When I was five years old, my family moved to Frankfurt, Germany. I was an Army brat who attended kindergarten at the military base where we lived, and I distinctly remember having an ethnically diverse group of friends. The famous axiom that kids are color blind could not have been more aptly reflected in the schools, both public and private, and my church in Frankfurt. I truly believe that my own attitudes about race were largely formed in this wonderful place. I have nothing but positive memories of my three years in Germany—yes, even the times I needed stitches after any of my patented recreational injuries. When my parents, my recently born sister and I flew back to the states, we settled near Fort Polk in Louisiana. Once again I found myself in a fairly diverse environment. My elementary school was named after George Washington Carver and was located on a street named after Martin Luther King, Jr. My next-door neighbor, who was one of my best friends and a little league baseball teammate, was Hispanic, and I never thought twice about it. It wasn’t until we moved to Ripley, Tennessee, before my fifth grade year that I started to understand something about racial prejudice in this country.

Ripley itself was racially mixed, with an especially heavy black population. The three years I spent there shed new light on the deep-seeded racism that was still prevalent in the U.S. and particularly the south. Most of my extended family on both parents’ sides lived in this area, and through them I could witness the attitudes held by so many. Most of them lived through a time when segregation was still in effect and the civil rights movement was necessarily exposing its gross injustice. Even now I find it incredibly hard to believe that such battles had to be fought and won so recently in this nation. And I continue to feel strong emotions when considering the struggle, perhaps due to a childhood spent blissfully unaware of racial conflict and a profound sense of indignation when eventually faced with its existence.

My mom has told me a bit about those times of desegregation at Ripley High School. Those first few black students faced a firestorm of attention and often hatred from the rest of the student body and the surrounding community. Their situation was representative of what was happening in small towns all throughout the south. I can hardly imagine what those experiences must have been like for anyone living through them, whether black or white. But I do know that resentment was still harbored by both sides decades after the fact—I saw it firsthand. Several relatives of mine, all of whom I yet love dearly, used the word “nigger” routinely. Sometimes it was hostile, sometimes it was simply habit, but I could never stand it. I even called out my grandfather about it once—you can imagine how some outspoken kid fared against a grizzled farmer and World War II veteran during this showdown. He sternly assured me that he was too set in his ways to think about changing now. But through the ensuing years I could see the man’s heart soften. He was jovial and friendly with several black people, so I began to realize that I had merely been seeing and hearing remnants of a culture that was drawing to a close, an old southern way of thinking that seemed shocking to my generation but was mostly just residue from the bombastic civil rights revolution of the 1960’s. I also saw the bitterness of certain members of the black population, though not as personally. Some wore their intense hatred and distrust plainly on their faces, a tragic but almost inevitable result of being treated as less than human for far too long.

So my parents basically grew up during segregation, and their generation bore the responsibility of moving our society forward in the aftermath. Not all of them succeeded, but I think many more did. When my dad joined the Navy and later the Army, he and my mom were thrust into an environment of diversity and comraderie that I am forever thankful to have been born into. Meanwhile towns like Ripley dot the south, and they are still trying to shake off the last vestiges of the old ways of thinking. Obama’s election might be one of the final acts needed to complete our emergence from that past. Though I chose not to vote for him because of our disagreements on social and economic policies, I can still readily appreciate what his victory means for the United States and the world. The impact of this moment in history is bound to be pivotal. Already I can walk the streets in my town and see brighter countenances on the faces of those who lived to see a fellow minority finally fulfill that sacred “dream” of the civil rights movement. Our nation faces definite challenges in the years ahead, and time will be the ultimate judge of our next President, but there is much to be optimistic about. The least any of us can do is reflect on how far we have come as a society and strive to improve our lot even further as we take our next steps. I might even humbly and controversially submit, fully realizing the disparity of viewpoints on the matter, that abortion is the next major human rights issue for our civilization to reexamine.

