Wow. It’s been a long time. Or perhaps not as long as I thought, but I’ve definitely not been able to post as much as I wanted over the last six months or so. But it’s been for good reasons: I’ve been working on a lot of writing projects. The Dakota Frost / Cinnamon Frost “Hexology”, which was a six book series; the moment I finished those rough drafts, it seemed, I rolled into National Novel Writing Month and worked on JEREMIAH WILLSTONE AND THE MACHINERY OF THE APOCALYPSE. Meanwhile, at work, I’ve been snowed under following up on our PRM-RL paper.
But I’ve been having fun! The MACHINERY OF THE APOCALYPSE is (at least possibly) spaaaace steampunk, which has led me to learn all sorts of things about space travel and rockets and angular momentum which I somehow didn’t learn when I was writing pure hard science fiction. I’ve learned so much about creating artificial languages as part of the HEXOLOGY.
So, hopefully I will have some time to start sharing this information again, assuming that no disasters befall me in the middle of the night.
Having just finished having a great conversation with a good friend over dinner, it struck me how different a great conversation is with a friend than it is with some people I meet.
For example, at lunch today, I spotted a familiar looking fellow at the next table over. I didn’t quite recognize him, but as he was finishing his lunch, he turned to me and said, “You look damn familiar.”
As it turns out, we both were at the same restaurant a year ago, both on business trips – him with music, me with Dragon Con. We briefly caught up, and he mentioned moving away from California in the housing crisis.
He hit the can, and when he returned I got up, laptop in hand – my turn. He mentioned selling out just before the housing crash and recommending to all his friends that they cash out; I unfortunately had the opposite story.
He then said that he simply couldn’t turn down leaving – “It was like getting a free house!” I started to respond with a quote from a friend: “Planning plus preparation plus opportunity yields luck.”
I never got past “My friend once said.” The gentleman at the table continued his story as if I hadn’t spoken, talking for a full ten minutes about his wife, her mother, and all the houses that they had bought on credit.
It was like seeing a living slice of The Big Short while a vice was slowly squeezing my bladder. After an interminable period of ‘yes’es and ‘uh-huh’s, I finally found a point to excuse myself and beat a hasty retreat to the can.
Writing in coffehouses and restaurants as I do, I encounter this from time to time: someone who comes up to talk to me, who appears to be using the standard form of normal conversations, but who really isn’t interested in a conversation at all, just in hearing themselves talk.
Now, I have friends that can go on a bit. Hell, I can be like that. But among friends we’ve all learned this and developed signals that mean “I gotta go,” and when that signal fires, all of us have learned to say, “Talk at ya later.”
I think the key difference is the reaction to a response. When talking to a blowhard like me, you may have to wait to get a word in edgewise, but the blowhard will then listen to you for a period of time.
This coffehouse phenomenon is something different. You can tell it’s happening most clearly when the person you’re talking to will let you get out one-word responses like “yes” or “no” or polite conversational “Oh reallys” and such, but as soon as you try to say anything back – anything of substance at all – they just talk over you as if you have not spoken.
I wonder what’s going on in their minds when they do that.
Well, Gabby had his stitches out and his collar off for all of twelve hours before we were back in the emergency room. He was cleared for activity, but then re-opened the wound.
The lesson: I should have said something. I knew we were taking the stitches out and returning him to activity too soon; they doctor gave us a window of 10-14 days, but the technician scheduled us for a 10-day return. That day, I was a bit iffy about the stitches, but they went ahead and removed them. I clarified: is he ready for activity? Can he go out? They said yes.
Well, they were wrong, and I should have said something at the day of the original appointment scheduling, at least putting it off until Monday. Failing that, I should have said something before the stitches came out. Failing that, I should have used my own discretion and left the collar on for a few more days.
Failing that, I failed my cat.
The late-night emergency doc didn’t think the cut had reopened the underlying wound and that it didn’t warrant stitches … but it looks worse today. I kept him inside overnight and today; let’s see how he’s doing and whether I should exercise my discretion and take him back in.
Pictured: Cancer cat, abscess cat, aka Lenora and Gabby.
In theory, mast cell tumors of the skin don’t kill cats, at least not directly. They can lead to lesions that can’t heal and further infections, but its MCT of the spleen or gastrointestinal tract that are really dangerous.
For Lenora, our precious little wimp cat, this cancer is aggressive enough that we may need to take proactive steps. She’s gone from one lump to 10 to 30 to 40 to 50 to 70, with a brief dip back to 40 after her surgery to remove her spleen … but now the MCT has exploded, going from 80 to 100 to probably hundreds at this point, many of them showing lesions and scabs.
