The long and winding road

I'm a beginning runner, and every run seems long to me. But when I run a distance and double back, the return trip always seems shorter than the first half of the run. You'd think it would be the reverse -- by the second half of the run, I'm tired and have already seen the environment I just passed. Maybe the newness of the first half slows time, like the first day at a new school or job. Maybe just knowing, viscerally, how far you have to go makes the second half faster. I don't know.

Life seems the opposite of a run, though. Getting to a certain point can seem effortless, almost haphazard. The hard part -- maybe the impossible part -- is getting back to where you came from.

He Who Hesitates is Sometimes Better Off

I have three Android devices. I’m happy with two of them.

After getting a Samsung Captivate last fall, following up with a Motorola Xoom two months ago, I bought a Barnes & Noble Nook last week.

The Xoom was supposed to be my e-reader. While the iPad had electronic versions of all the publications I’m interested in as well as app versions of both the Nook and Amazon Kindle, I was bothered by the fuzzy-looking text. The Xoom offered sharper text and both of the e-reading apps. I hoped my publications were coming, heartened by the fact that a version of Wall Street Journal was already available for the 7-inch Galaxy Tab and Conde Nast’s announcement last winter that the New Yorker and Wired were on their way to Android tablets by this spring. As of today, none of those publications is available on 10-inch Androids.

So after years of dismissing e-ink readers as tablet wannabes, I finally bought one. I went with the Nook over the Kindle because of its smaller screen, longer batter life and more advanced screen. I’ve been pleasantly surprised. E-ink really is much easier on the eyes. And having a single-purpose device allows me to truly read the text without the distraction of knowing that e-mail, Web sites and games are a click away.

If I were to do it all over again, I would have bought the Nook now and waited for the next generation of tablets, both Android and iOS. Lesson learned.

Wishing on some movie magic

A good friend of mine used to say "The fantasy is always better than the reality." While I don't agree completely -- sometimes reality has a way of surpassing our finite imagination -- the central truth holds. Like Gatsby's Daisy, our mundane existence rarely lives up to the colossal vitality of our illusions.

I can accept that, and in some ways embrace it. But I still can't help wishing life were a little more like the movies. I'm not asking for anything big, like happy endings for everyone. Just little things like:

• Getting a heads-up from the weather that something bad is about to happen. Ever notice that most movie tragedies occur with a backdrop of cloudy or rainy weather? Why can't precipitation be a warning sign to just stay home for the day?
• Music indicating mood. This one is similar to the first. Reading situations would be far easier if music warned us that something ominous were about to happen, we're on the verge of triumph or two people are accidentally falling in love. Also, music montages while studying hard (preferably struggling with a stack of books).
• Sound effects. Self-explanatory.
• End credits when something is really over. Some movies have surprise endings, but you can always be sure the story is over when the credits role. Life milestones should have credits. This could include ordeals, conversations or relationships. Actually, many movies contain extras during the credits, so maybe life should have the equivalent of the lights going on.
• Previews. Wouldn't having clues as to how something is going to turn out be nice? I'm not talking about ruining the story -- just a general idea of what we're in for. A drama? Thriller? Romance? Comedy?
• Comedic sidekicks. I need one of these badly. I'm even willing to be one under the right conditions.
• Stadium seating. Everywhere.

Risky rewards

"You take a chance getting up in the morning, crossing the street, or sticking your face in a fan."
 --- Frank Drebin, The Naked Gun

I've been thinking a lot about the nature of risk and uncertainty over the last few months, and as the above line from one of my favorite movies implies, most people are torn. We see the ambivalence in contradictory American aphorisms such as the dueling "Nothing ventured, nothing gained." and "Look before you leap."

Some risk is unavoidable. Other risks involve trade-offs (the risk of driving to work vs. the risk of starving to death because you don't have a job, for example). Others risks outweighed by the potential gains (say, investing in the stock market). And some risk-taking is sheer recklessness, where potential losses far outweigh any possible reward.

We can do nothing about risks in the first category. Life is risk.

We can try to mitigate risks in the second category, such as wearing seat belts and installing carbon monoxide detectors in the house. Those are prudent, reasonable things to do.

We can avoid risks in the third category, but why would you want to? Preemptively giving up the potential rewards leads to a mundane, timid life -- and in some cases, exposes us to other risks. Not investing in stocks may shield you from massive losses, but you wouldn't see spectacular gains, and your money could still dwindle as inflation eats into its value. Foregoing outdoor activity may spare you injury, but is terrible for overall health and not much fun. Never asking out that cute girl means never facing rejection -- and never knowing romance and love.

The fourth category should be easy to recognize, but people make reckless decisions all the time. Ask Rupert Murdoch whether the journalistic scoops his reporters generated by hacking into voicemail is worth having to give up (for now) his dream of owning B Sky B. Think drag racing, going to work naked or, yes, sticking your face in a fan.

Understanding the categories of risk is the easy part. But as the Frank Drebin can attest, telling them apart isn't always so simple.

A gift from my daughter

Elena was ecstatic to give me this when I got home from work today. Andrea says Elena tried to jump off of a picnic table at the park to grab this for me from the tree branch it was attached to.

At her age, that's more work (and risk) than I've put into any of her presents.