Felonious Vandalism?

I've always known that it's been a crime to vandalize buildings and such. But a felony in Richmond? To me that just seems a tad extreme!

AAFS 2012 Convention

I just got back from the American Academy of Forensic Sciences in Atlanta. And I learned A LOT. I didn't actually go there with any sort of preconceived notions, but the scope that forensics covers blew my mind. It started off kind of slow, but I at least got to walk around a lot, which was nice coming directly off the ship, and see the different disciplines of forensic sciences and some of the posters that they had up. Some of the disciplines I had expected (pathologists, biologists who worked exclusively on DNA extraction and genetic fingerprinting, entomologists, ballistics guys) but there were a lot that I hadn't even thought about. Odontology, forensic anthropology, a TON of lawyers and guys with Juris Doctorates, biologists who studied plants and soil composition in different geographic areas to understand taphonomy and root action on remains, questioned documents (I kinda thought most banks had a fraud department, but these guys were experts and worked case by case), forensic veterinarians who determine if animals have been abused, behavioral sciences and psychiatrists, and digital forensics guys were all present at the convention.
Without a doubt, the largest group there were pathologists/biologists. The majority of their work was dedicated towards cause of death and DNA analysis (DNA fragments, mitochondrial DNA, trace DNA, etc), but there was one lecture that stood out in my mind that discussed a case study where a car crash victim displayed retinal hemorrhaging similar to shaken baby syndrome, but only after 24 hours had elapsed. Upon concluding his lecture, a person in the audience stood up and said semi-jokingly that he should formally document his findings and get them published by the end of the night.
Toxicology was pretty interesting to me. I managed to sneak into an open forum that they were having and was immediately seen by one of the organizers who asked me what I was doing there. "Oh, I'm actually in the Navy, but I never studied toxicology so I figured I'd use this opportunity to learn more about it." "Really?! Wow, that is great!" That scenario played out several other times, with people slightly impressed that I was making an effort to understand more about their different fields.
And I can completely understand why they were impressed. I've forgotten a pretty good portion of Biology (after all I haven't used it in 4 years or more), but going through and listening to the lectures helped jog my memory for anatomy, physiology, chemistry, anthropology, and for some reason epidemiology (hey, I was curious as to how prevalent some of these things were!). But being in the room with all these toxicologists (who had a minimum of an MS in Tox) was without a doubt the dumbest I have ever felt. The conversation went something like this:

"You know, I couldn't help but notice in my lab we were having issues with extracted 3,4-methylenedioxypyrovalerone and its stability. When we went back later it had completely degraded." "Well, you really have to salt it out, because of the nature of these compounds they don't keep very well in the freebase form. So, you'll have to protonate that pyrrolidin type functional group." "Yes, and thank you, I think you bring up a valid point. We've had to do that with some cathinone that was being extracted from khat and sold online by some Israeli company. So, if you've had issues with that, I'd highly recommend converting it into a hydrochloride form."

At that point I was sorely tempted to turn to the person next to me and ask, "I'm sorry, but can you translate that convo into English for me?" Looking back though, what in the world did I expect? These were all highly educated, highly experienced professionals at a convention with other equally educated and experienced professionals. Oh well. I did glean a little bit from the open forum, but the most enlightening wasn't their discussion on how to keep stable compounds, but just the fact that so much of their discussion was on synthetic cannabinoids, MDMA, MDPV, and cathinones because all of these toxicologists' time were being taken up by dealing with kids who'd overdosed on these compounds, or they had so many samples that contained these compounds. And that's what really got me thinking about epidemiology and if someone was actually studying this usage in the US. But there weren't too many epidemiologists there, so I never got that question answered.

After a long day of looking at various case studies, getting tips on resumes/CV's, and listening to different lectures I went to the overpriced and trendy bar that they had in the hotel and started playing with Lara's Kindle. One of the lawyers who worked pro bono for the prosecution on the Casey Anthony case sat down and started discussing the case with me.

Overall, I thought the convention was very interesting and it definitely opened my eyes to the scope of forensic science.

If things turned out differently

Lara and I are at the American Academy of Forensic Sciences convention. After meeting several of the people here, I can't help but wonder what my life would've been like had things turned out differently and I studied pathology slides and conducted gas chromatography-mass spectrometry for 35 years or so. What kind of crotchety, cantankerous person would I have become?

