The “circuit” of conferences, events, parties and social goings on can make you feel like a consummate insider or give you social anxiety. For some of us, a given circuit is an exercise in social overwhelm, and for others it can be highlight of their calendars. It takes all kinds.
The “circuit” is a part of life for every industry. For some it’s a bit more glamorous; oh yes I’m off to such and such fashion week for cruise. And for others it’s much more pedestrian. A cash bar with drink tickets in a Courtyard by Marriott surely does the trick for state level budget professionals.
At a certain point, you realize there is always another room and a better party and a circuit inside the circuit and you get rid of the highs and lows of the experience and simply learn to live with the iron law of the circuit and schedule life around various aspects where real life and circuit life intersect. Everyone is on some part of the circuit.
Many places are aggressively part of the circuit. My hometown of Boulder lobbied hard to take on Sundance from Park City. I was just in Deer Valley above Park City for a new crew of energy policy folks. Swapping Hollywood schmoozing for nuclear energy seems like a wise move though I don’t know how Boulder will handle an event of that size.
Meanwhile, I learned that Athens is booting up a new technology conference that I just missed. Right before summer high season is an excellent time to bring folks down to the Mediterranean before jumping off to private islands and yachts.
I wonder about other mainstays on the circuit sometimes. Austin won’t host SXSW forever one imagines. But where should it go and should it split up? March will never be the same.
Burning Man is changing, maybe forever, and even storied camps are selling their vehicles. It’s a great week on the circuit and that time will surely be coveted. If I were Wyoming, I’d been keen to extend folks out from the Federal Reserve contingent within the western region but one doubts Nevada coordination with Wyoming is a top priority amongst old party hippies and economic enthusiasts, but you better believe the overlap includes a few folks.
Not that the circuit is a geographically constrained issue for most people on the most serious aspect of the circuit. And if it is you probably fly private or have excellent transit logistics. Bouncing from Fashion Week to Word Economic Forum isn’t a huge stretch if that’s your world.
I’m thinking about the circuit because I was on a chunk of business that was circuit related most of the spring. There was a brief pause in international traffic as the Iran situation worked itself out but everyone seems to be back to normal travel again.
The friction of coming in and out of reality is surreal. The circuit is not exactly part of normal reality as if you only participate in a few events it is the unreality of your calendar which makes it so special. If you live entirely outside of reality, it’s not quite so special.
I myself always find reality special but the dip in and out of unreality is jarring. I find one foot in each is hard to manage. I’m in unreality at the end of the circuit. And I need to reach again for reality even on vacation in unreality land.
Fashion rules are not hard rules. Soft rules apply to soft people who lovingly break them if something better would liven the mood. Being mercurial is a delight for them.
Soft rules do bind some people though. That’s the old canard about conservatism.
Conservatism consists of exactly one proposition, to wit: There must be in-groups whom the law protects but does not bind, alongside out-groups whom the law binds but does not protect. Frank Wilhoit
If you take the above statement at face value it makes for interesting thought experiments. Is the fashion industry is a conservative industry? Why then does it present to some as an entirely progressive culture? Fashion scholars could go on at length.
And this cultural rules exist ,about when to wear white that no one follows except those who are fearful enough to have it forced on them.
I am on an island after Memorial Day so I’m well into wearing white territory. No white before Memorial Day or after Labor Day isn’t enforced now in any meaningful sense but years after late‑1800s upper‑class habits dictated a practical, status‑signaling summer color meant for seaside or country time which were put away when people returned to sootier cities in fall.
At least I hope you aren’t somewhere covered in soot in either winter or summer. I myself am in full costal grandma regalia from white cotton pants to summer weight cashmere. Isn’t it absurd we have summer weight wools? It should really be a tee shirt but like I said soft rules for soft people.
I just had a lovely transcontinental polar flight from San Francisco to Munich. I had access to the Polaris lounge for dinner beforehand where I got a hot meal and was able to livestream an event.
Afterwards I sat myself to watch the sunset and enjoy the parade of takeoffs. Every 2-5 minutes a jet would arc up across the lounge windows, and depending on its size and destinations would slowly bank to the right.
Airplane taking off from San Francisco International airport as seen from Polaris Lounge in the G Gates
It couldn’t have been a more enjoyable way to spend a layover. I must have recorded half a dozen airplanes soaring past to send to Alex as he and I both share a life of air traffic control logistics. The G terminal is undergoing a renovation as well so it has bonus heavy equipment to watch as well.
