"I Am Better Than This"

Multiple times this week I have said this statement to myself. I probably mean: "I am different than them. Or "I want something different than this." But my inter-dialogue uses "better", so I will stick with it. It is probably more proper to say I "thought" this statement, but I am kind-of talking to myself. I try to step outside of myself and pretend to be an objective friend. I know this is silly.

The first time I said it to myself (or thought) was when I was riding a bus at 1:30PM. I had spent the morning getting my oil changed and tires rotated. I spent an extended lunch in the apartment. And when I got on the bus I realized the 1:30PM crowd wasn't too impressive, not the kind of people I wanted to be, not bad people just not the kind I wanted to be. I want to be at work at 1:30PM.

The second time I was eating dinner and playing cards with these people. These people were not my friends or my family. They didn't care about me. These people were friends amongst themselves but couldn't find it in their heart to even act like they cared about me as a person. I couldn't find it in my heart (or the energy) to make them care about me. But I didn't find the energy or the heart to leave either.

The third time I am going to some lecture that ex ante has a 33% chance of being worth my time. The fourth time I am sitting in the lecture, and it is one of the 67%. I have a million of unimportant things to do. I have million things to do that will eventually add up or not add up to my medium and long-term happiness level. But I am sitting there half-listening, avoiding those millions of things.

I am better than this. And I will get better.

Something I Have Been Thinking About

I wonder if gas mileage is still important. I see by their ads that GM, Ford, and Chrysler want to think not (at least GM--their ads are the most prominent). But they still put gas mileage in their ads. I cannot decide if this is a good strategy or not. Yeah, the Chevy Silverado gets good gas mileage for a truck, but it really doesn't get good gas mileage compared to a Prius.

I like trucks, but I don't think I will ever buy a truck for its gas mileage. And when funds are low and times tough, the one thing I can control is gas mileage. After these last few months, I am always going to care about gas mileage and efficiency. I wonder what the average American will care about.

Personally, I think we might have reached a tipping point where efficiency and reducing our interdependence on oil will trump SUVs, power, and comfort.

My dad thinks differently. I guess we will see.

Some Things I Have Learned

1. Learning how to work through your successes is just as difficult as learning how to work through your failures.

2. Dependability and reliability are important traits in people and products.*

3. Women who wear heels on Saturday mornings when it is raining want men to look at them.

4. "Do the best you can" is cliche but good advice.

5. Ironing makes pants look better, but I haven't decided if it is worth it.

6. Some times you just have to buy something. It makes you feel better. It is better than smoking or drinking. And it can be cheaper if you are smart. "Do something" is cliche but good advice.

*At first I thought dependability and reliability were redundant, but I think reliability is ex ante and dependability is ex post. They are positively correlated no doubt. A reliable person anticipates. A dependable person reacts. You get in a reliable car knowing it will start. You get in a dependable car not knowing if it will start but knowing if it does then it will get you where you need to go or let you know quickly that it won't. This is reaching and unproductive but I am doing something.

Third Post I Have Started In Three Days

At twelve, Jeff had a 40 year old woman's ass. His father was a cross country coach and distance runner. His mother had a 40 year old woman's ass. Jeff was doomed by genetics. He had no fast twitch muscles.

We were good friends. He loved Aerosmith and professional wrestling. I enjoyed professional wrestling. But after twelve I had enough fast twitch muscles to make me an average high school football player and shot putter. He did not. He continued to love Aerosmith and professional wrestling. He learned to enjoy pot and alcohol and a life without adult sensibilities. He failed out of college. He became a management trainee at Wal-Mart. And I haven't seen him since. I am sure he is well. I am sure he hasn't escaped his genetics. His father was an English teacher. His mother was a banker. I am sure he is doing fine now and has found some adult sensibilities.

I am sure we would have a good time catching up. But I doubt if either of us have the time.

Neither Necessary Nor Helpful But Something I Felt Like Writing

I am sitting at Deet's Place. Deet's Place is Virginia Tech's on-campus coffee shop. In front of me is a co-ed whose thighs are protruding through her too short shorts. Behind me are two girls trying really hard to be good college students. Beside me are two guys trying to get laid. Deet's Place is a whole lot like the Eagle's Nest at my alma mater Bridgewater College. I suspect it is a whole lot like every college in America.

It is October 16th. It has been a year and a half since a crazy adolescent passed Deet's Place on his way to kill 32 unexpecting Hokies. It has been five years since I arrived on this campus. I want to say something has changed. I want to say Virginia Tech is a better place or at least a safer place. But either one would be lies. Besides construction zones and the rare building completion, this place hasn't changed much in five years.

Maybe things are not supposed to change. I never believed that "the only constant is change." Places and people change but at the end of the day, most of life stays the same. I get up. I eat. I breath. I love. I hate. I long. I sleep. Same old shit, different day.