• I recently joined Merge in Greenville as the new lead developer. The team is great, and if you check the bios, you see that oddly enough none of us are native to the area. They somehow found me despite my interviewing for jobs in such random places as New York City and Portland, Oregon. I’m eager to see what comes of the new gig.
• In related job news, my resume was also found by Amazon, and they set up a phone chat with me this coming Tuesday. It looks like they develop with Java, which is not my favorite language in the world, but it sounds like they have a job opening for development work on their main site, so we’ll see what the deal is there.
• This is the first Bradezone post from my new MacBook Pro.
• I put a new thing on my Apps page—a script that improves Firefox’s password-saving feature.
• Hopefully I’ll be moving out of my crappy house in the forest with a broken roof, blown fuses, no DirecTV, and no heat, and into a better location sooner than later.
• Recent fantasy drafts were held for hockey and basketball, and I brought my A-game to each. Starring for Belvedeeks Junior High are such NHL dynamos as Alex Ovechkin, Nick Lidstrom, and Roberto Luongo, while NBA stalwarts Elton Brand, Shawn Marion, and Chris Bosh lead the way for the Last Minute Wings.
• I am still in a fair state of mental disarray about a certain situation.
• I might be late to the party, but Black Cherry by Goldfrapp is one of the best albums I’ve heard in a while.
• The Titans are still undefeated. Is this the year?

Klection gets its data from Freebase, which is a tool similar to Wikipedia but much easier for other websites to access, and which also allows you to correct erroneous or incomplete data yourself if you happen to notice any. I’m running the site on Google App Engine, a hot-off-the-press framework that enables Python developers to build very scalable sites that employ Google’s infrastructure. So without further ado, go give Klection a try, and let me know your thoughts.

Another factor to mind is the role of the elbow. Neither fiver wants to find himself in a situation where he is pushing his arm and hand forward. Instead a moderate swinging motion is desired whereby the forearm is allowed to move much like a catapult. Again the goal is an ideal starting angle such that the ensuing high five has a substantial chance for success. A final consideration is finger position on impact. Essentially their presence should be minimized in favor of the palms. A fluid connection with the palms should be the goal of any high five. This is why the initiator’s starting hand angle is so important. Those fingers need to be out of the way of the reactor. With a proper mindset and a strategy of preparedness, each of us can confidently engage in high fives that contribute to a celebratory atmosphere while avoiding awkwardness.

Ralpho is basically my new best friend. For a mere $14.50 he provided me with an extra large pepperoni pizza, a tub full of baked ziti, a loaf of fresh-baked bread, and a 20-ounce beverage. What the heck? Not only did I get to enjoy some unbelievably delicious pizza and assorted Italian cuisine, I was only able to eat about a third of all this before the contentment set in. Looks like I don’t have to worry about starving to death on the drive home. Did I mention this guy bakes his own bread from scratch? I did? Just making sure.

I will never again mock New Jersey for its full-service gas stations and myriad toll roads, for it has given me something that only a good-hearted state could offer. It has given me Ralpho’s, and its doors are sure to be open for you too.

I mean, wow. Bonus baked ziti!

Sifting through the sites of fellow web developers and designers, I ran across one man’s thoughts on what makes a good blog and his substantially saltier take on how better to manage the information he consumes and produces. I find myself in general agreement, and I believe my approach to this blog is reflective.

Another bit of news that I stumbled on was the death of author David Foster Wallace, apparently of suicide. I was not familiar with him before, but I am motivated to check out Infinite Jest, if only because of the brand-naming scheme used for calendar years in the near-future setting of the novel. One quote from Wallace really captured my attention: “[I]t is extremely difficult to stay alert and attentive, instead of getting hypnotized by the constant monologue inside your own head.” I feel a certain kinship with those who have the propensity to think too much. His unfortunate death reminds me once again of my theory of mood swings. Times of depression are when we most need to reach out, but stupid, stupid pride gets in our way. I hate to see it happen, especially to one as thoughtful as this guy.