From the Polaris lounge the G terminal area renovations
I headed to my flight with time to spare so I could get in line first for my boarding class. Too much standing with a backpack hurts me spine. It turned out to be a mistake. The gate agent came over immediately and insisted she weigh my roller bag & my backpack as as it “looked too heavy” so she needed to check. Even though I had a business class ticket, she said would gate check my carry on roller unless I repacked or threw away unnecessary items.
I was confused as I’ve never has anyone weigh my bag at the gate. It has been weighed on my first leg and deemed fine. It fits all normal size constraints even for a regional yet. It should easily fit into the large containers of a transcontinental Airbus where the overhead only needs to accommodate two people’s luggage. None of this made a difference to her.
My suitcase was 2kg over the limit though my backpack was 2kg under the limit. I explained to her I generally pack my suitcase heavy and backpack lighter as I have ankylosing spondylitis so I keep my pack light. S
he scolded me saying if that was true I’d have registered my disability. I tried to explain that disability pre-boarding has become such a scammer’s paradise this method was easier on my spine. I was under the total weight and she could measure to confirm it worked.
Power makes people do odd things. She forced me to repack both bags so they each worked under the limit. But even then tagged my luggage as “heavy and oversized” saying she’d still need to gate check it. I excused myself to the bathroom and removed the tag as it fit the bin and had the correct weight. I wasn’t going to allow her to bully me out of the fair faire I’d purchased.
I got back in the business class line where more trouble awaited me. A very haughty man said I shouldn’t be in the line it was for first class. I explained that there was no first class on this flight, which is why boarding group 1 was combined with 2 but he said I was being silly as we all had to wait and he should be ahead of me and I shouldn’t be in line at all till they called business class.
I didn’t even attempt to explain the disability situation. He was certain he has better status than me so he should be upfront and I should sit down and wait my turn. He accused me of abusing my privilege. I tried a joke saying he’s well life is so hard “ha ha right” and that I just wanted to be prepared to go as I would board after the children.
Then another woman was pulled out of the business class line. The haughty gentleman admonished her as well to not be “like this woman” and listen to the gate check attendant. She looked confused and upset.
Having witnessed my issue, she complied and her bag was gate checked though. Even though she too was allowed two bags and a personal item in business class as well. She had a sling purse and her roller bag. They took her roller bag.
We began boarding and I rushed in to be sure I was in the line I’d tried to be first in, trying to avoid eye contact with the gate check woman. I hoped she forgotten about me. She hadn’t but she was too late. Just as I was being scanned by the biometrics device, she saw me and started towards me. Thankfully device pinged green, the check in woman sent me along and you better believe I ran down the jet bridge.
I reorganized my bags back to my preferred weight balance and stored them above my seat. I had plenty of room. I scanned for the gentleman and asked if I had been mistaken about first class. No, turns out business is the top class and they don’t offer first class. Furthermore, the gentleman turned out to be in coach.
I saw the girl board with only her purse and in some distress. She plopped down in her seat two rows behind me which had an empty flat law next to her. She had none of her essentials and seemed flustered. The sear next to me was also empty.
I kept waiting for the seats to fill to justify the gate check situation. It wasn’t until we pulled back from the jet bridge that I realized both of us were seated alone. Each of us had an entire row to ourselves. There had been no point in the gate nonsense at all.
The man wasn’t up front and our luggage overhead was more than half empty as mine could accommodate two people. The other woman’s overhead was entirely empty as her bag had been taken and her purse was in her lab.
I was so glad I had my things as she was completely lost. I offered up some of my cosmetics so she could clean up, as well an Advil for the headache. She needed tissues more. The poor girl has been bullied into letting go of her luggage by an asshole and a power drunk gate attendant for no point. There was plenty of space for luggage.
Why flying has turned into some kind of battle royal of poor manners and power games I’ll never understand. I wasn’t blocking the boarding inappropriately, I was just first in line for my section to avoid strain on my spine.
I had no reason to give my bags up and simply wouldn’t. Neither did the other woman, but she didn’t want to be bullied so gave in with both the gentleman and the gate attendant on her ass.
I’ll note we were both 30-40 something white women, so maybe we were just easy pickings. Middle aged Karens either go unnoticed or become targets who we tolerate bossing around a bit. No fighting back allowed lest you become one of those hysterics everyone hates.
