Inevitable Entropy

I am by no means a tech blogger, or particularly tech-savy, but I am disappoint with the new reader integration in G+.
I use Reader almost daily.  I use G+ almost daily.  I use Buzz almost daily as well, but that's another discussion entirely.

The new integration between Reader and G+ was judged and has been found lacking. 

Google Reader was an amazing piece of social technology without even knowing it.  The social features in Reader created individual feeds from each of my friends that could be read, in a block, like the rest of the feeds I followed. The feeds my friends share were filled with interesting, off-beat articles; nerdy internet memes; foodie recipes; tech, science, and political news that I might have otherwise missed in my Reader filled with crafty, design-oriented, cycling feeds.  My friends' feeds were the first thing I read any time I signed into Reader.  

Of course, Reader had its faults... the commenting feature on each post was fine, except there was no way to set it to notify you when someone commented, or responded to one of your comments (Sharing posts to Buzz remedied this but, again, we're not talking about Google's soon-to-be-retired, just the already dead).  I'd also love to see a 'Sort- Oldest Unread Item First' functionality, but I'm really nit-picking now.

 

G+ just throws everything into a single stream, with no way to parse out what people were sharing from Reader which, in most cases, has a different quality and character from what they just throw into their stream for a quick 'look at this!'.  The 'integrated' sharing in G+ also requires you to not only publicly +1 something before actually sharing it (so much for G+ allowing you to control your information), but then decide with whom you want to share it.  Gone are the days of 1-click Reader sharing... 

More importantly though all the articles are shared rather than reciprocally followed- making a huge difference in the dynamic flow of information. Before, I choose whose information I consumed indicating my interest, but now, no matter how interested I am in their shares, I feel like everyone's standing on their individual soap boxes yelling over one another.

So now, not only do I feel like I'm spamming my friends' G+ stream with articles, but there is no way to ensure that I'm reading all the articles shared by my friends that were previously, and so conviently, listed as 'unread'.  Even after just a few hours posts end up buried under one another, requiring unnecessary scrolling (assuming you were preciously using headline view).  And while G+'s habit of rearranging conversations by most recent comment works great for Facebook style posts, it causes what might be otherwise interesting articles to disappear to the abyss of my G+ stream.  While that might be fine for people in the G+ ghost towns, it creates a lot of frustration when you have an active group of people participating in the service.

On top of all of that, the new reader integration doesn't allow me to read anything in G+.  I need to go to the original website, which only serves to take me away from Google's properties more often.  So now, to read any single individual's posts I would have to go to each profile individually- if I can remember everyone who I was previously following- click through each share individually and leave G+ to read each article. Some of my friends are habitual 15+ shares-a-day posters, so, quite frankly, this new system sucks.

I'm disappointed that they gutted an amazing social service in an attempt to bolster a relatively stagnant one- and, more importantly- they did it in the most ham-handed way possible.  I'm also disappointed that Google made changes without taking into account the essence of the services they were revamping.  Reader's purpose is to create a repository for information I'm interested in, things I'm seeking out. Previously I sought out the people whose feeds I found interesting.  G+ is for social updates that I wanted to share with others, lighter, community and relational information.  If I wanted Facebook-style sharing for articles in Reader, I'd be using Facebook.

Like I said- if it wasn't abundantly clear- I am really disappointed in the changes, and I hope (though I don't hold out much) that Google might come to their senses and reverse the changes until better integration can be devised.

Unsurprising Revelation

A good day cycling will never compare to a good day fencing.
A day working on my bike will never be as relaxing as a day armoring epees.

The satisfaction I get from a ride, no matter how good, will never match the satisfaction from a well executed toe touch.

And a bad day fencing never landed me in the hospital with 6 stitches in my chin.


I think that probably means something... 

