TextMate).

What do you think of Ruby on Rails? Are the attacks fair? Are they a bunch of douchebags, as this (very incisive) post argues? Is it where Open Source meets and marries, for better or for worse, the Web 2.0 craze?

If I could clone me, this is definitely one line of research, I would love to dive into right now but since I can’t, your opinions would be greatly appreciated.

razer–my new keyboard, which i LOVE, originally uploaded by the biella.

Speaking of the tactile and the tactical, after seeking some input, I settled on this keyboard a few months ago and I simply love it–so much so, today I got another one for my office. I love the key strokes simply cuz’ they have just the right feel. It takes some, but not too much, pressure to type and it feels great on my finger tips. The fancy blue lighting is a plus but not a central feature. The overview/description on their website is pretty dramatic but I tend to agree it provides for some pretty hefty power, allowing me to launch my email assaults with perfection…:

With an awesome host of features, the Razer Lycosa™ is on an unstoppable mission to destroy and dominate.

Execute complex combat maneuvers with swift dexterity. Launch your assaults timed to perfection. Annihilate your enemies and reign supreme on the battlefield. You now have the tactical advantage on every terrain, and your enemies’ fates are in your hands.
<

I dare say I am fully content with the keyboard but I am still searching, however, for the perfect pen…

do-not-eat, originally uploaded by the biella.

America is a land brimming with paradoxes, one of them being our simultaneous obsession with freedom and rules. We purport to be the land of the free (and while this is and may not be true, we do hold steadfast to this idea). But we also love rules rules and rules, and wait there are more and more and more rules, too many rules, which often come in the form of the form of a sign, this one being one of my favorites. (shall not produce grease laden fumes?! yes, I think it was written by an academic).

So I appreciate small reminders that poke fun of and holes in our love of rules and warnings, such as the one I found on my new bamboo-based shirt, pictured above. I have taken a huge liking for bamboo shirts as of late (I am obsessed with the tactile and can only stand soft cloth, which is why I love bamboo-based cloth) and I ordered a few shirts of the Internet. I only noticed the “warning” when I pulled the shirt out of the dryer late the other night and it was by far one of the only times I smiled from left to right at 1 am when doing laundry. More people should take the time to plant these easter-egg type jokes as they are, I am sure, much appreciated.