my life, my thoughts, my world.

This post is a few weeks late. I was not sure I even wanted to post the photo as some will certainly find it offensive. The choice of imagery used by those organizing the protest was chosen exactly to offend those with whom they disagree, and thus extract an argument. The chord the display struck with me, however, was not one the organizers likely intended. Take a look and see what your initial reaction is, and then scroll past the photo to read my reaction.

Words are important, use the right ones.

When I came across the “Warning Genocide Photos Ahead” signs early in the morning, the main display had yet to be erected. I figured perhaps there was some Holocaust memorial display going up for whatever reason, or perhaps a radical anti-war protest was setting up a display. Either way, the probability anything that would phase me would be shown was very low. You do not spend 26 months in a combat zone without seeing things most people should never have to see.

A few hours passed, and the display was put up for all to see. I was wrong in my assumptions, and was greeted by an anti-abortion display. That’s all good and well. Personally, I do not believe it is the government’s business at all to legislate the medical decisions between a physician and a woman. I also strongly believe in personal responsibility. Either way, you live with the choices you make.

My reaction was not really even related to the imagery, which certainly distressed several students that passed by the very central location in front of the library. No, my reaction had much more to do with the application of language. Hyperbole is often used when a group seeks to garner attention, and this is certainly no exception.

The first, and most obvious, use of sheer hyperbole is in their most brightly colored sign which reads WARNING GENOCIDE PHOTOS AHEAD. On one hand, there actually are a few images from the Holocaust and that certainly amounts to the deliberate and systemic killing of all people of a specific demographic. On the other hand, it would be foolish to assume the warnings were directed at the inclusion of the Holocaust photos instead of the photos of aborted fetuses. As the warning clearly applied to the abortion photos, someone failed to grasp or apply the word genocide very well. For abortion to amount to genocide, there would need to be a concerted effort to eliminate all Homo sapiens sapiens fetuses. Logically, such a concerted effort would be a genocide of the highest degree as far as our species ought to be concerned. An effort on that scale would absolutely threaten us with extinction. Fortunately for our species, no such effort exists. For nearly two decades the slope of the graph representing the abortion rate in the United States has been a negative average value. Genocide was a poorly chosen and improperly used word.

My other issues are not quite as clear cut, linguistically. One of the large signs brings up the concept of Constitutional Rights, something rather dear to me considering the oath I took (twice). Generally, anytime I read those two words together I assume the user has not once actually read the Constitution. Experience has proven this to be a wise assumption, and I will continue to operate under that assumption here. I asked one of the protesters what exactly that sign meant, and was greeted with a poorly educated answer. In short, the inclusion of any potential for the pending health-care reform measures to direct any funds to the procedure of an abortion has been equated with a constitutional right. If ever there was a stretch, this is it. While a law may certainly pass making abortion a procedure paid for by the government, such a law would in no way make abortion a constitutional right. Some might even argue such a law would be entirely unconstitutional. At any rate, unless Congress proposes an amendment explicitly proclaiming a right to abortion, a constitutional right it is not.

From there I cannot help but dive into a little scientific argument. The abortion-by-choice rate, globally, is far lower than the rate by which embryonic growth is rejected by nature itself. Full, or even partial, term birth is not the normal outcome of fertilization in our species. If pregnancy is detected early, and the conscious decision is made to act against that pregnancy it cannot really be said with any certainty that the result would have been live birth had such a conscious decision not been made. Of course you cannot say for sure that nature would reject the pregnancy either, but rejection does in fact happen quite often. If you want to draw up some more hyperbole, these protesters ought to actually protest fertilization, as the body is more likely to abort than it is to carry to term. If you want to apply a little Washington-style circular logic, these very protesters should support an action that would actually be genocide.

The moral of the story? Words matter. Pick the right ones when making an argument, and make sure you actually understand the subject matter before you put yourself in a position from which you may have to answer difficult (or even easy) questions.

Rain has decided to visit Texas after taking nearly a year of vacation. Considering how much I enjoy being outdoors, rain is hardly something about which I am going to complain. We need the rain, and we need it in a bad way. Many of the places I enjoy visiting, as well as many of my hobbies, are directly threatened by the lack of rainfall over Texas in 2009. There is one thing, however, that is rather soured by the rain. That one thing happens to be my primary mode of transportation to and from UH. Motorcycles and rain just do not get along very well.

