“photos”

I went to Adaptive Path’s 7th birthday party last week and was completely at a loss at what to do. What does one do at a crowded party when the music’s too loud to talk and you don’t know anyone? How do you approach people? I’m new at this being social stuff and this was definitely above level—I couldn’t even start one conversation. Anyway, there were free tacos and the paintings in the gallery where quite cool—I loved the one above (which reminds me a lot of Permutation City).

I live in Foster City, in a two-bedroom apartment that I share with Mauro, a friend from high school who moved here a month before me, and Felipe, a Peruvian personal chef. Mauro and I rent from Felipe, whose wife and kid just left to Peru. We got this place just a week after I came and we’ve liked it a lot. It’s right next to a beautiful lake, it has a balcony, a gym, a laundry, a pool (though it’s way too cold), tennis and volleyball courts, and lots of grass all around (with ducks!).

Foster city is also one of the nice, affluent parts of the bay so we definitely got lucky. Best of all, we’re very well located on a micro and macro level. Micro, the library, the beach, Safeway, Costco, and all sorts of malls (ethnic, fancy, and bland) are no more than 5-7 minutes away. Macro, we live close to the center of the Bay Area: Stanford & Palo Alto are very close, San Francisco is a half hour away, and even San Jose is some 45 minutes away. Parking is not a problem nor is it security.

It is said that Alfred Hitchcock, the great cinematic specialist in the art of frightening people, was once driving through Switzerland when he suddenly pointed out of the car window and said, ‘That is the most frightening sight I have ever seen.’ It was a priest in conversation with a little boy, his hand on the boy’s shoulder. Hitchcock leaned out of the car window and shouted, ‘Run, little boy! Run for your life!’

Richard Dawkins, The God Delusion, p357

These days I barely even think on religion but yesterday I was skimming Dawkins’s wonderfully readable book, The God Delusion, when I found this quote and laughed out loud. It has nothing to do with physical abuse and all to do with psychological abuse. And the saddest thing about it is that it is true in its parody—the main shackles that bound us, the main horrors that prey on us, are the ones within.

Ah, I’m happy. As I ride the CalTrain from San Jose, I realize that after less than a week I feel more at home here, more at ease, than I’ve ever felt in Mexico. Tuesday I went to a Long Now talk by Nassim Nicholas Taleb and got to glimpse such legendary people as Stewart Brand and Kevin Kelly. Yesterday night I went to Google (!) to an Android talk after having spent the morning in the Asian museum and the afternoon studying in the library. Today I just finished the first half of a wonderful (free!) 2-day course on AIR from Adobe. The plan is to cap the day with some Permutation City at the public library. Ah, this is how I want to live!

And it’s not only the flashy things that have me captivated, it’s being alone again, having problems and solving them, meeting strangers every day, waking before dawn effortlessly because there’s so much to do… It’s being able to speak in the same language that I think and enjoying my tongue as it twists and rolls on its own better than I had ever seen it. It’s seeing Lynda.com ads on the bus stop. It’s noticing everyday a new, unexpected way that tasks are streamlined here, automated —small pieces of civilization, like the chord to request for a stop in buses, how their doors open by standing on the steps, or how their stops are automatically both announced by a pre-recorded voice and displayed in an electronic ticker. It’s learning new, cutting-edge technologies and having someone to talk them with (never had felt like a “developer” before until I realized I felt at ease among them). It’s finding a purdy gal everytime you look around (not just lust, the ratio of childfree 20/30-somethings is way up). It’s eating a different cuisine every day (recent finds: chicken tikka masala and thai pancakes). It’s that sense of mastery at turning the new into routine and rhythm.

I wasn’t expecting such beauty. It caught me off guard today. There was a time, just after midday, as I walked along Ocean Beach, when it all overwhelmed me—the slapping wind, the silly birds, the fellow walkers, the kiting surfers, the full sky, the white rocks, the nature right besides, the glistening, sparkling, glimmering, scintillating water.

Finally! I’m in San Francisco, for at least two weeks, in what should be my beachhead for a longterm stay!

No offense to the big apple, but San Francisco is just so much better. If New York is Mexico City, San Francisco is Guadalajara: prettier, classier, cleaner, ampler, prettier peopled…  

From Nick Bostrom’s Golden—a fictional interview of Albert, an uploaded dog. His cheeriness and good disposition are attributed to his being a golden retriever. His wisdom I attribute to Bostrom, who’s one fascinating philosopher (don’t miss the fable of the dragon tyrant!).

This just in (via KurzweilAI.net), I can hardly believe it myself: