Tag: 2017

Conference Pro-Tips

So every year, my family comes down to Disney for a major conference related to one of my many diagnoses. Over the years I have learned many tips and tricks that have proven invaluable for conferences. Here are a few highlights:

1) Invest in a good lanyard
Most conferences these days use name badges for identification purposes. Although most places provide basic cardholder-on-an-itchy-string accommodations that work in a pinch, for longer conferences especially, a proper lanyard with a decent holder is more than worth the upfront investment. I recommend one with plenty of space for decoration and customization, and lots of pockets to hold things like special event tickets, and all the business cards that inevitably accumulate.

As an added bonus, if you plan to spend most of your time at the conference site, you can quite easily slide some cash and a credit card into your holder, and do away with carrying a separate wallet altogether. This is especially nice for large conference centers that require a great deal of walking.

Sidenote: Many security-minded people will advise you to take off your conference lanyard when venturing offsite, to avoid looking like an easy mark to potential ne’er do wells, and so using a lanyard as a neck bound wallet may have some drawbacks if you plan to come and go.

2) Dress for walking
This is one that gets passed around a lot, so it isn’t exactly a pro-tip, but it still bears repeating. Modern conferences require a lot of walking. Depending on the size of the conference center, you can expect the distance to be measured in tens of kilometers per day. While this is still spread out over a whole day, it’s still a decent amount of walking, especially for people who aren’t used to being on their feet all day. Dressing for the occasion with comfortable shoes and clothing will help reduce the strain of this, and advanced planning can cut extra walking out of the schedule.

There are two main schools of thought on packing day bags for conferences. One school of thought is to pack as little as possible, so that the amount of weight that needs to be carried is as small as possible. The other school of thought is to carry with you everything that you think you might need, so as to avoid having to detour or go back to your place of lodging to pick up needed items. There are costs and benefits to each of these strategies, and it depends primarily on whether one is more comfortable with walking long distances, or carrying a heavier load.

Whichever strategy you choose to abide by, it is still a good idea to find a good, reliable, and comfortable bag which you can easily carry with you. This will ensure that you have plenty of space to carry all the trinkets which you will inevitably accumulate during the conference. I usually recommend a nice backpack with separate pockets and a water bottle pouch, which also will help stay hydrated.

3) Be cognizant of nutrition
I’m not going to straight up prescribe a certain number of meals or carbohydrates which you need to fit into your conference day. The exact number will depend on your individual health, metabolism, how much you’re doing, and your normal diet. I will say that you should at least be cognizant of your nutritional needs, especially if you are being more active than usual.

4) Download all the apps
Most major conferences use some kind of mobile schedule platform, in addition to hard copy schedules. This can help you sort through sessions and panels, and often will let you set reminders and get directions. If the host location has an app, go ahead and download that as well. In fact, go ahead and download the app for the local tourism authority.

Go ahead and grant them full permission for notifications, and location data if you’re comfortable. This way, not only will you have the most up to date information about your conference, but also about anything else happening in the area that might be of interest.

5) Have an Objective
For attendees, conferences exist in this strange space somewhere between leisure and business. There’s lots of fun to be had in traveling, staying in a hotel, meeting new people, and possibly exploring a new city. And conference activities themselves often have something of a celebratory air to them. Even for work-oriented conferences, sponsors want to encourage attendees to take away a hopeful, upbeat attitude about their product and the future in general.

At the same time, conferences with sessions and panels tend to hone in on trying to educate and edify attendees. Modern conferences are by their very nature, a hub for in-person networking, both professionally and personally. And sponsors are often quite keen to ensure that they fit in their sales pitch. So conferences are often as much work as they are play.

Having an objective set beforehand does two things. First of all, it clarifies the overall goal of attending, reinforcing the mindset that you want to keep. Second, it helps mitigate the effect of decision fatigue, that is, the gradual degradation of decision-making capacity from having to make too many decisions during a short time. Knowing that you’re here for business rather than leisure will make it easier to make snap judgments about, say, where to eat, which sessions to attend, and how late to stay out.

Objectives don’t have to be quite as targeted as goals, which generally have to be both specific and measurable. Objectives can be more idealistic, like saying that you intend to have fun, or make friends, or hone your communication skills. Objectives aren’t for nitty gritty planning, but to orient your general mindset and streamline the dozens of minute decisions that you will inevitably encounter. Having an overarching objective means that you don’t have to spend nearly as much time debating the relative merits of whether to go with the generic chain burger restaurant, or the seedy but well-recommended local restaurant. If your objective is to make career progress, stick with the former. If your objective is to have an interesting travel experience, go with the latter.

Prophets and Fortune-Tellers

I have long thought about how my life would be pitched if it were some manner of story. The most important thing which I have learned from these meditations is that I am probably not the protagonist, or at least, not the main protagonist. This is an important distinction, and a realization which is mainly the product of my reflections on the general depravity of late middle and early high school.

A true protagonist, by virtue of being the focus of the story, is both immune to most consequences of the plot, and, with few deliberate exceptions, unquestionably sympathetic. A protagonist can cross a lot of lines, and get off scot free because they’re the protagonist. This has never been my case. I get called out on most everything, and I can count on one hand the number of people who have been continually sympathetic through my entire plight.

But I digress from my primary point. There are moments when I am quite sure, or at least, seriously suspect, that I am in the midst of an important plot arc. One such moment happened earlier this week, one day before I was to depart on my summer travels. My departure had already been pushed back by a couple of days due to a family medical emergency (for once, it wasn’t me this time), and so I was already on edge.

Since New Year’s, but especially since spring, I have been making a conscious effort to take walks, ideally every day, with a loose goal of twenty thousand steps a week. This program serves three purposes. First, it provides much needed exercise. Second, it has helped build up stamina for walking while I am traveling, which is something I have struggled with in the recent past. Third, it ensures that I get out of the house instead of rotting at home, which adds to the cycle of illness, fatigue, and existential strife.

I took my walk that day earlier than usual, with the intention that I would take my walk early, come home, help with my share of the packing, and have enough time to shower before retiring early. As it were, my normal route was more crowded than I had come to expect, with plenty of fellow pedestrians.

As I was walking through the park, I was stopped by a young man, probably about my age. He was dressed smartly in a short sleeve polo and khaki cargo shorts, and had one of those faces that seems to fit too many names to be properly remembered in any case.

“Sir, could I have just a moment of your time?” He stammered, seemingly unsure of himself even as he spoke.

I was in a decent enough mood that I looked upon this encounter as a curiosity rather than a nuisance. I slid off my noise-cancelling headphones and my hat, and murmured assent. He seemed to take a moment to try and gather his thoughts, gesturing and reaching his arms behind his neck as he tried to come up with the words. I waited patiently, being quite used to the bottleneck of language myself.

“Okay, just,” he gestured as a professor might while instructing students in a difficult concept, “light switch.”

