Olympic Watching

Posted on August 1, 2021 by mathdreads

I credit still being in a plague for all my Olympics viewing. There’s still a hotbed of COVID superspreading, so this event has broken up my usual TV programing.

And speaking of hotbed…some genius thought it would be a wonderful idea to make Olympiad beds out of a cardboard frame. First of all, if anyone can endure the rigors of having sex in untraditional places, whether it’s a tricked out bed, or comfortably contorting into a strength position for loving, it would be Olympiads. Secondly, if all else fails, there’s still the floor.

The opening ceremony was a 4 1/2 hour theatrical extravaganza. From the interpretative dance and tap dancing to the parade of nations, which displayed more flight attendant attire than anything else, but Tonga man was still an oiled up crowd pleaser. My absolute favorite part was the “living emoji” choreography with animation sequence, depicting the international symbols of the Olympic events. That production crew deserves an Oscar for that segment. The juxtaposition of Kabuki theater with that out of control jazz pianist was fabulous. I’ve never seen a pianist use so much of her body not only to play, but to dance with the instrument.

I watched events I had never seen before. At one point, I googled, “What’s the name of the Olympic sport that looks like soccer in a swimming pool?” No, I didn’t feel the least bit stupid when the words “water polo,” flashed on the screen. As a matter of fact, I’m happy I finally learned what that sport looked like after hearing about it for so long. I especially liked that the women’s USA team had a black goalie with long powerful arms, batting away the opposing team’s shots like stopping white women from touching her hair.

Besides the obvious rooting for the home team, or any other country I’ve lived in or Brazil since that’s the birthplace of capoeira, I enjoy learning the stories behind the athletes. Beyond being amazed by their physical acts of strength, I am inspired by their personal narratives. After all, I don’t know any of them personally. Not even the top gymnastic GOAT, Simone Biles, who resides in Houston when she’s not wowing the world with her spectacular feats.

The most awe-inspiring and unpredictable thing Biles did during this year’s games was to take a mental health break. The world watched in horror as she got lost in space while in the air during her vaulting routine. Gymnasts call this phenomenon “the twisties.” An athlete undergo catastrophic injuries when that happens. Fortunately, Biles didn’t suffer permanent physical injuries and knew to take a break.

The world overwhelming supported her wise decision, but the usual trolls demanded that she continue and ridiculed her for not continuing. This flared the “Black women must fight all battles all the time” argument. Sigh. One fine day, and I sincerely hope I live to see it, Black women will be seen as human beings and not beasts of burden who must utterly exhaust ourselves for the comfort and pleasure of others.

Meanwhile, other women are fighting to dress comfortably, given the rigors of their sport. Given the fact that The Olympics started when no women had a say in formulating the rules, now the athletes themselves must demand a voice such as the Norwegian handball team. They were fined because they wore comfortable shorts rather than the skimpy bikini bottoms. Pop star Pink offered to pay the fine, but in the end, the European Handball Federation paid the fine rather than the team itself.

Lots of controversy swirls around this year’s Olympics and many felt that the games should have been canceled due to the pandemic alone, in addition to all the other bullshit that goes on due to the Olympics.

As usual, I wonder if cancellation would better address any intersectionality of discrimination. Showing elite athleticism often breaks down barriers and allows spotlights to be shined on such things as mental health issues, gender disparity, sexual orientation discrimination and the such. How much can be gained by NOT seeing these athletes hailing from different backgrounds?

Just last year, the world protested against police brutality because they saw the video of George Floyd’s murder. Now, the world is witnessing how these seemingly arbitrary Olympic rules are being applied. Why, for example, an athlete cannot participate for consuming a THC gummy, which didn’t enhance her performance, but a country found guilty of doping its athletes to give them an edge can still participate with a name change.

The world is watching. There are many different ways to protest. Yet we cannot care about what we don’t know about. Video is a very powerful medium, which motivates the masses to take action in whatever form they have access to.

The mere presence of skateboarding for the first time as an Olympic event shows changes happen with advocacy. I look forward to the next Olympics. I optimistically hope the discussions we’re having now are woven into how things are run in 2024. I also hope that the next time around, I’ll have to make time in my busy schedule just to watch the Olympics…perhaps in a public place, unmasked on the weekends.

