My life is good.

Today is Halloween, probably what used to be my favorite holiday when I was a kid. When I was 9-14, I'd dress up after school and scour the nearby neighborhoods with my friends collecting more candy than the average human being could consume in a year. Can you believe people used to hand out caramel popcorn balls and chocolate covered apples? Not any more.

Click this treat, then be sure to click "Next" to see the other galleries James Koehnline has to offer. Looks like he's created a total of 9 of these tiled backgrounds.

And yet another Star Wars Spoof!

I stumbled upon a few charming Beatles songs that have been used to create flash videos for the internet:

Come Together.

I Feel Fine.

Maxwell's Silver Hammer.

Tomorrow Never Knows.

Maxwell's Silver Hammer is true to the song, so be warned that it might not be suitable for the reader who is offended by Itchy and Scratchy.

Empire Strikes Back in an 8 bit cartoon. Could be better than the original.

Went out for a poker night with "the guys" yesterday. It was interesting. I do not have a poker face, but I did get some lucky cards. Got home after 1:30 a.m. and had a pretty poor night sleep. Maybe I'll have time for a nap before our soccer game tonight.

No plans with the kids today, the first Saturday they don't have soccer since school started. No plans. Hope that means we don't spend too much money on them.

Finally, in your spare time, you may want to check out Grappa or the Amazing List of Useless Facts.

Yet another Star Wars Spoof site, this one aptly called Star Wars Spoofs. When you are there, visit the ever popular Create-a-scene hyperlink.

There is something that worries me a little, and I know it will resolve itself over time. I just wish I could fast forward like on Tivo and get to the end of this scene so I can start the next one. The next scene is always easier. This one gets me down. And then I get down because I'm down. The cycle will be broken when I get to the next scene. My therapist once said that I might benefit from a small dose of Paxil, adding that it isn't necessary thought. I agree with her. I don't think I'm a candidate for it.

This is it--the 8 bit Star Wars cartoon!

Plus, something I'm not sure I accept: What We Cannot Do Ourselves, We Cannot Understand In Others. The thesis, as the title of the article states, is this: "The possibilities and limitations of movement of our own body are the reference from which we process and interpret the actions of another person. In other words, we understand in others that which we can do ourselves, and what we cannot do ourselves, we cannot also understand in others."

I have another soccer game tonight, men's open division. I'm nervous and I don't know if it is because I am nervous about the game or just nervous. The truth is that I am somewhere in-between. Sure, we might get punished 20 to 1, but that doesn't mean I can't get nervous about the game. Besides, I've often been nervous in new social situations. There's a word for that. Hmm.

Click here to see Darth Vadar and Yoda butter sculptures. Click soon, the butter is not refrigerated.

Soccer last night. It was uneventful. I only injured my ankle and got tripped up once or twice. I did hold my ground and trip someone on the other team. That was a first, or maybe a second. I shared the ball. For me that is a development. I don't remember carrying the ball anywhere near the box, by myself. I have been trying to involve other people on the team & I think I succeeded in that offensive skill. Defensively, I need to be mindful of the unmarked man.

There is at least one team member who has interest in the second wine tasting. The only problem is that I don't drink wine--or haven't since my little problem in August. But by December, I should be able to make an exception.

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about coping mechanisms. It's a tricky subject for me because the more I think about it, the more I can see evidence of coping mechanisms, and this kind of evidence suggests that I have an issue that is helped by these coping behaviors.

The coping mechanisms might be drinking, or running, or playing music, or even avoidance, to name a few. But the mechanism itself is not as important as the issue with which it is helping me cope. I am reminded of the scene in a CSI where he looks at the pile of bugs and the bugs are evidence because they declare a dead body existed at that spot. So I know my bugs, and I'm beginning to meditate on the spots in my life where the coping mechanisms now serve as evidence.

Oh, and the issue with which they help me cope? I'll save that for another day.

For now, let's just say that I used to drive to soccer practice with Pop 5 in the CD player. I would listen to the first 4 or 5 songs and belt out some of the lyrics as I drove down 94. Sometimes I'd visualize a type of soccer play or a score & many times I'd act out the visualization in the game. The music gave me focus that I would not have otherwise. I also used music when I would study math at night when I was a kid. I was great at math back in High School, and nearly every school night, I would study with the company of 38 Special or The Who or The Allan Parson's Project or The Cars. I look at that list of artists and I think, "Distracting music". Yes it was distracting, but wasn't that the point? Isn't that the point of a coping mechanism?

I ran nearly every day between 7th grade and my 1st year in college. Coping mechanism or did I just like to run? Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

Do not try this game on a laptop with a touch-pad mouse: Reaction Time Sheep Shooting Game.

Wrote my therapist today. It was about coping mechanisms. I must compliment myself on the quality of the therapy I do outside of the therapy hour.