It doesn’t matter if we followed the rules. Or that we paid to have the space. I clearly should have gone for the disability even if I loathe it as invisible disabilities always get questioned now that it’s everyone favorite scam. I may need to rethink that.
But I made it onto the airplane with my two bags (paid in full for the privilege) and an extra seat to keep them out with me if I so desired. Turns out one chair was broken so I couldn’t use it to sleep on the inside next to the bulkhead. But it stored all my luggage. And I had a lovely sleep on the aisle side. The weights and measures were pointless and I was victorious over petty power battles. Let’s hope I’m as lucky on the next leg. You just never know anymore.
A beautiful blur of lights and bridges and boats over the bay
When the pandemic first kicked off I was relieved that travel ground to a standstill in my own life. I am a bad traveler. Which is a shame as I travel a lot.
If exposure therapy actually worked, you’d think I’d be better at managing the sympathetic response my nervous system kicks in at the prospect of leaving home.
Even well into being middle aged and well traveled, I find every aspect of travel from packing to driving to transcontinental flight to be anxiety inducing.
I should be better at this. I was was the founder of a company that specialized in travel cosmetics. I am an expert level packer as I am still on the road every few weeks. I even have a three bag cascade system complete with emergency medical supplies and plans for almost any issue you could encounter.
None of that makes it any easier. My body hates travel on a deep visceral level. I drove to the remote deserts of Utah to visit a nuclear reactor and then back to Montana in the space of three days.
Now I’m flying across the pole to another continent. I had 36 hours between the trips to unpack and repack. Logistically that would be a challenge for almost anyone. Not for me. I breeze through it.
But the fear and anxiety that my nervous system kicks in has never gone away. No amount of breath work or training or planning tamps it down. Even beta blockers and benzodiazepines barely scratch the surface of the fear. Maybe my my mother was right and being put on airplane at six weeks old was a bad idea
Will you spare a prayer for the pitiable management class as they fly back and forth on their jets from capital to capital in the hopes of securing any kind of policy that remains in place long enough to do planning? No, I didn’t imagine you would. But maybe you should.
I’m not in anyone’s C-suite and I’d be surprised if I ever am. Being the CEO of even a small privately held company isn’t a great deal of fun. The burden of a fiduciary duty can clash with your instincts as a human.
Working with founders who have these obligations is largely an exercise in providing psychological safety so they can see the truth their hearts don’t want their eyes to see.
But I don’t expect anyone who hasn’t had to shoulder the burden of stewarding resources responsibly and profitably to be sympathetic. People who leverage collective resources to build something that is more than the sum of its parts may only think only of their part.
Still I’d hope anyone who is a parent has experienced the basics of it. Someone relies on you for their needs. Imagine it’s not just your immediate family but workers, investors and customers all demanding that their needs be met.
This isn’t meant to be mere apologetics aside, I feel bad for the technology executives who were told to show up in Washington D.C today for a last minute executive order from the president on artificial intelligence. Only hours before they were told actually it’s off sorry. The ones who could make it had already made the trip for a ceremony in which they were meant to smile and nod in obeisance to Leviathan as personified in America’s executive branch.
After flying to China last week to bow and nod, they needed to be whisked off back to another capital to bow and nod some more. And then oops sorry it’s canceled. As if they didn’t have other places to be. Heck one of the places they were meant to be was in Utah for a summit on providing the energy necessary to power this next step in America’s technological ambitions.
Instead it’s just all pissing and moaning and horrors from the peanut gallery about how much our bosses don’t care about us. As if the bosses didn’t report to some other big boss. They report to their board. The board reports to their shareholders.
And all of us in the shareholder class (which is most older Americans, a decent chunk of middle aged ones and anyone with social security) are all waiting on the approval of the state, who may or may not give any of us the clarity necessary to know what comes next. Better hold on tight and keep gassed up. Shame for most of us it’s not a jet. Still I’m happy with my Subaru.
It’s funny that whenever I should have a particularly good week I am inevitably presented with pain and a bad day. And today was a bad day.
I woke up starving at 5am for no reason. Everything hurt. My skin was peeling and I was freezing. A snowstorm barreled in overnight which was cause for some distress and an awkward moment of uncertainty as whether our spring chickens could weather the storm. It’s their first full week out of the barn and in the outdoor coop and the smallest one is still so very little. They did great but they were not happy about it.
Our five new pullets who are snowed in on the first week outside the barn
I also got a sad bit of news about a company that I had witnessed being birthed through its early years as a direct to consumer darling. My first boss had been on its board and their technical cofounder was a college friend who also worked with my prior boss.