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Global Grandmother Cures

Posted on July 25, 2021 by mathdreads

Remember the last time you were sick? So sick in fact you had to get off the hamster wheel of your busy life and slow way down. As you made the umpteenth trip to the bathroom or blew your nose until it was raw, all you wished was that someone would baby you like grandma used to do. Even Nana’s soothing voice comforted you. If you weren’t so sick, you could have thought clearly and remembered what granny used to do in times like these. Your abuela either walked into the kitchen or bathroom to prepare a home remedy or get inexpensive over-the-counter treatment. Dadi knew best. Now, you no longer need to suffer alone. With Global Grandmother Cures, you can get the advice from an Asian, Black, and/or Hispanic grandmother. 

That opening pitch/introduction started the presentation, on which I’d collaborated with three other students from my evening Data science class. I’d originally had a different idea for the Chatbot project when I thought I’d have to do the whole thing by myself. Fortunately, I only had to do one-fourth. I stayed my comfort zone.

As a matter of fact, we all landed in the roles where we were best suited. The only guy in the group was also the person who had the most coding experience. Naturally, we rallied around him to present the code and tinker with the given Chatbot code to personalize it with the persona of someone’s grandmother.

If we’d had more time, we could have researched and written more home remedies data. During our first meeting, I shared my mother’s most popular home remedy for warding off a cold: crushed raw garlic in a spoon, followed by a shot of juice. Another person stated that sleeping with sliced raw onions in the bottom of a sock was her family’s home remedy for colds.

Another stated that her family just rubbed Vick’s all over their body. At that point, we all screamed that our families also used Vick’s Vapor rub. That was a unifying moment since the four of us represented Asian, Black and Hispanic cultures.

Another project member worked on the visualization. She designed emojis with different skin tones and gray hair to represent the grandmother personas.

Finally, the last project member handled the business monetization. In our rehearsal, I told her that we couldn’t use such words as “diagnosis,” “treatment,” nor “cure.” Plus, we couldn’t mention specific diseases. The safe words were “helps,” “alleviates,” “soothes,” as well as general symptoms such as “head cold,” “stomachache.”

Yet, her idea was solid, given the fact that the US is a developed country without universal healthcare; so one hospital stay due to an accident or major medical condition could realistically bankrupt someone. Even a doctor’s visit may be out of one’s budget, yet relief may be found in a grocery aisle–along with rest and drinking plenty of water.

Our Chatbot would help alleviating the minor symptoms with the caveat if symptoms persist or constitute an emergency, then someone should either call 911 or otherwise see a doctor.

If I had the opportunity to develop this project, I’d make more of a deep-dive effort to research home remedies from different cultures, starting with a collage of names for “grandmother,” written in the language/alphabet from their culture of origin.

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Scheduling the Future

Posted on July 18, 2021 by mathdreads

Within four days, I started a new full-time job, followed by an evening computer class. When I was a secondary math and science teacher, I advocated for my students to be lifelong learners. Wouldn’t my former students be proud that after all these years, I’m still practicing what I preached?

I redesigned my schedule in order to redesign my life. Like a true student, I’m reading more than ever about coding because my personable data science instructor entertains, but doesn’t quite teach. Nonetheless, as a former teacher, I feel it’s my responsibility to learn the material. He’s just there to guide us through the curriculum and cheer us on.

To my surprise, there is still enough time in the day. While I no longer read while watching TV, at least I’m ploughing through it at a reasonable clip. I’m no longer juggling my creative projects during the week, but the weekends have become just that sweeter. That’s when I can illustrate, film edit, and apparently write and direct my Chatbot project.

Four of us Data Science students were thrown into a group together–just like the other five groups in that class. This is just the latest instance where my directing and writing skills truly come in handy. I essentially pitched my idea and won one other person to join the Chatbot group. The other two were placed in the group by the instructor. None of us feel to confident about our coding skills. Nonetheless, we divvied up roles, where I volunteered to introduce the project. We’d all attempt coding even though one person in the group would explain it.

At the end of the last computer class prior to our presentation, I scheduled a 30-minute Zoom meeting with my group. It was the first time we took the opportunity to do so. Before then, we’d only communicated via a private Slack channel. We volleyed ideas back and forth with the makings of a project plan. Two of us had previously thought we’d have to do the project solo.

Fortunately, our combined ideas are better than two individual ones. I expanded my idea about having my mother’s voicemails being the Chatbot. Another woman thought how to monetize a medical Chatbot. So, between the two of us, we had half of the project roles covered. Now we have the weekend to fill in the blanks.

In addition to writing my introduction/pitch to “Global Grandmother Cures,” I’m going to outline a script of the presentation. I figure, even if the content is shaky, we can tighten up the presentation itself. My goal is to send that out by Saturday, so I can work on coding something simple on Sunday, then rehearse on Monday.

All of that looks good on paper. Let’s see how much we can pull off.

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Clean Slate

Posted on July 11, 2021 by mathdreads

The arrival of my workstation from my new lucrative full-time job signaled the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

Taking no chances, I cleared everything off my desk, wiped it down with a disinfectant wipe, and burned sage to cleanse the bad juju from the space.

I happily set up my new workstation, then grudgingly set up the old workstation in front for one last time. I worked both part-time jobs from 8:30 to 11:45. At noon, I had one of the best virtual yoga classes. I truly felt that I’d cleansed the end of both jobs from my workspace as well as my soul.

After lunch, I packed up the old workstation and put it in the closet. The plan was to let it marinate for a while to see if I actually needed it any more.

In the meantime, life proceeded so much better now that I was no longer worried about money. I got the best sleep ever. Not only is my new job less stressful, I actually feel good that I’m directly helping people.

Adding to this new chapter, I enrolled into a Data Science class. All I can say is thank god I was a math and science teacher for over 20 years. What I lack in coding skills, I make up in catching onto the logic of the Python computer language–along with supplemental reading, thanks to my roommate lending me her book. The material that comes with the course only makes sense if the instructor’s reading to us while shining his charisma through it.

I thought the schedule itself would be grueling since I have only 30 minutes between when work ends and class begins. The instructor is very entertaining. Almost too entertaining. After class, I’m so happy to have attended, but then I think, “What did we just do?”

I was greatly relieved when the instructor told us that one of the roles of a Data Scientist was to tell a story. In this aspect, I’m ahead of the curve. The he meant “storytelling” was by interpretation of data.

However, coding is writing in a computer language. A very exacting computer language where if I don’t say things in the correct way (syntax), then I will have coded gibberish (errors). Some are so fluent in computer code, they write very elegantly, which expresses the most with the least. That’s how I write in English when given enough time to edit. That’s the level I’d like to reach with coding.

Once I’m fluent in coding, I’ll transform my workspace again. These tech skills will bring me closer to being a paid storyteller. At that point, I expect to not only sleep even better, but be more entertained by my dreams.

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80th Strange Family Reunion

Posted on July 4, 2021 by mathdreads

Two days after quitting both of my nonlucrative, remote, part-time jobs, I virtually attended the 80th Strange Family Reunion. Yet another silver lining from the coronavirus. The plague sank me financially, hence the two jobs, which kept me underemployed. Yet this global event allowed me to attend our family reunion two years in a row because all it cost me was time.

I met relatives I didn’t know existed and heard stories of ancestors I never knew. Thanks to technology, I’ve captured several narratives from the second generation of freeborn Stranges of whom my mother is one of the remaining of 12. I even took the opportunity to invite them all to participate in a podcast interview, which I launched last year, Strange Family Folklore.

Throughout the virtual program, I kept directing certain parts because I knew I’d eventually have to edit the video for posterity’s sake. I pointed out at the end of Sunday’s hourlong virtual church service, sermoned by one of my cousins, that next year when we’re all together in real life, our tradeoff will be not having a record of the program from start to finish like we’ve done in the past two years.

That prompted one of my sisters to suggest that “someone” could still record impromptu interviews with family reunion attendants, which motivated my other sister to volunteer her to do so. I felt that one coming on. Just like I knew yours truly would probably edit it.

