MiKE: more AC adventures

This time I am quite certain that I did 12 laps, in 11:47. I was monitoring the timing with each lap, making sure that each lap time had the second counter less than the 12 o'clock position, which means that each lap was less than a minute. I did get a little demoralized and slowed down at the beginning of lap 9 though - I realized that I had 4 more laps including the one that I was starting on, and I think I actually took a full minute to do that lap.

After the 2.4km run, I did a bit of weights for upper body exercise, and then I climbed onto the elliptical trainer. I got it figured out - I was thinking about it since the last time I was running on the track. It appeared that the trainers were not connected to any power supply, which meant that the electronics was probably driven by the pedal motion converted into electricity via a dynamo. I started pedalling, and the electronics came to life. That much is pretty plausible - it is not hard to design very low power electronics, but then I still cannot figure out how the device is able to adjust the resistance.

On the trainer, I maintained an approximately 150 pace cadence at a 150 heart rate for 15 minutes, though I wonder how precise the heart rate monitor is, which measures by two sensors at the handgrips.

Today though, I did not go have pizza, instead I shopped at Bloor Superfresh, and had dinner at home instead. Just as well: tomorrow morning there will be water disruption, so I guess I have to eat out for lunch.

MiKE: 11:39 for 2.4km?

So, I've been going to the AC, because, without spending a fortune on warmers, it would be impossible to run in this kind of weather. The AC, Athletic Centre, has a 200m indoor track, a 50m pool, gym equipment (including an elliptical runner which *gasp* I could not (yet) figure out), and, quite importantly a steam room, which, unfortunately, smells of stale sweat and grime, but is nonetheless welcome because its a steam room!

I've been running, and previous to this, I've timed myself at up to 12:24 for a 2.4km run - the passing standard for IPPT at my age category would be 12:00 (i think). Today, i timed myself, and as the title says, i got a 11:39. I have a analogue stopwatch, so when i first stopped timing, I was quite disappointed, as I thought I had pushed myself reasonably hard. Then, i looked closely and realized that it was 11:39, instead of 12:39, and then i felt happy again, and promised to reward myself with a slice of pizza from Papa Ceo's. Did some weights, went to the steam room, bought the pizza, came home, showered, ate, and then I started to have doubts about the timing.

You see, it is quite hard to keep track of the lap count - with a 200m track, I have to count 12 laps, and somehow, I always mess up on laps 3-7, I think because my body feels most shocked that I am actually running, and it feels the most difficult, and I have not gotten into the rhythm of the run yet. So I know that I do a 200m lap in about a minute or so, and so, if I were to add a minute to the timing, to make about 12:45 or so for my 2.4km timing, it would seem more reasonable, given that I don't think my fitness can improve so dramatically so soon.

But then again, I was running quite much harder than my previous occassions. And I have had experiences, in sg at least, where i manage to cut a lot off my timing by a few practice sessions. So I am now not so sure either way. I guess the only way to settle it is to go run again soon. Sigh. Does anybody know of a low tech (not throw-money-at-the-problem style) solution to lap counting? I know a pedometer or a Nike+iPod could probably do the trick, but like i said, i really don't want to spend money on this.

Anyway, here is a picture of the pizza. This place is one of those mom-and-pop places run by an italian looking (?? no, he did not grab his crotch as he was speaking to me) guy who names all his pizzas with the names of famous italians; what i remembered was Luciano Pavarotti, Al Pacino, the Godfather, the Terminator(?); err, there were more, but I did not remember them. Me, I bought a Roberto Begnini, a vegetarian pizza with basil, eggplant, mushroom, and tomato slices:


Good stuff, and cheap for the amount of food; pizza pizza, a pizza chain (duh) sells their pizza for about the same price $3.50, but theirs is smaller, and has so much less ingredients. I think I have found another food place that I would go to again. :)

MiKE: U.S. thanksgiving holiday

Serene came over, as i mentioned in the previous post, for a precious 4 days.

so, as every good grad student does, we cheerfully stopped working for those 4 days, went out for walks every day, ate out, and allowed ourselves a kind of lifestyle that resembled what was normal when we were in singapore, and not the life?-what-life? chained-to-the-desk-must-finish-all-these-readings-before-class! mode that has become 'normal' during the last 3 months.

