Green Day in the tropical rainforest

As I was saying....

Greetings from smack dab in the middle of the Panama Canal, from the rainforest of Barro Colorado Island. WiFi is everywhere seemingly...

When you share a lab with three students who were born sometime during the roaring '80's, it is inevitable that there is some conflict over what blares over the lab speakers. Music is essential for a well-oiled ecology lab regardless of the task, be it mundane or ethereal, constructing litter bags or staring at a leafcutter ant freshly plucked, and newly dead, from the side of a building, the victim of a fungus that takes over its body, gently whispers "Climb", and then erupts from the body sending Stepford Spores out to infect new victims.

So we find ourselves playing Ipod roulette, listening patiently to the blather that one labmate insists represents popular culture until it is our turn to show them real culture.
Soooo high school? Of course. But academics (or academics in training) have never been the most socially adept cards in the deck and there is something heartwarming about the occasional cross fertilization that results in 2.5-part harmony as we bray along with Johnny Cash, or Muddy Waters.

We discovered one opportunity to rise above this kulturcampf with Pandora.com, the website that promises to create a great radio station based on the entry of a few songs or music groups. The game was for each person to select a song in secret, and we would proceed to hear what the massive brain in a box decides these selections has in common. Being the jefe, I decided to hold off to see just what recipe my students would produce--not bad, I must admit, but needing a little oomph. I resisted the temptation to type "Philip Glass" and decided that, when it comes to oomph, nothing beats Green Day. And so it was we rocked on for the rest of the afternoon.

Which is to say that Pandora.com's bidness model worked like a charm, because I was soon heading to Itunes to download American Idiot. Gawd, the combination lyrics, power pop, and chord rock. The rainforest got a bit greener tonight.

Ahh to be manic now that spring is here

Here in Oklahoma, Daylight Savings Time seems to be that watershed moment in which nature plants a big wet one on your sleep-deprived kisser and announces that months of bermuda grass, tornadoes, wall clouds and black-eyed susans are just around the corner. It comes right after Spring Break and introduces April-that cruel month when professor and student endure each other in a silent brooding truce, both waiting for the relief of May. But for the manic among us, counting our minutes like a miser with his coin purse, DST plays the meanest of tricks: stealing those glowing morning hours and substituting a longer evening. A real discombulator, Daily Savings Time is.

I'm reading Peter Whybrow's America Mania, who's thesis (not unlike Jared Diamond's, who also hails from UCLA) is that chunks of our culture can be understood only if you crack a biology book. Why do Americans (and yes, if you don't like generalizations, read no further) seem to pride ourselves in packing so much into every day? Why is "over-achiever" an oxymoron around these parts? Whybrow, a psychiatrist, suggests that America is the immigrant nation. We are folks created the American dream--that you can make anything of yourself if you just work hard enough. Furthermore, he argues, this rather obsessive desire for new challenges ("OK, I've climbed the five highest peaks in North America-now what do I do? ) likely has a genetic component--genes that turn down the serotonin and enhance dopamine may be more common in our stock. If our genetic tendencies aren't powerful enought, add the self-reinforcing meme (the cultural analogue of the gene) that "anything is possible if you work hard enough", and you've got yourself a movement man! A bonafide, red white and blue march to success and entrepeneurial splendor!

Problem is, that meme has in it the seeds for a lot of misery. Its flip side--"failure comes from not trying hard enough" --is, well, wrong. How does one take the best of our favorite memes and genes, and tweak them to keep from going bonkers? Or do we acknowledge that manic can be, well, fun! Or at least, never boring. More soon.

My gosh almighty, how did that happen?

Curious how your day takes a sudden and dizzying turn. Sitting in an overstuffed chair, the kind just designed for the insomniac, and reading a new blog, By Neddie Jingo! I find myself compelled to send huzzahs. This insidious thing called Blogger asks me to register, which I do gladly. After all, in this limited sense, my voice must be heard!

Next thing you know, here I am. A voice in the wilderness.

More soon? Now back to writing that comment...