AIDS Ride for Life

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.” - Margaret Mead

 

North County Trailway

Taughannock State Park

In 6 1/2 weeks, on 9/10/11 my Partner in Crime and I will be taking on a 100 mile bike ride around Cayuga Lake in Ithaca, NY.  I have never done anything before even remotely resembling the task I've decided to take on, but it is both a challenge and a good cause, one that supports my adopted hometown. Donations collected through the ride go to support STAP, the Southern Tier Aids Program and the work that they do.



Founded in 1984 as a local response to the HIV epidemic, the Southern Tier AIDS program provides HIV and Hepatitis C prevention, education, and outreach services to individuals and communities as well as comprehensive care services to people living with HIV/AIDS. They serve eight counties from nine office locations and all their services are free and confidential.Their services focus on the health and well being of HIV+ persons with programs ranging from Support Groups, Transportation services, Crisis Management, Housing services and Secondary Prevention.

Last year, the 12th Annual Ithaca AIDS Ride for Life had 330+ riders who raised over $225,000. the Southern Tier AIDS Program relies on the money raised from special events, like the Ride, to provide unrestricted funds that enable flexibility in programming and services for clients in need.  This year, facing major state cuts in STAP's funding, donations are more important than ever in supporting the programs STAP provides.


Every little bit helps towards my, and ultimately STAP's, fundraising goals.  Even if all you can donate is $5 or $10, that 5 or 10 dollars makes all the difference in the world. 

  

Donations to team Llama Llama Duck can be made on my FirstGiving Page at: 
 http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/meghanphair/aidsrideforlife2011

Just about a month after my accident I'm all but recovered.  My stitches are out, my bruises have mostly healed, my bike is back in one rideable piece. 

After

  

I've been out on the road 4 or 5 times since, but I have yet to ride down to the beach. 

Honestly, I'm a still little nervous.  I was very fortunate to have not only my Partner in Crime with me, but a wealth of other good samaritans who jumped right in to help.  At 3 in the afternoon on a Tuesday that's not usually the case; the bike paths can be pretty desolate at off-hours. 

So, I guess the question is...

Wanna go ride bikes?

And...

Wanna see what it looked like before?

Patient 3463583 - Part 2

And now the (not-so) thrilling conclusion!

Being in an ambulance when you're still fully capable of being mobile is not fun.  Answering the same questions for the 4th or 5th time not withstanding, I was not particularly happy to be strapped into a gurney on the ride to the hospital. From about the time I first sat up until the time I got home from the hospital I felt pretty good.  Adrenaline and endorphins are a wonderful thing.  I didn't feel like a candidate to be brought to the ER in an ambulance.  If the EMT from South Merrick hadn't said that I needed stitches, I'd have been tempted to finish the ride, or at least ride home. (Granted that would have been a terrible decision, but that's how I felt after standing up for a while.)

They took me to NUMC which is the hospital I always thought you wanted to go to if you were ever shot or stabbed, but not where you want to go if you aren't actually bleeding to death.  Granted I was bleeding, if not critically, so I didn't have too much to say on the issue. At the hospital I was wheeled in on the aforementioned gurney into the ER.  An intake nurse came and yet again asked me my name, date of birth, age, address, allergies, medications, history of illness, whether I was an alcoholic, if someone at home was beating me or taking advantage of my money/food/housing...  She shooed away the hospital administrator who was there to get the same information- for billing purposes- at least until she was done with me.

It didn't take too long for them to get me onto a triage bed in the ER.  They even let me climb from the gurney to the bed all by myself, since I was so antsy not to be strapped in anymore; I'm not quite ready for the nut-house. My Partner in Crime hadn't made it to the hospital yet, and neither had my parents, who he had called when he got home. Everyone in the ER was incredibly nice, which was not what I was expecting at all.  I guess I assumed that everyone would be a bit more gruff than social and chatty.