If one is to believe the reporting it was sold in debt to a large foreign company whose own brand is the antithesis of what the startup has meant to its customers. It was the first and last of the direct to consumer companies.
I don’t wish to make anyone sadder than they already are about it and I am saddened common stock holders get nothing. It’s a common story in the space and it hurts to see every time.
So I went and bought a bunch of basics in memory of what the company had tried to be and in a show of mourning as I do not trust the new owners to maintain quality.
That’s a common story in all consumer categories now. One is sometimes let down by growing too quickly or raising too much too fast and I have so much sadness in my heart that reality. It was the end of an era.
Women are at a bit of a disadvantage to men when it comes to relieving ourselves. Yes I am talking about taking a piss.
From road trips to the backcountry, we’re forced to hike up our skirts (or worse shimmy down our pants) and aim our stream through squat & thrust such that it lands where we desire without soiling our garments or surrounding areas.
You might be wondering why I’ve got such a urological topic on my mind. And I might remind you it is not as if my writing lacks for lewd colloquialisms. Some readers may recall my viral hit “dick riding” so if you are inclined towards Freud we can have a chuckle about penis envy. And today it might even be true.
I am at the moment stuck in a literal can. I am nearing the end of a session of hyperbaric chamber oxygen therapy. To be specific, my 27th session on my second round of the therapy. My first round of it was forty sessions last fall. I am rounding the end of my second set in the next two weeks.
I happen to feel dare I say good this most recent round of HBOT. It’s a marvel what it can do for the lungs and for healing wounds. However I can’t credit my current upswing just to the oxygen I’m breathing in while under two atmospheres of pressure.
I have gone off my biological injection Bimzelx after a frightful year of infections despite its excellent ability to squash down inflammatory biometrics like CRP and sed rate. I’ve added in hormone therapy via testosterone and estradiol pellets (also my second round of them). The big change is that I am heading into my forth week of injecting experimental peptides.
Those had a hell of an adjustment, but seem to have done absolutely everything which was claimed by their champions in terms of anti-inflammatory benefits. Alas I am not sure if I should discuss them too much lest I get in trouble for being ahead of the insurance rackets. My doctor supervised and approved of them which should be good enough but one never knows.
That was a long way of saying that this combination of discontinuing old expensive therapies and adding in new cheaper less expensive treatments is adding up to a lot more mobility and capacity for me.
So today I went hiking and I lifted weights. Actual under the bar squats in my own rack like an actual human. The kind of active life that I’ve been desperately trying to regain for years.
So I’ve drank rather a lot of water today. More than perhaps I should have, as here I am in a pressurized can absolutely desperately wishing I could urinate.
Alas I am waiting the timer praying for decompression to arrive so I can relieve myself in a proper water closest. And thus we circle back to the penis envy.
It’s just that I have an empty can in here with me, it’s not out of the question I could find relief in that manner. Perhaps I’d have a better treatment. My heart rate is higher than I’d like and my bladder is unhappy about the pressure. But I’ve got no aim and little room for error.
Just imagine the smell. If urine smells in a well ventilated area like a roadside rest stop, just imagine how it might smell in a pressurized tube. It’s not a place you want to fart I’ll tell you that much. So wetting the blankets, upholstery, and my clothing in here would be a disaster. I’d never get the smell out.
So here I am laughing to myself about wanting to piss in a can. Maybe a good reminder to buy one of those hiking helper devices for women. You never know what kind of situation I may find myself in this summer if I can actually move my body comfortably again.
The general theory goes that post internet generations see niche algorithm-driven content rather than say cultural or historical touchstones. Past touchstones might have unified past generational experiences.
I don’t know if unified experienced are all good. Sure all of the Boomers have heard the Beatles but all millennial woman recall tabloid headlines about Britney Spears getting fat. The water we swim in can be hard for us fish to spot.
If the younger generations have a problem, it’s being far too unified in their experience of their global position. The pandemic was a surprisingly effective reboot of expectations for all of us. But the older you were the easier it was to contextualize the impact of the pandemic across your entire life.
We all ran a dress rehearsal for collective responsibility at global scale And depending on your personality, you were funneled into perspectives you preferred.
So you saw us either shoulder or shirk responsibility. Not that other generations haven’t had to do some version of this, but being able to see it at networked global scale seems to have done something to the capacity to see the future.
