July the Fourth be with You

Today, large groups of humans are gathered together to celebrate... whatever. It doesn't matter. (I know what it is, it just isn't relevant to this point.)  Today, I was invited to join the writhing masses. I chose not to. I used my studies as an excuse, and it's a valid one, but still...

When I'm surrounded by large groups of humans, I feel as though I don't belong. I feel like an intruder. An impostor, if you will. I feel that they can all relate to each other, and I shouldn't be there, and if anyone noticed me, things would turn nasty. So I avoid such events. I could stand being surrounded by those closest to me, those with whom I feel that I belong, but those days are gone. So alone on the holidays is what's best.

Now, if those kids would stop pounding on my window, life would get better.

Lots about Parking

AND another thing....

When you see a handicapped parking space, do you have the urge to park there, just because no one is pointing a gun at your head, telling you not to? Is it like the urge to pee? Like, you know you don't want too, but you can't stop yourself?

Are you the guy in this first photo? Parking in the only handicapped parking spot with nary a placard to be found?

Or are you the guy in the second photo? You think to yourself, "That crosshatch looks so pretty. It's next to a handicapped spot, but it's not marked as a handicapped spot, so it must be alright to park there."

Wrong, Dumb*ss. The crosshatch is there to mark an area to be left clear for the purpose of loading and unloading mobility devices, or persons in wheelchairs who require loading ramps or lifts. When you park in the crosshatch, you're impeding a disabled person from doing about his, her, or their daily business the same that anyone else would.

To the other guy... I don't care if you ARE just making a delivery (although this time you were there for hours). Those spots are sometimes closer to the relevant buildings. Other times they provide the extra space for the aforementioned loading and unloading.

Handicapped spaces aren't just handed out willy-nilly. A doctor determines the need of the patient and writes a letter to the DMV, and the DMV (or tax office) provides placards and/or license plates. The world is built to allow able-bodied people to get around and do stuff. Accommodations such as special parking are something we do to balance the scales a bit and make life easier for people who basically start off with a significant disadvantage. No one is asking you to smile or be polite or even show the same courtesy you show the teenagers you're creeping on at the mall (you know who you are). All I'm asking is that you KEEP YOUR SORRY *SS OUT OF THE PARKING SPOT TO WHICH YOU AREN'T ENTITLED. It's that simple. And it's the law.

And, for the record, from now on, I'll be doing what I should have been doing all along. From now on, I WILL contact the police when I see this. That is the correct/recommended response, and I'm tired of just sitting idly by.

Putting the TV in LGBT

So, I know someone who's having trouble finding shows to watch. Every time he comes to the part where someone kisses someone of the same sex, he turns off the show and says he's "tired of them shoving [homosexuality] in [his] face". He then has to find a different movie or television show.

So far, I've been polite enough not to speak up, for my own reasons, but I keep wanting to grab him by his big ears and shout, "Shove it in your face? By that, do you mean, existing? This show's not about them, they just happen to be there. Can they exist without you having kittens?"

I think this attitude is part of the overall problem. Someone sees that someone in the LGBTQIA community exists (or, for that matter, someone Autistic or even just a nerd) and they flip their sh*t about it. Look, Just because someone exists within your awareness doesn't mean they're imposing on you. If they're in your house, stealing your cat, yes, they must suffer your righteous wrath, but if they're in a side plot, donning hybrid ballistic armor and preparing for battle against overwhelming odds, even if they take that moment to express physical affection toward a team mate who shares a similar genital alignment, don't worry about it. Just grab your extra armor cartridges and make sure your radio works. If someone who's female-presenting walks into a women's restroom and you have doubts about that person's chromosomal configuration, consider the fact that there are at least five known configurations of the common sex chromosomes, plus conditions that make those not work properly, plus other things, plus even if none of that is the case and you ask for the woman's birth certificate she's well within her rights beat you until you like it, no matter what that birth certificate says.

And if all of this is happening on television, get over yourself. Remember the old Amos and Andy show? White actors. African Americans had to go through decades of struggle (and about three different group names) to get proper representation. Remember The Lone Ranger? From 2013? Johnny Depp as Tonto? Native Americans still have to fight for representation, sometimes. So, if LGBTQIA persons constitute (I think) between 10 and 11 percent of the population, why can't they occasionally appear in movies without someone having to go punch a llama?

Veteranary Tolerance

I received a notification from the VA that I have an appointment Thursday morning.  I thought I was finished missing work (after today).  I tried to check online, but the website has been down all day.

So, since I was here, at the VA, missing work, I asked the information desk.  The guy there said, "I don't know about Thursday.  All I see is something for the 20th."

I was about to walk away, when I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him across the desk, and asked very pointedly, "The 20th?"

"Y-yes."  He sounded frightened for some reason.

"Thursday, the 20th?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"That's the day I'm looking for.  What is it about?  Where is it?"

"All I can see is it's in The Clinic."