When I saw the video of the crazy adolescent, all I could think about was what if I had made the effort to talk to him. What if I sat down with him in Deet's Place or the D2 cafeteria? What if someone became his friend instead of his enemy? Most of this was foolish. But "We Are Virginia Tech." "We are all Hokies today." I vowed to make a change. Life was too precious to be worrying about co-ed's thighs. Life was too precious to be so introverted that crazy people were able to slip through the cracks. I have felt some of the loneliness that crazy kid must have felt. It hurts. It does not justify what he did. But it hurts. We cannot deny pain.

I remember the press conferences. I remember that the University President (who is and was more of a politician than an educator) refused to say: "Let us grieve. We will review our policies. We will learn from this. But this is not about blame. It is about recovery. It is about grief. It is about making life changes for the better. Let us grieve." He did a great public relations job. Applications were up. Virginia Tech capitalized on the nation's attention. But the university did not change. Except the new dorms and research buildings being built.

Doors to most buildings are now difficult to chain shut. There are other ways to block doors. There are boards telling people what to do during an emergency. These serve as constant reminders of the evil of that day. There are electronic updatable boards telling people if there is an emergency. There are automatic Emails and text messages. I do not know what good these will do in case of a a real emergency. I guess they might help after the fact, but I do not see their prevention value.

I remember going into Deet's place a few weeks after the shootings. All I could think about was that you would need state troopers at every door. And it still wouldn't be enough. That was the moment when I got over the shootings. We have to live. We have to be. I have given up trying to explain unexplainable things.

I gained 20 pounds in the three months after the shootings. I have lost 110 pounds in the fifteen months since. It was just something I did. The doctor told me I was going to eventually die. So I lost weight. I vowed to make a change.

But I am still a lonely introvert sitting at Deet's Place commenting on crazy adolescent males trying to score. I still do no have the courage to sit down with the guy who looks lonely, the guy or the girl who looks like the world has left a gaping wound upon their heart.

At a conference in Orlando, a fellow graduate student from Siberia asked if anything had changed at Tech. I was taken back by the question and gave a quick and unthoughtful response.

Now I would answer: "No. Was anything supposed to?"

Before It Is Too Late

I read an article about "patients as consumers" this morning. It was long but reviewed how the law has treated health care patients.

Universal health care worries me. I worry about incentives for innovation. I worry about moral hazard. I worry about someone else determining what treatments my parents get or don't get. But I really don't think it is worth it to spend much time opposing it. Given my history, my genes, my feelings I am betting at worst it will be a wash for me.

But I still think the major problem is fixed costs. It takes so much investment to train doctors, nurses, and technicians. It takes so much investment in research for new drugs and new machines. Once the doctor is trained and the machine is paid for the marginal cost is relatively low.

I also think that doctors have a psychic (market) power over patients. Doctors do not do cost-benefit analysis with patients. Patients do not do a cost-benefit analysis and trust their doctor. Evidence based medicine can help this, but I do not trust statistics, especially when comes to a discrete event like life or death. I also believe in the placebo effect.

My answer has been some type of "flex" plan where patients make an up-front yearly contribution to fixed costs, and then pay the marginal costs during each visit. HMOs proved that this would probably not work. A single hospital would probably not be able to support all of every patient's needs, and the number of people needed to contribute to the program makes it private feasibility doubtful. People like choice and do not like long-term contracts.

So what I am saying is that I curious to see what our President-elect really does about health care. I say this while I am debating whether to go to the dentist to get my teeth cleaned or the doctor to get preventive blood tests done. It is all about trade-offs.

Rocky III, Eye Doctors, And Pat Jordan

I watched a little of Rocky III last night. I caught the Rocky-Adrian "I'm afraid" scene. I am sure it is on YouTube. Paraphrasing, Rocky says he is scared for the first time in his life. He finally had something to lose, and it scared him.

Rocky was born a fighter, not a boxer but a fighter. He was dumb, but he could take a punch. He could always punch back. I always thought Rocky I ended perfectly. Rocky goes fifteen rounds, but he loses. But he also wins by just remaining standing. This is life.

I go to the Wal-Mart eye doctor yesterday. I am the only patient in the office, but the doctor is out on a break. He gets back fifteen minutes later. In the middle of his consultation he takes a phone call. We talk about football, politics, the machine he uses, and his guitar collection. I don't think the guy really cares about being an eye doctor.

Pat Jordan has repeated numerous times that he was and is a pitcher. Writing is just something he did to make money.

At one time I had a grander point here, but I have forgotten it. I guess what I am trying to say is that finding "who one really is" takes a lifetime. It isn't easy. Some people never find out exactly who they are. Some people give up and don't care who they are. But when one really finds out who they are, even if it is just a little piece, they should hold on to it. It doesn't mean they shouldn't question or challenge it. It just means "being happy in your own skin" is a good feeling.

