The Mandelbear's Musings

An interesting day. I took the van back to the Ford dealer to have the dead headlight (which they'd missed last week at the 60K-mile service) replaced, and showed how the assembly (they called it a "headlight bucket") appeared to be loose, as Callie noticed over the weekend.

It came right out. Not attached at all. The bulb wasn't burned out -- the leads were broken off at the connector.

When they called back, they said a new bucket would be a little under $500 with the 15% discount for my trouble. And that there had been some body damage in that area. WTF? We never had any body damage on the right front... Of course, the dealer we bought the van from (used) is no longer in business, and that was over 5 years ago in any case.

So... grump.

I spent much of my lunch hour (and some time in the morning) continuing to work on the values and goal-setting section of The Relaxation and Stress Reduction Workbook; I definitely want to do more writing of that sort.

While waiting for my "Avoid Avoiding" group to start, a woman I didn't know sat down across from me in the waiting room and asked if she could tell me her problem. "I don't like myself much," she said. "Can you tell me how to like myself more?" WTF? Does my Middle-Sized Bear aspect really show that much? Weird.

After the usual disclaimer, I told her she should be a friend to herself. Treat herself like a friend, talk to herself the way a friend would. Encourage herself and praise herself for her accomplishments. Told her about How to Be Your Own Best Friend, which I read years ago. I hope it helped. I think it did.

So... interesting. Not all in the Chinese sense, but...

Only one link, to NYTimes.com on decision fatigue. So will-power is proportional to your brain's glucose level, and making decisions uses energy and lowers it. Helps explain why dieting is so hard, doesn't it?

Me: Bones ache while they're mending. So do hearts.

...

Me: Trust an old woodworker on this: glue is tougher than wood or glass. The more pieces something is broken into, the stronger it's going to be when you put it back together.

It was a very good day; a day for music and love and conversation and Middle-Sized Bear time. Some confusion and misunderstanding, too, but we cleared those up.

Naomi named the new djembe Mufasa, which is perfectly appropriate. She'll be taking him up to Seattle, and from there to OVFF. She will also be taking a couple of pieces of artwork as a housewarming present, from our pile of "bought at a con but never made it to a spot on the wall" art. Pictures should have a good, loving home, too.

Apparently the rice cooker, the oven, the microwave, and the fridge are on the same circuit, as well as the toaster. I knew about the toaster. I hadn't known about the rice cooker and the oven. It's a gas oven, but the controller is electronic.

I am loved. I'm still getting used to the concept.

A good day: an uninteresting flight, a good insight, good conversations, and music. Can't ask for much more than that. Kat's guitar, a Little Martin, was easy to carry thanks to a backpack rig, but occupies a bit more space in the overhead bin on a 737.

The main thing I forgot to pack was the six blocks of Kraft mozzerella we'd bought for Naomi. Grump -- that's going to be hard to ship up.

The aha! of the day came from realizing that being a Middle-Sized Bear probably has a lot to do with mindfulness - it's a matter of expanding centered awareness and stillness to include the other person. Cool!

On the way back from the airport with Callie I mentioned the difficulty I have in making the transition from random routine to concentrated work and finding time for geekery at home. She told me about homecoming rituals -- the things you do when you get home to leave the work day behind. Perhaps I could devise something similar that could get me into the hacker headspace. Well worth thinking about.

Spent some time with Naomi in the evening alternating song-swapping with being in Middle-Sized Bear mode. I win.

It looks as though Sunday will be my day to visit the Wolfling.

It was a rather strange day. Mostly good, but strange.

I think the strangest bit by far was remembering, more-or-less out of the blue, the name of my high school history teacher. (Although I was thinking about history, and how my interest in biographies differs from pocketnaomi's. She seems to be most interested in how people affect events, and how those events affect their lives. I'm more interested in how people think, and events are interesting mainly in how they affect what goes on in their heads.

I really don't know how I feel about remembering Mrs. Ryan.

It was also very strange to see my Younger Daughter's boyfriend; they make a cute couple and seem to care about one another. On the other hand, they're both gamers. Strange indeed (though both amusing and delightful) to go upstairs and find that both daughters have visible carpet on their floors. As the Wolfling said, "it's green, not stuff-colored."