In the ER I was seen by a PA named Laura, who was possibly the most adorable thing ever.  She checked out my chin and gave my neck a once-over; I needed stitches (of course) and a CT scan as a precaution, making sure my jaw didn't have any micro-fractures from the impact.  I was left alone for a while, waiting for a slot for the CT scan and the sutures, and for my parents and Partner in Crime to get there.

Up until this point, I hadn't had any opportunity to see what exactly I had done to my chin. The South Merrick EMT, who had gotten a good look at it said 'It isn't that bad.  Just needs a couple stitches'.  I believed him.  The mirror over the sink in the ER was too much of a temptation to pass up though.  I slipped my sandals on (I  had brought them to the beach with me to keep sand out of my road shoes) and made my way across the room.  I pulled the gauze away and it stuck a little where the blood had started to dry. I craned my neck-it had already started to tighten up- to see the gaping wound on my chin.

It was certainly worse than I expected- deeper, and longer, and much redder- despite the bleeding subsiding.

Shortly after, my parents and Partner in Crime arrived. My parents were worried about me, but finding me in unnaturally high spirits they calmed down.  My mother, filled with love and morbid curiosity, asked to see my chin, grimaced at the open wound, and then proceeded to laugh at me for doing that to myself.  It took my Partner in Crime far longer to get to the hospital than I expected.  He took the long way and then got turned around in the bowels of NUMC.  He had gotten a ride back to my house for himself and our bikes from another Wantagh EMT in an SUV.  One of my biggest worries about the whole incident was having him drive my car.  No one drives my car- so much so that at the end of this whole ordeal, I drove myself home from the hospital.

After everyone arrived two things happened at once.  I needed to go for a CT scan and I needed to get a tetanus shot.  In walks a nurse with the tetanus shot just after Laura, the PA walked in with a specimen bag for all my jewelry.  For anyone who knows me, or can see from my profile photo, I have quite a few piercings, most of which I have never removed.  They are all the original captive bead rings that I had them pierced with.  So there I am, struggling to take out all my jewelry- sans pliers-  as a nurse stands there with a needle in her hand ready to stick me.

It was a little surreal.

Then, for a few moments my mother had the syringe as the nurse- a slightly alternative-looking girl- tried to help me get one of my cartilage piercings out.  After struggling with it for a bit, I finally managed to get all the piercings out of my head and I braced myself for the tetanus shot. Guess what! A tetanus shot doesn't hurt... until the next day.

This whole time, I was still wearing my work-out clothes from earlier in the day- thankfully they were black, otherwise I would have looked like Jack the Ripper.  Apparently Under Armour doesn't look enough like a hospital gown so before heading over to radiology (in a wheelchair- Did I tell you how antsy I was in the gurney? Yeah, same feeling with the wheelchair) Laura put one over my clothes.

I don't think I have ever been so uncomfortable in a piece of clothing before.  I'm convinced that hospital gowns are made not just for sick people but to make you feel like a sick person. A hospital gown makes you want to shuffle your feet and hunch your shoulders and eat pureed food.  It isn't the kind of garment that makes you want to get better, wearing one makes you feel like you're going to die (possibly of embarrassment).   I spent the rest of the time I was in the ER trying to rearrange it so it wasn't quite so uncomfortable/unflattering/annoying.

Radiology was a ball of laughs. No not really.  The CT scan was uneventful. I got a garbled correction directed my way once for fidgeting.  By this point my knees had swollen pretty bad and were starting to ache. Same goes for the back of my neck and my chin.  I had already been at the hospital for a couple of hours at this point and I really just wanted to get my stitches and go home.

While I was in radiology the PA told my supporters that only one could stay while she sewed me up.  While my mom would have been the natural choice, if she had stayed my father would have stayed, and my Partner in Crime never would have left the hospital without me.  I'm sure both my parents were disappointed that I didn't pick them to stay with me, but then again, I don't think either of them would have been willing to videotape Laura as she sewed up my chin.

This lovely video, shot by my Partner in Crime is what happened next.  (Set to the overly dramatic techno sounds of Mona Lisa Overdrive.)

