Things I am ideologically:
~ Iconoclast (I reject tradition for its own sake)
~ Pragmatist (I do the things that work for me)
~ Scientist (I experiment until I figure out what works)

Things I am trained as (in reverse chronological order):
~ Computer Scientist
~ Design Ethnographer
~ Pilot
~ Harpist

Things I am in spite of myself:
~ Highly experimental cook
~ Well-meaning murderer of tomato plants
~ Producer of high-quality grumps
~ Writer

Things I want to become (in no particular order):
~ Archer
~ Falconer
~ Distance runner
~ Kayaker
~ Novelist
~ Gardener and preserver of food
~ Leader of a Cyborg Badger Army

I have a low tolerance for bullshit--it interferes with efficiency, which I love.

Not spending nearly enough time in Forest Park, for starters. I've lived in Portland for six months now, and it's a shame that I haven't gone strolling through it yet. I have read Wildwood, though, so I have at least vicariously strolled it's more fantastic counterpart.

I just completed my Master's degree in Computer Science, wherein I spent a lot of time huddling in a lab in Oklahoma, making data visualizations of correspondence networks during the Enlightenment. I graduated in May and moved to Portland to work in the Intel Labs, where we try to predict what technology will look like in 10 years. I do a little ethnography, some data mining, a dash of machine learning, and a lot of data visualization. I am currently in the process of making my cubicle a little more zen, and a little less soul crushing, mostly through the liberal application of plants.

I spend a not-insignificant amount of time fretting over my houseplants. Most of them do all right, but a number of them have stubbornly failed to thrive. A golden pathos vine, which the Internet claims to be the easiest houseplant to grow, spent the last five months dying, melodramatically. I am considering adopting the Alistair Crowley method of houseplant maintenance, where the underperforming houseplants disappear under mysterious and suspicious circumstances. The remaining plants would be lush, for sure. Also terrified.

I am in the midst of planning my balcony garden (I'm contemplating growing string beans on rope ladders down the side), and plotting brewing my next batch of beer (I think I will make a pale ale, using only Cascade hops.)

I spend an unseemingly amount of time hoarding data for future research and visualization. Lately it's been statistics about violent crime in OECD nations, Twitter hashtags, and World of Warcraft avatar changes. When I am not actively increasing my data hoard, I perch atop it protectively, daydreaming about writing Android apps and video games.

I aspire to host "New Friend Dinner Parties", where I invite random folks around town who have struck my fancy to dine with me. I'd like to make a sofa out of a dinosaur o
skeleton, and start a Burlesque and Bakery (possibly called Cans and Cupcakes or Boobs and Baked Goods. Tits and Tasty Cakes? I like alliteration.)

But! All of those things aside, what I ought to be doing is making adventures and forging relationships with people who are neither computers nor houseplants. Any takers?

~ Cooking vegetables (in particular kale and other cruciform vegetables)
~ Surviving crucibles through sheer force of will
~ Overcommitting
~ Inappropriate application of home remedies (that's how the tomato plants met their end)

If you're passing me on the street, you are most likely to notice the bright blue trench coat and matching cowboy boots that are my standard outer and footwear. The particular shade of blue is my unofficial favorite color. (Unofficial in that I refuse to acknowledge it as my favorite color, but that so many of the things I own are of that shade that my friends associate it with me.)

Food: Any vegetable in the Brassicaceae family (kale, cabbage, cauliflower, broccoli, etc.) Preferably paired with bacon, garlic, and/or lemon.
Movies: Waitress, Brick, The Watchmen, Mulan, Wall-E, The Emperor's New Groove

~ A good chef's knife (Before I cooked, my favorite kitchen utensils were the egg whisk, melon baller, and fondue fork. Now I know better.)
~ Cutting board
~ 10 or 12 inch stainless steel straight-sided skillet (good for everything from sauteeing kale in bacon grease to cooking up a pecan praline cheesecake)
~ Laptop (I have a very functional-looking Thinkpad Tablet)
~ Internet (The internet is the all-mother.)
~ Cerulean blue cowboy boots (Wear them to look classy even while naked!)

Ways to subvert systems. I am particularly fond of identifying exploitable holes in security theater. I usually do this while tweeting grouchily about fascism and tyranny. (In short, life-hacking.)

New recipes. I like combining unexpected things in unexpected ways! Sometimes this works out well, other times not so much. Currently my list of food experiments include:

~ grilled pear, honey, and gorgonzola ice cream
~ dip made from pureed turkey, cranberry sauce, and brie
~ sweet potato chips with avocado cilantro jalapeno garlic dip

New machine learning algorithms, or applications or variations of existing algorithms. Right now I am working on a genetic algorithm for recipes!

Stories. I have a running list of fifteen premises for novels, and a handful of ideas for stories meant to be spoken.

The Fibonacci sequence. I needed a self-soothing replacement for prayer, so when I am stressed I count the Fibonacci sequence as high as it takes to chill.

My typical Friday nights are not really all that exciting, so let me instead describe for you a couple of Friday night scenarios that really excite me.

First, we get an even numbered bunch of friends together (at least four in total), and go to Wal-Mart or other purveyor of food items to stock up on discounted cupcakes. The more colorful the cupcakes, the better.

Then, in an abandoned corner of the parking lot, we break into two teams composed of two-person sub-teams. Each sub-team grabs a shopping cart. One member of the sub-team hops into the shopping cart with a lap full of stale cupcakes--that's the artillery guy. The other member pushes the cart--that's the pilot. Then, on a predetermined signal, both teams begins racing their carts through the parking lot, hurling cupcakes at each other until everyone is a brightly-colored, sugary mess.

I still have nightmares about my former harp teacher.

I was raised super-evangelical Christian, and not only did I convince myself that I could speak in tongues (which, from watching the other gifted folks in the congregation, seemed to be a lot of babbling with the occasional hallelujah thrown in for good measure), but I also buried a Bible on the playground. I was a weird kid. Fortunately, God and I had a falling out beginning with his complete failure to help me find a lost dress shoe when I was nine. Things between us really went south when around age 15 it occurred to me that he couldn't be omnipotent, omniscient, and omnibenevolent. It was a bad breakup, but now I'm over it.

For more lurid confessions, check out my journal, where I now have a discussion of why I should not be allowed to self-medicate.

~ You are not easily offended
~ You are experiencing a quirk deficiency
~ You are selling breeding stock for cyborg badgers