Before I get too ahead of myself, though, I’ll focus on editing this year’s reunion. Since this will be my third Zoom recorded editing project, I’m hoping that it’ll be the charm. I finally have all the clips, including the ones from the other two breakout rooms. As three other people sent me their clips, I fondly remember how that step used to be the stumbling block.

This time around, I knew exactly what to ask them for and how to retrieve it, regardless of how they sent it to me. I even played the role of IT with one of my sisters. She was stuck in that loop of doing the same thing repeatedly, expecting a different result. She’s not crazy. She just didn’t know another way to send the mp4. Not until I talked her through it.

Fortunately, I’ve upped my technology game. My full-time job is tech heavy, and I’m also taking an evening Data Science class. My worst fears of biting off more than I could chew has not come true. If anything, the more I learn about how to use technology to pursue both work and creative projects, the happier I am.

My navigation through this modern jungle of existence has become more interesting. The light at the end of the tunnel isn’t a locomotive ready to mow me over after all.

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Juneteenth At Last

Posted on June 27, 2021 by mathdreads

Is there such a thing as an optimistic cynic?

If so, then that’s who I am. As soon as I heard the swiftness with which congress made Juneteenth a holiday, I cheered, then said, “I know you motherfuckers just want to distract us from your voter suppression efforts.” I’m familiar with that old trick. Throw us a bone and then take away something even bigger than what you just gave us.

It’s similar to when the workplace occasionally caters lunch, but doesn’t give anyone a raise.

Yet, as an optimist, I believe making Juneteenth is a step in the correct direction. It acknowledges the first time in American history when we were all free. At least on paper. There are days when I still feel I’m being treated as if I’m 3/5ths of a person.

Another recent win: the Supreme Court saved the Affordable Care Act (ACA). Another lesson the pandemic has taught us is that people of color and poor people have different medical and economic outcomes without inexpensive health insurance. The Court stated that ACA didn’t harm anyone since no one pays the individual mandate AKA the dreaded “penalty.”

Once again, karma’s a bitch. The GOP successfully fought to remove the individual mandate during their last attempt to kill ACA. Now, if only something like that can be applied to these voter suppression laws and the filibuster.

I’ll try to positive think that into existence.

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In-Person Film Fest

Posted on June 20, 2021 by mathdreads

My first in-person film fest event took place about 30 minutes outside of Austin proper.

Before heading out to the event, I coached myself not to automatically hug people I knew. After all, this was my third in-person event. I had to show some maturity and restraint. I asked first if someone accepted hugs or not. Progress.

Once I found my fellow board members, we hung that blasted banner. I’d learned my lesson the first time around over a year ago when we’d first used it. Only took one failed attempt this time before we settled for hanging it lower.

From there, we walked back to the hotel, which hosted the film festival.

We mingled and sipped free drinks. Thanks to a plague lesson, the bartender had a QR code for us to tip him. I don’t know if I’ll ever use cash ever again.

Closer to our co-sponsored happy hour, we strolled back over to the restaurant.

Technically, the festival organizer had paid for catered food. Still, I like to do my part. I knew the bartender was up-selling when he dazzled us with a description of a drink that wasn’t even on the menu. His showmanship was divine, so I ordered a “mariposa.” It was as pretty as he said it would be and garnished with edible flowers.

I mingled around the filmmaker crowd.

I view all of our events as membership opportunities. Nonetheless, I was impressed how many had come from out of town. I’d mistakenly thought no one had disposable income to do something like this. That was me projecting.

Although I left at midnight, two hours before the event was scheduled to end, I counted my attendance a success. Least of all, I’d made lemonade out of lemons. Training for my lucrative full-time job was supposed to be the next morning. Due to a computer glitch, my start date had to be pushed back two weeks. That door closed, so this opportunity opened.

As I continue to navigate through the post-COVID jungles of landing lucrative employment, I now have to include working out a schedule that includes in-person social events. What a refreshing change of pace–fitting live events into my work/life/bingewatching balance.