I blinked, not sure I had heard correctly.

“Just, light switch.” He repeated.

“Oh…kay?”

“I know it’s a lot to take in right now.” He continued, as though he had just revealed some crucial revelation about life, the universe, and everything, and I would require time for the full implications of this earth-shattering idea to take hold. Which, in a way, he wasn’t wrong. I stood there, confused, suspicious, and a little bit curious.

“Look, just,” He faltered, returning to his gesturing, which, combined with his tone, seemed designed to impress upon me a gravity that his words lacked, “Be yourself this summer. Use it to mould yourself into your true self.”

I think I nodded. This was the kind of advice that was almost axiomatic, at least as far as vacations were concerned. Though it did make me wonder if it was possible that this person was aware that I was departing on the first of several summer trips the following day, for which I had already resolved to attempt to do precisely that. It was certainly possible to imagine that he was affiliated with someone whom I or my family had informed of our travel plans. He looked just familiar enough that I might have even met him before, and mentioned such plans in passing.

I stared at him blankly for several seconds, anticipating more. Instead, he smiled at me, as though he expected me to recognize something in what he was saying and to thank him.

“I’m literally hiding in plain sight I can’t control what I do.” He added, in one single run-on sentence, grinning and gesturing wildly in a way that made me suddenly question his sanity and my safety. He backed away, in a manner that led me to believe that our conversation was over.

My life support sensors informed me that I needed to sit down and eat within the next five minutes, or I would face the possibility of passing into an altered state of consciousness. I decided to take my leave, heading towards a park bench. I heard the command “Remember!” shouted in my general direction, which gave me an eerie tingling in the back of my neck and spine, more so than the rest of that conversation.

By the time I sat down and handled the life support situation, the strange young man had seemingly vanished. I looked for him, even briefly walking back to where we had stood, but he was gone. I tried to write down what I could of the exchange, thinking that there was a possibility that this could be part of some guerrilla advertising campaign, or social experiment. Or maybe something else entirely.

Discussing the whole encounter later, my brother and I came up with three main fields of possibilities. The first is simply that going up to strangers and giving cryptic messages is someone’s idea of a prank, performance art piece, or marketing campaign. This seems like the most likely scenario, although I have to admit that it would be just a little disappointing.

The second is that this one particular person is simply a nutter, and that I merely happened to be in the right time and place to be on the receiving end of their latest ramblings. Perhaps to them, the phrase “light switch” is enough of a revelation to win friends and influence people. This has a bit more of a poetic resonance to it, though it is still disappointing in its own way.

The third possibility, which is undoubtedly the least likely, but which the author and storyteller in me nevertheless gravitates towards, is that this is only the beginning of some much grander plot; that the timing is not mere coincidence, but that this new journey will set in motion the chain of events in which everything he mentioned will be revealed as critical to overcoming the obstacles in my path.

The mythos of the oracle offering prophecy before the hero’s journey is well-documented and well-entrenched in both classic and modern stories. Just as often as not, the prophecy turns out to be self fulfilling to one degree or another. In more contemporary stories, this is often explained by time travel, faster than light communication, future viewing, or some other advanced technological phenomenon. In older stories, it is usually accommodated by oracles, prophets, and magicians, often working on behalf of the fates, or even the gods themselves, who, just like humans, love a good hero’s story. It certainly seems like the kind of thing that would fit into my life’s overall plot arc.

In any case, we arrived at our first destination, Disney World, without incident, even discovering a lovely diner, the Highway Diner, in Rocky Mount, NC, along the way. I won’t delve into too many details about it on the grounds that I am considering writing a future post on a related subject, but suffice it to say, the food and service were top notch for an excellent price. We also discovered that electrical storms, as are a daily occurrence in Florida, interfere with my life support sensors, though we are working through this. I have been working the speech I am to give at the conference we are attending, and I expect, with or without prophecy, that things will go reasonably well.

A Few Short Points

1: Project Crimson Update

Look, let’s get this out of the way: I’m pretty easy to excite and amuse. Give me something for free, and it’ll make my day. Give me some item that I can use in my normal routine, and it will make my week. So far, my free trial of YouTube Red/ Google Play music has hit all of these buttons, which is good, because it goes a long way towards assuaging my parentally-instilled aversion to ever parting with my credit card number for any reason whatsoever.

Last week, I mentioned that this had been something that I had been considering. Today, after receiving my new iPhone SE in the mail, I decided to pull the trigger. In my research, I actually managed to find a slightly better deal; four months’ free trial instead of three, with the same terms and conditions, through a referral code from another tech blog. Technically my trial is with Google Play Music, but seeing as it has the same price as YouTube Red, and gets YouTube Red thrown in for free (it also works the same way the other way around; Red subscribers get Google Play Music for free as part of their subscription), the distinction is academic in my case, and only matters in other countries where different laws govern music and video services, forcing the split.

With about six hours of experience behind me, I can say that so far I am quite pleased with the results so far. I certainly wouldn’t recommend it as a universal necessity, and I wouldn’t recommend it for anyone trying to keep an especially tight budget. Ten dollars a month isn’t nothing, and the way things seem to be set up to be automated makes it deceptively easy to simply keep paying. Moreover, because purchasing YouTube Red requires a Google payment account, it removes one more psychological barrier from spending more in the future.

In my case, I determined that the cost, at least over the short and medium term, would be justified, because without being able to download my YouTube playlists to my devices for offline consumption, I would wind up spending more purchasing the same songs for downloads. But unless you really listen to a wide variety of songs, or particularly obscure songs, on a daily basis, this will probably be a wash.

There is another reason why I expect this cost to be financially justified. Because I have fallen into the habit of needing a soundtrack for all of my activities, my data usage rates have gone through the roof. I maintain that much of this is a result of the iPhone’s use of cellular data to supplement egregiously slow wifi (the only kind of wifi that exists in my household, and at hotspots around town), and hence, not really my fault. I can’t disable this setting, because my phone is used to send life support data to and from the cloud to help support me alive.

Financial details aside, I am enjoying my trial so far. Being able to listen to music while using other apps, and without advertisements, has been a great convenience, and is already doing things to help my battery life. I have briefly perused the selection of exclusive subscriber content, and most of it falls into the category of “vaguely interesting, and probably amusing, but mostly not the kind of thing I’d set aside time to watch”. This is, perhaps interestingly, the same category into which most television series and movies also fall.

2: Give me money, maybe.

In tangentially related news, I am giving serious thought to starting a patreon page, which would allow people to give me money for creating stuff. It’s basically an internet tip jar. Not because I feel that I need money to continue inflicting my opinions on the world. Rather, because I’ve been working on a “short” (in the sense that eighty thousand words is short) story, which my friends have been trying to convince me to serialize and post here. It’s and interesting idea, and one that has a certain lure to it.

Even with my notions of someday writing a novel, this story isn’t the kind of thing that I’d seek to publish in book format, at least not until after I’ve already I’ve broken into publishing. I’m already writing this story, so the alternative is it sitting on my hard drive until something happens to it. Even if the number of people who like it is in the single digits, it costs me nothing (except maybe a bit of bruised ego that my first creation isn’t a runaway hit). And there’s always the outside chance that I might exceed my own expectations.

So me branching into fiction on this blog is looking more and more like a serious possibility. But, if I’m going to do this, I want to do this right. Committing to writing a serial story online means committing to following through with plots and characters to a satisfactory conclusion. On the sliding scale of “writing for personal entertainment” and “writing as a career”, writing a web serial inches closer to the second part than I’ve really had to think about until now. This means having the long term infrastructure in place so that I can write sustainably and regularly.

In my case, because I still aim to create things for fun, for free to the public, and on my own terms, this means having the infrastructure to accept crowdfunding donations. I wouldn’t expect to make a living this way. In fact, I’d be amazed if the site hosting would pay for itself. But it would ensure that, on the off chance that, by the time I finished this first story, a large number of people had found and enjoyed my stuff, or a small but dedicated group had decided they enjoyed my writing enough to support me, that I would have all the infrastructure in place to, first of all, gauge what was happening, and second of all, be able to double down on what works.

All of this is, of course, purely hypothetical at this point. Were it to happen, it would require a level of organization that I don’t see happening imminently. Given my summer travel plans, progress on this likely wouldn’t happen until at least mid to late July.

3: Expect Chaos

On a related note, this week starts off my much anticipated summer travels. I expect that this will be a major test of my more or less weekly plus of minus a few hours upload schedule. As a result, it is quite possible that new updates will be chaotic in when they come.

Note that I don’t know whether that means more or fewer posts than usual. Sometimes these events leave me with lots of things to say, and so inspire me to write more and release more. On the other hand, as we saw in April, sometimes I come back tired, or even sick, and have to take a few days off.

It is also possible that I will be motivated, but busy, and so may wind up posting pieces that were written a long time ago that haven’t been published for one reason or another. If this last one happens, I will endeavor to leave a note on the post to explain any chronological discrepancies.

Technological Overhaul

As my summer travels draw nearer, and my phone increasingly refuses to do my bidding when I require it, my attention has been increasingly drawn to adopting new components in my technological routine.

First, I need a new phone. While I could hypothetically squeeze another three, or maybe even six months out of it, at some point the temporary savings made by prolonging the inevitable only serve to make my life harder, which is kind of the opposite of the role that a smartphone is supposed to fulfill.

Specifically, I have two problems with my current phone. The first is battery life. I rely on my phone as a foundation on which to organize my medical routine and life support, and so when my phone fails me, things get bad quite quickly. While I’m not the most active person, I do need my phone to be capable of going eighteen hours on a single charge without dying. I don’t think this is totally unreasonable, given that it was the standard that my phone held to when I first got it. But with time and use, the time that a full charge lasts for has slowly diminished to a point where I am only scrapping by if I give my phone a mid day top off.

The second problem is memory. Admittedly, this is at least partially self-inflicted, as I thought at the time that I got my phone that I would replace it in a year or so. But then the iPhone 6 line turned out to be not what I was looking for (my 5S is already cramped in my jean pocket, so anything bigger is a problem) and I couldn’t bring myself to buy a new phone that wasn’t the newest, with the fastest chip, and so on). Subsequently, we got to a point where, today, if I want to download an app, I have to find another one to delete. Same for podcasts, music, and the like.

I’ve been able to strategically avoid this problem for most of winter into spring primarily by not being away from home wifi and chargers for more than a few days. This doesn’t exactly work for my summer itinerary, however, which includes places that don’t have easy access to streaming and charging, like the woods. This leaves me with a frustrating choice: either I can double down on my current stopgap measures and carry around portable chargers, try to shift major downloads to my iPad (something that would cause disproportionate distress and hardship) and so fourth, or I can bite the bullet and switch over to a new phone.

The main thing that has prevented me from making this leap already is the agonizing decision over which new model to pick. Back in the days when all iPhones were essentially identical except for memory, and later, color, it was a relatively simple matter. Now, I have to factor in size, chip, camera, and how much I value having a headphone jack versus how much I value having the newest and shiniest mode. Previously I had told myself that I would be content to purchase a newer version of my current phone with a better battery and larger memory. However, committing myself to purchase what is currently the oldest model still offered as my phone for the next several years is a difficult pill to swallow.

In a related vein, during my usual cost analysis which I conduct for all nonessential purchases, I came to an interesting revelation. The amount which I was prepared to spend in order to ensure that I could still access the same music which I had been streaming from YouTube while offline in the woods would vastly exceed the cost to subscribe to YouTube Red, which, allegedly, would allow me to download playlists to my phone.

Now, I have never tried YouTube Red, or any other paid streaming service. For that matter, neither I nor anyone in my family have ever paid for any kind of media subscription service (aside from paying for TV and Internet, obviously). This approach is viewed as bafflingly backwards by my friends, who are still trying to convince me to move past my grudges against Steam and Netflix. To my household, however, the notion of paying money for something that doesn’t include some physical good or deed of ownership is absurd. The notion of paying money for something that can be obtained for free is downright heretical. It’s worth noting that a disproportionate share of my family is from an economics background, academically.

Still, the math is pretty compelling. Much as I might loath the idea of not owning physical copies of my music (an idea that is quickly becoming reality regardless of my personal behavior), if we assume that my main motivations for purchasing music in the first place are to support creators I like, and to make sure I still have access to them in those edge cases where direct and constant internet access are untenable, YouTube Red seems, at least on paper, to accomplish both of those goals at a cost which is, if not lower, then at least comparable in the short and intermediate terms. And of course, there is the tangential benefit that I can listen to a far wider variety on a regular basis than if I kept to purchasing music outright.

As if to try and pounce on this temptation, YouTube has launched a new extended free trial offer: three months instead of the regular one. Naturally, a closer examination of the fine print is in order, but it appears that the only catch is signing up for automatically renewing subscription. Assuming that this is indeed the case, this may well prove enough to lure me in, at least for the trial period.

The extended free trial has a signup deadline of July 4th, which incidentally is about a week after the deadline by which I will need to have made arrangements for a new phone, or else lump it with my current one for the purposes of my summer travels. At present I am leaning towards the idea that I will move forward with both of these plans under the auspicious title of “Project Crimson”. Though it would be a trial by fire for a new technological routine, the potential benefits are certainly enticing.

Lessons From Reunion

So, this weekend I attended Cornell reunion with my family. Here are the key lessons:

1) Science is continuing to accelerate, despite political pushback.

2) College students are wily, especially the girls. Do not underestimate them.