The first two combinations of cancer treatments failed; this one does not seem to be having an effect. Lenora is still active, but she no longer wants to spend time indoors, instead choosing to find high spots on the exterior podium or the fence. I think she thinks fleas are eating her alive.
I fear she’s on her way out. I’d love to say “I know” but everything I’ve learned over the years tells me (a) you don’t really know and (b) foreclosing an opportunity in your mind is a precursor to getting it foreclosed in real life. We sometimes like to think that we’re tough minded people making hard decisions in the face of difficult circumstances, but if you’re that guy or gal, I have bad news for you: you’re selling yourself a line of bullshit.
Far too often we get tired of dealing with something and choose to perceive it as hopeless, then take all the bad decisions we need to in order to make the bad outcome we’ve decided upon happen, then telling ourselves “there’s nothing else we could have done.” This is particularly common with cars: cars rarely die until we decide to kill them by not maintaining them. It’s even more common with politics: the other guy’s plan rarely fails on its own until we take steps to sabotage it, just so we can then say “we told you so.”
With your health, or the health of a loved one, what does this translate into? Never give up. Stephen Hawking lasted something like five decades after his doctors told him he’d likely be dead, and he didn’t last that long by crawling into a bed and not fighting every step of the way. Sometimes heroic measures are not called for, but just giving up hope will make things far worse far faster.
So we’re here for you, Lenora, even if you’re on your way out.
Have a scritchy behind the ear. Yes. There you go.
I prefer pictures of food to pictures of myself, but, since my phone stopped charging and started shocking people (along with emitting a lovely BURNING smell) you get old stock footage or Photo Booth for the time being.
And now, the currents:
Currently Reading:Merida, Chasing Magic (because I want to understand children’s books better, and I like the drawing of Merida’s awesome red hair which is an inspiration for my drawings of Serendipity) and The Cognitive Neurosciences, Fifth Edition (because I am working on a project on the engineering applications of consciousness research, and research on the neural correlates of consciousness has exploded in the last twenty years).
Currently Rereading:The New Testament: A Historical Introduction to the Early Christian Writings (because Lent), Planning Algorithms by Lavalle and Reinforcement Learning by Sutton and Barto (because my robot navigation research is heating up and I want to understand the connections of reinforcement learning and classical planning, both of which have related but different ideas of value iteration; also because I’m planning on coding a small toy DQN to help me better understand the larger machinery I use at work).
Currently Dreading: Finishing my taxes, and finishing my edits on Shattered Sky by David Colby. Both so late! Sorry.
Currently Missing: My wife, on a business trip; my cats, at home waiting for me to finish up lunch, shift gears, and go home to go through The Tax Pile.
Why do these things matter? Why should you care? I know some people could care less about the incessant Facebook updates by people saying where they are and what they are doing. Some people I know even call sharing updates humblebragging as a way of shitshaming people into shutting up. (Hey guys! You know who you are. Message from me to you: Fuck off, kthanksbai.)
Not me. I like seeing people say what they’re up to; I like the birthday wishes on Facebook or the posts by famous writers saying, “ugh, I can has no brain today, here is a picture of a cat”. I still remember after my Aunt Kitty died sharing on Facebook my last picture of her, and all the people I knew who showed up at the funeral only because I had posted it.
It’s human and natural to share with each other what we are doing. It lets each of us know that we aren’t alone dealing with the good or bad. If status updates aren’t the thing you’re into, get off Facebook or Twitter. There’s nothing wrong with that: I know many people have done it and have felt better for doing so.
For me, there are so many people I only stay connected to because we have that instant means of connection. And (ssh: between you and me) there’s always my ulterior motive: the more I write, the better I get at writing, and the more I discover and perfect my own voice. And just about everyone I know who does that just gets more interesting the longer that they do it.
The biggest “current” in my mind is the person I am currently worried about, my good friend and great Game AI developer Dave Mark. Dave is the founder of the GDC AI Summit … but was struck by a car leaving the last sessions at GDC, and still is in the hospital, seriously injured.
Dave is a really special person. I’ve been going to GDC longer than Dave, but it was he (along with my friend Neil Kirby) who drew me out of my shell and got me to participate in the Game AI community, which is a super important part of my life even though I don’t do Game AI for my day job.