What does it mean to criticize? Does it mean that I expect the best in the other person and my intention is to point out ways they can lift themselves to perfection? Does it mean that I want to put down the other person in order to make myself feel better? Is it sport? Do I want to criticize to exercise my critical skills? or arguments? Do I put the other person down just to be in the "in crowd"? Or to show how special and perfect I am? Is it fair to criticize? Jesus said that you may criticize, take the sliver out of someone else's eye, after you remove the log from your own. Oh, and you may stone someone to death provided you have not sinned yourself. So why is it so easy to criticize? Are we not conditioned to play fair and treat others with respect? That's what they taught us in 4th grade kick ball and dodge ball. Then we turn around and call kids names at recess. 4th grade sure was difficult for some of us. So let's say I criticize Joey Harrington, the Lion's QB (this week). I can be critical of his play on the field & his ability to scramble & even his sense of the pocket & timing with his receivers. Would I say that to his face? Probably not. It's my opinion. He's the professional football player & I'm a Sunday afternoon armchair quarterback. Can I criticize my brother or sister? I guess I could, since we are equals on the scale of achievement & power. But what would I benefit from criticizing them? or their actions? Did they ask for help? That's a biggie. They didn't ask for help, so I probably shouldn't criticize them. I guess I could be critical of them behind their back--and get my digs in that way. But what's the point in that? Am I trying to better myself by putting them down? Would I put down my neighbor behind his back? or my gardener? Would that make me a better person or make me feel better? Is the act of criticizing innate to a 6-year-old, or a 16 month-old? No, I don't think it is. Maybe it is. Maybe criticizing, as well as using tools with intention, is what separates us from the primates.

There is some thing I want to criticize right now.

I think that criticizing, and making my criticism known to others, would perhaps help the process for next time. But then again, I could help (?) the process for next time by stating the change I would like in positive terms. Instead of "Don't lift your back foot when you swing the bat (you idiot)" I could say "When you swing the bat, lift the front foot like this, and keep the back foot on the ground."

Duh.

My wife thinks I have allergies. I think I have colds that just don't go away. The one I have right now I've had for about 3 weeks. She insists my symptoms are consistent with allergies. So I get online yesterday and look up a bioflavinoid that I was on a few years back, Quercetin. I could post a dozen helpful links about its properties and effectiveness, but if you are interested you'll probably look it up yourself. It is helpful in reducing allergy symptoms and "prevent the release of histamine and other mediators of allergic reactions".

Well, I'm tired. Gotta power this down for the night.

Oh, good song, "Win the West" by Emm Gryner.

I missed seeing Death Cab for Beauty at the Michigan Theater last night. You can wet your appetite for their music at the Death Cab For Beauty web site.

The kids are playing with this cool little ramp game. It's kinda like legos, with the large lego pieces, but the top of each one has a ramp that will hold a marble. It allows the user to make multilayered paths and turns the marble can roll on. Sounds like an opportunity for a picture. Maybe I'll take one someday.

Check out Some Girls: Necessito.

What do I feel passionate about?

That's a good question. I think passion is necessary for a person to drive forward in life. Without passion, that person is stuck in mud.

But do I have passion? I know a time in my life when I had passion. There was several years between 7th grade and my Freshman year in High School when I had passion like the bees. (There's a question: do bees have passion? do ants have passion? or a scorpion or leopard or my kid's tiger barbs? In order to have passion, I suppose that one must first be able to make a decision on whether or not to act. If the busy bees have no decision to act to collect pollen and make their honey, then they are like machines, non-sentient, and fly around without passion. They might as well be as dull as a cat. But if the bees ever consider the choice to collect pollen and make their honey, then they are a passionate creature. Does a leopard attacking a giraffe have passion? Probably yes, since I can imagine a leopard deciding to attack or not attack. Now for that leopard to act with passion, it must desire the kill as it's driving force, a force that will propel the leopard purposefully into the future, allowing it to better its leopardness and dignity among the leopard community. Do I believe that this passionate animal must better itself among it's peers? Yes. By this definition, a serial killer is not passionate, since it destroys others, thereby becoming less valuable in the eyes of humanity. But the person who passionately removes plastic bottle caps from plastic bottles at the recycling center inspires those around her to act similarly noble. Her passion feeds virtue in her neighbor. Passion feeds virtue.) It was when I first began to run cross country and track. I sought perfection in every quarter mile, every mile, and every race was mapped out like a familiar play. In training runs and in races, I knew I was among the best--but even if I wasn't among the best, I would hold my head high and perform perfection. My attitude spilled into other areas of my life. I perfected my math abilities, and eventually aced standardized tests in the same way I performed at running. Training runs, when perfect, would feed my head and body with positive energy so that races were simply short runs with adrenaline. Similarly, homework, especially math homework, could be perfected, which resulted in consistent high scores along the way. This doesn't mean that I perfected every area of my life. I failed in women, struggled with Spanish, fought with poetry, sparred with physics, and choked on engineering. Now, could I still fight with poetry if I had passion? If the measuring stick is my personal ability, and if my desire propelled me to reach my personal best (which I previously referred to as perfection), then it could be passion. But the true measure of passion is if one can answer the following question in the affirmative: in performing this activity, do you have passion? I reached mediocre levels of poetry writing (she who dips and sings like the meadowlark/is pursued and chewed by the hawk) (not a real poem; not even meaningful, since hawks don't chew meadowlarks, and probably don't even chew food anyway, in the human sense of the word.) (this dialectic I write to prove that I cannot write poetry like Herbert Melvin DeGaul nor Edwin Massee. So let's move on.). But for some, their passionate driven poetry might be perfection to a fourth grader and perfection in the writer's eyes, and the passion to write, for that person, will produce fruit for the tree of the muse.