I honestly can't say that there was really a 'bad part' about the stitches themselves.  Laura had me convinced that injecting the lidocaine would be some sort of horrible ordeal of stinging and burning.  It barely hurt except for the one shot right in the middle of the wound.  Immediately after she finished I started bleeding like a stuck pig- good for my healing, bad for trying to stitch up the wound.  The lidocaine did it's job though and I could barely feel the stitches until the end.  For the last two stitches the anesthetic had begun to wear off but I was so anxious to get home I didn't feel like having her bother with any more lidocaine. I've paid enough people to stab me with needles that I can sit through a couple more for a good reason.

Stitched up, tired and very ready to go home, all that was left was discharge papers. I signed my life away and was off through the bowels of NUMC back to the car.  Our gorgeous beach day had turned dreary and rainy and made me not feel too bad about spending my afternoon in the ER.  After a quick stop at Panera for soup- since the sandwich we had planned to eat at the beach was now out of the question- I made it home, tired, still covered in blood, sweat and hospital stench.

  I'm proud of myself that I made it through the whole ordeal calm, cool and collected.  I was amazed that so many people were so helpful and amazing throughout the whole thing.  I'm lucky that I wasn't hurt worse, considering how I fell I was asking for a broken jaw, a concussion, or worse.  I'm also lucky that my father's freaking out was confined to driving like a madman to the hospital and pacing once he got there and that my Partner in Crime kept his wits about him after watching me go face first into the concrete.

I'm alright.

That's the long and the short of it.  6 stitches, bumps and bruises, but I'm alright.

Patient 3463583 - Part 1

I had my first bike accident today.  It was partly due to too many people and partly due to my own carelessness.   I honestly can't blame anyone else. I wasn't paying as much attention to the road as I should have been.

Riding down the Jones Beach bike path there are 3 bridges, the last of which is a drawbridge so that larger boats can pass along the waterways between Long Island and Jones Beach.  Because the bridge opens- and on this particular occasion had just closed- the bike path along it's edge is not one straight shot of asphalt.  The edges where the bridge comes together are serrated and covered in green-painted steel plates, with panels for different mechanics on either side.  Around these panels are 3/4 inch gaps- precarious for anyone on a road bike.

I normally do my best to avoid these spots, considering how dangerous they can be.  Today, with so many people on the path, and so many people barreling forward after the gates opening up- groups riding side-by-side, serious road riders passing recreational cyclists, children wobbling on unfamiliar bikes- I was forced to stick closer to the right side- and the dangerous panels- that I'm normally comfortable with.

And for good reason.

I don't remember what happened right before, if I was looking back, or just thought my wheel was somewhere it wasn't, but all of a sudden my front wheel was in the channel. It wasn't so much the wheel falling into the channel, as the channel coming to an abrupt end that caused my problems.

It couldn't have been more than a split second before I hit the ground, but I remember thinking that whatever happened next was going to hurt. Because it all happened so fast, I didn't even get my hands out to brace my fall, nor did I have time to unclip from my pedals.

I stopped the ground with my chin, and shortly after, my knees.

Immediately after that, despite his best efforts, my Partner in Crime, who was riding right behind me, ran over my left leg, and bailed out of his own bike in the process.  Luckily for both of us he was on his City bike, and not riding his Tri bike- in which case he would also have been clipped in.  It might have been two of us taking trips to the hospital for stitches, or worse.

By some miracle, both my shoes came unclipped from my pedals in the crash and I didn't lose consciousness. I remember coming up on my hands and knees and having blood pouring from my face onto my hand.  I hadn't yet established where exactly the blood was coming from but, the crash quite literally knocked the snot out of me, but it wasn't bloody and well, my nose didn't hurt so I assumed it wasn't the source of the blood.

I rolled onto my back, helmet still on, and was for a moment, just blood and pain.