And my evening conversation with pocketnaomi about I Never Promised You a Rose Garden got into some strange territory as well. I am still getting used to the fact that there may not be words for some of what's going on in my head, and that even when the words -- like "love" or "embarrassment" or "self-image" -- exist, people rarely have the same definition for them. How can one discuss things without a common language? How can I think about things without using words?

The 3am phone call wasn't strange at all. A friend needed someone to talk with. That's what Middle-Sized Bears do.

1. Fractals (Because of your default icon, I originally thought your LJ handle was short for Mandelbrot Bear.)

My handle is (partly) short for Mandelbrot Bear; it was shortened both to make it fit in less than 8 characters and to make it ambiguously mean "middle-sized bear" as well. You can find more about the set and the program I wrote to generate the icon here. I came up with my original description when I came in to alt.callahans feeling "infinitely fuzzy"; someone else described me as a Mandelbear and the name inevitably stuck.

I love fractals. I bought Benoit Mandelbrot's books, and explored the space with fractint on the PC and some other program on the Mac 2. I think it was fractint that let you play around with different formulas; I discovered the Mandelbear set by replacing z_i² with z_i³ in the usual Mandelbrot set definition (the set of points z₀ such that the series z_i+1=z_i²+z₀ remains bounded).

The Mandelbear and Mandelbrot sets are actually cross-sections of four-dimensional objects; the cross-sections in the other direction are the corresponding Julia sets.

I first encountered fractals in grad school, before the name had even been coined, when I was introduced to the Dragon Curve. This is the shape you get when you fold a strip of paper back on itself repeatedly, then open each of the folds out half-way. Four of them fit together to make a square with fractal edges that can interlock to tile the plane.

Fractals are perversely beautiful: they take difficult mathematical concepts such as limits, self-similarity, complexity, and infinity; and wrap them up in an image of such breathtaking gorgeousness that you forget just how weird they really are.

2. Filk

Let's see. I think filk first came to my attention in bardic circles at the SCA tourneys that Colleen took me to in lieu of dating. It was sometime in the late 1970s that we started going to SF conventions. My real intro to filk was through Amy Falkowitz, who had learned most of the songs on Leslie Fish's "Solar Sailors" album. I wrote the first song that I actually identified as a filksong, The Shores of the Night, in 1981 shortly before Bayfilk 1, if I remember correctly.

Ask three filkers to define "filk" and you'll get between four and six definitions. Mine is "the indigenous folk music of science fiction fandom." Your mileage may vary.

I love writing songs, and I've even gained enough self-confidence to love performing them. I love hearing other people cover my songs. I think the best things, though, is the filk community; just being able to hang around with a bunch of amazing, talented people, swapping songs and talking about everything in the universe.

3. Coffee

Let's face it: I'm addicted. For better or worse, one of the best coffee roasters on the West Coast, Barefoot, is only a short drive from our house (and on the way to the hospital, for what that's worth). Not surprisingly, I have song about it.

I usually drink two or three 12-oz mugs worth in the morning. I have learned not to drink coffee after noon unless I need it to stay awake driving at night.

4. The River (It's something you already write about on LJ, I know, but it is nonetheless one of the first things I think of.)

I'm glad The River is one of the first things you associate with me -- it's been an amazing ride, and I'm still more than a little bemused to find myself a respected authority on getting along with geeks. It surprises and delights me that some people are finding it helpful.

It started with the song a little over a year ago, turned into a major theme in my livejournal, and is now threatening to spawn at least two books.

5. Cross-talk (I remember you mentioning it in a post about geekboy care and maintenance or flow or something, and it made me more aware of my own sensitivity to cross-talk.)

I ganked that usage from cflute, who's even more sensitive to it than I am. Some of us don't multitask very well, so if there's another conversation going on, or more than one person talking to us at once, or a major distraction like a TV in the room, our train of thought gets totally derailed.

My main post on the subject was this one.

I have asked a couple of people for five Things that they associate with me, to ramble on about in my journal. I extend the same offer to anyone who comments here.

Here are the five things I got from pocketnaomi:

Songwriting

I believe I started making up songs when I was eight or ten years old, but didn't actually write any down until I was in college and found myself rooming with two other guitar players. They would have been classifiable as filksongs if I'd ever heard of such things at the time. I only remember bits of one of them, but was told at the last reunion I went to, a decade ago, that one of those former roommates still sings that and another one, which I had entirely forgotten. I keep them in my computer files now.