Thankfully, 2 out of 3 courses are done, there is one last session to attend next tuesday, and then 2.2 papers (one of them i count as 0.2 of the others) to submit, and then i can start on the backlog of work that i have to do as my GA duty, and then i can finally call it a holiday.

Anyway, here are some pictures we took during the short time out we had; on Sunday, we though to try to make it to the islands; as it was a bright and sunny day, with some clouds at the horizons toward the evening. Strangely enough, there was nobody at the quay; seemed like the islands at this time of year did not seem popular; in fact, the ferry to Centre Island was discontinued till April. So, we just walked around the quay instead, and took these pictures:



And then we decided to walk to St. Lawrence market, and found it closed on Sunday... In any case, we managed to catch a shot of this building. I am almost certain it has a grand sounding name or something, but I am not aware of it. Peeking out the corner of the tall building on the left, is of course, the even taller CN Tower. We thought to go to the islands to watch the sun set. I guess we got a free alternative instead:

MiKE: It's snowing!

So, on Wednesday afternoon, talking to some locals, I heard the rumour that there was going to be up to 20cm of snow that night, and also on Thursday. I spent most of the evening awake, till about 3am, waiting for Serene to arrive - she was hitching a ride with her friend who drove up, and was supposed to arrive around midnight. More on that later; but in the meantime, it was a cold and rainy night - in fact, it had been raining for about the whole of Wednesday, a incessant drizzle that was not impossible to walk through, but at times increased in intensity, especially after the sun set at the very early time of 5pm these days.

I got her position reports via sms, and learnt that she was being held up by jams before the border, and also at the crossing itself. Apparently, what was planned to be a 12 hour journey turned out to be closer to 18 hours total travel time. I'll let her tell her side of the story recounting the trip, but as for me, I was staying awake, finishing a draft for submission, and then watching episodes of South Park.

By the time she arrived, it was after 2am, and I did not envy her - for some reason they had to leave the windows cracked open a bit or else the windscreen would mist up, so as a result, she arrived here practically an ice cube.

The next morning, when we awoke, I took a look out the window to find this:
The rain had turned to snow overnight, and because my outer window was ajar, it had blown in and almost jammed the window. It was still snowing when we woke up. Looking out, we saw this:
For people who have been following this blog, you should remember how this looked like when it was still sunny and the trees were still fully green; it was an amazing sight - the snowflakes falling were so light and being blown by the breeze in all directions.

When the snowfall lightened somewhat, the brightness went up a bit, and the view cleaned itself up:

And then we decided to go out for a walk, even though it was still snowing, albeit lightly. We wanted to go to the MEC Store - Mountain Equipment Co-op sells good outdoor stuff, and we walked the 1.5 km or so after lunch at a Japanese restaurant along Bloor Street.

Along the way, we decided to stop and take a picture:
and we walked on, went to MEC, bought something, and then promptly returned it even before leaving the store as it seemed that the product was not working as well as advertised. Sigh. We walked home, empty handed, in medium snowfall, in the dark.

This post is very boring. I need to write more, but not for now... Feeling sleepy and tired, and I thought to just post these pictures up first, and then maybe talk more later.

MiKE: It's raining ice!

Yeah yeah, i know, it's quite a common thing. But then, this is only the second time I've seen it; the first time was here too, but I did not manage to get a good shot of the ice. Here it is:



Not terribly large; as you can see, the characters 901/1 are about font size 9 or 10. Interesting sound they make when the land on the window sills.

PBS documentary on ID

for those who don't know, ID is intelligent design, which is what the creationists came up with when they were frustrated in their attempts to indoctrinate children in schools in the US.

PBS Nova made a documentary about this, and I find it excellent.

The link is: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/id/program.html

ReNe: a few pretty colors

Sorry, looks a little washed out as St Louis is very sunny.

ReNe: running in the fall

Went for a run today, the first since the weather suddenly turned cold (that is, <15 deg C).

It was complicated. I had to *plan*. Now that sun sets at around 5:20, I'd have to be back home and start running at 4+. I don't have many days that end that early, actually, the only day I can be back home by 4 is Wed. Then, there was the matter of clothing.

