TED Talks

I have been plowing through a backlog of Podcasts in the past few days.  It can go in spurts, a podcast here another there, but if I don't regularly listen all the time I can get quite behind.  As I have with my TED Talk podcasts.  They are only five minutes to fifteen minutes long so when I start listening to them I can plow through a lot of them, but then the longer ones that I listen to suffer.  

The TED Talks make me think, sometimes I am familiar with the material, but sometimes I am not.  I hear the things that humans are doing in a variety of different pursuits all over the world, by the people who are doing them.  They talk about how they have learned to save lives, how they have failed, how we need to think about the common things in our life differently to discover its value.  They are talks that show that people can learn from their mistakes and that eventually we reach a point where we are helping people more than we are harming them.  

The problem is that when I hear about how a doctor learned to prevent 40% of all infant mortality in a poor country I am left wondering if they are also implementing a strategy to give women control of their bodies, to earn an income and go to school too.  What I mean is I wonder if well meaning people are increasing the population of the planet by an extra million people a year but not giving them a better life and a more survivable future.  

I mean do these people talk to each other, are the discoveries being shared meaningfully?  Are increasing the population of poor countries and making their lives worse because of the growth or are they increasing the happiness of the family and the wealth of the family and decreasing the effect on the environment too?  

I ask, if we make food oils from bacteria, saving the forests of Borneo from Plam Oil plantations are the people of Indonesia going to suffer more or are we going to pay them for preserving the rainforests?

As the population of the world nears ten billion and the goal of 1.5°C temperature rise grows to appear more like 2° instead, can we afford to save babies?

But we are humans.  Humans tackle a million different problems a hundred different ways and solve many of them.  We have millions of scientist working on all the problems and hopefully making the problems disappear one at a time, or all at the same time.  If we can do that then we should.

If we can't, perhaps, increasing the population faster and bring the world to a faster end, is the way to go.

Sex yourself

Is it a sign of maturity that ninety percent or more of all sexual satisfaction during sex is about what the man is doing or comes from the man.  Maybe it is just my sexual relationships. What I mean is that if I am not happy about the quality of sex, it is on me and not on the woman.  

To be clear, I am in a relatively satisfying relationship with Natural20 and we have been together four and a half months.  I would not change a thing*.  But I was thinking about my past relationships.  Every woman I slept with in a relationship, fell in love with me and I ended most of those relationships.  they ended because I did not have enjoyment in the relationship in the sex.  I thought that it was them, that they were not doing something or that they did not do something for me.  This was not their fault; it was mine.  

Part of this realization has to do with the realization that I have been thinking about for years before I met Natural20.  Part of it is recent.  It is summer time and it is hot and the women, in particular, are wearing less clothing.  I am noticing a lot of them.  Women come in all shapes and sizes, surprise, but I realize that I am attracted to some more than others and that my perceived attraction is irrelevant—it is an attraction of bodies and not of minds.  I have always used my mind to direct me on relationships, but I still perceive beauty, at least what I think of as beauty, the purely physical kind.  I would wander and wonder if sex with these people would be better than the person I am having troubles with.  I never strayed even though I wanted to, but I now know that what ever the problems were that I perceived, would follow me, because the fault was with me.  

I work with younger men and they all see the same women I see and they are all attracted to them, but I am not.  Some of them I am, but most of them I am not.  I wonder what it would be like to sleep with them, but I know what it would be like, because I have been with enough women to know that it is not the body that makes the the better experience, it is knowing the person.  Still, you see a beautiful woman and guys want to have sex with them, even knowing that it will not be any better than sex with any other person.  That is the trouble, because if you are not having Porn Star like sex with your partner, you are not going to have that kind of sex with someone new.  

Alternatively, this is not true with women.  It is true that they bring their own set of problems with them where they travel, but the quality of the sex they have can be dependent on their partner more.

What I have learned over the past is that if I want a better relationship the answer is not to look for a different partner, but to work on myself, and that will improve my relationship.  It is admitting to myself that I am the problem, that is the mature thing.  If I had known that before, maybe I could have avoided  years of unhappiness.

Road rules

The roads are bad, in Little Smoke; it is the wealthiest city in the nation, but the roads are shit.  They are cracked and filled with potholes.  I suspect that the tax rates are very low here and so they don't spend money on the roads.  In BigSmoke the roads are less bad.  There are so many roads there that it is difficult to keep up with the maintenance of them.  In MiserySaga the roads are great, it is because much of it is new and they spend money on maintenance.  