But let’s not end on a downer. There has been a distinct lack of frivolous nonsense on this site recently, so allow me to rectify that. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Man Factory. Note the free download link.

Much like the previous iteration, this one was coded and styled in a flurry within only a couple of days. But the ideas have been stewing for a while. I knew I wanted bold contrast, larger type, a liquid layout, and a design that plays to my strengths. I’m pleased with how things came together, although Wordpress’s methods of dealing with site domains and image URLs assured the redux wouldn’t happen without a fight. But I do like Wordpress, particularly its seemingly new feature of finding the correct URL if you enter one that is slightly different.

The big thing for me was organization and placement of content and links. Prioritizing based on text size and color is at the heart of the redesign, and I spent much time thinking over it. Hopefully the many things I’ve learned since working at BigBlueHat are evident in the logic behind the site’s new layout. Eventually I just needed a primary color, and what better choice than my lifelong favorite: red? I’ve also added my “greatest hits” atop the left sidebar and placed links to my social networks at the top right of the site. Moving forward, I plan once again to incorporate randomized photos in the upper left, and I need to check the links from past entries for current validity. I’m also considering some widgetized content above the footer, such as my Amazon wish list or Picasa web albums. I have even debated whether to join Twitter at long last so I can have some up-to-date content in the currently empty upper right, but we’ll see.

So that’s the whole mundane tale. The timing of this redesign was quite unexpected, but after a truly bizarre last couple of weeks, I felt a sudden urge to pool my creative energies into something fun and, at least to me, worthwhile. I’d be glad to hear your thoughts, especially if you find something weird.

That’s how the message began, thus ending my latest pathetic attempt to give my life any sort of meaning. The irony of it is that “home” has long been a word I’ve used privately to describe the state of mind I always find myself dragged back into when the illusion of hope disappears. Disappointment, loneliness, sleepless nights and unanswered questions—all are on the docket now that I’m back “home.”

How did I end up back here again? I don’t know, but it has to do with tension, completion, closure, and my inability to close any loops of significance. This was going to be a much longer post, but I’m tired. Tired of everything.

I want to thank the friends who supported me while I pursued this hapless endeavor. You have all proven yourselves. I especially look with amazement at the married couples. Surely you will understand how the concept of two people actually loving each other seems totally astonishing to me. I don’t pretend to have any clue how that happens. Something is horribly wrong with me and the way I see the world.

For everyone who is reading this, I ask you not to put stock in anything you read on this ill-begotten website. I am merely your patron saint of futility, and I have no idea what I’m doing.

UPDATE: I will rise to fight again another day. The situation may not be quite this dire, but things are pretty rough.

First, take a look at Obama’s opposition to the Born-Alive Abortion Survivors Bill. You will likely be hearing about this more and more during the campaign, and for good reason. While a member of the Illinois State Senate, Obama voted against a bill that would protect the life of a baby born during a botched abortion. No matter how you slice this, he explicitly supported infanticide. So Barack believes that a newborn baby, out of the womb, can justifiably be left to die simply because an abortion was not performed correctly? That is nowhere close to the type of “change” I could ever “believe in” for our country.

Meanwhile Senator McCain has just been featured in an incredible Washington Times article about his role in turning the tide in Iraq. I plead with every one of you to read this article. McCain has worked tirelessly to incorporate the proper strategy in Iraq to secure our victory there. The successful military surge that you’ve heard about during the past year was largely due to his efforts with support from fellow senators Joe Lieberman and South Carolina’s own Lindsey Graham.

