Dan’s Musings

So, I’m in Carthage, TX right now to visit my family. The ride to Carthage is quite a long one (6-7 hours), so I saw a lot of different things on the way here.

As I was leaving Taylor on the way up here, I was riding right along a train track. There was a train, about 30 cars long, going along the tracks, probably about 55 miles/hour. As I passed it, I saw a small road that went right over the tracks.

I had the best (or worst) idea. My idea was to take a sudden, sharp right turn, and drive right over the tracks, mere inches in front of the train. It would be just like in an action movie.

Maybe it’s a good thing that I didn’t do it. I would have had to wait for the train to pass to cross back to get onto the main road. Oh, and of course there was the risk of me killing myself. That would have been bad, too, I guess. But it could have been amazing.

Well, I got a job today. I’ll be one of the web designers for the Mechanical Engineering Department at the University of Texas. It’s kind of ironic. I really wanted to get a job, because for the last year, I’ve been really sick of school (and by sick, I mean it was quite literally driving my crazy). Now I’m no longer going to classes, but I’m working at school. Oh well.

The job is part-time: 19 hours a week. Why 19 and not 20, I’m really not sure. I’m glad it’s part-time, because that means I’ll have time to devote to be able to do movies and plays (my real passion), and work on the new web design company my friend Abinadi and I are starting. Also, since they let me decide on my schedule, I put all my 19 hours on Tuesday through Thursday, so I always have a four-day weekend.

I found the job through my friend, Bryant Moscon. It was actually his job before, but he just got a better job, and they needed someone to replace him. He recommended me, and they jumped at it.

This job probably won’t be the most interesting thing for me to do, but at least it’s something for me to do. I’m glad it didn’t take me long to find it, and that I found it so easily. It’s really nice when things just work well.

When I was a child, I saw an episode of the Batman cartoon in which Bruce Wayne was trapped in a dream created by a machine made by the Mad Hatter. In this episode, Bruce discovers that he is dreaming because he can’t read. He claims that dreaming and reading are functions of opposite hemispheres of the brain, so it’s impossible to read in a dream. I always remembered that episode because I knew it was completely bogus the first time I saw it. I remembered reading in dreams. I knew it was possible. This was just another example of script writers who don’t do proper research.

I was just reminded of this episode when I awoke from a strange dream of my own. In this dream, I was part of some sort of competition. I think it was some sort of church activity and each of the wards were competing against each other. I believe it was an academic competition. There were several parts to it, and each ward had to select just one member to do each part. In one of the parts, we were asked to write a eulogy for a dead dog. Whoever wrote the best one would win. For some reason, I was selected to do this part. I was given biographical information, including a newspaper article that was written about him while he was still alive. There was something famous about this dog, but I don’t remember what. Part of it was his advanced age. He was 19 when he died. As I was working on this eulogy, I wanted to figure out how old he was in dog-years. There was a blackboard in the room they gave us to work, and so I wrote 19 × 7. For some reason, I couldn’t do the math. It didn’t make any sense. I screwed it up, so scratched it out, and started calculating again. I still couldn’t do it. I erased it with my hand, and wrote it again. This old man from one of the other wards was walking by the room, and saw my difficulty. He came in and tried to help. He pointed to what I was doing wrong, but he couldn’t figure it out either!

Then I woke up. This inability to do elementary school mathematics forced me out of my sleep. As soon as I was awake, I did the math in my head, and learned it was 133. Just to make sure I wasn’t crazy, I checked it with a calculator. Of course it was right, it’s a simple calculation, but I couldn’t do it in my sleep! It made me think of poor Bruce being unable to read a book. Though unlike Bruce, who couldn’t even make out the letters, I could clearly see and understand what the numbers were (I wrote them), I just couldn’t do anything with them. It was nearly the most frustrating experience of my life.

I recently had a part in a short film written and directed by my good friend, Arthur Kendrick. The film is titled “The Plumber and the Princess.” If you’ve ever played Mario Brothers, you already know the basic plotline of the film. This is not, however, simply a short version of the game. This is the Italian plumbers as you’ve never seen them before: gritty 1950s detectives. That’s right, this is a film noir version of Mario Brothers.