It was my involvement with fandom and filk that finally "gave me permission" to write songs, a few of which were worth singing in public. As time goes by I seem to have gotten better at it.

I wrote five songs last year, my most prolific year so far, and more than the previous five years put together. Last year also included my two or three best songs so far.

I have a tendency to write lyrics first; if I start with music it may take years for the tune to attach itself to a suitable lyric.

I've helped teach songwriting at a couple of weekend workshops run by Kathy Mar; I don't claim to be much good at that, but you're welcome to read my notes for the 2007 workshop and draw your own conclusions.

Programming

Programming is, in essence, the art of giving orders to an incredibly fast, incredibly accurate, and moronicly literal-minded demon. As such, it represents a very useful skill for game-players and parents. You will note that I do consider it an art, and in particular a branch of literature. (My degree is in Computer Science, but I feel strongly that any field with the word "science" in its name isn't one.)

Another way of looking at it is to say that the inside of a computer is an alternate universe where magic works: programs are spells, and obey most of the usual laws of magic. They also share with traditional magic the fact that a misspoken spell can wreak untold havoc.

Programming, like reading, is one of those activities I do in a light trance state. When I'm on my game (increasingly rare these days) I occasionally look up from my keyboard after what seems like a short time and wonder why it's suddenly gotten dark outside.

House Parties

Our household has four Saturday parties every year: one in late December or early January celebrating the new year and our anniversary, one in March (the "It's Green!" party, now by long-established tradition the Saturday after Consonance) to celebrate Spring, St. Patrick's Day, and our birthdays, one in June (originally to celebrate the anniversary of Colleen's flower business, but now just for the tradition of it), and one in late October to celebrate Halloween.

We also have an Open House every Wednesday -- these were originally devised by Colleen to make sure that she would have adults to talk to even after our older daughter was born.

The house is also more-or-less open during the entire Winter holiday season; we don't exactly expect guests, but are never surprised if they show up, and occasionally invite them.

Our 25th Anniversary party was remarkable in being the only one for which we hired entertainment -- the members of Golden Bough had been to a few of our previous parties, and we booked them a year in advance to make sure they'd show up. It was also the only one we had to rent chairs for.

Cordwainer Smith

... is/was one of my favorite science fiction authors. The name "Mandelbear" comes in part from a post I made in alt.callahans, and in part from one of my favorite characters, the Middle-Sized Bear, in his story "Mark Elf"; my latest and arguably most autobiographical song is called "A Talk With the Middle-Sized Bear". My first filk song, "The Shores of the Night", was loosely inspired by another of his stories, "The Lady Who SailedThe Soul".

My favorite story of his is probably "The Dead Lady of Clown Town", though it's hard to pick just one. I especially admire him for his imagery and his narrative style; many of his stories are written as if they were popular history, written years -- centuries, in some cases -- after the events they recount. "Drunkboat" is also worthy of mention; its description of the first journey through hyperspace is simply a translation of Arthur Rimbaud's "Le Bateau ivre".

Janis Ian

... is one of my favorite singer-songwriters, and probably the celebrity I would most like to spend a night with -- swapping songs, of course. She's also a long-time science fiction fan, and more recently author. I see from her tour schedule that she's toastmistress at the Nebula Awards banquet this year. I have yet to run into her at a Worldcon; she never goes to the filking.

I have been known to perform one of her songs, "The Last Train", in filk circles and even at a concert or two.

Her website includes lots of good articles on being a songwriter and performer, backed by 40-odd years of experience. Highly recommended.

No music yet, though I have a few vague ideas. Inspired by a number of conversations over the last year.

A Talk With the Middle-Sized Bear

© 2008 Stephen Savitzky. Some Rights Reserved.

You've had a rough journey; a hellish long day;
There's a fire in your throat and an ache in your head
And you long to be back in your own cozy bed.
But the world you grew up in has vanished away.
You're weary and sick and you're frightened by change
When something wraps 'round you like a swirl of warm air
For there's no place as comforting, gentle, or strange
As the mind of the Middle-Sized Bear.

