Sunday, July 14, 2019

Review - "The Time Traveler's Wife" by Audrey Niffeneggar

The Time Traveler’s Wife — by Audrey Niffenegger

I knew this was a movie quite a long time ago, but assumed it was a chick flick and I wouldn’t be interested.  Then recently I read it in a list of science fiction books that mentioned that the story really did involve time travel, which got me interested in it.

I’m glad I saw that list as I really enjoyed this book.

The woman in the title is Clare, and the story revolves around her future husband, Henry.  Henry has a genetic disorder that causes him to occasionally, and without any control over it, travel through time and space to somewhere else, with only his body, no clothes or shoes, or even fillings in his teeth.  Wherever he was, his clothes just fall empty to the ground.  How long he stays is unpredictable.  He’s frequently beaten up, but has learned to fight, to steal, to pick locks, etc. in order to get clothes, food and water on his travels.  Most of his travels, at least the ones detailed in the book, are too familiar places, including hanging out with himself at other ages.

He repeatedly goes to a meadow near Clare’s house, beginning when Clare is six years old and Henry is 28.  They become friends quickly, but by then Henry knows they’ve already met and married in “real time”.   One one of his trips, when he’s older, he recites for Clare to write down a list of dates that he memorized for when he travels to her, so she can always have a set of clothes prepared for him.

Time moves on, Clare gets older…. She hasn’t told many people about Henry because as the few she has don’t believe her, other than her having a childhood “imaginary friends.”  Henry’s already told her they get married in her future, and as she becomes a teenager she keeps trying to seduce him, but he remains a gentleman.  Clare’s friends, who don’t know about Henry puzzle over why she won’t date boys through high school.

Once they meet in “real time” Clare recognizes Henry, who is younger than he was the first time he traveled to Clare’s meadow, so he has no idea who she is.  But they hit it off, and he quickly dumps his current girlfriend so they can date and marry, etc.

It takes a little effort to keep track of the dates and Clare and Henry’s ages.  But it’s worth it.

As the book moves on previous chapters’ foreshadowing starts to clarify, for the characters and for the readers.  It gets a bit sad once it’s clear that according to Ms. Niffenegger’s time travel rules once he’s experienced something, there’s nothing anyone can do to change it, it’s happened, or it will happen exactly as he saw it.  What’s going to happen becomes utterly inevitable, even if we don’t want it too.

Ms. Niffenegger doesn’t go into the mechanics of Henry’s travel, and that’s just as well.  It’s just something that happens and the story goes with it.

Overall I very much enjoyed this book, and I’m looking forward to the eventual sequel the author is working on (following one of Henry’s relatives with a similar genetic condition).


Tuesday, July 2, 2019

Was I an Asshole at Work?

Question:  Was I an asshole at work today?

It’s finally getting warm in the office, enough that the previous two workdays I turned on the air conditioner to 74 degrees (Farenheit, or 23.3 Centigrade, for those who use that).  Two of my coworkers, who got in later than me expressed relief that it was on finally, that it was so much better than the prior week or so.

For me, though, 74 degrees meant the blasted thing was blowing air most of the day and as I have Raynaud Syndrome, I was terribly uncomfortable, teeth chattering, shivering and struggling to type on the computer with my numb fingers.  That happens with Raynaud’s, when it’s even just chilly and I’m sitting still or standing still, I get very cold, and dressing warmer helps without fixing it.

Today, though, today I got in first and I set the air conditioner on 75 degrees instead of 74 degrees.  Throughout the day it only cycled on a handful of times, and only for short periods, not enough to freeze all the heat out of my body.  And I enjoyed the occasional breeze that blew in through the wide open window next to me.

Heck, I felt a touch warm, myself (and for me that’s far superior to feeling teeth chattering cold).

I know my coworkers were probably uncomfortably hot and sweating in our cabin, but nobody actually said anything aloud to me.

I also know that out of the four of us who share that cabin, I’m the only one who knows how to turn the air conditioner on.  It’s a weird system, a standard remote control, but a very loose integration with a thermostat on the wall.  Only two of us in the company actually know how to use the thermostat.  We’re not keeping it a secret, we’ve explained over and over and over again to everyone else, but no one gets it.  Everyone else just uses the remote control, which ends up causing problems outside business hours…

Since last summer, the remote in our cabin walked off.  It had been on the desk underneath the air conditioner for the past eight years.  But the guy who sat there moved desks, leaving the remote there, and then left the company.  Now the remote is nowhere to be found.