"Just, 'The Clinic'?"

" Yes, Ma'am."

I let him go so he could change pants and proceeded to travel to every clinic in this gosh-awful place until I found one that could look it up.  "It's in the Women's Clinic."

"Are they still open?"

"Yes, until 4:30."

I walked 12 miles to the women's clinic, and found the doors locked.  It was 1615 (4:15 PM, for those of you who neither served nor learned to fake it while telling time).  So I walked outside and traveled 8 miles to the outside doors.  Also locked.

I tried the phone number, which has never worked as long as I've been able to dial a phone.  I called the main number, chose the option for "Primary Care" and was routed back to the main number, as always.  I selected the option to speak with a humanoid, and was routed to the main number, as always.

I briefly considered setting myself on fire in the lobby as a warning to others, but decided that would hurt.  Also, I didn't have any matches.  Now, I have to decide... do I come in Thursday morning and miss work and not even know why I'm coming in?  Or do I ignore it and pretend that I care as much about them as they do about veterans?

If it's actually important, they'll call me to reschedule, right?

Mission: Incredulous

My mission: Infiltrate a government office. Connect an encrypted laptop to the network. Print my travel form. Egress without being seen.

First, I would don black pants, black boots, a black turtleneck, and a balaclava. Then, I would procede to the government building on Polk Street. I would park in the back parking lot, start playing the Mission Impossible theme song on my phone, and climb the stairs to the third floor. From there, I would take a freight elevator to the basement, sneak into the IT office, connect to the network, print and sign my paperwork, place it in the manager's inbox, and be gone without a trace, obtaining a milkshake on the way home.

At midnight, I started donning the clothes to be used for the mission.
OK, so I realized I don't own boots. Nor a black turtleneck. Nor black pants. Nor a balaclava. OK, so I just went with the clothes I already had on.
Then, I drove to the office. Well, I ran into some difficulty, as the road was closed for construction. I took a detour, but the detour was closed for construction. So I took a back route not on the maps.

I arrived at the office and placed the encrypted laptop into an innocuous messenger bag. I put on my headphones and started playing the Mission Impossible theme song.

I found the back stairwell locked, and it would not respond to my key card. I tried the back elevator, but it would not respond to my key card. I went around to the side entrance, but it would not respond to my key card. Giving up on stealth, I walked to the front entrance. The doors were locked and the security guards were absent, so no one could let me in.

Hanging my head in shame, I stopped the music. I had not earned the Mission Impossible theme song this night. I walked back to my car and headed home.

On the way home, I forgot to stop for a milkshake. It's just as well... I had not earned a milkshake this night.

State of Affairs

Well, it's official.  I am now a government employee.  I have just started my job as a Regional Network Specialist for the Texas Health and Human Services Committee.

It's not as fancy as it sounds.

I can't say much about my job.  It's not a federal job, so I would't have to kill you if I told you anything, but it's a state job, so I could be fined and go to prison, depending on what I said, so I'll be careful until I get a feel for this place.

In the mean time, I know I promised more LifeHacker articles, and yes, they will come.  The next one will be on overcoming procrastination.  I know it seems ironic, but this time I honestly haven't been procrastinating.  I've gone back to school, working on my next degree, and that's a full-time "job", but I've also desperately been searching for work, which is also a full-time "job", so I've been genuinely busy.  And now, I have a fur-realz full-time job, so that plus being a full-time college student means that I'm geunuinely busy, so I'm not really procrastinating.

BUT... I shall, nevertheless, publish an article soon regarding overcoming procrastination.  And yes, there's more to it than just "do it now".

Oh, did I mention that I'm testing a mobile app for creating and editing blog entries?  Let's see how this works out.

That's So Meta

So, I was sitting at my computer, which was, at that time, temporarily located in a public space.  I was pondering the concept of metahumans.  My aforementioned friend Jean entered the public area to acquire a snack.  I turned to her and said, "So, I've been pondering the concept of metahumans."

She turned to me and said, "This is why we can't have adult conversations."  And she walked out.

Anyway... what Jean didn't understand, and still doesn't, is that I was being completely serious.

So we come to the crux of this particular article.  (Isn't that cute?  How I called my blog entry an "article", as if I'm a journalist?)  What I want to ask is this... Do metahumans exist?

The answer is... "Weeeellllll.... it's complicated."  I'll simplify this answer later, but first let me unsimplify the answer.

First, what is a metahuman?

The term "metahuman" originated in the D.C. Comics "Invasion" miniseries.  It has since been stolen by everyone else.  Simply put, it refers to someone who's human, but somehow more than human.

Superman doesn't qualify, because he's not human.  (Sorry, Lois.)

Iron Man doesn't qualify, because he doesn't really have superpowers.  Just a really cool suit.

Jimmy Olsen doesn't even begin to qualify... he's just a part-time crossdresser with a camera.

