warming, not burning
We are here. In China. In our hotel. Thirty-odd hours of travel later, I am horizontal for the first time since seven o’clock pm on Tuesday. I have slept something like fifteen hours in the last four days.
I can see through time.
Hotel is lovely. People are friendly. My powers of cognition are fadinzhghdhsnnghjsprojhgd.
More after we sleep for about a day.
And I can’t help but continue to be skeptical.
It’s about 4:30pm in Chicago, 5:30 in Cleveland. We have now been at
O’Hare airport for eight and a half hours. We’re supposed to leave in
an hour.
I am doubtful.
Today’s travel adventure started with a comically brief email from
United, at about 11:45 last night, informing us that our 6:00am flight
to Washington Dulles had been canceled. No reason was given.
I called United and was informed that their systems were down and I
needed to call back in half an hour. Half an hour later, they told me
to call back in an hour. Ten minutes later, I called again out of
curiosity, and they were able to process a reroute through Chicago.
So we arrived in our former home city at about 8:00 am, expecting to
head for Beijing at noon. Only as soon as I turned on my phone I got
another lovely United email saying the flight had been delayed until
3:30. Half an hour later, a new e-mail said 5:30.
Fortunately, since we had originally expected a five-hour layover in
Washington, we took the precaution of buying one-day passes to the
United Lounge. These are normally $50 per person, but I found
certificates on eBay for $15 apiece. This may have been the best $30
we’ve ever spent. Instead of fighting for uncomfortable chairs in the
hot terminal, we luxuriated in reasonably comfy armchairs in luscious
air conditioning, accompanied by free snacks, wifi, espresso, and
booze. No beds, but it was one heck of a lot more comfortable than it
could have been.
We just got notice of another delay (15 minutes this time) and
simultaneous notice of boarding in five minutes. As I said, I’m
doubtful. But at this point nothing but waiting feels real.
At this point, Kim and I have pretty much completed everything major that needs to be done before we leave. We are organized. We are prepared. We are surprisingly calm.
This is, of course, terrifying.
I’ve been telling people that I’m really not worried about the whole becoming-a-parent element of this whole adventure, and it’s true. What I am worried about: 22 hours of travel, to a foreign land we have only the slightest understanding of, on the way to becoming a parent.
But really, what’s probably going on is that I have only so much room for panic in my brain. So ask me again next week.
Meanwhile, we leave for the airport in 32 hours. We leave Cleveland at 6 am Wednesday for Washington Dulles, where we get to sit quietly and stress some more for five hours. And then it’s fourteen hours from Dulles to Beijing, where we will cavalierly engage in casual conversation and board games. By which I mean freak out some more.
I’m sure this comes as no surprise to those of you who are already parents, however you arrived there. Feel free to laugh at me as much as you want. Just not right now, okay?
I’m pretty sure anyone who’s tangentially related to the music industry is contractually obligated to weigh in on the Great NPR Stealing Music Fiasco of Ought-Twelve.
So here are my thoughts, in response to Jonathan Coulton’s very interesting ruminations. This was originally left as a comment on his post, but it’s pretty much guaranteed to be buried, so…
Thought experiment for the Free-Culture and anti-copyright folks out here: Let’s say you make something. You distribute it digitally. And because you believe in Free Culture, you insist that it be distributed for free.
Then someone starts charging for it.
How does that make you feel? Do you feel that you, as the creator, have the right to determine how your creation is distributed?
I think even more than a practical issue — which, let me be clear, is certainly a big issue — this is an issue of principle. How would you feel if the foo was on the other shoot? Not great, I suspect.
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But there’s also a practical element that doesn’t seem to be talked much about. There are a lot of Free-As-In-Beer flag-wavers outraged that the gub’mint might step in and knock out file-sharing centers. “What right,” they demand, “does the government have to determine how culture should be shared?”
But here’s what confuses me: What right do the flag-wavers have to determine how an artist’s work should be shared? Do you presume to know better than the creators of the works how their work benefits them, or benefits society?
We talk about “the music industry” as though it’s this faceless monolith. But the facts are (as usual) a lot messier. Yes, some artists can make a living on the road, and giving away their music (or allowing it to be given away) benefits them. But there are musicians for whom this is exactly reversed: Live performance earns nothing; music sales and licensing are everything. Most are probably in the middle. But are we going to insist that all musicians take it on the road, or give it up? Seems kind of counter-productive to the goal of diversifying art and encouraging experimentation. Do we really want a world where only the one percent (if you’ll pardon the allusion) of musicians can make a decent living?
People, think this through to its logical conclusion. We live in a world where money is necessary. The less money that can be made by making music, the fewer musicians we’ll have. Yes, there will be the super-successful, there will be the ones who do it for love alone, and there will be those — like our esteemed host — who find their own niche and make it work. But I don’t see how it can be denied that fewer rewards for making music will ultimately result in fewer musicians. Is that really what we want? Is that the price we’re willing to pay for “free” music?
Personally, I’d rather pay Mr. Coulton than get Rebecca Black for free.
Am I alone in thinking this way?
For more of my thoughts on the matter, you may be interested in this post from a few years back.