Sure, the three people who were looking a bit uncomfortable in the heat were the ones who cleaned the spare desk and threw away all the accumulated junk, so in my mind, they bear a bit more responsibility for the lack of an air conditioner remote than I do.

But still, was I an asshole for prioritizing my comfort in the heat over my coworkers’ obvious, but silent, suffering, knowing that I, and only I, could fix it for them?

Follow-up Question:  Will I be an asshole at work again tomorrow?

Saturday, June 15, 2019

Bodily Functions on Review

So, this week I hit the “trifecta” of witnessing bodily elimination functions during my commutes…

On Tuesday morning, riding the 4 train in Brooklyn, a sleeping guy got up from laying down on the bench and walked to the middle door, closed while the train was running, whipped it out and pissed, in full view of half a dozen passengers, men and women.

On Wednesday evening I was nearly home and saw a guy stretch out both arms on a sidewalk shed, scaffolding.  I thought he was just tired and stretching, but no…. He leaned over a large stream of orange liquid, like he’d been guzzling Irn-Bru, with a few scattered chunks came spewing out his mouth into the gutter alongside the street.  The low evening sun was shining bright from the opposite side, lighting up the stream of vomit to a glowing nuclear orange.

On Thursday evening I was on the N train, just pulling into 49th Street, where I get off.  I was standing at the very front door, almost with my nose on it.  As the train stopped I could see out one side of the window a rolling cart with some stuff in it, but the metal between the windows was blocking my view next to that.  Then the doors opened and there was a dirty bum, crouching, pants down, taking a shit.

On the lucky side, for the two evening ones I was wearing headphones so I didn’t hear any of the associated noises.  Oddly, and quite fortunately, I didn’t smell any of them…

Monday, February 4, 2019

Slipping on Ice

After a few weeks of being lazy on the weekends, I got out on Saturday with my camera.  Actually, I was feeling lazy, but Leena pushed me to go out and walk a bit.  I really wanted to stay home and futz around with my now-broken iMac and see what data I could recover from it.

So, I got out, and it was pleasant out.  I walked over by Grand Central Terminal, and across 42nd Street I slipped on some melting ice.  There's a slight slope there in Pershing Square, and with the ice melting it was covered in liquid water, and I didn't realize there was ice under the water until I suddenly, and painfully found myself sitting in it.

I was in sort of a daze, but a few people asked if I was alright, and I said I would be.  Then I got up and hobbled to a decorative rock, large enough to function as a bollard, and sat for a little bit.  Then remembered there's an indoor public plaza (one of New York's Privately Owned Public Spaces) so I limped over there to sit a few minutes in a chair, and write in my diary.

Fortunately that was very close to a subway entrance with an escalator that got me very close to the crosstown shuttle to Times Square, which wasn't a far walk from the elevator down to the N platform, that I took one stop up to 49th Street where there's another elevator up to the street.

Then I had to limp home a few avenues over.  After crossing 8th Avenue I called Leena to meet me at the corner nearest our apartment as I was thinking I should go to the urgent care clinic there.  She was almost at the subway on her way down to Macy's, and I realized we'd crossed paths, on the opposite side of 49th Street, though she doesn't normally pay close attention to what's around her, while this time I was distracted and focusing only on the steps ahead of me.

She said to skip the urgent care and she would fix the sprain at home.  So, we did that.  She rubbed some Indian liniment, called Volini, which is mostly linseed oil and menthol, on it, then went down to the pharmacy to buy an ice pack.  By then my ankle was swollen, and had a monstrous bulge on the side.  The pharmacist recommended she give me Advil and keep my ankle elevated.

We did that.  Icing it every couple of hours for 20-30 minutes, rubbing that Volini on it, and I kept it up on a chair...

By bedtime Saturday night the swelling was reduced.  My ankle just looked enlarged, without that round bulging ball on the side.  So that was good.

Yesterday was more of the same...  Although it didn't change much throughout yesterday.  The big change was Friday evening...

Today I've hobbled my way to work.  I had a plan that I'd walk to Times Square and get the 3 train that goes right to my office, without needing any stairs between the start and finish. But by the time I walked half a block I changed my mind.  Instead I took a local train at the nearest subway station and changed trains downtown to a 4 train.  That involved a few short flights of stairs, but was a lot less than the further walk to Times Square.  And despite walking a lot slower than usual, got me to work a little earlier than usual.  Go figure.

Going home is going to be a different story.  I don't think I can take the 4 train to the same station because I probably won't be able to force my way off the crowded rush hour train.  I'll need to take a different route.

I've certainly slipped on ice before.  It's part of winter, and hell, I went to college.  This is the first time I can think of that I've bruised more than just my dignity.