A rain cloud loitering in downtown Houston, TX

When I made the decision to move back to Houston and attend UH, I assumed I would move into a place closer to the school. This assumption was based on the ridiculous hope that the change in the G.I. Bill would provide me with sufficient funds to get a place without the need to be employed while finishing my engineering degree. No payments have been made thus far, so I stay with my parents and commute 360 miles per week to and from school. Parking permits for four-wheeled vehicles (to be referred to as “cages” henceforth) are so expensive I would not even remotely consider their purchase. As a result I get rained on, and I get rained on for many miles.

Ask any experienced motorcyclist what one must do to maximize one’s safety when riding amongst the cages, and the likely response will be something along the lines of “Ride as if everyone is trying to kill you.” Sage advice indeed. Today, no attempts were made on my life. I should likely purchase a lottery ticket, as days such as today are a rarity. Yesterday, on relatively dry concrete, I was forced to use the healthy application of both steering and throttle to avoid the absent-minded drifting of a woman in a late-model Nissan Armada more focused on painting her nails and talking on her phone than she was with driving her large automobile. Had the same thing occurred today, on a wet road, things might not have turned out so well.

Rarely do cagers see you on a motorcycle even on the clearest of days. Motorcyclists concerned with safety tend to deal with this by wearing bright colors and emitting (directly, or by reflection) as much light as possible. When it rains and visibility goes down the effectiveness of these tactics are, in my experience, reduced greatly. Things can get downright scary when riding in the rain.

Fortunately, a good riding suit, or even your regular riding apparel covered with a decent rain suit, can keep you reasonably comfortable and dry. This gives you the freedom to pay attention to the added dangers of riding in the rain. As an example the many on-ramps in the Houston area that are, for whatever reason, several feet below the level of both the freeway and the access road, happen to turn into mini-lakes when it rains for more than five minutes at a time. In a truck, you can just plow through these puddles and reasonably expect all to be well. On a motorcycle, you could quite literally kill yourself if you fail to traverse the pond slowly. Even then, as many of these ramps have lovely road paintings (that just so happen to get slick as ice when wet) to tell you exactly which freeway you have just entered, you are not sure to make it through without a mishap.

If you do not ride, or maybe even if you do, you are probably thinking I am insane by now. If you know me, there is a good chance you already thought so anyway. I love to ride, even if it is mostly limited to commuting on the super-slab of I-10. The risks are understood, and I do everything I can to mitigate those risks. If you plan accordingly, most weather you can handle comfortably in a cage does not present too insurmountable a problem on a motorcycle. Besides, I can ride the HOV by myself, go from 0-60 in a hair more than 4 seconds, and still get better fuel economy than a Prius (henceforth “smugmobile”, courtesy of @wildbill). Rain or shine, if I’m not already on it, I probably wish I was on my motorcycle.

My FJR covered in water drops

My blog has been rather stagnant lately, and for that I do apologize. I cannot make any promises that updates will be lengthy, or regular, over course of this semester. Instead of reading to the end to discover my point, I will come right out and say it. If you are considering taking a break from school, don’t. While my break was a bit different from most others, it was still a break. In the past eight years, I have seen few reasons to really engage my brain. Leaving the University of Texas at Arlington, and my mechanical engineering studies, essentially sent me into a period of mentally lethargic existence that lasted nearly a decade.

After a year, and an enjoyable one at that, of studying journalism at Texas State University I decided I had rested my mind long enough. This is not to say there are not great minds in the field of journalism, or that I have turned my back on clear communication. I was simply not challenged by that course of study. At some point during the spring of 2009, I came to the conclusion that I ought to finish what I started in the fall of 2001. Applications went out, and I ultimately decided to resume my mechanical engineering studies at the University of Houston.

August 24, 2009, was my first day back in engineering school. I have started back where most do, with calculus. Chemistry is on the table as well, but I’ve always found general chemistry to be very clear and simple. Calculus has beaten me before, but it will not beat me again. Such a long wait between my last meeting with Newton’s language for describing physics and the present day put me at something of a disadvantage to my much younger peers. Fortunately, I have seen this before and have the discipline to recognize when I need assistance. The tutoring center at UofH has been quite useful already.

One of the most immediate things I noticed was that now there are quite a few women going after engineering degrees. I only needed a single finger to count the number of women in any of my engineering classes at UTA. There are dozens of women in my chemistry for engineers class. That change is, of course, quite welcome.

Another pleasant note is that I rather like the campus at UofH. Before actually attending UofH, I never really took the time to walk around campus. There is a lot of diversity here, and the atmosphere is not at all displeasing. Sure, I wish it had a crystal clear river flowing through campus, but you cannot win them all. While I do, in general, hate Houston I do not see the lack of things I wish to do as a necessarily bad thing. Combine a campus on which I have no problem spending time with a city I prefer to avoid, and I am left with a pretty good recipe for academic success.