Now when I was a Sophomore in High School, I lost my passion. It was like hitting a car, smashing one's face, and turning inward, somewhat conscious of pain that existed in my soul. This consciousness made running a labor. I still ran with purpose, but I became handicapped by my ugliness and thoughts of embarrassment. It took me nearly 20 years to un-handicap myself. I think I am still trying to work out issues that surfaced during my second year in High School.

Is the passion back? Do I run or play soccer with passion? Do I practice math or writing with passion? To be honest, the answer is not quite a yes, not quite a no. I cannot think of an area where I practice passion.

Now excuse me while I check on the kids.

I've had way too much work lately. After a 13+ hour day yesterday, I got up at 5:30 a.m. and got in some extra work today. Even now, at 9:30 p.m. I'm finishing up. I'm bummed about the work, but it's problems I should have caught during testing. I am itching for soccer to start. They are playing U of M soccer on channel 8 right now, so I think I'll walk downstairs and watch the second half.

Check out Progressive Art. Kinda like Escher.

Woke up early this Saturday morning so I could take my daughter to her outdoor soccer game. She was actually up around 6:30 a.m., but after I got her dressed, we headed downstairs and she said "Why isn't the sun up?" I said it was probably cloudy and it would be up soon. We got to the game around 7:55 a.m. and I had her bundled in layers and a hat and gloves. She played pretty good. Even though she didn't make any major plays on defense, she kept up with players rushing on offense so that they didn't have a good play. They play with this weird rule that offensive players can't cross the midfield line and defensive players can't cross the other way. The only player who can cross the midfield line is the "roamer", usually a strong ball handler.

Came home, showered, then my wife took my son to his soccer game. I went to Home Depot to buy a lead test kit, so that the wife can test the kids' plastic lunch boxes. Later after lunch, when she tested them, she called out, "What do we have in the house that contains lead?" and after a minute, I replied, the her fishing tackle box has lead sinkers. She wanted to determine if the negative tests on the lunch boxes were accurate or if the test itself was faulty. When she came back from the garage, she said, "Well, the test works!" Then she continued to say she probably shouldn't put those in her mouth when she goes fishing.

Speaking of cold weather, here is a blog dedicated to the South Pole: 75 Degrees South.

Interesting photo app: Van Gogh's Starry Night.

This news story relates to the book I just read, closing the gap between science fiction and science.

Got a date tonight. No soccer for another 15 days, but at least we get to go out and have dinner like adults.

Two fish stories: great white shark crosses the Indian Ocean and back in record time and A robotic fish doesn't fool a soul at London Aquarium

This is the first time I'm sitting down during breakfast in I don't know how long. Seems like I end up getting up with the kids, make them breakfast, then pull out their lunch boxes and stand up snacking on my breakfast as I fix them something to eat. The wife suggests I prepare their lunches the night before. I might have to start doing that--like last night.

Today we're up a little early because I need to drop our daughter off at a neighbor's house so they can take her to the bus stop. I need to get our son to preschool a little early so I can get to an appointment at 8:15 a.m. Fortunately, the appointment is local, but it's in the opposite direction of Dearborn, where I work.

Why is all this minutiae important? It isn't. So I'll stop right here.

Let's say you like the color scheme at a particular web page, or even just one of the colors on that site. To determine what colors were used, use Red Alt and it will tell you the colors and values of any page you choose.

The title of this article is: 'Stiff upper lip' hampers memory. I tried to reach the source, newscientist.com, which appears to be a fascinating site (I looked at google's cache), but the site appears to be down right now.

I'm a little excited because 24, season 1, is in reruns. I found out last night around 11:15 p.m. and immediately set the TiVo season pass. This will be my first time through.

Found an interesting link today, it's a blog called The Snowsuit Effort, and is explained here.

The kids, wife and I went apple picking yesterday after my run. It was a good run and some good apple picking. I had a few too many donuts, and about 3 or 4 apples, so when we got home I decided not to feed the kids dinner. They did fine with that. Then I sat down to read a good book, The Footprints of God--and I'm not entirely sure if this is an apocalyptic book or just coincidence that Jesus plays a minor role in the plot. I'll know in about a week, I hope.

Finally, first off, I didn't know "they" have classified the mass orbiting the sun every 10,500 years a planet. Now further the headlines are all about how the 10th planet has its own moon.

Check out Saturn's moons, as seen by Cassini.