Road kill gets picked up quickly in BigSmoke, but in LittleSmoke it can stay around for a week or more.  In LittleSmoke there are bits of metal lying on e sides of the roads, there is a mixture of storm drain covers, some of which are quite dangerous for bikes.  That is what this is about: driving bikes in LittleSmoke and area.  

BigSmoke, LittleSmoke and MiserySaga.  Bicycle lanes.  MiserySaga has a few good bicycle lanes and some of them have sensors for turning the lights, so this is good, they have many bicycle only pathways through the city and this is very nice.  The coverage is not 100% but it is better than many.  LittleSmoke sucks.  There is a very few bicycle only routes but they are not marked and they are short.  Their bike lanes are ephemeral where they exist.  They start as wide as your hand, widen to half a meter and then disappear.  It can be quite mind boggling.  BigSmoke has the best bike lanes, but only in the downtown areas.  

The people.  Most people are resentful about bikes on roads.  They honk a lot and they slow down a lot and refuse to come alongside, others pass three meters out.  Some yell and tell you to ride on the side walk.  I tell them that it is called a sidewalk because it is for walking only.  The law says that they have to share the road with me; I get the meter on the right.  I have to obey all the rules of the road too.  When the signs say right lane exits, I move one lane to the left.  When I know the route, I defensively drive to avoid all hazards on the road, because I know that one hit from a vehicle and I am dead.

I signal when I am changing lanes or turning, but I am encountering people who don't know bike signals.  Bike signals were not created for bikes, but for cars.  The driver of a car had to signal their intentions before hand when cars did not have signals.  They are all done with the left hand and arm, because in North America, the driver is on the left side of the car.  Left arm out straight means, I am turning left, not give me a high five.  Left arm, forearm up at a ninety degree angle means, right turn, it is not a wave nor is it a fight against the man power to you symbol, I am telling you I am going to turn right.  The opposite, left arm out, forearm ninety degrees down, means I am slowing down, but I don't use that one except when I am with other bikes.  I developed my own symbols to tell cars things they need to know like, pointing 45° down to the left to let the car behind me know that I am not turning right when the road splits.  There is another symbol I wish I could use more frequently, holding my left arm out an extending my middle finger up.  I would like to use it except if you deserve that gesture, I am usually fighting trying to stay alive after what you did to use it.  

It should be noted that are one group of roads where bicycles are not allowed on them, they all have signs saying so, a red circle with a pedestrian and a bicycle in them.  These signs mean two things, no bikes and pedestrians allowed on those streets and by therefore, they are allowed on every street and road that does not have that sign on it.  If there is a safe bicycle trail, I will use it.  It there is a bicycle lane close by, I will use it. If there is none of those, I will be on the road, right beside you within one meter of the edge.

When I was a teenager I used to ride to school on the TransCanada highway.  It was a two lane highway with no paved shoulder and an eighty km speed limit.  I would ride on the ten centimeters closest to the edge.  When a transport came down the road I would hit the shoulder or I would not depending on how wide a load it was.  I am not afraid of traffic here in the city after that.  When a transport sucks you into the road with his wake there is little to fear from a car going half as fast who does not even fill the lane.  I am afraid of driving in LittleSmoke at night on empty roads–last year I was hit on an empty four lane road by a pickup who wanted to see how close he could get to me.  I still ride, I won't stop.

Happiness manifest

My girlfriend says that there are not enough happy posts on my blog.  I told here I tend to write when I am depressed and I tend to write when something bothers me.  I told her is is how I let off steam.  She understands this, but she still wishes that I post something happy.  So, I am going to write about the thing, the person, that makes me feel the happiest, my girlfriend:

If I were to see her in the dark, in a crowd, I would be able to spot her in an instant—she has an iridescent smile that shows her teeth off and they glow with her inner light.  So, spotting her in the dark in a crowd is child's play.  In the light, you can see that her smile reaches her entire body; that is right her body smiles.  Her eyes smile, not a biggie, lots of people have eyes that smile, you know the little wrinkles at the side of the eyes turn up and glow, except I don't see any crow's feet—they may be there, but I don't see them, her eyes smile without them.  Her nose smiles.  This is a very hard feat, but she does it.  There are very few muscles that move the nose and none of them are involved in smiles, but she does none-the-less.  The last time I smiled for twenty minutes straight, my cheeks hurt.  My girlfriend's cheeks are toned muscles that could lift trucks. Seriously.  They are beautiful in their well tonedness.  Her ears are subtly lifted up by her smile, so they can be considered to be smiling.  Her hair, medium short in length, shoulder length, straight, black and wavy.  There are a very few white ones, but they are disappearing.  Most people have gray roots, her white hairs have black roots—proof that she is aging backwards.  Her hair smiles.  Really.  She stands still and the memory of the wind moves her hair back and forth, like a dance that is in tune with her mood.  It is wonderful!

Her body smiles.  When she walks her body sways with a motion that is intone with the happiness of the Universe.  When she stands still, her body moves to this same unknowable pulse that she alone can hear.  Standing still.  Her hips move to this tune and her waist follows.  Where the waist follows the back and the shoulders follow, her neck and head.  Down her legs which move to that special beat.  Her be-sandaled feet smile her toes wiggle in the midst of the smile, nails painted a shade of purple.  The rest of the undescribed parts of her body also smile, but I should let your imagination fill in those details, because I will not describe them smiling except to her.  

I have been to her house, and seen photographs of her, she is smiling there too and her face is unchanged.  She looks the same age from her high school yearbook to the smiling face I see when I close my eyes and although she looks it she is a lot older than twenty.  Ask her two children, they can't tell either.  Her children smile too, constantly.  They are two of the most beautiful children I have ever met and are as quick to laugh as any other child I have met, but exceed all in duration.  Her husband smiles too, but then why wouldn't he be, he has slept beside her, breathed in her presence for nearly twenty years and years before.  

I have seen her not smiling a few times and it is I those moments that I desire to move the world to change this fact.  When I am the cause, I want to gouge my eyes out, and when it is others I want to strangle them.  

She is a smile.

A smile that I kiss.

She is so much more than a smile.  She is strong, physically, mentally, and characteristically.  When we struggle in bed to establish dominance, she does not subdue easily but struggles vigorously.  To be honest, it is something she wants, she wants to be truly dominated and for it to be true I must overcome her strength—I don't hurt her; it is a competition.  Sometimes the smile on her body is painted there, you will never know because she won't let you know.  She won't let me know until we are behind doors and in my arms.  Her mind is sharp and her wit keen.  I know that I will have to constantly keep myself on my toes around her.

She is generous, she helped me move twice.  She moved my heavy hundred pound boxes with ease up flights of stairs.  She spends time with me and everyone else in her life.  She tells me that time she spends with me is for her.  I tell her truthfully that I recharge from people as quickly with her near me as not—more, when she is not there there is a hole in my life, shaped like her smile.

When I make love to her, half the time it is locked to her lips connected to her like no one before and I doubt any could replace her this way.  The other half of the time we make love more distant than kissing range, I tell her it is so she learns to control the experience, but it really is so that I can gaze into her eyes and drink in her smile.  She sustains me when she is near.  I want to feed her gourmet meals, but I fall short, but it is the effort.  

Last week she took me into her house when I got a job distant from my home, with her children and her husband.  She told me that she was going to spoil me.  She did.  I felt the love manifest.  She made dinner and I had a place at the table.  She woke up early and slipped into my bed early in the morning to hold me tight and caress me with her love—not sex, love.  Then she slipped out and while I got ready for the job, she made me lunch and breakfast.  I am in her debt.  I love her so.  

I search for the reason.  What makes me love her.  It is everything.  We are similar enough that we can talk for hours and not get bored.  That we are similarly minded.  That when I am thinking of something, I know that she is thinking it too.  That when she starts talking it is weird because I am thinking the same thing.  She is my superior too.  She sings and dances.  She knows the correct words to the songs that I butcher before her.  When I see her I just can't help but feel happy.  When we make love, I want it to go on forever, sometimes I just stop so that it can go on and on.  

Since I have been with her, I see other women, but they are pale imitations of her, so pale that they might as well not be there.  I want to be a better person near her.  

I sit here thinking about her.  Writing about her.  For two hours, time not wasted.  I wonder how I can spend more time doing the same?