I play Bowser’s goon, Koopa. I hope you all enjoy it. Please rate it on YouTube, and tell all your friends.

This post is not actually about Smurfs. I will not discuss the language of the Smurfs. (They obviously speak English and Die Schlümpfe speak German.) This post is actually about linguistics. Most of you can feel free to stop reading now. I won’t be offended. Unless you’re my mother, this will probably not interest you.

There is an interesting linguistic feature known as infixes. An infix is a word or morpheme that is placed in the middle of a word. This is practically non-existent in Standard English. It is fairly common in Austronesian and Austroasiatic languages. In Tagalog, for example, <um> is placed inside a verb to make it something like the active voice. For example, the borrowed English word graduate becomes grumaduate to mean “I graduated.”

Although it’s not common in Standard English, it’s often found in Colloquial English. For example, in Snoop Speak, <iz>, <izz>, or <izn> are often used as infixes producing words like hizouse (house), wizzay (way), or shiznit (sh**). A few more great examples are found in The Simpsons, uttered by Homer. For example, in the following dialogue between Homer and baby Lisa:

What do you like Lisa? violamin? tubaba?

Lisa : I want THAT.

Homer : Saxamaphone?

The most common infix in colloquial English I will call the f-word infix (Wikipedia calls it expletive infixation, but I like my term better: take that, linguists). I call it this because the f-word (mostly in its present participial form), and it’s substitutes (freakin’, fraggin’, fudging, etc.) are the most common words used for this type of infix. In Britain, bloody is usually used. The purpose of this infix is to add emphasis to the word. So, we end up with words like absofrigginlutely, and fanbloodytastic. Well, my most common usage of this form is unbe-freaking-lievable. Technically, these aren’t exactly infixes, but rather Tmesis. It’s close enough to being the same thing, though, that I’m going to call them the same thing. Infix is a lot easier word to remember than Tmesis (those crazy Greeks).

Now, what does this have to do with the Smurfs? Well, today I read an article about the Smurfs. The content of the article has nothing to do with this post. But the author used the word “Un-smurfing-believable.”

Well, as soon as I read it, I thought, “That sounds weird. Why didn’t he write ‘Unbe-smurfing-lievable?’ That’s where the stress naturally falls.” Well, I looked up the article on wikipedia about the f-word infix, and it said:

A simple rule is that the insertion occurs at a syllable boundary, usually just before the primary stressed syllable. Thus, one hears abso-fuckin’-lutely rather than *ab-fuckin’-solutely. This rule is insufficient to describe examples such as un-fuckin’-believable (not *unbe-fuckin’-lievable), however, so modifications to this rule are proposed such as morpheme boundaries taking precedence over stress.

This blew my mind. Have I been saying it wrong all my life? Am I the only person who puts the infix inside the believe, rather than before it? I don’t know. Further study is required, but it’s midnight now, and I have to sleep. It will have to wait until the morning.

Last night, I had a strange dream that I felt like sharing. Why do I discuss my dreams on this blog so much, you might ask? I guess my real life is just boring enough that I need to supplement it with my fantasy life. Oh well. On to the dream.

In this dream, I was a deadly assassin. I can’t imagine what made me dream that. The beginning of the dream is a little blurry now. I remember going into an office to get my assignment. The office was small, a little bigger than your average cubicle. The walls were all glass. There was no one in the office, but my assignment was sitting on the desk.

I set out to take out my mark. It all happened pretty quickly. I remember being at some sort of man-made body of water. It was like an artificial pond, in a very urban area. I remember that’s where the hit took place. I was very stealthy: like a ninja. Basically, I walked up to the guy, quickly pulled a blade out of my coat, drew it across his neck, and walked away as he fell into the pool, his blood draining into the crystal clear water.

I had to go meet some friends: two women. I don’t remember the reason. I think it was a double date, and we were meeting the other guy wherever we were going. We were meeting nearby, so I walked to the meeting point. They had no idea what I had just done. Obviously, even my closest friends couldn’t know the secret of my occupation. We met, and were going somewhere else, but I had to quickly report in at work, first. So, we drove by the headquarters so I could report in to my boss. I told them to wait for me outside, and I would be right back.

