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A number of months back I found myself needing to board a plane to visit a sick family member.  On my most unpleasant trip I noticed a few things.  (not that the destination was unpleasant btw, just the trip part)  One thing is just how many of the people at the airport are there because some loved one is dying.  Sitting at my terminal waiting I noted the conversation of three different groups of people who were off to visit people in the hospital.  Thats just the conversations that were within earshot.  Another thing I noted is that I am far less worried about terrorists than I am about security guards, and abuse in general by the airlines.  It was in preparation for this trip and the painful experieces to come that I stopped off and bought a sudoku puzzle book.

After the return trip this book became consigned to the restroom literature pile.  I’ve spent the last few months looking across at this book setting on the magazine rack at least once every day.  Another thing I’ve noticed is that all of my great inspiration seems to happen whilst I’m setting on the porcelain and out of reach of pen and paper.  That same inspiration is often lost about the same time as the flush sound happens.  I’ve had tons of great ideas in the bathroom, but I can’t remember any of them now.  (Not sure why I can remember having them but can’t remember what they were?)

Anyhow it occurred to me that I was a bit curious about How a sudoku puzzle is made.  So after a bit of research I thought I’d blog today about what I learned.  Have you ever seen something that looks really complicated to make and then discovered that its lots easier than it seems.  A couple of things that fit that category are the paper cup holders restaurants give away and soda pop bottles.  The paper cup holders are made by a mesh screen with a vacuum attached to it bieng dipped in a vat of liquified paper.  For soda bottles I knew they were blow moulded, but I couldn’t see how you could blow air into liquid plastic, and have it seal/take shape.  They are actually injection moulded into hollow capsules and then the capsule is loaded into a mold where the air expands the chamber in the capsule to the size of the mold. 

Making a sudoku puzzle is essentially the same idea.  looking at those numbers and trying to figure out how anyone could make the puzzle seems overwhelming.  If it sometimes takes you minutes/hours/days to figure out how to solve the puzzle how could someone else see the solution and make a puzzle using it?  Are you ready for the answer?  Ok I’ve dragged it out long enough.

They start with a solved grid.  Then they remove a number and see if it can still be solved.  Then they remove another number and test it again.  Once they reach the point where they can’t remove a number and still have the puzzle be solve’able its done.  Thats it.   Its horribly simple  isn’t it. 

I am vaguely reminded of the fiat shamir zero knowledge test.  (which is anything but horribly simple)  If you look at the problem from one direction, (trying to create the puzzle from scratch, or trying to calculate a secret key)  it is virtually impossible.  Not totally impossible, but the math required is either out of our reach or just so complicated it would take a computer years to finish.  Turn the problem on its head and its easy.  (creating a puzzle from the solution, or checking if an already known key is valid)

Its an interesting idea.  Perhaps more of life’s problems can be solved by going about things the wrong way…

It could be said of me that I share the same traits as all true men.   I have a desire and a love for only three things.  Meat, Sex and Sleep.  You may be thinking to yourself that money should be upon that list.  Money however is impure.  Its only a means for aquiring those three truest desires.  As it happens I have a nose not unlike a dog.  I have a powerfull sense of smell though I don’t enjoy the smell of things that most people might.  Perfuum and cologne actually give me a headache.  The combination of these two traits oft have me salavating upon passing by a steakhouse or a neighbors backyard outing.

The point I’m getting to here is that there is a unique smell that develops with the grilling of a great steak.  This smell is unlike anthing else in the world and it drives me to hunger upon but one wiff of it.  I’ve tasted such a steak several times at finer establishments.  I’ve never been able to replicate or even approach it on my own though.  Over the years I’ve cooked hundreds of steaks trying different things with each attempt.  I can impart some of the wisdom of what it takes to make a really good tasting steak, but I can’t seem to get that magical smell. 