I don't have any cold weather running gear from Singapore, of course, though I recently got a microfleece vest from the thrift shop. With the back pockets, it was obviously meant for cycling. But no pants. So, clad only in shorts, a lyrca long-sleeve and microfleece vest, I ventured out in about 12C weather.

It wasn't so bad; the running actually kept me warm enough, though extremities like ears, nose and toes felt frozen. Interestingly enough, the areas exposed to the cold wind (back of hands, front of thighs) turned reddish after a while, then subsided. The microfleece vest did an excellent job in protecting my front from the wind. There were quite a number of people out running at the park today, and I noticed that I was one of the least warmly dressed. About half wore pants of some sort and the other half wore basketball shorts (nobody here, it seems, wear running shorts). Some had sweaters on, about half had a beanie cap or something with ear flaps, which I think is an excellent idea, and some had gloves, which I also think is an excellent idea.

I'm used to running in the heat, but running in the cold brings all sorts of new sensations. After a while, the body core warms up, so that's fine, but as mentioned, the end bits like toes gets progressively colder and colder, which started to hinder my gait. You know the sensation of trying to walk when your feet has gone to sleep? It's a little like that, though not the same; you can't feel *exactly* where your feet are, particularly at the toes. Another complication is the extremely dry air. When I first got here, I always felt parched after a run, now I'm more used to it, though the weather has become much drier lately. Humidity levels outdoors hovers in the low thirties, even high twenties, right now. What this means is that I'm glad I don't have a habit of breathing through my mouth when I run. The cold, dry air also means that I get home *quite* dry after a longish workout (40 minutes?), something I find rather unsettling. I mean, even in an air-conditioned gym, after 20 minutes, I start to sweat a little.

I could exercise indoors at the gym on medical campus, but it's really much nicer to run at Forest Park. I stay about two and a half blocks down from the biggest city park in the US, and right now, the fall foliage is starting to really come in. It's all very lovely.

It's not only about the changing colors of the foliage. St Louis is really a very sunny city, and the skies are often, literally, cornflower blue, stretching cloudless horizon to horizon. Since St Louis is sub-urban, often, there are not many tall buildings that would interrupt your view as well.In contrast, Singapore has a dense cloud cover; perhaps one view might be cloudless, but if you turn around, you'd probably see a cloud. Days that are truly cloudless are very, very rare. Here in the Mid West, it's the other way around. The blue of the skies look different as well, a lighter, cleaner blue. And when the greens, yellows and reds of the trees are backdropped against such a clear blue, it's truly gorgeous.

MiKE: The heights of procrastination

I've been procrastinating. Here is a shot of my kitchenette, with everything unwashed. All of them used in preparation of 3 meals. Part of it has got to do with not wanting to use the detergent, which, contrary to its labelling, is quite hard on the hands. Mostly though, I am feeling just plain lazy.

On another note, Daylight Savings time has ended, so the clocks have been pushed back to standard GMT-5 (no wonder i got so confused when i first arrived and found out that toronto time was SGT-12). Which feels good, for now, feels like I have just gained another hour to complete my assignments.

MiKE: I am a Macho Marxist

Ok, some somewhat serious academic stuff here, needs some contextualizing, if you don't understand, never mind... This post is more a personal brain dump. If you get what's going, great, please comment. I'd appreciate it.


In Curriculum as Gendered Text, Pinar (1998) discusses the oedipal conflict, and gives a re-interpretation of the reproduction-resistance dialectic in use by curricula theorists. In summary, his contention is that such theorizing is not substantively changing the political consequences of curriculum; changes are limited only to the content of curriculum. "The conversation of father may change but not his position at the dinner table". Some other choice quotes:

The over determination of the male ego makes the ambiguity of paternity intolerable. He compensates for its inferential character by claiming "first cause", the origin of creation. He further compensates with an excessive interest in kinship patterns (i.e. the lines of reproduction). In this sense, the recent interest on the left in reproductive theories of curriculum are patriarchal in nature [...] it is the nascent patriarchy of the aspiring son, not the mature and established patriarchy of the father. (p. 227)

