Some exciting news

Just got this in the mail, and I'm just a bit excited about it. Last year, I wrote-up a research paper on the effect the Unabomber/Ted Kaczynski had on the press. It's a long story that I can't get into at this exact moment, but the gist of it is, is that the Unabomber held the media hostage with his manifesto, threatening to maim and kill innocent civilians unless the manifesto was printed in its entirety in a paper such as the New York Times or Washington Post. This set up quite the ethical quandary, as one of the major tenets of the journalistic world is that no one tells the press what to print. However, the press couldn't well ignore such a threat – the Unabomber's track record of dozens of people killed or injured by his bombs could bear truth to that.

The Washington Post printed the manifesto and the Unabomber was caught as a result of that, but there was a whole lotta soul-searching and anger in the media over the publication of that piece. My paper examined the prevailing attitudes in the media at that time in history, from newsroom pros to those in academia. All interesting stuff and I'm extremely excited about the opportunity to present it this fall.

Hi,
Pardon the form email, but it is good news: Congratulations! Your submission(s) to the Conference on Media, War and Conflict Resolution has/have been accepted.

The conference registration form is attached.


We are also excited to offer excellent pre-Conference sessions, so please check out that link in the conference web site, too.

If you have any questions, please let me know.

I hope to see you this September!

28

I became 28 years old at about 9:25 EST.

No, I'm not going to celebrate the occasion, beyond going to dinner with Allison at Frontera Grill or more likely, Udupi Palace. That's it. I want no party, no night out on the town, no big to-do. I'm just a year older, not a big deal.

Since my phone is still screwed up, despite my best efforts (thanks Verizon!), I still can't receive most calls. Feel free to send me an e-mail or SMS wishing me a happy day.

The only thing I really want, besides copious amounts of money, is an unlimited supply of Fage. Oh, I'll take a Pegoretti Responsorium Ciaveté, too, with Campy Record and Shamal wheels.


EDIT: Mike's comment got me thinking – maybe a beer would be worth having with some friends. Anyone around tomorrow (Thursday) night?

My building

Thanks to building owners who have neglected the basic tenets of building upkeep and tenant happiness, including maintaining a semblance of security through an outer gate and doors that actually lock, a non-working buzzer system, hot water that isn't, insect pests, and rising rents, the tenants in my building have jumped from this sinking ship much like rats (which thankfully we DON'T have.) It's not for lack of groundskeeping or general cleanliness – both of those needs are addressed in full. It's just that all those other things seem to be just a bit more important to those who actually have to live in the building.

As such, this place has become quite the ghost town. Our building is divided into six distinct units, those divided further into six individual apartments. In my particular unit, only three apartments are actually occupied, and it was only two months ago that we had a full house here. The chief complaint due to those peoples' moves being the rent – in other parts of the building, it's the inconsistent, and sometimes mysterious, appearance of hot water. With all problems in concert, the incentive to move away seems greater with each day.

From my perch on the third floor, I get to see many of the people who come and go throughout the day. I'm not looking out with binoculars and keeping tabs, I'm just curious is all. I've come to the conclusion that only a few people are left here, despite the number of names still on the mailbox. Here's the list as far as I can tell:

1. Chris
2. Amy
3. Shirtless drunk man, who is always taking bags of trash out
4. Shirtless drunk man's roommate (?), who carries a cane and a Dominick's bag everywhere he goes
5. Frizzy-haired lady in sweatpants
6. The stoner skateboarders on the first floor who go skateboarding at 4AM with some regularity
7. The really nice woman who lives below me who likes to smoke in the hallway of our unit, which makes me think she isn't really all that nice
8-20. Miscellaneous Loyola students

Hopefully, all the above move out so that only Chris and Amy are left. That way, we can have band practice in the courtyard and raucous parties in the laundry room.

An apology of sorts

If you've been around me lately, you've noticed my bloodshot eyes and dripping nose. Don't lie and say you haven't, because I'm such a major wreck right now with the seasonal bane of spring allergies. I've had them since I was 18, which incidentally is the same year that I picked up a smoking habit. But when I quit the cigarettes, the allergies stayed with me and seem to be getting worse every year.

I've tried all the remedies and medicines: some work, some don't. I started off on Claritin, which took care of things, but a year later didn't work for me. Then it was onto Allegra, and finally Zyrtec. Zyrtec's worked great, but my sinuses are still in misery and ain't getting better. The result of all this is that I've become intractably irritable – it's hard to be pleasant when your nose is chafed raw and you can't breathe without hanging your mouth wide open. Sleep's been a joke, too. I fall asleep fine, but wake up in the middle of the night all congested, and I'm up with the sunrise at 5:50 or so, without fail.

So, with that in mind, bear with me for a little while longer. The pollen should be out of the air in the next week or two and until then, I hope that I can get a scrip for some Flonase or other nasal cortisteroid (or whatever they're called.)

Best,


Zach

So much for the weekend

Winona, Indiana is not the same as Winona Lake, Indiana.

That much makes sense, but my mind on Saturday morning, in a fog induced by antihistamines, couldn't decipher between the two.