As you look over the cuts of meat at the market you will undoubtedly see there are very fatty steaks, there are lean cuts, and there are variations of every grade inbetween.  When I first started my quest for the perfect home cooked steak dinner I went to the store and picked out the piece of meat that was the most brilliant red color.  Surely the brighter red the fresher the meat and the better the steak right?  This was a hard lesson to learn as I couldn’t initially get past the idea of fresher meat meaning better taste.    I wouldn’t suggest you go find a green piece of meat, but here’s the secret to choosing a good cut.  Its called marbelization. 

If you look at the meat and it has tons of fat, but all the fat is along one edge or one vein down the center of the cut the meat will be hard.  If you find the meat is bright red with virtually no white fat in it, the meat will be tough as rocks.  What you want to find is the fat evenly distributed throuought the meat in tiny white spots.  The more white spots the better the meat will be.  The reason is simple, as the meat cooks the fat dissolves into the meat and becomes the juices.  if there is no fat the meat just gets hard.  if all the fat is in one place then it doesn’t absorb into the meat thouroughly.

Lots of people have a preference to the way their steak is cooked.  Rare, Medium, Well done, ect.  Nowdays I wonder where that preference really comes from.  You see this was the second major mistake I made in finding the perfect steak.  At the beginning I often found myself chewing through tough pieces of meat with virtually no fat.  I knew the steak was hard and I didn’t know why.  I tried tenderizing the meat, but all that did was make it less like steak and more like hambuger.  In my quest to make the meat softer I developed a belief that rare or medium rare meat was a better steak because it was softer.  Less cooking means less time for the meat to harden up.

The truth is that meat tastes better when fully cooked and I had mislead myself.  While I used to always order my steaks medum rare, I’ve found that a well done steak is just as good or rather it is better.  The trick here is that you need to find a place that does a good job to get a great peace of steak.  Taking a poor cut of meat and cooking it less doesn’t make it any better.  It also doesn’t make the meat any more juicy.   It just masks the fact that its a bad steak by it still bleading inside.

With these two tips you should be able to find and cook a great tasting juicy piece of meat.  This however is where I’ve hit the brick wall.  No matter what I try I seem to be able to make the meat taste good but it never gets that mouthwatering smell.  You know the one that makes the neighbors climb over the fence to see what you are doing…  Truth be told I get the same flavor and almost the same smell whether I cook it in cast iron on the kitchen stove or on briquettes or even the new propane grill.   I get the trademark sear marks using the grill, so thats the avenue I’m following but the meat never smells right. 

I guess it doesn’t help any that I’m going it alone.  I plan to try some marinades to see what that changes, but since the steak flavor is already near perfect I fear they will hurt more than help in my quest.  Still today my quest is a failure.  How about all of you out there.  Anyone care to share a tale of thier quest for a perfect home cooked steak, and perhaps the tricks they’ve learned along the way?

I was alerted by a page that my boss commanded me into his presence.  In this place that seemed familiar but was nowhere I know I begun making my way to an office.  One of many.  As I entered the room I beheld what can only be described as a theater draped in red velvet curtains.  Along my left seemed almost like a confection stand yet somehow it was the managers office.  There were no seats within the room, but the ground was giant steps surly the size that a man could sit upon to watch the show.  Ahead of me was the screen to this giant theater or so I presume.  The velvet curtains covered this wall as well.  Inside this room set a group of people whom surely must be the employees.  Not all of them mind you, but only the ones my boss (the master) has deemed worthy to set in his inner circle. 

As I entered the room I witnessed the show about to start and inside of me I knew that this show was not for me.  I had no inkling of what my master commanded my presence for but with only a glance he convinced me that I need only wait and stay off of the stage whilst he performs.

The stoic man whom played the part of my master took the form of what I imagine santa clause might look like.  Jolly man big and round.  He seemed dressed like a roman as he entered the stage.  Bearing no resemblance to the boss I have in real life I had only my gut to tell me who this man was.  Still there was no denying the soul that inhabited this form was truly my master.  As he took to the curtain I obeyed his wish without even a thought.  I stepped to the back of the crowd as if to vanish until the time I am needed.

