The Zen of Changing Lanes

Everything I need to know about Zen I learned from changing lanes.

Or, more accurately, not changing lanes.

My onramp to the freeway is a long, two lane stretch with a traffic light at the end.

Everyday I’m a-fluster when I decide which lane to move into. There’s the truck up front on the right side—that’s worth two cars for sure. But the left has two vans. Quick, left!

This happens everyday in the echo chamber in my head. It’s a weird thing to worry about. We all do it.

It’s silly–honestly–to think of how scared we are of picking a lane. Choosing wrong. The finality of it. It’s 37 seconds—I timed it. It’s 37 seconds in the slower lane. 28 in the faster one.

And for what? To get my turn to merge into the bulging freeway so I can wait and worry there about what lane’s best? (more…)

How do we know what happens to us isn’t good?

“The police and emergency service people fail to make a dent. The voice of the pleading spouse does not have the hoped-for effect. The woman remains on the ledge – though not, she threatens, for long.

“I imagine that I am the one who must talk the woman down. I see it, and it happens like this.

“I tell the woman about a man in Bogota. He was a wealthy man, an industrialist who was kidnapped and held for ransom. It was not a TV drama; his wife could not call the bank and, in twenty-four hours, have one million dollars. It took months. The man had a heart condition, and the kidnappers had to keep the man alive.

“Listen to this, I tell the woman on the ledge. His captors made him quit smoking. They changed his diet and made him exercise every day. They held him that way for three months.

“When the ransom was paid and the man was released, his doctor looked him over. He found the man to be in excellent health. I tell the woman what the doctor said then – that the kidnap was the best thing to happen to that man.

“Maybe this is not a come-down-from-the-ledge story. But I tell it with the thought that the woman on the ledge will ask herself a question, the question that occurred to that man in Bogota. He wondered how we know that what happens to us isn’t good.”

Lovely short piece of writing from someone on internet: The Man In Bogota

via Jae “Not afraid of bear-spray” Reichel

The Problem With TV According to “Network”

Max: “It’s too late, Diana. There’s nothing left in you that I can live with. You’re one of Howard’s humanoids. If I stay with you, I’ll be destroyed. Like Howard Beale was destroyed. Like Laureen Hobbs was destroyed. Like everything you and the institution of television touches is destroyed. You’re television incarnate, Diana – Indifferent to suffering; insensitive to joy. All of life is reduced to the common rubble of banality. War, murder, death are all the same to you as bottles of beer. And the daily business of life is a corrupt comedy. You even shatter the sensations of time and space into split seconds and instant replays. You’re madness, Diana. Virulent madness. And everything you touch dies with you. But not me. Not as long as I can feel pleasure, and pain… and love.”

[Kisses her]

“And it’s a happy ending: Wayward husband comes to his senses, returns to his wife, with whom he has established a long and sustaining love. Heartless young woman left alone in her arctic desolation. Music up with a swell; final commercial. And here are a few scenes from next week’s show.”

[Picks up his suitcases and leaves]

Network (1976)

Coding Horror on wonder

When I am holding Henry and I tickle him, I can feel him laughing all the way to his toes. And I realize, my God, I had forgotten, I had completely forgotten how unbelievably, inexplicably wonderful it is that any of us exist at all.”

Jeff Atwood

Frank Chimero on usernames

“We might forget too easily that these nodes, these usernames, are in fact people. People deserve more than the term username; they’ve earned a richer biography than a series of labels or a list of favorite movies. We must not allow interactions online to be perpetually stuck in the conversational depth of a first date. We can shun complex and shallow and embrace simple and deep.”

Frank Chimero