Hocquenghem (1978) reminds us that the concept of homosexual did not exist prior to the 19th century. The capacity and desire to sleep with a same-sexed person was presumed to exist to lesser or greater extent in everyone, hence the scope and intensity of efforts to prohibit th expression of such desire. During the latter part of the 19th century, a medicalization of the socially deviant began to occur. That is, medical terms became employed to describe the culturally marginal and socially deviant. The medicalization of the social terrain served the political and economic interests of cultural homogeneity, which accompanied industrialization and bureaucratization. By assigning such labels as homosexual, which indicated illness, the medical and legal communities could identify, prosecute, and punish, under the guise of providing "helping services," whose whose lives were viewed as intolerably outside the mainstream. (p. 229)

The lie is that there is homosexual desire. Following Deleuze and Guattari (1977), Hocquenghem insists that there is only desire. The polymorphous perversity, as Freud would have it, of infancy, becomes codified into genital sexuality. The story of oedipus is in this regard the story of the production of "heterosexuals," and the eradication, however unsuccessful, of homosexuals. Adrienne Rich (1980) describes heterosexuality as "compulsory," and as such "needs to be recognized and studied as a political institution". Politically, it reinforces the position of the father and guarantees its reproduction. Contemporary forms of heterosexuality tend to be phallocentric. For the male, the phallus is the sign of his power as a man. Successfully socialized heterosexual women experience "penis envy" and desire its incorporation. Although the phallus is the occasion for a man's pride or shame, he does not sexualize it. It is as if that which a woman desires is unworthy to be desired by him. He scorns the homsexual's interest in fellatio and anal intercourse. In a phallocentric culture, few homosexuals escape the fascination with the phallus; they concretize the heterosexual's fascination with its abstraction: power. Both groups reify their existence; both fail to see how the existence of the each relies on the existence of the other.

Men's (and many women's fascination with the traditional masculine ideal (i.e. the macho man) is not without some merit. This ideal is comprised of several admirable traits, such as courage and strength. However, we must acknowledge that these qualities are the socially fortunate outcomes of oedipus; often as not the macho man utilizes his strength and courage to rob, rape, and kill. In both prototypes, these characteristics are not chosen but conditioned; they result from repressing the pre-oedipal identification with the mother and resisting semisuccessfully the authority of the father. His "manliness," that discernible way of being in his body, tends to come at the expense of being in his mind and heart. His maternal repression--the more macho he is the more complete the repression is--makes him clumsy interpersonally, primitive intellectually, and a Neanderthal emotionally.

For his more civilized variations, the physical is abstracted onto the social and intellectual. Boots and jeans are traded for three-piece suits (at least during the day), and his manliness is determined not by his muscle and phallus size, but bu the size of his bank account, stock portfolio, and corporate position. He trades physical strength for acumen and shrewdness, and the macho man's narcissistic experience of himself as body is now mediated through the bodies of the women with whom he sleeps. These characterological prototypes are crude but common. Perhaps less common and less crude are academic variations, including one version we might call, not entirely for mischief's sake, the macho Marxist. Hos body and probably his bank account have been exchanged for a long list of publications, physical strength and corporate shrewdness for tough logic, witty asides, and a virtuoso knowledge of Marx, Gramsci, and Bourdieu. He vanquishes his oedipal foe not with his fists or by outpositioning him corporately, but via skillful argumentation and cogent denunciations of revisionist and obscurantist tendencies in opponents' positions. The macho Marxist substitutes dialectical materialism for the crass kind, the terminal smile of the young executive "on the make" for the suffering frown and angry scorn of the wounded but resisting activist. The content of the personality and of the social relations that express and sustain it differs for each version of man. However, the structure of the personality and its social relations (competitiveness, aggressiveness, exhibitionism) does not. Each is interested in the phallus, his own and/or others; rather, each is interested in its abstracted social form: power. Each aggrandizes his own while diminishing his opponents; after the battle all tend to retreat to the nurse and lover for solace or celebration.




Pinar, W. F. (1998). Understanding curriculum as gender text : Notes on reproduction, resistance, and male-male relations. In Pinar, W. F. (Ed.), Queer theory in education. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.