I curled my knees into my chest, my hand to my chin- which, being the first part of my body to contact the ground, was split open and bleeding profusely. My Partner in Crime (and in Bike Crashes) rushed over and grabbed me.  I remember looking up at him and telling him to let me lie there and leave my helmet on.  He was panic stricken; I can only imagine how bad it must have been to see me go ass-over-teakettle face first into a steel plate on the ground.

As I lay there I started a 'self-diagnostic', seeing what was in pain, and what, if anything was broken. By this point a couple of people had already stopped.  One asked if we were OK and if he should call an ambulance.  I said yes, if only because I hadn't even had time to establish the extent of my injuries.  The second person to stop was a Bellmore EMT, asking if I wanted ice. Again, I assented, knowing my chin was definitely bleeding and my knees had taken a beating.

I have to admit that I'm amazed and very grateful that people stopped, not to mention that the people who did stop were amazingly helpful.  I lay there on the ground for quite some time, getting my bearings, establishing that nothing was broken.  The EMT who stopped asked the typical head-injury questions.

"What's your name?" Meghan
"What day is it?" Saturday... May 21st... Oh, wait, it's the Rapture!
"Who's the President?"  Obama... thank god it's not Bush.

I could push my feet down and pull them up, I could feel all my toes and all my fingers.

The next person to stop was a driver, who was also an EMT, this time from South Merrick.  He saw the commotion and stopped to see if he could help, which was fortuitous because at this point I was still lying on my back, bleeding profusely.  The first gentleman to stop, who had called the ambulance, had continued on his way, so though I knew there was someone coming, I wasn't sure when.

The South Merrick EMT pulled out a large medical kit, and more importantly gloves and clean gauze for my chin. Feeling somewhat steady, I sat up at this point, I had taken off my helmet and run my hand through my hair.  It came up covered in blood.

Though looking back I realize I had been laying on my back with my chin bleeding heavily- blood was bound to have dripped into my hair and down my arm- this was probably one of the scariest moments of the entire experience- seeing blood and not knowing where it had come from. The South Merrick EMT couldn't find a cut or anything on the back of my head, and I didn't feel dizzy, nauseated, or faint, so he, and I, didn't worry about it.

After sitting for a bit, I felt much better, though the bleeding hadn't stopped.  I took off my road shoes, since I have a hard enough time walking in them when I haven't just been thrown from my bike and stood up.  At this point I felt OK enough to joke with my rescuers, and try to put a plan together for getting me to the hospital and the bikes home.

Then the drama started.  I had already told both EMT's my name, I'm assuming as part of their head-injury checklist.  Then the State Troopers- 2 of them- showed up asking the same information all over again.  One of them was the first to make the joke about stopping the road with my face.  Then came a Wantagh EMT, solo, who eventually took my Partner in Crime and both bikes back to my house.  I'm pretty sure he asked me the same questions- name, birthday, age- all over again as well.  Then the ambulance from Harbor House, with 3 more EMTs (or EMT's in training, I'm not sure about one of them).

I was scurried off into the ambulance before I knew what was happening.  I had the foresight to grab my cell phone and license, but not much else.  I left my Partner in Crime to handle the details of getting home, getting the bikes home, and getting himself to the hospital. Thanking everyone as I left with a wave doesn't even come close to the gratitude that they deserve.

Stay tuned for the (not-so) thrilling conclusion of Meghan's Accidental Adventure.

Ride

I know I'm a little late in posting it, but May is National Bike Month (Bike League).

But I'm right on time to say that this week, May 16-20th, is Bike to Work Week.  Too bad Mother Nature's not cooperating here in New York. Granted, even if she was, I have to admit I wouldn't be biking to work this week- 9 miles is a bit ambitious for me, especially without some form of all-over industrial strength anti-perspirant.

Either way, it's Bike Month and gas is 4.25/gallon. You should be riding somewhere.  Transporation Alternatives (TA) has a great listing of the Bike Month events (Calendar) going on in NYC.