Something I Wrote To Myself A Few Years Ago

"What does it all mean, Mr. Natural?"

"Don't mean sheeit."

You spend have your life redefining greatness. The other half you spend attempting to impress people who can't help but disappoint you. Meritocracies would be no fun. Of course, you are wasting your life, but what is your next best opportunity? It never comes to you; it can't. "No one said this was going to be easy."--J.C.M "You have to march to the beat of your own fucking drummer."--J.S. It will kill you, but if the music stops, you might as well be dead. They can't give you a grade on how much you care. They don't care, so why should you?

(I was (am) in a bad habit of talking to myself. Using "you" instead of "I" weakens the point.)

Small Town Coffee Shops

I am sitting in this small town coffee shop, overpriced sandwiches, overpriced coffee, and overpriced bakery goods warmed up in the microwave. I say this is me. A small coffee shop in a small town is what I want. I want to get up at 5:00AM and not go home until 9:00PM. I want to have something that is mine. Something I can build. Something I can create.

But how long could I get up at 5:00AM? A month, six months, a year? How long before I get tired? How long before I lose the energy to create? Isn't energy the scarce resource? Isn't the loss of energy what doomed the video store? Didn't my uncle do the same thing except he had pool tables and gambling machines in the back? Didn't he eventually get "tired out?" Haven't I learned anything from the last few years?

That is the debate, regimentation versus organic order. I get up at 6:30AM (give or take twenty minutes and somewhat dependent on daylight savings time) without an alarm clock. Is it a good thing to force myself to get up earlier? Do I need that regimentation?

If the last few months has taught us anything, it is that uncertainty abounds. The world cannot be broken down into probabilities. Humans cannot understand probabilities anyway. Unfortunately, this says nothing about regimentation or organic order. But it does make me feel better.

"Hey Diddle Diddle We're Running Up The Middle" Ready, Break

J.S. played guard. Well he started out as a tackle, but he ended up as a guard who played a little center. He wasn't very good. But he beat me out for playing time. In a mixed-up sort of way, he impeded my career as a freshman and as a senior.

J.S. was a rah-rah guy. Nobody on the team necessarily liked him. Nobody really respected him. But he talked a good game. He was always first in line for drills. He was always quick with a "Come on, guys," when practice wasn't going well. He would always volunteer to play another position if someone was hurt. The coaches liked him. By his senior year, even the coaches' affection had waned. But he was a rah-rah guy who always took advantage of any opportunity that arose.

During an off-week, he went camping. He came back with poison ivy all over his ass, legs, and stomach. He had poison ivy in places where no man should have poison ivy. He blamed it on an unwashed cabin mattress or bed spread. Then we found out that one of the female trainers had a severe case of poison ivy too. The story finally came out that he and the trainer had "explored nature" and were now paying for it.

I will always remember this story. But I will also remember that J.S. always found a way to get on the field.

Short Games

I don't think much of Bud Selig. I think Major League Baseball has problems. These playoffs and this series should be interesting, but they are not. Some of this is FOX and Joe Buck and Tim McCarver. Some of this is baseball should not be played in late October when it is thirty degrees.

But I like this three and half inning game tonight. I might just watch the whole game and get to bed at a reasonable time.

(I predict that Lidge blows his first save tonight. The game goes to extra innings, and I go to bed.)

Coversations Overheard While Waiting For The Bus

"Once you accept and admit you're flawed, pardon my language, but you once admit you're fucked-up, life changes. I wouldn't say life becomes easier. But things changes."

I think the context was Christianity.

Walter Williams Does It Again

Walter Williams' experiment from this post at Cafe Hayek:

"Today on my way to lunch I passed a homeless guy with a sign that read 'Vote Obama, I need the money.' I laughed. Once in the restaurant my server had on a 'Obama 08' tie, again I laughed as he had given away his political preference -- just imagine the coincidence. When the bill came I decided not to tip the server and explained to him that I was exploring the Obama redistribution of wealth concept. He stood there in disbelief while I told him that I was going to redistribute his tip to someone who I deemed more in need -- the homeless guy outside. The server angrily stormed from my sight. I went outside, gave the homeless guy $10 and told him to thank the server inside as I've decided he could use the money more. The homeless guy was grateful. At the end of my rather unscientific redistribution experiment I realized the homeless guy was grateful for the money he did not earn, but the waiter was pretty angry that I gave away the money he did earn even though the actual recipient needed money more. I guess redistribution of wealth is an easier thing to swallow in concept than in practical application."

Einstein Quote Of The Day

"If I would be a young man again and had to decide how to make my living, I would not try to become a scientist or scholar or teacher. I would rather choose to be a plumber or a peddler in the hope to find that modest degree of independence still available under present circumstances."

Yeah I went home this weekend.