"Oh, ok. No, I know exactly what you're talking about. Dr. Newell is the leading expert in that field. Really the pioneer for that. You need to go talk to him about it. He can be a little...abrasive."
"Oh, ok...Good morning, Dr. Newell!"
"Yeah, it was a pretty good morning until you started talking to me!"
"Um, Dr. Newell I'd like-"
"You know what I'd like, young man? For you to drop dead and leave me the hell alone!"
"But Dr. Newell! I was hoping-"
"Hope? HOPE?! Fill your left hand up with hopes and dreams and take a crap in your right hand and let me know which one fills up faster!"

And for my recognition of research and hard work? Well, I'll just leave you with this scenario...
"...and this year's gag award goes to Dr. Howard [THAT'S TREY!] Trey Newell for the most crotchety researcher!"
I'd hobble up to the podium, whack the orator with my cane a few times and then grab the microphone and start yelling into it quite loudly: "I don't know what the hell kind of an organization this is handing out awards for me just telling it like it is! By golly if I were half as patient as you think I am I wouldn't even be here at the symposium! Now if you'll excuse me I forgot to take my geritol and fish oil capsules and goldurnit if you people aren't getting my dander up!"

The Art of Diplomacy

You always hear about diplomatic talks, relations, and meetings between countries. And you always see the news reporters at exotic locations saying things like, "I'm here, Bob, at the G Minus 10 Summit where the Rhapsodians and YipYaps are having [pause for drama] diplomatic talks." But when I found out the meaning of diplomacy, it hit me like a 2x4 across the forehead. I'd been practicing diplomacy for years with my sisters!
I'm not sure when it started but I've always referred to my childhood sibling rivalry as the Eastern Carolina Contra-Affair Incident (or ECCAI). And I was young. I do wonder what my childhood would have been like without the ECCAI.

I can imagine my immediate family sitting down to a quiet supper and me turning to my older sister and inquiring, "Dearest Katie, might you please pass the salt?" "Why of course dear brother!" "Thank you kindly," and then turning to my younger sister and asking, "Dearest Hope, I would like another biscuit. Might you pass one?" "Why, certainly." I would then take a big bite of the biscuit, smile, and turn to mother and father and cry, "O mother! O father! I am quite content and happy in this harmonious familial relationship!" Mother would turn to father, after taking a sip of her chardonnay, and say, "What sweet little cherubs!"

But I think if that happened, I'd be the type of guy who plays badminton in his spare time and says things like "Gosh darnit! That kid forgot to double bag the produce again! Why, I've a mind to drive down to the store right now and give him a stern talking to!" In other words, I'd be the type of guy who makes me puke.
In reality, family dinners went something like this:

"Quit staring at my food, Katie" "Quit being ugly, Trey." I'd kick her from underneath the table, usually miss, and kick the shin of my youngest sister who would demonstrate her displeasure at my poor aim by screaming like a banshee and attempt to gnaw off my leg. I was never able to put that feeling in words, but I came pretty close with "AAAAYEEEAAAAAAGAAAAAUUUUGGGGH!" My mother would interject at this point with "YOU CHILDREN STOP THAT RIGHT NOW AND EAT YOUR SUPPER!" while my father would watch the whole thing with detached amusement and wonder if his meals would be quieter if he and my mother had opted for two dogs instead of three little children.

But here is where I truly learned diplomacy. I'd finish my meal, hunched over my plate and guarding my food like a hardened convict in the clink, glowering, thinking horrible thoughts that only a 7 year old's mind could think: "Batface...Butthead...Major Dinglehopper...I hope she scrapes her knee and gets sent to the principal's office tomorrow."
I'd opt to finish my battles later at my convenience while maintaining a somewhat neutral stance at the immediate time. I would have my revenge later. Under the cover of darkness I would conduct night raids, sprinting out at top speed into Katie's room, giving her a pillow across the face at full force. I'd deftly evade capture and egress back to my forward operating base. When the mediator, my mother, would arrive, I'd resume a diplomatic stance again, and maintain that I'd been in bed the entire time and suggest that Katie had a dream that her face was on fire and was attempting to put it out by slamming her head into the pillow. Katie's account differed from mine (doesn't it always?), but who's to blame?
Dealing with my older sister was eventful enough, but I had a younger sister to deal with too. And her teeth and nails were extremely sharp. Rather than risk bodily harm, I took a more diplomatic stance and decided to undertake a PSYOPS campaign against her:

"Trey, have you seen my barbie?" "No, why?" "Well, she's missing." "Strange...Missing...like the way my cookie was missing from my plate last night after I turned my head!"