BUT... but... The Flash (in some versions), Spiderman, The Hulk, Barack Obama, Professor X - These have all been labeled as metahuman.  Whether they are, and what, exactly, are the criteria for being labeled a metahuman, are matters of debate amongst comics enthusiasts.

And believe me, you don't want to start a debate amongst comics enthusiasts.  Do you know how things get whenever a Los Angeles sports team wins, loses, or schedules a game, and suddenly half the city is on fire, cars and buildings are smashed, and the governor has to declare martial law?  Well, it's like that.  Only without all of the civil discourse.

But, again, I digress.  The point is... these are examples of metahumans in comics.  But my thoughts here aren't just about comics.  Or are they?  Do you see any pretty pictures of well-drawn characters?  No.  No, you don't.  Because this isn't about comics.  Not really.

This is about real life.  Do metahumans really exist?

Let's explore the word just a bit more.... The prefix "meta" means "more than" or "outside of".  Essentially, a "metahuman" is someone who is "more than human", or a human whose capabilities are outside the scope of what humans can do.

This is where it gets interesting.  Obviously, those people out there who can lift cars with their minds, and who can fly, and who can communicate telepathically with animals, those people are keeping well-hidden.  And who can blame them?  Between a government that's reputed to dissect curious specimens and religious groups that want to burn everything at the stake, exposing ones self can be dangerous.  But what about people who aren't so secret?

When I turned 30, I got my first-ever eye exam.  Don't judge me.  Anyway, the doctor was flabbergasted by the quality of my vision.  He said, "You know those people who get Lasik and then their vision is better than 20/20?  Well, your vision is way better than theirs."  Of course, it didn't last, and now I have two pairs of glasses, one for reading and one for driving.  But at one time, my vision wasn't just good, it was beyond exceptional.  And that's just plain ol' me.  What about better examples that we KNOW are genetic?  (Some purists will argue that to be a true metahuman, one has to actually have the genes for one's abilities, not just have the abilities themselves.)

In Germany, in 2000, a baby was born with a mutation that boosts his muscle growth.  At the age of 5, he had twice the muscle mass and half the fat of other children his age.  His mother was a professional athlete, and some other members of her family were found to be unusually strong, so this could be a dominant gene.

Some indigenous people in Siberia were found to have a gene that boosts their ability to handle cold temperatures.

Tibetans have a greater lung capacity than people from lower altitudes, allowing them to take in more oxygen from thinner air, and they have other adaptations that help them survive long-term.  Sherpas, similarly, have better blood flow to their brains, protecting them from problems with the thinner air.

There are people with resistance to HIV.  The gene which, when received from both parents, causes sickle-cell anemia will, when only received from one parent, confer immunity to malaria.  People with mutant feet adapted to climbing trees, eyes that see better under water, and people who can eat all the bacon they want without suffering from heart disease.

Bacon!

The list is pretty extensive.  There are seven billion people in the world, and there are lots of mutations happening, and sometimes a gene pops up that convers an advantage.  Ain't evolution grand?

My point is, these people have characteristics which, in the D.C. universe, would qualify them as "metahumans".  They have abilities that place them outside what's normally considered possible for humans.  And it's not through hard work, lightning strikes in chemistry labs, nor magic potions.  It's built in, hard coded.  So, are these metahumans?

Yes.  Or... are they?  Consider this....

Now, to offend any creationists who might stumble across this blog...

Are we apes?  Let's consider.  I'm not a chimpanzee.  I have the same number of fingers and toes, but my toes are shorter (and cuter).  We have the same general shape at birth, we have hair follicles all over, but my follicles are less active, and I'm taller as an adult.  I'm also physically weaker.  But about 99% of my DNA is identical to that of a chimp or bonobo.

If you think that's crazy... 50% of your DNA is shared by bananas.

Long ago, animals happened.  Some of these became vertebrates, but they were still animals.  Some vertebrates became mammals, but they were still vertebrates.  Some mammals became apes, but they were still mammals.  And some apes became humans, but humans are, like it or not, still apes.  Every characteristic that defines an ape still applies to humans.  Face it.  You're a monkey.  Or at least a great ape, with lots of monkey DNA.

So... humans are still apes.  Extend that.  Eventually, humans will have evolved.  It's difficult to say what we'll look like in 500 million years, because evolution isn't a path, just a process, but we'll definitely look different.  But we'll still be humans.  And apes.  And mammals, and vertebrates, and animals.

Unless we leave our bodies behind and become godlike beings of pure energy.  But that's for another article.

So... Do metahumans exist?  Yes.

But they're still human.  And therefore not metahuman.

See?  It's complicated.

And... regarding the incident with Jean...

It should be noted that, not five minutes later, I was walking past her home office, and she shouted, "Hamcat!"  I stopped, backed up, and looked into her office, and she said to me, "Hamcat.  HAMCAT!!!"  Then she went back to whatever she was typing.

This is how I know I need to move.