I went to the same office I was at previously. My boss was there this time. She was a short woman in her late 60’s. She was wrinkly, with gray hair, and not what I would expect from a person who regularly sent people off to kill others. She started complaining about something as soon as I walked in the door. I don’t know what it was because I really didn’t care. I mean, really. I go out and do my job like anybody else, and all she can do is complain. Anyway, she had my file sitting on her desk. I picked it up, and started leafing through it, trying to pretend I actually cared what she said to me. I came across something interesting in my file. It mentioned a new team that I was to head, and had the names and pictures of the three other members.

A couple minutes later, the three members of my new team walk into the office. It’s two girls and a guy. They’re all dressed sort of punk, the guy more goth-punk. I addressed them all by their first names, and shook their hands. The guy is really skinny, has straight, black hair that covers most of his face. As I shake his hand, he just lets out a sigh.

The first girl had long curly, black hair. As I extend my hand, she extends her left hand. I think, “whatever, okay.” So, I extend my left hand, and give her one of those old-fashioned hand-to-wrist handshakes. She seemed pleased.

The second girl was bald, and didn’t have a nose. As I shake her hand, she groan-sighs, “Alright.” I sense something is wrong, and want to get off to a good start with my new team. I also want to establish that I’m not taking crap from them. I sternly ask, “Is something wrong?” Sigh. “This morning … I … my boyfriend …” Then she mumbled something, and stared into space.

I then notice through the glass walls that the girls who were waiting for me outside have entered the building looking for me. They hadn’t quite noticed me yet.

The first girl turns to me and says, about the other girl, “She’s always like that.” Before I can respond, she continues, “I’m really excited to be working with you, Dan Jones. How old are you? ‘Cause I was talking to my girlfriend the other day and she …” I stopped paying attention. This girl is apparently star-struck, and I don’t want to deal with it right now. It seems I’ve got some serious training to do with these three. I can’t imagine why that old hag put me with them.

About this time, the two girls who should have patiently waited for me outside walked into the door. “Dan, are you ready? Oh, hi! I’m Dan’s friend.”

The alarm goes off and my career as an assassin ends.

I use Linux. I don’t like Windows, and I don’t care for Mac OS X. I love Linux, and its software. I especially love the fact that most Linux software is Free Software. I’m not a Nazi about Free Software. I’ll use proprietary software if there’s simply no usable free alternative. Google Earth, Skype, and NVIDIA drivers are a few that come to mind. However, some people feel that free software must be inferior to commercial software because it doesn’t cost anything. Some people are just so comfortable with their proprietary software that they won’t consider using a free equivalent.

One of the best examples of this is Adobe Photoshop and The GIMP. Photoshop is a commercial graphics editor produced by Adobe. GIMP is an open source graphics editor maintained by a group of volunteers under the auspices of The GNU Project. I did a little research to find out what the real differences between the two are. Most of the well-thought-out articles I read said that the most significant feature lacking from GIMP is support for the CMYK color model. This is used extensively in printing. For this reason, GIMP is unsuitable for use in publishing. However, for just about any other use, GIMP is perfectly capable, as long as the user is familiar with the interface and program’s capabilities.

The other complaint against GIMP has nothing to do with GIMP itself. The complaint is that Photoshop is an industry standard not just for publishing, but also web design and graphics design (not entirely true: it’s a de facto standard). When working with a company that requires work to be in Photoshop format, the GIMP simply won’t do. It doesn’t import Photoshop files perfectly, and it doesn’t export Photoshop files perfectly. I will concede to that, however an individual whose work simply needs to be a JPEG, or PNG, or any other common graphics format, is perfectly fine using GIMP, as long as he knows how.

The biggest problem I have when I’m trying to explain this to people is that I, myself, am not very familiar with either Photoshop or GIMP. I haven’t used Photoshop more than a few times in the past five years. And I only use GIMP on occasion. So I’m not able to talk about particular features. So, I’ve set out to change that. I have recently started reading through various GIMP tutorials so that I can familiarize myself with the program and its capabilities. I decided to share with you the results of the first of my forays into learning the GIMP.

I started with the Souping up a Photo tutorial at gimp-tutorials.net. This is an adaptation of a Photoshop tutorial at PSD TUTS.
Rather than using their example image, I figured I’d learn more if I used an image of my own and just adapted the tutorial to my needs. So, I started with this image (on the left) of two of my friends having a swimming race.

Chris and Abinadi racing

Much better

After some editing, I came up with the image on the right. I consider it much stronger than the original, and allows the viewer to focus on the action at hand more easily.

The next step was to see if I could achieve a similar effect without going through the tutorial step by step. So I took another picture, from the same trip, of a chicken fight. The original is on the left, and the modified one is on the right. I did all the modifications without the tutorial at all. I did what I remembered, with a few modifications that I felt improved it. For example, I airbrushed out the ghosts (little orbs of light from the flash reflecting off dust or water droplets in the air).

Lisa and Kasey fighting to the death (well, at least to the water).

Unimportant background details faded out.
Foreground action emphasized.

I think there’s a definite improvement in the pictures here. Most importantly, my GIMP skills have sharpened just a little. If I make any more GIMP masterpieces, I intend to write about them here, as well as post them to my flickr account.

Finally, if any of the subjects of either of these pictures would like a high quality copy of the pictures, just send me an email.

Yesterday was my birthday, and boy, was it a great one. Around 6am, there was some noise right outside my room. It was just enough to not actually wake me up, but enough that I was able to hear what’s happening, and the sounds in the real world would meld with the sounds in my dream. So, as I’m on a boat floating down the Danube, I hear a whispering, disembodied voice say, “Alright, you ready? Now!” Then my door crashed open loudly enough to actually wake me up, as four or five of my friends start singing “Happy Birthday” to me. As my eyes flutter open, I see my good friends standing there, and as the song concludes, one of them says, “We’re here to take you to IHOP for breakfast.” I slowly roll out of the hammock in which I sleep as the words, “Ohhhhh, Mannnn” escape from my mouth. I walk over towards them, and in retrospect, I wonder if they were wondering if I was about to deck them. I didn’t, of course, because I love them, but instead put on my sandals, looked up and gave a groggy, affirmative nod. “Alright, let’s go” came from one of the crowd. And so, in my pajamas, we headed off to IHOP.

We went to IHOP where more friends were waiting. I was amazed at how many people came out at 6 in the morning to wish me a happy birthday. It was a great time, aside from our very grumpy waitress. Now to be fair, it looked as if she was one of only two waiters working at the time, and it seemed pretty busy. It may have been the end of the nightshift and she was tired. Nevertheless, a waiter should be able to put that aside. When she (finally) took our orders, one of my friends patted me on the shoulder and said, “it’s his birthday.” To that, she answered, with disdain dripping from every word, “I am not singing Happy Birthday.” A little later, when another friend said we’d like to pay with separate checks (which really is not that much of a hassle; I know) she said, with as much incredulity as she could muster, “Are you serious?” You’d think a waitress at IHOP in a college town would be used to large parties paying separately. Anyway, her disposition later improved, but I expect she overheard us complaining about her, and didn’t want to get a 2¢ tip.

Despite the poor service, we had a great time. After we got back, one roommate discovered that we hadn’t gotten the mail in yesterday, and a card for me was waiting there. It was from my little sister, was very funny, and included a very nice gift certificate. When I got on my computer, I discovered more gift certificates in my email inbox from other family members. I decided to spend the one from my parents for Amazon.com at once, and buy a couple video games and a few DVDs.

The day progressed as usual. Friday Forum at the Institute was great. Another friend reminded of a plan we had discussed to have a birthday video game party for me playing Super Smash Bros: Brawl. We arranged to do it at my house, since my roommate has a 64-in TV. So, after I got back from class, I sent out invitations to the party. We also decided to watch the first Batman movie, starring Adam West, since one friend had just gotten it on DVD. Because I sent out invites only a few hours before the party was to start, I didn’t expect to great a turnout, but probably over a dozen people showed up. Some of them came because it had been previously arranged to watch UT’s basketball game against Stanford at our house just prior to the party, and getting to play video games after was just icing on the cake (figuratively speaking, of course; we didn’t actually have a cake). I got one great present from Miss Stephanie Hall, and a couple others from other people, one of which I’m now eating.

