Noteworthy entries.

Now I can estimate how many more bars of soap I’ll buy before I die

Now I've got myself a soap clock. Back in January, 2008, I bought a 16- pack of soap at Costco.  After bringing it home, I was inspired to write a post called "How many more bars of soap will I buy before I die?" As of today, the last bar of soap from that pack is almost gone. My house has several bathrooms, and I tend to use one of them, almost exclusively, and that's were that pack of soap was located. Therefore, I can attribute most of the soap use to me. Therefore, I used 16 bars of soap in about 42 months, meaning I use a bar of soap every 2.6 months or, conversely, I use .38 bars of soap per month. Now, going to the life expectancy tables, I see that I will likely live till age 93, but that seems awfully generous.  This clock says I'll only live until Thursday, February 7, 2030 (19 more years).   And here is a detailed calculator that takes into account many factors, and it tells me I'll live until 83, which means I'll live 28 more years.   28 years = 336 months.   Sounds like a good average. All I needed to do was translate years into bars of soap, and that is accomplished with simple multiplication: 336 month x .38 bars/month = 127 bars of soap.  If I keep buying big 16-bar value packs, I'm only going to buy 8 more packs of soap before I die.   This makes soap a precious commodity, indeed.   On the other hand, anything you regularly use (pens, eggs, birthday cakes) can serve as a clock. In case you think I'm obsessed with death, you're probably right--this is one of the sites that fascinate me.

Continue ReadingNow I can estimate how many more bars of soap I’ll buy before I die

Ira Glass and the taste-ability gap.

Creation is daunting. Partly because the drive to create is always rooted in admiration for others' creations. What writer hasn't struggled against inadvertently ghost-writing their favorite author? What aspiring auteur, poet, or painter doesn't begin with work that is heartrendingly derivative of others' better attempts? Or worse-- what creative person hasn't struggled to make something 'great', something 'great' as the art they adore, only to find they can't quite compete? And who doesn't infer from these failings that maybe they weren't cut out to be a creative type after all? Ira Glass, creator and longtime host of This American Life, says there's a very simple reason for the head-bashing frustrations of early creative production. Simply put: if you are interested in creating something, it's probably because you have immaculate taste. Taste that outpaces your own ability. At least, at first. Glass says:

“What nobody tells people who are beginners — and I really wish someone had told this to me . . . is that all of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, and it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase. They quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know it’s normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way through.”
I found this snippet in a video interview with Glass (below) a year or two ago, and I find it incredibly inspiring. Glass' view of creativity suggests that even if you lack innate, immediate creative ability, you are not a lost cause-- and that, in fact, a little creative self-loathing may be a sign of good aesthetic instincts. It also suggests there is a solution to the problem of making unsatisfying dreck: just keep making more. And more. And more. This wisdom is especially powerful in context. As a radio producer, Glass was a very late bloomer. He worked in public radio for twenty years before conceiving of This American Life; he readily admits (in another portion of his interview, and on his program) that the first seven years of his radio work was deeply underwhelming and often poorly-paced.  He'll readily admit that his early stories were bad, and that even he knew they were bad, and that this tormented him. Only through tireless efforts and the cultivation of exceptional taste was he able to develop and bloom. And he bloomed big:  This American Life is one of the most widely-heard public radio programs ever, with 1.7 million weekly listeners, and has topped the Itunes podcast chart continuously for years. If Ira had given up after a few years of shoddy radio stories, we'd all have missed out on TAL's  hundreds of hours of thoughtful, poignant, high-quality public radio. I found this interview snippet a little over a year ago, and Glass' words of experience have galvanized me ever since. Whenever I write something that strikes me as uninspiring or derivative dreck, I reassure myself it's a matter of taste, and time. And more time.

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List of sole survivors

This has got to be one of the most feel-good Wikipedia pages: "List of sole survivors of airline accidents or incidents." Included in some of the most incredible survivor stories you will ever hear of. Including Vesna Vulovic, who fell 33, 000 feet and survived and Juliane Kopcke, who's plane exploded after being struck by lightning, then walked 9 days through the jungle before finding another human being.

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