3) I need a new phone yesterday.

Let’s start from the beginning, and work our way down, shall we?

1) Science is continuing to accelerate, despite political pushback.

Sometimes I wonder whether fields like veterinary science get too much prestige for the amount of actual groundbreaking work they do. And then they bring in a pair of puppies to the donor gala I was attending; the first puppies ever to have been created via in vitro fertilization. They seemed just like any other dogs, to the point that I felt compelled to double check my own pictures against those in the scientific journals just to be sure I wasn’t being duped.

Pictured: The most adorable breakthrough in recent memory

This is, naturally, a huge step for veterinary science, but also a significant step for medicine in general. Humans and dogs share a lot of genetic code, including many genetic diseases, and being able to clone and genetically modify puppies, aside from producing absolutely adorable results, will yield valuable information on treatments for humans. Additionally, as one who had played the fundraising game, I must say, kudos. Bringing puppies who are both adorable and a product of a major scientific breakthrough is rather brilliant.

I was a little unsure about how different things would be this year, given the open hostility between the presidential administration and academia. It feels as though last June was a lifetime ago, and that since then the world has only gone downhill. And so seeing a good showing of support for the sciences was a great boost to morale. Seeing large attendance and participation at space sciences open house, and massive lines for lectures by Bill Nye is, I firmly believe, a good sign for the cause of humanity.

Given my health situation, I put a lot of my hope for a better future, and indeed, having a future at all, in continued scientific advancement. As I noted in my last post, most of this progress is out of my hands, and relies on large, systemwide cooperation. Having these systemwide mechanisms under threat, therefore, as they have been within the past six months, is not only threatening to humanity’s future overall, but to my personal existence. Having public reaffirmation of the value of science and rational thought, therefore, is very reassuring.

2) College students are wily, especially the girls. Do not underestimate them.

Okay, so I already knew this. Still, I was reminded to be on my guard. Allow my to recount a story:

T’was the last night of reunion, and there I was, sitting against the base of the statue of A.D. White, getting my bearings as I treated my low blood sugar, my brother sitting beside me. In such a state, I could conceivably be mistaken as slightly intoxicated, especially given that the tents which were giving out free alcohol to those who had reunion badges. The dance music and shouts from the tents was audible, and the sense of celebratory gluttony was palpable. Between me and the tents was a checkpoint, with security guards inspecting badges.

Pictured: “Ain’t no party like a Cornell party ‘cos a Cornell party don’t stop” (Direct quote)

Theoretically, such badges were only given to alumni who had paid full registration price, and who had already proven they were of drinking age. As it were, both my brother and I had been given adult badges despite being underage, owing to the fact that our registration desk had run out of youth badges. Because the badges were supposed to work as ID throughout campus, and because both my brother and I were now shaving, it seemed to me quite likely that if we were to with confidence and self assurance, stride up to the checkpoint for admission, that we would be allowed in.

From the darkness into our midst came two figures, one in the lead a short blonde lady who could have been anywhere between eighteen and twenty five to look at her, with a taller, scruffy gentleman in tow. Both were dressed up in the usual style of young people out for a night of entertainment and diversion. The lady approached with the air of an old friend, though I don’t believe I had ever seen her before, coming just close enough to make it clear that she was addressing us, without coming so close as to put herself within immediate striking distance.

She smiled and leaned forward in a maneuver that amplified the visual effect of her deep neckline, and for a moment I was moved to wonder if I was wearing or else doing something that might be construed as suggesting that I was looking to solicit romantic overtures.

“Hey guys,” she crooned in a tone that made me wonder if she was about to begin twirling her hair, just to complete the picture.

I don’t remember whether my brother or I actually responded with words, or whether the mere reaction of our expressions caused her to deduce that she had captured our expression. Regardless, she immediately continued with her proposition.

“Could you lend us your badges so we could use them to get in?”

Again, I don’t consciously remember either me or my brother saying anything. She continued in the same coquettish voice that made me question whether her tone was meant to be a parody; a détournement of the stereotype of the young blonde.

“We’ll throw them back over the fence after we’re through, so you can follow after us.”

The pieces began to come together as my brain overcame its momentary surprise and the lingering effects of low blood sugar. I glanced at the checkpoint, and the plastic mesh fence, reinforced by occasional metal posts, and lined with rope lights to prevent drunken collisions, that ran the perimeter of the quad. It was a decent plan in theory, though I couldn’t see any part of the fence that was obviously obscured from the view of the guards. There was also the matter of subversion, and aiding what was most likely underage drinking. Though I have become accustomed to the fact that many people, especially youth, will inevitably seek to indulge in reckless behavior against medical and legal recommendations, actively enabling such self destruction is another matter entirely.

While I could not participate in such acts, I did give consideration to attempting to stall out the conversation; demanding lengthy assurances and ridiculous payments for my cooperation which would never come; the endgame being that if I could stall for long enough, they would waste time they might otherwise spend committing fraud and alcohol abuse, and perhaps, if I was effective enough, grow frustrated enough to give up on their plan entirely.

“We can get them back to you.” The gentleman standing further behind her stammered in assurance. “Are you leaving right after this?”

I assessed my position: They most likely assumed that my hypoglycemia-induced pallor was due to drunkenness, which would work in my favor. I could be crass, unreasonable, and incoherent without tipping my hand. The gentleman seemed to be unsure and hesitant, which I could use. If the lady was attempting to persuade us by employing stereotypical feminine charms, and appearing unreasonably affectionate and extroverted, I could likewise act cordial and complaisant to a fault. With a lifetime of experience in public speaking and soliciting donations, I was reasonably confident in my ability to filibuster. Any physical confrontation which my words might lead to would be quickly ended by the security at the nearby checkpoint.

Alas, I did not get to execute my plan, as before I could speak, my brother, ever the Boy Scout, answered that we were both underage, and couldn’t get in ourselves. The second point may or may not have been strictly true, as we did technically have adult badges, we never actually tried to get past the checkpoint, and in the entire time we sat near it, I never saw anyone turned back who had a badge, regardless of how old or young they looked. Still, it was enough for the two figures.

The lady’s coy smile evaporated in a second. “Oh. Well then, you’re no help.” She waved a hand dismissively and stalked off back into the darkness. The gentleman lingered for a moment longer, muttering something that sounded like “thanks anyways” scarcely loud enough to be heard above the noise of the music.

I find this story both intensely amusing, and a nice reminder that, despite insistence that new college students are lazy, unmotivated, and unable to execute schemes, there is still plenty of craftiness on modern campuses.

3) I need a new phone yesterday.

Shortly after this incident, I opted to check my phone, only to discover that it had spontaneously died. This, after being charged to ninety four percent a ,ere twenty minutes ago. For a device on which I routinely depend to make medical dosage calculations, look up nutritional information, and contact assistance during emergencies, this kind of failure is unacceptable. This isn’t the first time that such a thing has happened, though it is the first time it has happened outside of my house.