All in all, it was a really great day. I didn’t even really announce my birthday beforehand, but my friends still made sure I had a great one. And I’m sure lucky to have such great friends and family.

So, the other night I had a pretty weird dream, and I’ve been thinking of it since. In the dream I was working on some kind of project with five girls. I don’t really remember what it was we were doing, and it’s not particularly important anyway. These five girls are all friends of mine in real life. I know them all pretty well (some better than others). These girls are all vastly different from one another. Really, the only noticeable similarity among them is that I know all of them from church, so they’re all Mormon. But in just about every other way, they’re all very different. Their ages vary from about 23 to 31. There’s two blondes and three brunettes. Some are students, some professionals, with everything in between. Three have never been married, one is divorced, one is currently married. Most of the girls know each other, but aren’t good friends, and never hang out with each other (aside from seeing each other at church, and sometimes at parties). Basically there is no common thread running between them.

So, the setup is already unusual. Now, near the end of the dream, one of these girls had to leave. So, we said goodbye, and I gave her a kiss. Now, it wasn’t a passionate I-love-you-more-than-life-itself kind of kiss, but it was definitely a goodbye kiss that you would expect of a couple. There was some passion in it. A little while later, and I had to leave. As I left, I kissed each of those girls with the same sort of kiss. I kissed the married girl last, and said, “Don’t tell her husband.” Everyone laughed at the comment, then I turned around to leave, and woke up (of my own accord: no alarm), ending the dream.

Now, I’ve never kissed any of these girls in real life. I’ve only gone on a date with one of them, and that was just a friendly date. So, this dream seemed rather unusual, and I was thinking about it later that day when I was hanging out with some friends, including one of the girls: Kristen. I told them about the dream, and my friend Mark suggested that perhaps there’s some aspect of each of those girls in my “dream girl.” So, I said to Kristen, “You’re one-fifth of my dream girl.”

I do wonder, though, if Mark was right. I’m thinking perhaps he was. I suppose that it would mean that in my mind, there’s a particular defining aspect of each of these girls that attracts me. If I could just figure out consciously what I know subconsciously, maybe I’d be closer to finding my dream girl. Maybe it’s even one of them. Although hopefully not the married one, as I’m sure her husband wouldn’t appreciate it.

Last night, I got a craving. I was thinking of my time in Scotland, and some of the stuff I missed from there, and one stood out. Some stuff I can get here in the States, like haggis, or Irn-Bru (it’s not easy to find, but not impossible). But there’s one uniquely Scottish dish that I have not had in the nearly four years since I’ve returned home: fried pizza.

If you’ve never heard of it (and you probably haven’t), I recommend reading this article from FXCuisine.com.

Well, I decided that I was going to try to make it myself. The aforementioned article helped me figure out how I could do it, as well as this recipe from cooks.com. I thought I’d share with you how I did it, and have included pictures to help out.

I started with a mini-frozen pizza. I don’t remember what brand it is, but it doesn’t really matter. It doesn’t have to be a very good pizza (none of the fried pizzas I had in Scotland were), since the quality of the pizza is not the appeal, but don’t get a pizza that’s just plain awful. If you don’t like it cooked normally, you probably won’t like it fried.

I started off putting the pizza in the toaster oven at 375 for about 12 minutes. I then started to mix up the batter. The recipe called for 2/3 cups of flour, half a teaspoon of salt, half a teaspoon of baking soda, a tablespoon of vinegar, and 2/3 cups of water. I used a little less vinegar, and just estimated with the salt and baking soda. I mixed them all together until there were no lumps left. This made enough batter for 2 pizzas, with a little left over.

Once I finished with the batter, I took a frying pan and some vegetable oil. I filled the pan so that the oil would cover about half the pizza. I then waited for the pizza to finish cooking, and the oil to get hot. Once that was done, I battered the pizza as completely as possible, and plopped it in the oil. Here’s how it looked as it cooked.

When it was all done, I had one great fried pizza.
And doesn’t that look delicious? And now that I know how to do it, I can go ahead and clog my arteries with this delicacy any time I want. Feel free to try it yourself. I recommend you wash it down with a nice cold Irn-Bru.