As he took the stage it was something magical to behold.  He seemed to step off one of the giant descending stairs and melt right into the curtain.  Now from within the curtain itself all that was visible was his head and his arms.  And here begun the play.  A spotlight now shone down upon one of the people who sat within his inner circle.  She was a young blonde naive and weak, yet pretty.  As the light shone upon her I could see she was crying and I then knew this show was for her.  without a word the magical dance within the curtain begun.

It seemed much like an argument of flawed logic wherin the teller convices the mark of his truest intentions.  The story so grand and the teller so magical that you can’t help but to belive what is bieng said.  Only little snippets of the play remain in my memory, but I understand he had fired her boyfriend.  She was crying and wanted to quit, but his song and dance was to convince her otherwise.  His tainted logic went into detail proving that her boyfreind was better off fired.  He had done them a favor because now he could go onto better things.  In turn it was best for her to stay for surely here talents were best used there with him.

It was during this exhibition that I began to wonder why I had been called upon.  At first I was positive that I need only wait as this had nothing to do with me.  While I remain fairly confident of that I start to think that perhaps I am to serve as the masters lap dog.  Should the dance go well the young victim will see the light in his way and all will be right with the world.  Yet should she somehow refuse the brainwashing and choose to cry out it could awaken the crowd of enchanted fools who set upon the stairs.  I wondered if my duty would be to carry her away should she awake. 

I don’t know what happened from then on with the girl or the play.  As it turns out here is where my mind wandered from the play and into the realm of realization.  As I watched the show I saw a vague remembrance of how I had bourn the shackle.  Those around me convinced me not to pull on the chain and simply accept that I was where I belong.  And here within the crowd I participate standing back and cheering as she is not only chained, but as she is conviced to put the chains upon herself.

It was then that I remembered the story of how an elephant is broken.  As a child a shackle is put upon its leg.  An unimaginably large chain is used to hold it as it is trained.  How to perform, what is expected, and most importantly the fact that the chain can never be broken are the things that are taught.  As the elephant grows older and larger the proportion of the chan about its heel changes and now by sheer force alone an eliphant could easily break the chain.  Yet the brainwashing is complete and even though it could easily be done the elephant knows with all its heart that its impossible. 

I begin to wonder about the story bieng told upon the stage.  Surely there are parts that are a fallocy and there are truths.  They are interwoven so masturfully that I can’t tell them apart.  Deep down I know its a lie that this girl is better off staying but the logic to convince us otherwise is astoundingly flawless.  Here I look down upon the shackle upon my own leg.  I don’t remember the logic that convinced me to put it there.  I don’t even remember putting it on, but somehow I know that it was my choice.  Again I feel that knowledge that the logic was flawed but I’m unable to see why. 

Just like the mighty elephant I can see now that the chain could be broken.  Yet I no longer am sure that I should try to pull upon it.  The tainted story clouds my judgement and I can’t see what I might do should I manage to break free.  I think about the elephant in a circus somewhere inside a large city.  What would it do if it should break its chain.  Even if nobody gave chase, there is surly no life for it outside the tent.  The only life it can expect beyond those shackles is a rifle to end the nuisance.  An elephants only hope is that someday a patron will rescue it and return it to the wild. 

So here I sit chained and shackled waiting for someone to rescue me.  I can see the world outside and yet I no longer am able to feel that I belong there.

With money getting tighter and tighter its been a while since I visited the grocery store.  One thing I can always count on is that there is always a cheap meal left somewhere in the house.  I stockpile things like macaroni & cheese and ramen noodles.  So with the recent downturn in my ability to make ends meet the family has been working its way closer to the bottom of the pantry.  Finally today I had to give in and spend some money on household items.  We just can’t do without toilet paper.

Bieng the fourth of july weekend there has been lots going on and most everyone has been eating away from home at some party or another.  I suppose the family has caught on that there really isnt anything of substance left in the fridge.  You sort of reach a point where you go sure there’s food in there, but not anything I want to eat.  Its not the point where hunger has taken over and you will eat whatever fills you.  Its also not the point where something appetizing is calling you to eat a snack between meals.  Its a happy sad medium somewhere between them.