Half Acre teammate Adrian Silva and I decided to do the the Fat and Skinny Tire Fest race at the last minute, and I offered to drive. Simple enough, as it almost always is. When I googled-up some directions, I typed in "60626 to Winona, IN", printed-off what Google came up with, and didn't think anything else of it. I assumed that since the town of Winona was so small, that it would be easy to find where registration was. In the past, this was the tack that I've always taken and it's never failed me once.

Almost always, there are signs directing racers to where the race is, with arrows, flags, and banners. So, after driving two hours, Adrian and I pulled into Winona, marveled at the hard wind from the west, and looked around for any signs of bike-racing activities. It was a fruitless effort. We drove around for a few minutes, and I finally decided to stop in at a bar to ask where the bike race was.

Bartender said, "Oh, yeah, we saw a bunch of bikes go by a little bit ago."

"Oh, yeah? What kind?"

"Y'know, Harleys..."

"Uhh, OK...thanks."

So, I made the call to Naz and he informed me that we were a full 47 miles away from where the race festivities were. And our race was due to start in an hour. We could've risked life, limb, and license to drive at full speed to Winona Lake; we could've gone home to Chicago; or we could make the best of a bad situation and go for a ride in the desolate flatlands of northwestern Indiana. We chose the latter, found a church to park in, changed into our kits, and put together our bikes.

The farm road system in the Winona area is mostly on a grid, but we were in no mood to get lost, so we decided to do an out-and-back for two hours at a hard pace. We set off into the aforementioned headwind, and I led the way, pushing hard. With the occasional drops of rain, the shaking trees, and the dark, menacing sky, it felt like we were out for a ride in Belgium, so in the spirit of those Hardmen, I put in a hard effort. Adrian hung on admirably, but he's so much more a climber than a straight-line Rouleur, so he suffered at times.

On the way back, our toil into the wind was rewarded by the inevitable tailwind. I was spinning out my 53x12, and for most of the trip back to the car, our speed averaged around 28-30 MPH. We took a detour down a gravel road to try to change things up and lengthen the ride, but after only 1:50, we'd covered only 32 miles, with a few stops on the side of the road for "relief". I'd like to have gone for longer, but it was already getting late in the day and we both wanted to get home. (Did 70 yesterday, though.)

Back at the car, we changed, ate, and set out for the return trip to Chicago. While the trip itself was a failure, by no means was the day a wash. Few things are as pleasurable as a solid, hard ride in the countryside and this Saturday's ride was no exception to that rule. But now I miss Athens even more. However, next week I make the trip down that way for my proposal defense and to pick-up material for the data analysis portion of my thesis, so I'll visit my favorite sites and go for a ride with the Athens crew.

May

Photo courtesy of Ben Popper.


My most favorite season is in full swing. And my most favorite month is just now easing out of the gates. So too are my sinuses, but that's another story, best told with a kleenex nearby.

It's raining right now and the air temperature is hovering about 58 degrees. Perfect for a day spent inside, working, cleaning, and getting stuff done. Today, I have thesis work to do, and I need to rewrap the bars on Big Orange. As for the rest of the day, my slate is wide and open.

Maybe a walk to the beach might be in order, to take in the verdant creep that is spring.

Another new bike, and an appreciation for obsolete technology

(Just a sneak photo from Photobooth, 'cause the digicam is MIA.)

Last night, I picked-up a 1989-ish Schwinn Prelude for a very fair price from a fellow ChiFG-er to use as a commuter and foul-weather trainer. I don't particularly mind taking my custom orange machine out in the rain, but at the same time, I'm so obsessively compulsive about keeping it clean, that I spend an hour or so post-ride washing it of grit, gravel and grease. This Schwinn will get a set of fenders, Look Keo pedals, and a good bearing overhaul and that's it. Nothing all too exciting, I know.

However, I am really excited about this bike for just two small reasons – the two downtube shifters. I love shifting a bike from the downtube, removing my hand from the handlebars to click the shifter up or down a notch, to match the terrain and my strength. Nowadays, an Ergo/STI/Double-Tap equipped bike is so much faster and user-friendly than a bike with downtube shifters, but in capable hands that old tech still competes well with the new.

Last year, when I was living in Athens, I was out nearly every night with a crew of cyclists, exploring the hollers of SE Ohio. One had a custom Calfee with Record, others on new Cannondales, and I was either on my Redline 'cross bike, or my 1992 Schwinn Paramount PDG. I was usually beat-out on the town line sprint by Rik Van Der Akker on his Calfee, but I held my own with my 15 year old heavy steel bike. I eventually upgraded the rear shifting to 8-speed Ultegra 600, but I always knew that I could switch it back to full downtube shifting if I wanted (and I might still do, seeing as how the shifter doesn't like shifting sometimes.)

But now I have this Schwinn to enjoy here in Chicago and I'm just about as excited about that as I was when I picked-up my other newer, nicer bikes. Could it be because now I can commute and train in the city without fear of trashing my race machines? Maybe. However, I prefer to think it's because I get to ride a bike regularly with obsolete tech just a few inches from hand. And if I beat-out out my teammates on their nice, CF superbikes, then all the better.