As such, I am in the market for a new phone. Or perhaps more accurately, given that I am about to embark on summer travels, I need a new phone in my hands as soon as possible. Given the usual timeframe for me to make major decisions, this means that in order to get my phone on time, I really need to have started on this process a couple of weeks ago, in order to have had my hands on the new phone yesterday, in order to have enough time to get contacts switched over, get used to the new phone, and so on.

Overall, Reunion was great fun as always, despite a few minor incidents. This year in particular, it was nice to spend a weekend in an environment surrounded by intelligent, cultured people in a setting where such traits are unambiguously valuable. And of course, having been taught the Cornell songs since I was newborn (my mother used Evening Song as a lullaby), the music is always fun.

Environmentalist Existentialist

Within the past several days, several of my concerns regarding my contribution to the environment have gone from troubling to existentially crippling. This has a lot to do with the recent announcement that the US federal government will no longer be party to the Paris Climate Agreement, but also a lot to with the revelation that my personal carbon footprint is somewhere between four and five times the average for a US resident, roughly nine times the average for a citizen living in an industrialized nation, about twenty five times the average for all humans, and a whopping forty seven times the target footprint which all humans will need to adopt to continue our present rate of economic growth and avoid a global cataclysm. Needless to say, this news is both sobering and distressing.

As it were, I can say quite easily why my footprint is so large. First, there is the fact that the house I live in is terribly, awfully, horrifically inefficient. With a combination of poor planning and construction, historically questionable maintenance, and periodic weather damage from the day I moved in, the house leaks energy like a sieve. The construction quality of the foundation and plumbing is such that massive, energy-sucking dehumidifiers are required to keep mold to tolerable minimums. Fixing these problems, though it would be enormously expensive and disruptive, would go some way towards slashing the energy and utility bills, and would shave a good portion of the excess off. By my back of the envelope calculations, it would reduce the household energy use by some 35% and the total carbon footprint by about 5%.

There is transportation, which comprises some 15-20% of the total. While there is room for improvement here, the nature of my health is such that regular trips by private motor vehicle is a necessity. Public transport infrastructure in my area is lacking, and even where it exists, is often difficult to take full advantage of due to health reasons. This points to a recurring theme in my attempts to reduce the environmental impact which I inflict: reducing harm to the planet always ends up taking a backseat to my personal health and safety. I have been reliably told that this is the way that it ought to be, but this does not calm my anxieties.

The largest portion of by carbon footprint, by an overwhelming margin, is the so-called “secondary” footprint; that is, the additional carbon generated by things one buys and participates in, in addition to things one does. So, for example, if some luxury good is shipped air mail from another continent, the secondary footprint factors in the impact of that cargo plane, even though one was not physically on said plane. This isn’t factored into every carbon footprint calculator, and some weight it differently than others. If I were to ignore my secondary footprint entirely , my resulting impact would be roughly equivalent to the average American (though still ten times where it needs to be to avoid cataclysm).

Of my secondary footprint, the overwhelming majority is produced by my consumption of pharmaceutical products, which, it is noted, are especially waste-prone (not unreasonably; given the life-and-death nature of the industry, it is generally accepted that the additional waste created by being cautious is worth it). Herein lies my problem. Even if I completely eliminated all other sources of emissions, the impact of my health treatments alone would put me well beyond any acceptable bounds. Expending fewer resources is not realistically possible, unless I plan to roll over and stop breathing.

The implications for my largely utilitarian moral framework are dire. If, as it seems, thirty people (or three average Americans) could live comfortably with the same resources that I expend, how can I reasonably justify my continued existence? True, this isn’t quite so clear cut as one person eating the food of thirty. Those numbers represent averages, and all averages have outliers. Carbon output reduction isn’t a zero-sum game, but rather a collective effort. Moreover, the calculation represents averages derived from current industrial processes, which will need be innovated on a systemwide level to make the listed goals achievable on the global level which is required to prevent cataclysm.

These points might be more assuring if I still had faith that such a collective solution would in fact be implemented. However, current events have called this into serious question. The Paris Climate Agreement represents a barest minimum of what needs to be done, and was specifically calibrated to have a minimal impact on economic growth. The United States was already ahead of current targets to meet its obligations due to existing forces. While this does reinforce the common consensus that the actual withdrawal of the US will have a relatively small impact on its contribution to environmental damage, it not only makes it easier for other countries to squirm their way out of their own obligations by using the US as an example, but also demonstrates a complete lack of the scientific understanding, political comprehension, and international good faith which will be necessary to make true progress towards averting future cataclysm.

That is to say, it leaves the burden of preventing environmental catastrophe, at least in the United States, in the hands of individuals. And given that I have almost as much (or, as it happens, as little) faith in individuals as I do in the current presidential administration, this means in effect that I feel compelled to take such matters upon myself personally. Carrying the weight of the world upon my shoulders is a feeling that I have grown accustomed to, particularly of late, but to have such a situation where these necessary duties are openly abandoned by the relevant authorities makes it seem all the more real.

So, now that I have been given the solemn task of saving the world, there are a few different possibilities. Obviously the most urgent problem for me is solving my own problems, or at least, finding a way to counteract their effects. For a decent chunk of cash, I could simply pay someone to take action on my behalf, either by planting trees, or offering startup cash for projects that reduce carbon emissions somewhere else in the world, so that the net impact is zero. Some of these programs also hit two birds with one stone by targeting areas that are economically or ecologically vulnerable, doing things like boosting crop yields and providing solar power to developing communities. While there is something poetic about taking this approach, it strikes me as too much like throwing money at a problem. And, critically, while these services can compensate for a given amount, they do not solve the long-term problem.

Making repairs and upgrades to the house will no doubt help nudge things in the right direction. Putting up the cash to properly insulate the house will not only save excess heating fuel from being burned, but will likely result in the house staying at a more reasonable temperature, which is bound to help my health. Getting out and exercising more, which has for a long while now been one of those goals that I’ve always had in mind but never quite gotten around to, particularly given the catch-22 of my health, will hopefully improve my health as well, lessening the long term detriments of my disability, as well as cutting down on resources used at home when indoors (digital outdoors may still outclass physical outdoors, but also sucks up a lot more energy to render).

This is where my efforts hit a brick wall. For as busy as I am, I don’t actually do a great deal of extraneous consumption. I travel slightly less than average, and like most of my activities, my travel is clustered in short bursts rather than routine commutes which could be modified to include public transport or ride sharing. A personal electric vehicle could conceivably cut this down a little, at great cost, but not nearly enough to get my footprint to where it needs to be. I don’t do a great deal of shopping, so cutting my consumption is difficult. Once again, it all comes back to my medical consumption. As long as that number doesn’t budge, and I have no reason to believe that it will, my carbon footprint will continue to be unconscionably large.

There are, of course, ways to play around with the numbers; for example, capping the (absurd) list price of my medications according to what I would pay if I moved back to Australia and got my care through the NHS (for the record: a difference of a factor of twenty), or shifting the cost from the “pharmaceuticals” section to the “insurance” section, and only tallying up to the out of pocket maximum. While these might be, within a reasonable stretch, technically accurate, I feel that they miss the point. Also, even by the most aggressively distorted numbers, my carbon footprint is still an order of magnitude larger than it needs to be. This would still be true even if I completely eliminated home and travel emissions, perhaps by buying a bundle package from Tesla at the expense of several tens of thousands of dollars.

The data is unequivocal. I cannot save the world alone. I rely on society to get me the medical supplies I require to stay alive on a daily basis, and this dependence massively amplifies my comparatively small contribution to environmental destruction. I feel distress about this state of affairs, but there is very little I can personally do to change it, unless I feel like dying, which I don’t, particularly.

This is why I feel disproportionately distressed that the US federal government has indicated that it does not intend to comply with the Paris Climate Agreement; my only recourse for my personal impact is a systematic solution. I suppose it is fortunate, then, that I am not the only one trying to save the world. Other countries are scrambling to pick up America’s slack, and individuals and companies are stepping up to do their part. This is arguably a best case scenario for those who seek to promote climate responsibility in this new era of tribalist politics.

For Whom The Bell Tolls

Someone whom I knew from my online activities died recently. To say that I was close to this person is a bit of a stretch. They were a very involved, even popular, figure in a community in which I am but one of many participants. Still, I was struck by their death, not least of all because I was not aware that they were ill in the first place, but also because I’m not entirely sure what to do now.

The (at this point still weak, and open to interpretation) scientific consensus is that while the formation and definition of bonds in online communities may vary from real life, and that, in certain edge cases, this may lead to statistical anomalies, online communities are, for the most part, reflective of normal human social behavior, and therefore social interaction in an online setting is not substantially materially different from real life communities[1][2]. Moreover, emotions garnered through online social experiences are just as real, at least to the recipient, as real life interaction. The reaction to this latter conclusion has been both mixed, and charged [4][5], which, fair enough, given the subject matter.

I have been reliably informed by a variety of sources both professional and amateur that I do not handle negative emotions well in general, grief in particular. With a couple of exceptions, I have never felt that the times when I felt grief over something, that I was justified in it enough to come forward publicly. I had more important duties which I could not reasonably justify taking my attention away from. Conversely, on the one or two occasions when I felt like I might be justified in grieving publicly, I did not experience the expected confrontation.

When I have experienced grief, it has seldom been a single tidal wave of emotions, causing catastrophic, but at its core, momentary, devastation to all in its path. Rather, it has been a slow, gentle rain, wavering slightly in its intensity, but remarkable above all for its persistence rather than its raw power. Though not as terrifying or awesome as the sudden flood, it inevitably brings the same destructive ends, wiping away the protective topsoil, exposing what lies beneath, and weakening the foundation of everything that has been built on top of it, eventually to its breaking point.

In this metaphor, the difference between the death of a person whom I am extremely close to, and the death of someone whom I know only peripherally is only a matter of duration and intensity. The rains still come. The damage is still done. And so, when someone with whom I am only tangentially connected, but connected nonetheless, I feel a degree of grief; a degree that some might even call disproportionate, but nevertheless present. The distress is genuine, regardless of logical or social justification.

It is always challenging to justify emotional responses. This is especially true when, as seems to be the case with grief in our culture, the emotional response demands a response of its own. In telling others that we feel grief, we seem to be, at least in a way, soliciting sympathy. And as with asking for support or accommodations on any matter, declaring grief too frequently, or on too shoddy a pretext, can invite backlash. Excessive mourning in public or on Facebook, or, indeed, on a blog post, can seem, at best, trite, and at worst, like sociopathic posturing to affirm one’s social status.

So, what is a particularly sensitive online acquaintance to do? What am I to do now?

On such occasions I am reminded of the words of the poet John Donne in his Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions, and severall steps in my Sickness, specifically, the following except from Meditation 17, which is frequently quoted out of its full context. I do not think there is much that I could add to it, so I will simply end with the relevant sections here.

“Perchance, he for whom this bell tolls may be so ill, as that he knows not it tolls for him; and perchance I may think myself so much better than I am, as that they who are about me, and see my state, may have caused it to toll for me, and I know not that. The church is catholic, universal, so are all her actions; all that she does belongs to all. When she baptizes a child, that action concerns me; for that child is thereby connected to that body which is my head too, and ingrafted into that body whereof I am a member. And when she buries a man, that action concerns me: all mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated; God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God’s hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again for that library where every book shall lie open to one another. As therefore the bell that rings to a sermon calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come, so this bell calls us all; but how much more me, who am brought so near the door by this sickness.
[…]

The bell doth toll for him that thinks it doth; and though it intermit again, yet from that minute that this occasion wrought upon him, he is united to God. Who casts not up his eye to the sun when it rises? but who takes off his eye from a comet when that breaks out? Who bends not his ear to any bell which upon any occasion rings? but who can remove it from that bell which is passing a piece of himself out of this world?

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were: any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.“

Works Consulted

Zhao, Jichang, et al. “Being rational or aggressive? A revisit to Dunbar׳s number in online social networks.” Neurocomputing 142 (2014): 343-53. Web. 27 May 2017. <https://arxiv.org/pdf/1011.1547.pdf>.

Golder, Scott A., et al. “Rhythms of Social Interaction: Messaging Within a Massive Online Network.” Communities and Technologies 2007 (2007): 41-66. Web. 27 May 2017. <https://arxiv.org/pdf/cs/0611137.pdf>.

Wilmot, Claire. “The Space Between Mourning and Grief.” The Atlantic. Atlantic Media Company, 08 June 2016. Web. 27 May 2017. <https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2016/06/internet-grief/485864/>.

Garber, Megan. “Enter the Grief Police.” The Atlantic. Atlantic Media Company, 20 Jan. 2016. Web. 27 May 2017. <https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2016/01/enter-the-grief-police/424746/>.

History Has its Eyes on You

In case it isn’t obvious from some of my recent writings, I’ve been thinking a lot about history. This has been mostly the fault of John Green, who decided in a recent step of his ongoing scavenger hunt, to pitch the age old question: “[I]s it enough to behold the universe of which we are part, or must we leave a footprint in the moondust for it all to have been worthwhile?” It’s a question that I have personally struggled with a great deal, more so recently as my health and circumstances have made it clear that trying to follow the usual school > college > career > marriage > 2.5 children > retirement and in that order thank you very much life path is a losing proposition.

The current political climate also has me thinking about the larger historical context of the present moment. Most people, regardless of their political affiliation, agree that our present drama is unprecedented, and the manner in which it plays out will certainly be significant to future generations. There seems to be a feeling in the air, a zeitgeist, if you will, that we are living in a critical time.

I recognize that this kind of talk isn’t new. Nearly a millennium ago, the participants of the first crusade, on both sides, believed they were living in the end times. The fall of Rome was acknowledged by most contemporary European scholars to be the end of history. Both world wars were regarded as the war to end all wars, and for many, including the famed George Orwell, the postwar destruction was regarded as the insurmountable beginning of the end for human progress and civilization. Every generation has believed that their problems were of such magnitude that they would irreparably change the course of the species.

Yet for every one of these times when a group has mistakenly believed that radical change is imminent, there has been another revolution that has arrived virtually unannounced because people assumed that life would always go on as it always had gone on. Until the 20th century, imperial rule was the way of the world, and European empires were expected to last for hundreds or even thousands of years. In the space of a single century, Marxism-Leninism went from being viewed as a fringe phenomenon, to a global threat expected to last well into the time when mankind was colonizing other worlds, to a discredited historical footnote. Computers could never replace humans in thinking jobs, until they suddenly began to do so in large numbers.

It is easy to look at history with perfect hindsight, and be led to believe that this is the way that things would always have gone regardless. This is especially true for anyone born in the past twenty five years, in an age after superpowers, where the biggest threat to the current world order has always been fringe radicals living in caves. I mean, really, am I just supposed to believe that there were two Germanies that both hated each other, and that everyone thought this was perfectly normal and would go on forever? Sure, there are still two Koreas, but no one really takes that division much seriously anymore, except maybe for the Koreans.

I’ve never been quite sure where I personally fit into history, and I’m sure a large part of that is because nothing of real capital-H Historical Importance has happened close to me in my lifetime. With the exception of the September 11th attacks, which happened so early in my life, and while I was living overseas, that they may as well have happened a decade earlier during the Cold War, and the rise of smartphones and social media, which happened only just as I turned old enough to never have known an adolescence without Facebook, things have, for the most part, been the same historical setting for my whole life.

The old people in my life have told me about watching or hearing about the moon landing, or the fall of the Berlin Wall, and about how it was a special moment because everyone knew that this was history unfolding in front of them. Until quite recently, the closest experiences I had in that vein were New Year’s celebrations, which always carry with them a certain air of historicity, and getting to stay up late (in Australian time) to watch a shuttle launch on television. Lately, though, this has changed, and I feel more and more that the news I am seeing today may well turn out to be a turning point in the historical narrative that I will tell my children and grandchildren.

Moreover, I increasingly feel a sensation that I can only describe as historical pressure; the feeling that this turmoil and chaos may well be the moment that leaves my footprint in the moondust, depending on how I act. The feeling that the world is in crisis, and it is up to me to cast my lot in with one cause or another.

One of my friends encapsulated this feeling with a quote, often attributed to Vladimir Lenin, but which it appears is quite likely from some later scholar or translator.
“There are decades where nothing happens; and there are weeks where decades happen.”
Although I’m not sure I entirely agree with this sentiment (I can’t, to my mind, think of a single decade where absolutely nothing happened), I think this illustrates the point that I am trying to make quite well. We seem to be living in a time where change is moving quickly, in many cases too quickly to properly contextualize and adjust, and we are being asked to pick a position and hold it. There is no time for rational middle ground because there is no time for rational contemplation.

Or, to put it another way: It is the best of times, it is the worst of times, it is the age of wisdom, it is the age of foolishness, it is the epoch of belief, it is the epoch of incredulity, it is the season of Light, it is the season of Darkness, it is the spring of hope, it is the winter of despair, we have everything before us, we have nothing before us, we are all going direct to Heaven, we are all going direct the other way – in short, the period is so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insist on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

How, then, will this period be remembered? How will my actions, and the actions of my peers, go down in the larger historical story? Perhaps in future media, the year 2017 will be thought of as “just before that terrible thing happened, when everyone knew something bad was happening but none yet had the courage to face it”, the way we think of the early 1930s. Or will 2017 be remembered like the 1950s, as the beginning of a brave new era which saw humanity in general and the west in particular reach new heights?

It seems to be a recurring theme in these sorts of posts that I finish with something to the effect of “I don’t know, but maybe I’m fine not knowing in this instance”. This remains true, but I also certainly wish to avoid encouraging complacency. Not knowing the answers is okay, it’s human, even. But not continuing to question in the first place is how we wind up with a far worse future.

Something Old, Something New

It seems that I am now well and truly an adult. How do I know? Because I am facing a quintessentially adult problem: People I know; people who I view as my friends and peers and being of my own age rather than my parents; are getting married.

Credit to Chloe Effron of Mental Floss

It started innocently enough. I became first aware, during my yearly social media purge, in which I sort through unanswered notifications, update my profile details, and suppress old posts which are no longer in line with the image which I seek to present. While briefly slipping into the rabbit hole that is the modern news feed, I was made aware that one of my acquaintances and classmates from high school was now engaged to be wed. This struck me as somewhat odd, but certainly not worth making a fuss about.

Some months later, it emerged after a late night crisis call between my father and uncle, that my cousin had been given a ring by his grandmother in order to propose to his girlfriend. My understanding of the matter, which admittedly is third or fourth hand and full of gaps, is that this ring-giving was motivated not by my cousin himself, but by the grandmother’s views on unmarried cohabitation (which existed between my cousin and said girlfriend at the time) as a means to legitimize the present arrangement.

My father, being the person he was, decided, rather than tell me about this development, to make a bet on whether or not my cousin would eventually, at some unknown point in the future, become engaged to his girlfriend. Given what I knew about my cousin’s previous romantic experience (more in depth than breadth), and the statistics from the Census and Bureau of Labor Statistics (see info graphic above), I gave my conclusion that I did not expect that my cousin to become engaged within the next five years, give or take six months [1]. I was proven wrong within the week.

I brushed this off as another fluke. After all, my cousin, for all his merits, is rather suggestible and averse to interpersonal conflict. Furthermore, he comes from a more rural background with a strong emphasis on community values than my godless city-slicker upbringing. And whereas I would be content to tell my grandmother that I was perfectly content to live in delicious sin with my perfectly marvelous girl in my perfectly beautiful room [2], my cousin might be otherwise more concerned with traditional notions of propriety.

Today, though, came the final confirmation: wedding pictures from a friend of mine I knew from summer camp. The writing is on the wall. Childhood playtime is over, and we’re off to the races. In comes the age of attending wedding ceremonies and watching others live out their happily ever afters (or, as is increasingly common, fail spectacularly in a nuclear fireball of bitter recriminations). Naturally next on the agenda is figuring out which predictions about “most likely to succeed” and accurate with regards to careers, followed shortly by baby photos, school pictures, and so on.