I Cannot Believe These Three Guys Could Get Together

Wow.

I am not going to comment on their point. I am still in shock from seeing those three names together.

Conversations On The Bus, "Yeah, That's Awesome," And My First Economics Related Idea

"Yeah, I got really drunk. I had to call a cab. My brother had given me all of these cab cards. I call one. He comes. He says, "Baby, you got some junk in your trunk." I am so drunk I play along, shake my ass, and ride in the cab.

Yeah, that's awesome."


My college roommate liked to order pizza but always forgot to buy drinks. I always had drinks in the fridge but was too cheap to order pizza. My roommate always had extra pizza. I always had extra drinks. We could have easily contracted and both been better off, but we never did.

In a way it was a prisoners' dilemma. But I always chalked it up to "communication costs." It cost both of us something substantial to admit to one another that we wanted something that only the other guy could provide. Now game theorists and economists have thoroughly dealt with this problem, but it is really a psychological problem. The real issue is decreasing the psychic cost of communication.

This has very little to do with anything except to say that there are some things in the world that don't make sense. And that is okay.

Acting In Aiports

I am sitting in an international airport. The wireless signal does not reach my gate. (I think this is the city that wanted to give free wireless access to all its citizens.) The only outlets are located in modified 2’ X 2’ phone booths. I decide I am going to write a blog post. No I decide I want to write a blog post.

I have been thinking about this post for a few days. But I think it is clearer now.

I could go to an airport bar. Most of them are crowded, but I could start a conversation with someone. Something worthwhile could happen. I could go to McDonald’s and eat some more. I have already had two peanut butter sandwiches and some peanut M and M’s. But I want to appear busy.

I don’t want to be busy. I don’t want to work on my dissertation or something to advance my career. I don’t want to review tomorrow’s presentation or tomorrow’s workshop papers. But I want to feel busy.

I want to be important. I want to look like I have to make phone calls and work 14 hours a day. Some of it is me worrying too much about other people. Some of it is a screwed up ethic that graduate school, my Dad, and my “world” have instilled in me (both in the case of work and looking like I am working).

But it is also an astute recognition of self. Because I do like it. I like the life where you are sitting in airport phone booths bitching about wireless connections. I like the possibility of meeting somebody really important. I enjoy the feeling of doing something even if it is just acting.

When I threw shot-put I always thought it was more important what you did when the coaches weren’t looking. I used to practice after all of the others left. I used to practice in the rain and snow. I wasn’t getting (and didn’t get) any better. Smart practice is the key to success, not just practice.

But I sit here writing blog posts, thinking of stories about average to below-average looking stewardess, dress salesmen, and businessmen acting busy. I could go to a bar. I could sit down with some old British people. But I like where I am sitting.

Maybe I have done something to advance my career.

(ML pointed out to me this morning that most work is acting. As attractive as digging ditches seems at times, ditch diggers must feel some emptiness in their work. The Myth of Sisyphus comes to mind.)

I Didn't Watch The Second Half

Of this game.

My uncle and sister went to JMU. For some reason, I feel some connection to the purple Dukes.

Some times it is better to run around and try to run out the clock than punt. Before long there will be clock management coaches on the side line.

Being The Subject

A few months ago I participated in an engineering experiment. I found out I was partially color blind. I had to change into spandex so my movements could be monitored. I was getting paid $20 an hour.

The experiment was being conducted by fellow graduate students. They made me feel like shit. They talked around me instead of to me. One rather feminine fellow kept telling me "You're doing a good job," like I was three years old. I wasn't a colleague. I wasn't a student. I wasn't anything to them.

It was the worse ostracized feeling I have felt in a long time. I wanted to be friends with them. I wanted to talk politics. I wanted to participate in their intellectual banter. I wanted to discuss experimental protocol with them. I usually do not give a damn about most people. But these people, because they were acting like I was some stupid subject only to be observed, intrigued me.

Maybe it was because they were engineering people. Maybe it was me. I don't know.

But when they finally paid me, which took three extra days, I felt a whole lot better.

From The June 2008 Issue Of The Journal Of Economic Literature

From The Economic Consequences of Legal Origins by Rafael La Porta, Florencio Lopez-de-Silanes, and Andrei Shleifer*:

"...The world economy in the last quarter century has been surprisingly calm, and has moved sharply toward capitalism and markets. In that environment, our framework suggests that the common law approach to social control of economic life performs better than the civil law approach. When markets do or can work well, it is better to support than to replace them. As long as the world economy remains free of war, major financial crises, or order extraordinary disturbances, the competitive pressures for market-supporting regulation will remain strong and we are likely to see continued liberalization. Of course, underlying this prediction is a hopeful assumption that nothing like World War II or the Great Depression will repeat itself. If it does, countries are likely to embrace civil law solutions, just as they did back then."