Hail, hail. 

Stormy weather

A strong storm blew through Austin a couple nights ago, complete with hail and tornadoes to the east, although thankfully, we only saw the hail here at the apartment. That was bad enough, as it shattered the window over our kitchen sink and came on with such a roar we were afraid our cars were being dented. It subsided in about half an hour to a little sprinkling of rain, and that was it. Today, it's cold but beautiful.

I was living in Bedford when the tornado tore through downtown Fort Worth a few years ago and almost brought down a skyscraper or two. It's pretty rare that tornadoes hit downtowns, but it does happen occasionally. With the continuing deterioration of the atmosphere and global warming, violent storms will likely become more common and more deadly in the next century. Scientists say it's only a matter of time before a hurricane hits New Orleans, which lies below sea level, and that may well be the end of that city.

Needless to say, the Bush administration has at various times chosen to a) pretend the problem doesn't exist, b) do nothing to try to mitigate the problem, and c) try to prevent others from taking steps to mitigate the problem.

Choosing endings

Everybody's talking about Terri Schiavo. I don't feel qualified to argue about whether or not her husband should be allowed to remove her feeding tube. Like so many issues, science is changing what we know about the subject on a fairly regular basis, and in the meantime we're left to make decisions with the information we have. She may have some brain function, she may not. If she does, we don't know the nature of it.

The most thought-provoking idea I've heard this week on the subject is that living wills can be justifiably ignored, due to the fact that a person in a vegetative or unresponsive state may think differently (if capable of thought) after an accident than he or she did when the will was signed. This isn't exactly germane in this case, since there was no living will. But to what extent do our past decisions govern our future? How much should we allow them to?

If I decided today to sign a living will and ten years down the road I was injured and subject to its terms, what if I changed my mind and couldn't let anyone know? My past decision would have an influence (not the only one) on my future. In the same way, when a singer signs a recording contract or people get married, they are making binding decisions that will affect their future lives. The difference is in the ability to break those contracts. When a marriage ends, there is pain but also opportunity to recover.

In Terri Schiavo's case, we'll never know what she wants, if she still has the capacity to want anything at all. If she had, as Tom DeLay put it, "specifically written instructions in her hand, with her signature", we still wouldn't know what she wants now that she's faced with her current existence. All we can do is put our trust in others to do what they think is right, and show them enough of ourselves for them to make that judgment for us. Just another reason to choose carefully who you share this existence with.

Catching my breath

Whew. What an exhilarating ride. South by Southwest is quite an event. I did some filming, saw some music, hung out with Maggie Walters and a friend named Mark at the Crowne Plaza's top-floor bar, taped Roky Erickson, Caroline Wonderland, Michelle Shocked and others at Threadgills, and generally just had a blast. I even managed to get Maggie's preliminary dvd done. Plus, I got through my first week of work at the new job unscathed. I'm ready for some quiet time. A little bit, anyway.

Keeping busy

Still here, and still very busy. I attended a panel on venture capitalists and angel investors at the South by Southwest Interactive show. I was hoping they'd be giving out bags of free goodies at the tradeshow, but alas, there was none. They did have some pretty fancy video game terminals though, and they were conducting two-camera interviews inside a plastic box, with speakers so people outside could hear what was being said. I didn't recognize the woman being interviewed.

I'm trying to knock out Maggie Walters Local Live appearance so I can hand her a copy at her show tomorrow night, but I don't know if I'll make it. Every time I hear her name on the radio I smile. As my roommate Phil often says, "You're going to be famous."

Ducks are just wrong. 

Content filters are the new networks

Slate's got a new article rounding up what blogs are talking about every day. That's one thing I expect to see more of shortly. With the explosion of material from nearly every quarter showing up in the blogosphere, there's definitely a need for filters of one kind or another. Blogrings based on location are another example.

It reminds me of stuff I read about independent film in the last five years. Now that the price of entry is so low for decent digital video equipment, the number of people making their own low- or no-budget movies and shorts means it's that much more difficult to find the good stuff. Sites like Triggerstreet.com and Heavy.com jumped in to take that role.

Anyway, one of the things Slate linked to as a common topic yesterday is homosexual duck necrophilia. First, yuck. But I just had to put up the above picture. I don't know if it adds anything to the conversation, but there it is. Discuss.

Opportunity

So I'm taking a new job soon. It looks pretty cool, doing some of the same stuff I did in Dallas, so I'm reasonably certain I'll be good at it. It's informal dress, a friendly staff, and I'm told no micro-managing. We get a free massage every other week. The jobs that are hardest to get are the easiest ones to take.

Work is such a major part of most Americans' lives. It's one of the reasons we've been so successful economically for so long, but I can't help but think we would be capable of living lives just as full and just as well off with a 35-hour work week, or even a 30-hour work week. It would probably mean a net increase in standard of living across the board, and maybe people wouldn't have so many heart attacks.

What would we do with all that extra time?, I hear some ask. Friends, family, learning, blogging, working a second job, the list is endless. Whatever we want (although more TV would not be on my list). That's what I wish for: the choice.

Phil approaches the tacoritos with caution. 

Workin' hard, hardly workin'

I've been mad busy the last few days preparing for and shooting the Staple! event here in town. Comics creators from all over the country showed up for signings, two panel discussions, and individual interviews during the event. Radio Mike was helping out, along with my roommate Phil, who got several compliments for his excellent running of the soundboard. Watch the Staple! website for clips in the next few weeks.

Some of the guests included Shannon Wheeler, Rafael Navarro (who seemed like the happiest, most affable guy I've ever met), and Scott Kurtz, who along with Lea Hernandez really had them rolling during the web comics panel. When it's this much fun, it hardly seems like work.

I was so worn out after we finally unloaded most of the equipment and got home that I abandoned plans to attend the afterparty, and since we had each only had a turkey sandwich in the past 11 hours, we made a favorite Mexican dish called tacoritos and chowed down, then went to bed early. You've got to be careful how much of that Mexican food you eat in one sitting, though, because it will wake you up. Oof.