2005-08-18, 10:40 PM — podo-deficient
For my birthday this year, one of the things I received was a digital podometer. You know, one of those little things that clips onto your pants and tells you how many steps you've taken while you're wearing it? This one is supposedly better than the one found in a box of Kellog's cereal, but I think there's probably only so far one can go with this technology.
No, I take that back, but my point stands -- without actually hooking up to my legs to measure the appropriate electrical impulses from my muscles, there's probably only so far one can go with this technology.
The mechanism that measures steps seems to involve some sort of little loose thing inside that jumps up and down when my hip moves up and down. Thus, other movements (like shaking it, for example) also increase the step count. I figure that the steps I take without it on are probably compensated for by the pretend steps that are recorded every time I sit down. Also, I think I probably recorded some steps today while driving the car over bumps, which is kind of like anti-walking.
So, no, my podometer isn't foolproof. But one thing it has done is convinced me that I do need to walk more. Apparently a healthy person walks over 10 000 steps in a day. Even with the bumps in the car and the sitting down I'm barely hitting 6 000. That's 4 000 steps short! And many of those steps are me getting up from the computer to go to the kitchen to get a snack!
I'm in trouble, folks. Look for me to do random jumping jacks and/or running on the spot in the next few weeks.
2005-08-16, 11:54 AM — bird meets car. blue meets bird.
I had a rather unpleasant experience this morning in which a small bird flew into the car as I was driving about 80km/h on the highway. Feathers everywhere. I thought it had hit the side of the car, and the feathers had blown in...
but no, when I went to take the laundry basket out of the back, something moved and there she was, a little female house sparrow, quite alive. She must have hit the back window of the car and landed in the basket.
So, first this freaked me out. Second, I started bawling because she was still alive, and I really couldn't imagine that she was going to live, and I really couldn't imagine putting her out of her misery by myself. Very, very upsetting. Instead I put the laundry basket (dirty laundry and all) outside under a tree and then went inside and cried to fishy over the phone. I realized after I called I may have freaked him out, too, because I started with a very weepy "I was driving out here..." which would most likely suggest that I had somehow trashed the car.
Anyway, it does have a happy ending. Despite the fact that I was certain she would have massive internal injuries because of the sound she made when she hit the car, when I went out half an hour later to check on her and see if I should be digging a hole, she flew away into the thick cedars on the other side of the property. I don't know if she really is going to make it, but hey, she was able to fly. That's usually a good sign.
Lesson learned: I was trying to think of one. Other than the fact that obviously birds can fly into cars, I can't think of what I possibly could learn. Maybe to wear a helmet -- imagine if the bird had hit me in the head. Or possibly, that I just really need a good drink right now...
2005-08-09, 10:13 AM — on the phones
So. After a ... seven? eight? year hiatus, I'm back on the phones. Not telemarketing... just for one day to help out with an emergency project... but still.
I have strange feelings about phoning people on behalf of businesses. I don't mind it; it's kind of nice, because I can completely divorce myself from whatever reaction I get. It's faceless calling. Part of the reason I don't like the phone is because every call you make (except in this sort of situation) is attached to someone who then has some sort of personal relationship with you because you've made the phonecall.
In this case, once I've hung up, I'm done. I will never have to talk to those people again, and those people will never associate me with the company I'm calling on behalf of. It's a strange kind of freedom. Even if I meet those people on the street, they'll never know that it was me. I like that anonymity. At the same time, I get to talk to people, maybe help them with a problem they're having. That's kind of nice too.
I've always sort of enjoyed talking to people I'll never see again. That's part of what I enjoyed about interpretation, too. Even if I developed a relationship with people, it was superficial; I'd see them every once in a while, we'd chat about stuff, I'd show them some cool bugs, and then they'd leave and I'd go back to talking to people I didn't know. It's just when I start to know people that I get stressed about it.