The Hunt

Isn't there someone with an open position for a bibliophile-yogi-crafter-cyclist-foodie-geek?

I find jobs to apply to, jobs that I'm qualified for, that I just can't see myself ever being passionate about.  I will always find it difficult to be passionate about a job that requires button-down shirts and high heels.  I will always find it difficult to be passionate about a job that involves regularly ringing phones and cubicles.  I will always find it difficult to be passionate about a job that keeps me at a desk, staring at a computer screen for 40 hours a week.

I kind of feel like my job hunt is more like Duck Hunt.  Every time I send out a resume without getting a hit (whether or not I was really interested in the position) that obnoxious dog pops up and starts laughing at me.   

 

How can you turn your passions into your profession? How can you monetize an interest without it becoming a job?  Where does one even find the opportunity to make the attempt?  

I guess I just want to know how to find that perfect job and once I've found it how to land it. Is that so much to ask?

 

 

Steel is Real

2 weeks of rain hasn't left me with much time to spend outside working on Akemi.  I've managed a few hours here and there but no major leaps forward.  This is in part because my attitude towards this project has changed. 

Initially, I was looking for a 'beater' city bike.  Something functional, inexpensive (nee cheap), and sturdy, to be left locked up outside the Old Beer Garden or the Brooklyn Brewery.  I laid out my plan- tires/tubes, grip tape, quick tune-up, u-lock, done.  After a few hours working on her though, and noting considerable potential for cosmetic improvements, I realized that I didn't have a beater bike on my hands, I've got a gorgeous vintage bicycle. 

So my quick fix has turned into a labor of love. 

Akemi's Pedals- straight off the bike

Old.  Good as new.

It took me an hour and a half of chrome polish, degreaser, soap, water, and a toothbrush to get both pedals to something resembling clean.  There's still some grit trapped in the right pedal, which will probably require a bit more time to clear out.  It's amazing how well the grease held up over 35 years- despite the grit and dirt it trapped between the bearings.  The plastic reflectors- on the bike as a whole- are surprisingly in perfect condition. 

I'm at the point now that I need a nice day, several hours, and the buffing head on my Dremel tool to tackle the rust on the wheels.  This weekend is already spoken for though since I'll be spending Saturday at the New Amsterdam Bike Show.  Hopefully it won't give me too many 'good' ideas.

This year for me, is about experiences, about doing something worthwhile.  Finding what drives me, where I'm going, and enjoying myself along the way. 


Lately cycling has taken on a bigger role in my life.  From training for a century ride, to an ever-widening circle of 2-wheel-devoted friends, to gas prices hovering at 4 dollars a gallon, bikes matter more now than ever before.  

I love my Specialized road bike.  She's pretty. light, and fast, everything I want her to be.  With the edition of Light Action Speedplay Pedals and cycling shoes, she's all I could ask for in an entry-level road bike. She's great for starting at Point A and riding a loop (whether it be 5 miles or 40, or more) and coming right back to A again.  She's not exactly suited to going from Point A to Point B and being locked up to a pole for a few hours.

This is where my pack-rat family, a bit of elbow grease, the very helpful people at the bike store, and the internet come in. 

In my house we almost never throw anything out.  We're not dirty, nor are we by nature messy, but we keep stuff.  Every set of Legos I ever owned?  In their original boxes in the basement.  Father's Day cards I gave my Dad when I was 6?  In his nightstand.  China from both my grandmothers?  In the basement.  You get the idea.  If it a.) Might be worth something (we plan to sell it), or b.) Might be needed some day or c.) Has sentimental value, we keep it.    

Well, sometimes we do find a use for some of the stuff we hold on to.  In this case, a 35 year old Panasonic Sport Deluxe road bike.

Meet Akemi:

 

She's a little rough around the edges right now but with a little elbow grease and some TLC she'll be perfect.