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Lyfting My Spirits

Posted on June 13, 2021 by mathdreads

Memorial Day weekend found me fretting over impending full time employment. I’d been offered a job, which was contingent on passing a drug test and background check. The only snag? A glitch in the digital platform, followed by a holiday weekend, which meant I had to wait until Tuesday to give my prospective employer a call since no one got back to me by Friday.

The one fun thing I’d planned for the long weekend was doing yoga in a friend’s back yard. She’d completed teacher training and had begun to give one-off classes. I hadn’t managed to attend any of her previous classes since I prefer to exercise in the mornings. Plus, my existence had reoriented itself to doing everything from home despite the fact that I love to have an excuse to be with other double vaxxed people. Memorial Day provided the perfect opportunity to check several boxes.

She led me in an hourlong general yoga flow under a tree. Afterwards, we shared food and a bottle of wine. An exercise I like to call “detox-retox.” I loved reconnecting with her. Not only do we share yoga in common, but also reading, writing, and we’ve both been teachers for years.

I was in such wonderful spirits, ready to pick up where I’d left off in job search hoop jumping. Put the key in the ignition, and there it was: the check engine light. I took a deep breath, put the car in reverse and ruminated about how to juggle another emotional-financial consideration.

I’d begun my job-seeking mad dash over a month ago. Although I’d worked a brief math tutoring gig that gave me a life line into June, I thought I would have secured a more lucrative, stable job by now. I have a new part time job, but it’s not enough to keep me afloat. Besides, that would have been too easy.

Part of my initial optimism was that society had begun to reopen and was anxious to hire. Yet even for lucrative entry level positions (not really an oxymoronic statement given the past year and a half), there are far more steps in between accepting an offer and getting on payroll.

The day after Memorial Day started off as normal: work, yoga, lunch. Then, with the optimism of someone still in control of her life, I dropped by the car dealership to get that check engine light looked at. My jaw dropped when the guy told me that I’d have to leave my car for at least 48 hours since there were about 40 cars ahead of mine. “I can’t do that!”

I didn’t exactly yell at him, but rather in surprise. I’d mistakenly thought I’d have to wait a few hours for them to diagnose what was wrong and then fix it. Of all the weeks that had just dragged by uneventfully, I actually had some shit to do in the next 48 hours.

I nervously drove to get groceries. The following morning, I went to a drugstore to take a drug test. At least that part of my dilemma had been figured out. My prospective employer had remedied a tech glitch, setting me on the next step. Later that evening, I drove to a networking happy hour.

Finally, on the third morning after seeing the check engine light, I dropped my car off. Prior to the pandemic, the car dealership ran its own shuttle service. For society 2.0, they found it more economical to hire a Lyft on behalf of their customers within 12-mile radius. I nearly fell back when I read the description of the car that would pick me up: Black Maserati Ghibli. Holy shit! I’ll take the hit for being “classist” when I say wholeheartedly, “Why is someone who drives a car like that, driving for Lyft?!”

The driver was as attractive as the car.

The driver was as attractive as the car. I told him that I’d had a challenging week, but his car was a bright spot in my otherwise shitty week.

Sure enough, I had my car back by the next afternoon. Wasn’t picked up in a fancy pants Lyft, but by the time my car was ready, I was in the middle of ploughing through all my on-boarding documents for my new full-time job. I was right, things had started picking up after riding in that Maserati.

I’m going to need a full time job to pay for all the repairs.

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No More Kisses

Posted on June 6, 2021 by mathdreads

Aging is a physical adventure. Simply waking up in pain without having done anything too strenuous or different the day before reminds me I’m middle aged.

My newest pain indicator started occurring about 30 minutes after lunch. My usual routine was an hourlong noontime yoga class followed by lunch with a glass of red wine and a piece of chocolate. In this case, a Hersheys Kiss, either the classic silver-foiled kisses or the fancy gold-foiled kisses that enclosed an almond. I’d mixed both types in a bag, which I kept in the refrigerator. I’d just reach into the bag and let mathematical probability choose which kiss I had to accompany my last sips of wine.

Seemingly overnight, one of my favorite desserts, chocolate and wine, rallied knee pain. As soon as I made the association, I looked it up and confirmed that sugar could trigger inflammation.