She usually took umbrage at this campaign with her teeth and nails and it's now a pasttime at family reunions to marvel at the claw-shaped scars on my forearms.
But of course, the ECCAI wasn't in full force the whole time. I'd diplomatically wrangle for ceasefires when I felt my time would be better spent erecting Legos or building forts. Unfortunately, a ceasefire between me and my sisters didn't happen concurrently with the ceasefires between them. I vividly remember sitting in my room reading, only to hear a loud banging noise and the pattering of feet. My door was flung wide open and Katie came hurtling in screeching "HIDEMEHIDEMEHIDEME!" I would nonchalantly point at the closet door and continue reading while she hid, only to be interrupted minutes later by having the door kicked in by Hope with her hair dishevelled, eyes crossed eyed, out of focus, and lips bared back into a toothy snarl. "WHERE IS SHE?!" Hope would bellow. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Right now I'm Sweden." To my embarassment, I would later find out that I meant to say Switzerland. Perhaps that's why she never believed me.
But Hope would always lumber to the door in the distinctive stance she had whenever she was on the warpath, only to have Katie bounding out of the closet door and out of the room to find some other place to hide, and the two would continue until they ran out of steam.
Do I regret learning this very physical form of diplomacy? Absolutely not. It provided a great learning experience for how much pain I could tolerate, and the value of diplomacy, which is just a fancy way of saying to smile at your sister until you're accurate enough to kick her from under the table.

Xiaguan 2009 Gray Crane Iron Cake

I've made quite a dent on this bing, and I've noticed that it offers fairly similar tastes to Xiaguan's Baoyan brick. A nice rustic sweetness meshes with a woody taste and a lightly bitter finish, with later infusions turning sweet and very light. For $14 this is definitely a good bargain for solid sheng pu'er.

On Reading

There are few things as personal and intimate as reading. Reading can define us in a way, as a sort of cultural mirror that reflects our preferences, but at the same time, how we read books varies from person to person, and that in itself makes it personal. I think this has never been truer than a translation course I took in college where in addition to studying the different ideas of how to translate texts (ranging from transliteration to transcription to transposing words and sentences around for your expected audience) everyone was required to bring in a few small passages of whatever language you'd studied, translate it, and have the entire class review it. The review wasn't intended to determine the "best fit" translation (after all, there are valid arguments for and against how you should translate), but it was more of a review of how you implimented the ideas of translation.

Anyway, the piece I translated was "The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World." When I read, I usually visualize the story in my mind. By doing this, I effectively and unwittingly manipulated the story to my culture, preferences, and beliefs. The seaside in the story became a bleak Outer Banks with dunes and sea oats. The man's hands that were described as being like "oxen of the sea" gave no clue to me as to the cultural meaning behind the phrase (I've never seen a buey del mar, so I don't know how large they are, what they look like, the texture of their shells) apart from just having large hands. This text that I translated was slowly molded to something that I was familiar with, mostly because I didn't know the the cultural implications on word choice and the setting in the original text, but the same thing was true for each student in the course. Each and every person had a different, and yet personal way of translating their text.

The same is true for books that you read. The different types, plots, and characters you encounter in the different books you read have different importance for different people, either by people relating to some aspect of the book and thoroughly enjoying it or by thinking the book is a complete waste of ink and trees and wholly abhorring it. How often have you asked someone what their favorite books were, in part to get an idea of what book you want to read next, but also to get a better understanding of that person's personality? And how often have you read a book for inspiration or solely for enjoyment?

Deep Thoughts

Sometimes when I look at my dog, she looks back at me with her big, brown eyes but intelligence is behind them. 'Here! A sentient being,' I always think, 'that happens to be man's best friend! Oh if you could talk! I wonder what thoughts, wishes, and desires you have?' My dog then usually licks herself and attempts to push me off the bed.