I think these articles confirm what most of us suspect. While John McCain is not a great public speaker, probably not much better than the hapless George W. Bush, none of us should vote for the highest office in the land based solely on speaking ability. Nor should we place undue importance on fringe issues such as technology in deciding our vote. This election should be about the confidence we have in our next leader. John McCain has been through the fire. We all know the story of his experience in Vietnam as a POW, repeatedly tortured yet refusing to submit to his captors. I believe that prepared him well for his role in public service, where any opposition or difficulties he has faced must pale in comparison. Now that I realize the amazing effort he put forth in ensuring Iraq did not turn into another Vietnam, and knowing he is not afraid of dissenting with his own party when he trusts his own convictions, John McCain merits my vote in a big way. I hope he will merit yours.

Life is an adventure.

Three of my favorite players during the modern era achieved their dream this week when the Boston Celtics won the NBA Championship. Before the season began I declared that I was rooting for this team to go all the way, and that my anticipation for the coming season was higher than it had been since the Jordan Era. Tuesday night, it all came together. Lifelong Celtic fan Bill Simmons said everything as well as it could be said.

Congratulations to the Big Three. You guys were a ton of fun to root for, and you might just be good enough to do this again next season.

At least this man does. Why is nature, this allegedly impersonal force, out to get me? You be the judge.

Last weekend a group of friends and I decided upon the harmless measure of going hiking in the Smokies. We camped on Friday—my new bag was gloriously cozy, though I failed to incorporate an adequate pillow or pillow substitute—and awoke to magnificent weather which would last all day long. Sounds okay so far, right? But little did I know that the seemingly insignificant woodland creature that randomly darted just to the left of our vehicle the night before would portend certain doom. Or at least that’s the sort of unfounded paranoia that began to plague my thoughts as the day wore on.

We—and by we, I mean a guy with the last name McNight—figured our day hike should consist of a 12-mile loop that would require us to elevate roughly 3000 feet during the first third of the journey, then coast back down the rest of the way. With but a tad more research of the Anthony Creek Trail, our intrepid guide would have noted such phrases as “anticipate the need for water,” “a strenuous hike,” and “despite the difficulty of the hike” peppered liberally throughout its description. These findings would have coalesced with the similarly useful observation that I personally had not gone walking for more than a mile in several months (and I do mean several). But we are MEN! We crave a good challenge! Yet I submit that anyone possessing a cursory knowledge of high-school literature should know by now that when man and nature face off, nature always lays the smack down.

Side note: Attempts to search the internet for prime examples of Man versus Nature in literature proved difficult, leading me to believe there is a vast conspiracy involving high-school teachers and their resolute refusal to allow theme topics to appear on the world wide web. Deep down, I think we all suspected they had that kind of power.

Needless to say, by the time this ghastly struggle against mind and body drew to its close, my feet felt like they were being pounded by several meat tenderizers, and my left kneecap was presumably beginning to whittle my shin bone to dust. During that final mile I vowed never again to engage nature in such a blatant one-on-one battle. We all know that the woodland creatures are on his side anyway, and you don’t mess around with woodland creatures.

• I may be redesigning the site soon. By soon I mean some time during 2008.
• My fantasy hockey team won my league this year. Another t-shirt is headed my way.
• Baseball season is here, and I am rocking MLB Extra Innings this year. Yes, I am one of those people who celebrates Opening Day the same way a young child wearing one-piece pajamas celebrates Christmas morn.
• What is the origin of the phrase “I’ve got no beef with you”? What the heck does beef have to do with interpersonal conflict?
• At work I am helping improve our content management system, BlueInk, by creating an intuitive experience that would allow you to control your website’s layout, design, and content all from the front-end view of your site, eliminating the need for a separate administrative interface.
• I got a call recently from long-time friend, novel co-author, Bench member, and world traveler Ed Long, who is now rocking a beach house in Florida. I am due for an imminent visit.
• Less than four months stand between me and a two-week jaunt in the Pacific Northwest.
• My friends and I have contracted Rock Band fever. I am now executing most songs with lead guitar on Expert.
• My mom now has e-mail. And I think she visits my site from time to time. Hi, mom!