Now, I’ve hit another age milestone: no excessive sugar. Fortunately, that doesn’t mean I can’t indulge my sweet tooth, just not overly sweet things. After all, there’s always dark chocolate!

But not all dietary changes have been for the worse. In my mid 30s, I discovered I loved eating steamed or baked broccoli, which no longer had to be smothered in cheese. And don’t get me started with baked Brussel sprouts. I can only say that maturity caused that vegetable to taste delicious.

On the other hand, there are many nonfood related things I’ve stopped doing. Take rollercoasters for example. No, seriously take all the rollercoasters. I’ve got no use for them anymore. At first, on the advice of one of my older sisters, I first stopped riding rollercoasters with wooden tracks because they shook too much. Eventually, even metal-tracked rollercoasters were out as well.

Around the time I made the association between too much sugar and knee pain, I received an invitation to a wine and dessert happy hour. I packed up my gold- and silver-foiled kisses to share. En route to the party, I was stopped at a traffic light when a man approached my car, asking for money. Even prior to the pandemic, I didn’t believe in giving money to panhandlers, preferring to give them food or water. Yet, since the pandemic, I’ve not taken out cash. These days, businesses emphasize contactless payment.

I reached into my bag of chocolates, grabbed a handful of kisses and handed them to him. As I drove away, I wasn’t sure how much of a treat he considered my donation, but he thanked me for it nonetheless.

As soon as reached my destination, I hugged everyone, bypassing those outstretched hands, which were meant for a handshake. I didn’t care whether I’d previously met them or not. We were in a safe space and not merely in terms of COVID. I poured the kisses into a container where all the other desserts were.

We had a very entertaining and productive networking happy hour. Upon reflection, that was was the first time I’d ever brought both hugs and kisses to an event.

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The Happiest Hour

Posted on May 30, 2021 by mathdreads

Double vaxxed and ready to chillax…with a couple of friends who also believe in science, drinking and lively conversation.

Double vaxxed and ready to chillax…with a couple of friends who also believe in science, drinking and lively conversation. Although we were all board members of a nonprofit organization, no business (OK, not a lot of business) was discussed. We were so giddy just to see one another in real life rather than on our monthly Zoom board meetings.

Apparently, I was the most anxious to get out of the house since I arrived first with a bottle of my favorite spicy red wine, Cabernero. I was tempted to bring my silver chalice, I left it at home. I poured the hostess a taste, saying she could have more if she liked it. She loved it…as did all the other board members who arrived in time before we finished the bottle.

Although everyone had received her double vaccination doses, our host, in an abundance of caution, set up our happy hour in her backyard patio. As beautiful as the evening was, I knew winged spoilers would be out and biting. I’d slathered Skin So Soft all over my arms, legs, neck, chest…pretty much any exposed area except my face. There was no way I was going to wear long sleeves on such a warm night. Besides, I didn’t want to skip the joy of dressing up for a change.

I’ve always been a dog person even though I’ve not lived with one since childhood. Rosie, a beautiful chocolate poodle mix, was a welcomed surprise at happy hour. I met her when I arrived and she was let loose toward the end of our visit. I completely understand how some people derived comfort from adopting a fur baby. Unfortunately, others are returning their fur babies now that the pandemic is nearly over as if they were nothing but pandemic pets.

At one point, someone asked the group what the pandemic had taught us about ourselves. Everyone attempted a positive answer. One woman said she valued having her parents nearby, so they could help with childcare. I talked about how daily yoga, red wine, illustrating and my weekly baked quiche brought me joy. The woman who posed the question answered last. “I learned I have gray pussy hair.”

I only understood what she’d said the third time she said it. The first two times, I heard, “I learned I have great pussy hair.” Since the pandemic, she’d no longer felt the need to wax/shave/laser–not sure what her hair removal method was. Yet, from what I thought I heard, reminded me of a little gem I’d written years ago, “Pubic Hair Cornrows.” I either texted or emailed everyone at Happy Hour the link. The gist is that fashion trends, including bodyscaping, tends to ebb and flow.

The happy hour officially ended when the drizzle began. Even though the rain never came, this is the land of flash floods, better to drive home safely while we could. We hadn’t survived a plague just to die in a flood.

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