“I hope the pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams.”

That’s a line from The Shawshank Redemption, the second-best movie ever made. It was set in cold, rainy Maine. The best move ever made, Pulp Fiction, was set in warm, sunny Los Angeles.

I left cold, snowy Minnesota this morning, and now I’m in L.A. It was really difficult to sit on the beach just outside of Santa Monica this afternoon, and by “difficult” I mean “unbelievably easy.” The water was cold, but that didn’t matter, as the air was balmy. I relaxed and let the sun’s rays add color to my flesh and soul to my body.

Three weeks ago, I had never been to California. Since that time, I’ve been there twice; once to San Francisco and once to Los Angeles. From what I’ve seen of L.A., I much prefer the San Francisco Bay area.

San Francisco, the city itself, reminds me of Duluth, Minnesota: it’s hilly, it’s next to a huge body of very cold water, and it has a neat bridge. The landscape around the “Paris of the West” hints of my two favorite earthly locations: Minnesota’s North Shore and Switzerland’s Jungfrau region. They all boast big trees, frigid water, huge rocks, and rugged terrain.

In contrast, L.A. has smog. I think there are hills around it, but I can’t really see them because of all the haze. The area around Malibu is pretty, but it just doesn’t move me like the aforementioned three places. The one redeeming characteristic that L.A. shares with those magical locales is the water.

Few things are as relaxing as staring out over a huge body of water, one so large that it is impossible to see land on the other side. Lake Superior is large enough. So is the Pacific. When I fix my gaze on the horizon, a horizon that seems impossibly distant, all of my problems seem insignificant. They fade from conscious thought, mothballed for later contemplation. It’s hypnotic in a way, conducive to meditation. The infinite horizon, the repetitive crashing of the waves, the elegance of the shore — I love it.

Now I understand why people write about these places. Now I understand why people wax eloquent about the Pacific. Now I can place the Pacific in my own dreams.

The past two months have been a blur. Trips to Las Vegas, Chicago, Terre Haute, Dallas, and San Francisco. Patent applications. Business ventures. The beginning of the new season for my ice hockey team. Thanksgiving. Lots and lots of writing (but why?)

The next few weeks will see me visiting Los Angeles, being an official at a FIRST Lego robot competition, and playing hockey several times.

I’m busy, and I’m happy about it.

Ever wonder why you should turn the lights off in winter? I mean, it’s cold outside, and light bulbs are warm, so why not use them to heat rooms of a house?

Normal incandescent light bulbs are not very efficient, so they serve as better heaters than light sources. In the winter, I pay for natural gas to heat my home. I wondered if I could justify leaving lights on (out of laziness) by saving money on my heating bill.

First, the assumptions:

• The light bulb in my living room is 95% efficient at heating the space
• My furnace is 90% efficient at heating my living room
• Gas costs me $0.76 per therm
• Electricity costs me $0.09 per kilowatt-hour

What’s the cost of one BTU of heat from my natural gas furnace?

What’s the cost of one BTU of heat from my light bulb?

Well, that’s not good. It looks like it would cost me over three times as much to heat my house using incandescent bulbs as it would to use my furnace. I guess I’ll be shutting those unneeded lights off!

Of course, I’m not really concerned about power consumption — my home computer is on 24/7, and it draws the same power as many light bulbs. Brings back memories of heating my dorm room using my computer in college…

I’m near San Francisco at the moment, Stanford to be exact. All I can say is: “Wow.”

On a related note, Tyler has introduced me to a new comic strip: PhD. I think this strip captures the moment nicely.

Brain surgery. Rocket science. Getting the sticker off a CD case.

I was in the OR for brain surgery this morning. Okay, it wasn’t surgery on my brain; I was an observer.

I have been going to various hospitals and clinics for the past few days with several of my company’s field personnel. My goal is to gather input to improve our future products, particularly our so-called clinician and patient programmers. In order to do that, I have been watching our products get implanted, observing our reps interact with patients, and conversing with physicians about their therapies of interest. This morning was a deep brain stimulator implant.

People of all ages can be struck by movement disorders; they are not just ailments of the elderly. This morning’s patient was a 35-year old male with essential tremor (ET). ET generally presents itself as a low-frequency cyclic movement while a limb is active; in contrast, Parkisonian tremor is most prevalent while a limb is at rest. This patient’s tremor was pronounced enough that he could barely write his name and could produce only a scribble when asked to draw a spiral.

My company makes several products that are labeled for treatment of essential tremor. They work by stimulating the brain with electric pulses. In the case of essential tremor, they must stimulate the subthalamic nucleus, which is only a few millimeters on a side. If the stimulation is in the correct location, the tremors subside. If the stimulation is in the wrong part of the brain by even a few millimeters, there can be serious adverse effects.

I arrived at the hospital and put on some scrubs. I met my company’s rep and followed her through the maze-like bowels of the hospital to the OR that held the patient. I’m not sure why hospitals have to be so confusing; they almost never have adequate signage or straightforward layouts. The 20 ft by 30 ft OR was crowded with people and equipment. In contrast to other ORs that I’ve been in, there was no music playing. It was a bit on the cold side, but at least it was well lit.

The neurosurgeon was joined by a neurophysiologist and a number of support people. With the patient awake, the surgeon cut away two flaps of scalp; thanks to electrocautery, there was very little blood loss. I watched him drill two 14 mm holes in the patient’s skull and position a stereotactic frame for precise introduction of two leads into the brain. As the electrodes were lowered into the brain, brain waves appeared on a scope and played on a speaker. After the correct positions were located on each side of the brain, permanent electrodes were introduced and stimulation was switched on.

The effect was incredible. The patient lifted his hand and held it steady in the air. He wrote his name with impeccable penmanship. He drew marvelous spirals. He lifted a cup to his mouth. He accomplished all of this without any tremors. The patient was so happy that his eyes welled up with tears, and everybody in the OR shared in his joy.

Remarkable. A rocket launch would be hard pressed to beat what I saw today.