I put the trip to the store off until after midnight on saturday evening.  You can say what you want about only crazy people bieng out in the middle of the night doing god knows what.  I personally think its the other way around.  Those of us who know just how sick the world has gotten feel more comfortable bieng out after all the daytime crazy folks go to bed.  With the weather reaching the hundred degree mark daily its been increasingly uncomfortable to do anything.  I took the drive the long way around the airport through the desert scenery on the way to the store and it was quite pleasant.

This brings me to the topic of todays blog.  For many years I worked graveyard shift with just one other person.  It was a very sad existance to make so little and yet I didn’t want to leave.  I had found a comfortable zone.  Factors beyond my control finally made me move onto a better paying but more stressfull job.  With all the money problems of late and the job problems to boot, I have been looking for something that pays even better.  We all know the reality that better pay equals more stress. 

It was only for a few brief minutes during the drive, but in that time I realized I had lost something.  If you’ve ever watched the movie the matrix there is this concept of the whole world bieng changed.  One minute you are doing something, and the next the whole world changes by a bit and you find yourself doing something else.  You never really know what changed, but things just feel out of place.  dejavu is the short term concept that embodies this feeling.  What I felt was different but along a similar parallel.  I clearly remember hating my poor paycheck and not minding the work so much back then.  I guess the name for what came over me is nostalgia.

I’ve never spent much time thinking about freedom and what it means to me.  With independance day just passed I guess I probably should have.  Not that anyone does.  They are all just looking for a reason or an excuse to party.  Thats the true american tradition.  Still tonight I thought about freedom.  You see somewhere along the way I gave it up and I didn’t even know it.  I knew something didn’t feel right and I still have my free will.  I just lost the ability to enact that free will by the power of overwhelming consequences.  Every day I have to get up and go to a job because I have to have the income.  Sure I am free to choose my job but when the choices are rock vs hardplace it doesn’t seem right.

The truly sad part about this whole conformity issue is that I don’t remember getting anything in trade for the freedom I apparently sold.  I am going to escape the debt and I am going to buy back my freedom.  I’m determined to keep my pride and not resort to bieng a common criminal or a thug to do it.  I work hard every day and then work harder every evening.  But if it should come to pass that someday I have to choose between my pride and my freedom I guess its my pride I will sell. 

If you could do something unethical and with it garner enough reward to be truly free would you?  I guess its a good thing that I don’t know of anything illicit that I could pull off to get rich.  I don’t think I’d make a very good drug dealer.  (not much of a people person)  I’m sure I could handle prostitution, but I can’t imagine anyone buying…  Armed robbery isnt my style.  (and I can’t afford the gun)  I guess I’m glad things haven’t gotten to the point where I don’t see any hope.  I could become quite the monster if backed into a corner.

A few weeks back I posted about how I wanted to try and create an alternate identity.  My plan is to save up enough cash and start making moves to turn this into a reality.  I really feel bad about starting that project and then stopping so quickly.  I was thinking I could contribute a few hundred bucks a month to making it happen.  (all of my expendable income)  However after balancing all the books and seeing the result I realized just how bad things have gotten.  My expendable income isn’t a few hundred bucks a month anymore.  In fact If I don’t give up on some of the extras like the cable tv I’m faced with my costs exceeding my income. 

I had a pretty good chunk of cash in the checking account at the first of the year so I decided to pay the house payment in advance by a few months.  I probably shouldn’t have because that’s what threw me off.  I didn’t realize how much my costs were getting out of hand because I wasn’t watching so closely with the house payment already paid up.  I also wasn’t watching spending as much as I should have.  Now that the house isn’t paid ahead anymore I’m starting to see the savings deplete by a few hundred dollars a month.    I’ve got to turn that around before the balance turns negative.

I guess its time to get serious and start putting real effort into finding a better job.  I just really don’t want to because it get me further away from my real goal.  Reclaiming my freedom.