McWorld triumphed over Jihad right? But that is content for a paid Substack where Fukuyama and Zizek both still write. It must have been more convincing in hardcover.
I am trying to get healthier, but that suggests it is even an achievable goal. It would be wonderful to get back to endless working hours or even just eight hours on my feet.
Every time I make a tweak to my routines and I see a change in my biometrics, it’s becomes eventually cause for concern. There’s no stable equilibrium to be found, and I know that’s part of life, but I’d like a stable equilibrium that’s a little bit better than one day at a time or ideally a couple weeks at a time.
Take my experiment with Bimzelx. Even when I achieve an outcome like getting my CRP rates into the normal bounds, it came at a cost that is simply too high to maintain. I had four separate incisions and surgeries last year from soft tissue infections.
What good is a drug that tamps down my immune system so much that I need to always go under the knife? It was like Goodhart’s Law came to haunt me personally.
I am going off the biologic (I am 12 weeks from my last injection) and already seeing change in the wrong direction. Not enormously bad but my immune system will pop if it’s not locked down.
Yet there’s very little I can do except keep going and hope that the balance will be more manageable, as I don’t know that I could have another year like 2025 again.
I set out trying to reboot my immune system last year, and it certainly seems like it worked. But can I keep the numbers in a place that are low enough to let me live, and ideally live with fewer medications?
I am constantly working against some new tweak or some new problem, and even little gentle experiments like a Pilates reformer workout or 10 minutes on the trampoline can turn into a full-day migraine if I am not immediately able to tamp it down. Thoracic pain will pop up crushing my breathing if I take a nice slow hike in the pastures beyond our house
It’s been such a crazy week. I don’t “feel the AGI” only because I am mired in the give and take of living in America where we still have businesses to run and a lot of regular people committed to actual civics. Progress is fast but implementation is slow.
And then above our daily lives, we are actively in the middle of a kinetic war that our population is only dimly watching.
The information environment being irradiated by foreign propoganda. I am astonished to read regular blatant campaigns that no one questions. I get ads for Chinese phone companies on Twitter. Phones that are not legal to sale in America.
It doesn’t even need to be about any of the active campaigns in the news that a New York Times reader would pay attention to. Below the fold, regional political issues go uncovered. The impolite “nobody reads the Africa pages” is an indelicate joke for readers of international newspapers. Americans often don’t even get them delivered with their printings.
As an example. What does an American understand about Mali anyway? I’ve got like a half dozen friends who care about French colonialism (and the sins of Nicholas Sarkozy) so it’s a niche Francophone thing. The stuff you maybe picked up from those who lived abroad.
So no real tangible value there that isn’t social, but lots of Americans used to study with French families so you might be dimly exposed. Or in the past we had a class of people who were and had state department of think tank jobs.
You’d be shocked at how much we’ve cut back on education in the liberal arts. Just as America has her very own Sicilian expedition, we stop bothering to teach Thucydides. I’m in my Allen Bloom season but without any book tour.
I have been trying to keep my cool as a week of progress is just so fast in very real world situations. I am relishing the success of Valar Atomics as they continue own a fast pace of progress. We are going to need a lot more power to meet needs in America. I want to meet them cleanly so I am honestly wishing for a boom in nuclear beyond personal interest.
All the pissing and moaning about the ethics of artificial intelligence misses the point that we need to supply a lot more power for both consumer and defense needs before disaster could strike. So we might as well suit up. We have to manage what might happen with our physical reality. Like physics bro.
So this week was wild to watch the labs stand off with fast releases. It’s very herky jerky the progress from OpenAI but they had a big week. The enthusiasm around Codex is very real even as no one entirely trusts the even management. Still it was fun to have two new models from OpenAI in a week. It’s funny how running a big startup is still largely product management. And they struggle with it.
Which sounds cute I realize. That I am charmed by progress in energy and algorithms while we test being under a kind of network attack with a very naive and easily swayed online population.
I like to think Americans are independent but we are not doing as much as we could to enable good governance. Americans have a say and plenty understand “right to compute” just as they did the “right to repair” but some in government are actual hard power types. Did no one do any of the reading? I thought everyone was all about the Powerbroker for like a decade.
But we seem to have some real second order effect issues being missed entirely by the labs. Like maybe they are bad at politics? I know it’s a cheap shot but I spend so much of my private time as a citizen doing mop up after companies whose management is under stress.
And being transactional with people isn’t very effective for revealed preferences. You can’t buy people and Americans don’t like the implication it sends about being treated like you can.