    For the Middle-Sized Bear is a creature so rare
    He'll feed you on honey and tea in his lair
    And you don't think you trust him, but maybe you'll dare
    Have a talk with the Middle-Sized Bear.
( He's clumsy, forgetful, ill-tempered, and shy; )

The last repeat of the refrain may want to be modified or left off altogether depending on who's singing it. YMMV.

The Middle-Sized Bear is a character out of science fiction: the section ``Conversation With the Middle-Sized Bear'' in Cordwainer Smith's novella, Mark Elf. For several years I've used it to refer to the aspect of my personality that is, so people have told me, comforting to talk to and be around.

This song is very much a composite; the first verse is almost entirely out of Cordwainer Smith; the last two are more about the women in my life who have encountered the Middle-Sized Bear over the last year. The last refrain is mainly for anyone who may encounter him in the future.

I was surprised -- actually, shocked might be a better way of putting it -- when I realized was forced to admit last night that I actually do have an interpersonal skill that I seem to be good at and even comfortable with: talking with people, one-on-one. Mostly, I'm a good listener.

It's true that I sometimes presume to offer advice, or bring my analytical ability to bear on some problem that I usually don't know much more about than the person talking with me. And I can often offer an outsider's (or occasionally an alien's) perspective based on my observations of normal humans. But mostly I listen and nod sagely. And offer hugs, or even cuddles when they're asked for. Middle-sized bears are usually, if nothing else, comfortable to be around.

Not surprisingly, it was my "little sister" pocketnaomi who shattered my carefully-built self-image by making me realize that, in spite of my social awkwardness, my inability to meet people, my inability to notice or drop hints, to understand or control tone of voice or body language, I still seem to be able to carry on an intelligible conversation on subjects of interest to ordinary humans.

Not to mention geeks and musicians -- swapping songs or technical tidbits has always been easy for me.

The ability to talk about, and understand something about, such things as relationships, interpersonal dynamics, mental states, love, and friendship appears to be very new indeed. It still feels deeply weird to have people coming to me and talking about their relationships, and even weirder that they're finding my comments valuable. That's not something I'm used to yet, and I don't have much trust in anything I have to say on those subjects. You shouldn't either.

I think I've been a pretty good listener for a long time. I am, as I believe I've mentioned, shy, self-conscious, and socially inept -- that means that I find it difficult to actually say something except in answer to a question or in response to some remark that gives me an opening. So I spend a lot of time listening.

The only person I can recall who's recently accused me of not listening is Colleen, and that's because, in her personal vocabulary, "you're not listening" really seems to mean something more like "I don't think I got my point across; if you'd been listening you would have understood it and agreed with me." At which point she usually bursts into tears. It may also be because too often she doesn't have my full attention when she says something. You do have to get my attention: bears are easily distracted.

Colleen's firm belief that I'm not listening may also have come about because I seem to have lost the ability for a while couple of decades and she doesn't realize I have it back.

It wouldn't surprise me if it's what attracted her to me in the first place. I've said elsewhere that, for me, relationships are mainly about friendship, and friendship for me is mainly about talking to one another.

I've written upstream, under the title of Friendship and love, that the River is mostly about love and friendship. So, even more fundamentally, it must be about conversation.

Talk to me.

OK, I realize that you are almost certainly not sitting around wondering why on Earth you would want to spend your time talking to a shy, elderly computer geek with delusions of wisdom. And you probably aren't wondering exactly what a reference to Cordwainer Smith is doing in my user profile, either. But just in case you did want to know, here's a little background information that might help, as well as illuminate the possibly obscure relationship between the two.

A long time ago in a Usenet group called alt.callahans, before I became the Mandelbear, I originally referred myself as "the Medium-Sized Teddybear". It was a deliberate reference to a character, the Middle-Sized Bear, in the story Mark Elf by Cordwainer Smith. You'll find the relevant chapter, "Conversation with the Middle-Sized Bear", here.

Back in late 1990, I quoted the relevant section in a post, and I will do so again here, though you'll find it well worth your while to read the entire chapter, if not the whole story.

Back half a decade ago I quoted that same passage in this post, with a bit of the Usenet post for context.

Oddly enough, I really can become the Middle-Sized Bear: comfortable and comforting to be around. Not all the time, of course, but often enough to occasionally make a difference for somebody. I'm not entirely sure what it is that I do, or how I do it. It may have something to do with being comfortable with silence. In any event, there it is.