At this point, I may as well hunker down for the day that my hearing and vision start failing. It would do me well, it seems, to hurry up and preorder my cane and get on the waiting list for my preferred retirement home. It’s not as though I didn’t see this coming from a decade away. Though I was, until now, quite sure that by the time that marriage became a going concern in my social circle that I would be finished with high school.

What confuses me more than anything else is that these most recent developments seem to be in defiance of the statistical trends of the last several decades. Since the end of the postwar population boom, the overall marriage rate has been in steady decline, as has the percentage of households composed primarily of a married couple. At the same time, both the number and percentage of nonfamily households (defined as “those not consisting of persons related by blood, marriage, adoption, or other legal arrangements”) has skyrocketed, and the growth of households has become uncoupled from the number of married couples, which were historically strongly correlated [3].

Which is to say that the prevalence of godless cohabitation out of wedlock is increasing. So too has increased the median age of first marriage, from as low as eighteen at the height of the postwar boom, to somewhere around thirty for men in my part of the world today. This begs an interesting question: For how long is this trend sustainable? That is, suppose the current trend of increasingly later marriages continues for the majority of people. At some point, presumably, couples will opt to simply forgo marriage altogether, and indeed, in many cases, already are in historic numbers [3]. At what point, then, does the marriage age snap back to the lower age practiced by those people who, now a minority, are still getting married early?

Looking at the maps a little closer, an few interesting correlations emerge [NB]. First, States with larger populations seem to have both fewer marriages per capita, and a higher median age of first marriage. Conversely, there is a weak, but visible correlation between a lower median age of first marriage, and an increased marriage per capita rate. There are a few conclusions that can be drawn from these two data sets, most of which match up with our existing cultural understanding of marriage in the modern United States.

First, marriage appears to have a geographic bias towards rural and less densely populated areas. This can be explained either by geography (perhaps large land area with fewer people makes individuals more interested in locking down relationships), or by a regional cultural trend (perhaps more rural communities are more god-fearing than us cityborne heathens, and thus feel more strongly about traditional “family values”.

Second, young marriage is on the decline nationwide, even in the above mentioned rural areas. There are ample potential reasons for this. Historically, things like demographic changes due to immigration or war, and the economic and political outlook have been cited as major factors in causing similar rises in the median age of first marriage.

Fascinatingly, one of the largest such rises seen during the early part of the 20th century was attributed to the influx of mostly male immigrants, which created more romantic competition for eligible bachelorettes, and hence, it is said, caused many to defer the choice to marry [3]. It seems possible, perhaps likely even, that the rise of modern connectivity has brought about a similar deference (think about how dating sights have made casual dating more accessible). Whether this effect works in tandem with, is caused by, or is a cause of, shifting cultural values, is difficult to say, but changing cultural norms is certainly also a factor.

Third, it seems that places where marriage is more common per capita have a lower median age of first marriage. Although a little counterintuitive, this makes some sense when examined in context. After all, the more important marriage is to a particular area-group, the higher it will likely be on a given person’s priority list. The higher a priority marriage is, the more likely that person is to want to get married sooner rather than later. Expectations of marriage, it seems, are very much a self-fulfilling prophecy.

NB: All of these two correlations have two major outliers: Nevada and Hawaii, which have far more marriages per capita than any other state, and fairly middle of the road ages of first marriage. It took me an unconscionably long time to figure out why.

So, if marriage is becoming increasingly less mainstream, are we going to see the median age of first marriage eventually level off and decrease as this particular statistic becomes predominated by those who are already predisposed to marry young regardless of cultural norms?

Reasonable people can take different views here, but I’m going to say no. At least not in the near future, for a few reasons.

Even if marriage is no longer the dominant arrangement for families and cohabitation (which it still is at present), there is still an immense cultural importance placed on marriage. Think of the fairy tales children grow up learning. The ones that always end “happily ever after”. We still associate that kind of “ever after” with marriage. And while young people may not be looking for that now, as increased life expectancies make “til death do us part” seem increasingly far off and irrelevant to the immediate concerns of everyday life, living happily ever after is certainly still on the agenda. People will still get married for as long as wedding days continue to be a major celebration and social function, which remains the case even in completely secular settings today.

And of course, there is the elephant in the room: Taxes and legal benefits. Like it or not, marriage is as much a secular institution as a religious one, and as a secular institution, marriage provides some fairly substantial incentives over simply cohabiting. The largest and most obvious of these is the ability to file taxes jointly as a single household. Other benefits such as the ability to make medical decisions if one partner is incapacitated, to share property without a formal contract, and the like, are also major incentives to formalize arrangements if all else is equal. These benefits are the main reason why denying legal marriage rights to same sex couples is a constitutional violation, and are the reason why marriage is unlikely to go extinct.

All of this statistical analysis, while not exactly comforting, has certainly helped cushion the blow of the existential crisis which seeing my peers reach major milestones far ahead of me generally brings with it. Aside from providing a fascinating distraction, pouring over old reports and analyses, the statistics have proven what I already suspected: that my peers and I simply have different priorities, and this need not be a bad thing. Not having marriage prospects at present is not by any means an indication that I am destined for male spinsterhood. And with regards to feeling old, the statistics are still on my side. At least for the time being.

Works Consulted

Effron, Chloe, and Caitlin Schneider. “At What Ages Do People First Get Married in Each State?” Mental Floss. N.p., 09 July 2015. Web. 14 May 2017. <http://mentalfloss.com/article/66034/what-ages-do-people-first-get-married-each-state>.

Masteroff, Joe, Fred Ebb, John Kander, Jill Haworth, Jack Gilford, Bert Convy, Lotte Lenya, Joel Grey, Hal Hastings, Don Walker, John Van Druten, and Christopher Isherwood. Cabaret: original Broadway cast recording. Sony Music Entertainment, 2008. MP3.

Wetzel, James. American Families: 75 Years of Change. Publication. N.p.: Bureau of Labor Statistics, n.d. Monthly Labor Review. Bureau of Labor Statistics, Mar. 1990. Web. 14 May 2017. <https://www.bls.gov/mlr/1990/03/art1full.pdf>.

Kirk, Chris. “Nevada Has the Most Marriages, but Which State Has the Fewest?” Slate Magazine. N.p., 11 May 2012. Web. 14 May 2017. <http://www.slate.com/articles/life/map_of_the_week/2012/05/marriage_rates_nevada_and_hawaii_have_the_highest_marriage_rates_in_the_u_s_.html>.

Tax, TurboTax – Taxes Income. “7 Tax Advantages of Getting Married.” Intuit TurboTax. N.p., n.d. Web. 15 May 2017. <https://turbotax.intuit.com/tax-tools/tax-tips/Family/7-Tax-Advantages-of-Getting-Married-/INF17870.html>.