Dave’s friends and family have set up a Go Fund Me to help cover his medical expenses and the travel and other expenses of his family while he remains in the hospital in the Bay Area. I encourage you all to help out – especially if you’ve ever played a game and found the AI especially clever.
SO! Hey! GDC and Clockwork Alchemy are over and I’m not dead! (A joke which actually I don’t find that funny given the circumstances, which I’ll dig into in just a moment). Strangely enough, hitting two back-to-back conferences, both of which you participate super heavily in, can take something out of your blog. Who knew?
But I need to get better at blogging, so I thought I’d try something new: a “check-in” in which I try to hit all the same points each time – what am I currently writing, editing, programming, etc? For example, I am currently:
Listening To: Tomb Raider soundtrack (the original).
Reading: Theoretical Neuroscience (book).
Writing: “Death is a Game for the Young”, a novella in the Jeremiah Willstone multiverse.
Editing: SPECTRAL IRON, Dakota Frost #4.
Reviewing: SHATTERED SKY, Lunar Cycle #2 by David Colby.
Researching: Neural Approaches to Universal Subgoaling.
Programming: A toy DQN (Deep Q Network) to stretch my knowledge.
Drawing: Steampunk girls with goggles.
Planning: Camp Nanowrimo for April, ROOT USER, Cinnamon Frost #3.
Taking on: Giving up alcohol for Lent.
Dragging on: Doing my taxes.
Spring Cleaning: The side office.
Trying to Ignore: The huge pile of blogposts left over from GDC and CA.
Caring For: My cat Lenora, suffering from cancer.
Waiting For: My wife Sandi, returning from a business trip.
Whew, that’s a lot, and I don’t even think I got them all. Maybe I won’t try to write all of the same “currents” every time, but it was a useful exercise in “find something to blog about without immediately turning it into a huge project.”
Pictured: Butterysmooooth sashimi at Izakaya Ginji in San Mateo from a few days ago, along with my “Currently Reading” book Theoretical Neuroscience open to the Linear Algebra appendix, when I was “Currently Researching” some technical details of the vector notation of quadratic forms by going through stacks and stacks of books, a question which would have been answered more easily if I had started by looking at the entry for quadratic forms in Wolfram’s MathWorld, had I only known at the start of my search that that was the name for math terms like xᵀWx.
SO RECENTLY I had a very vivid dream in which my veterinarian said to me “There are some cats you save … and some you make comfortable.” I think the context behind that dream is worth a little unpacking, don’t you?
Loki the Loquacious is a cat that we saved. I came home one day to find him yowling and lethargic, sensitive to the touch yet unwilling to move, with a bloated feeling to the touch, and after a brief search online we rushed him to the nearby animal hospital who quickly diagnosed him with a urinary tract blockage, put him on a catheter, and nursed him back to health.
Now, he hates the urinary tract pet food we feed him and the occasional water droppers when he’s not drinking, but unless this outdoor cat gets too adventurous, he’s probably got a long life ahead of him.
Caesar the Conqueror is a cat that we made comfortable. He’d been made frail by a long battle with a thyroid condition when he decided to start peeing inappropriately indoors, so we had to make him an outdoors cat; but we were able to set up a relatively nice outdoor area for him. But then some nasal obstruction began interfering with his breathing, and he ultimately wheezed himself to death.
She’s a healthy-looking, happy-looking, active cat, and even though she from time to time got pencil-eraser sized moles, and once even a larger lump on a back leg, they were always benign … until a month ago. Then a new mole appeared, and another, and another, until she had dozens of the tiny, not-itchy, not-bleeding, not-discolored bumps all over her body. We took her to the doctor, who found two more walnut-sized lumps in her abdomen; biopsies revealed these to be mast cell tumors (MCT or mastocytoma).
Our doctor’s recommended regimen – a cortisone shot, followed by predisone and possibly other medications – tracks with what I’ve been able to research. Cortisone and similar drugs are recommended, and sometimes even can cure it, especially if it’s on the skin; but prognosis for lumps in the internals are more guarded – and she’s gotten another lump since the biopsy.
So now we’re researching, weighing the options of continuing treatment vs seeing an oncologist now (our vet is of the opinion that we’d have to wait a few weeks for an oncologist to get good readings on bloodwork because of the cortisone shot, but if I was an oncologist I’d want to see that third lump right now). Cats with this condition can last three years with surgery, a year with palliative care … or can die within weeks if it’s serious.
We don’t yet know if Lenora’s a cat we must make comfortable … or that we can save.