Lessons at Terminal Velocity

The joy of failure is that I am forced to learn from my mistakes. It feels joyless now, but really it frees me from the burden of choosing to learn. Either I learn and improve, or I will no longer be burdened with finding joy.

Work began this weekend to implement a portable 40′ tower mast so I can raise inverted-V and vertical antenna elements out in the field with no other support structures around. I’ve seen it before, and I know it’s a viable option. I’m using army surplus camo netting poles (they come in fiberglass and aluminum), and some modular brackets that I picked up in previous hamfests.

With some measurements of overall mast height, 37-ish feet, and the anchors which are 30 feet out (roughly 80% of mast height), our buddy Pythagoras tells me the guy rope length should be 48-ish feet. So today I measured and cut 3 guy ropes, and marked their length by the foot, with orange safety ribbons every 5 feet. Attached them to rings and everything.

3 ropes from RGB D-rings attach to the modular brackets on top of mast. Pulley to the upper left. Moments before first raising.

But something was wrong with my measurements and math somewhere. The ropes had too much slack, so on the four attempts to raise the mast, I could not get them tight enough, even after shortening them by a foot each time.

Mast on ground, ready for first raising. Root pedestal at far end, near table.

On the 3rd attempt, the root of the mast came loose from its tent peg, the bottom bounced up, and I couldn’t get my right hand out from under the mast before it jammed into my thumb. Thankfully I had gloves and a hard hat, but it just wasn’t enough.

Crack in fiberglass top section, formed after 3rd drop.

Unfortunately, I destroyed a mast section on one of those drops. You don’t realize just how heavy 60 pounds of mast material is until it’s 40 feet up and falling to the earth at increasing speed. Crack.

And when you get 10 sections of it in the air, you realize just how wobbly and unwieldy it is, and just how dangerous the whole exercise is.

End of day, end of lesson.

After the fourth lift with a replacement section, I gave it up. Live to raise it another day.

I have some thinking and physical recovery to do. I need to build a pivot base to anchor the mast. I need to recalculate the guy rope length with all the brackets, rings, and rope stretch factor. I need to find another rope tensioner solution — these Mastrant-brand friction claws are sketchy and I’m not trusting them any further for my guy ropes. I need to either use a shorter mast, or plan and cut some guy ropes for halfway up the mast for stability.

And for the love of Marconi, I’m not doing this again without a helper. It was stupid doing this alone in the field, with nobody to hoist ropes or call safety.

Hard lessons. Back to the drawing board.

Supermax Profit

Imagine a land where the capitalist ideal is stretched so far, prisoners sue for and win the right to choose which for-profit private prison they will go to.

Where penitentiary placement representatives do outreach marketing to convicted individuals while they wait between conviction and sentencing,  courting them with pamphlets and promises, going into broad generalities about their prison’s social environment, pod occupancy, commissary rates, work release programs, yard amenities, all in a push to get the highest-paying criminals for a larger cut of the state’s money.

Like a college admissions outreach team, but for criminal justice.

Wouldn’t that be something?

In Full

Today is an auspicious day, friends.

After 22 years and change, my student loan is a nice, round zero. Done. Finished. Paid in full.

For the first time in my adult life, I am debt-free. I owe nobody a god-damned thing.

Slow and steady wins this race, sure, but I should never have gotten into this race to begin with. When things got skinny in school, I should’ve sought better options or gotten out.

Granted, some of my best life lessons happened in college, but the bulk of the great education happened outside the classroom. I had so many great and wonderful experiences in school, and they really opened my small-town mind to the big world out there. I wanted to travel, to bum around, to see the world first-hand and experience it, live in it, embrace it, suck the marrow from its bones. But that crippling college debt convinced me I wasn’t able to do any of that. So I stayed in my rut and kept digging.

College showed me the world and then my signatures on 11 semesters of promissory notes kept me from being in it.

Now, this is a game-changer. There are new levels of income I can go down to and still get by. That buys a lot of breathing room. I don’t know what I’m going to do from here on out. The next obvious step, you say, is to buy a house, but I may’ve said before that I will never be able to buy property here in Austin. Why get out of a minor debt to jump into a massive debt? It just doesn’t seem worth it to me.

What I will do, however, is save as much as I can, live as frugally as I do already, and hold onto what I can. If you’ve ever lived in debt, you’ve learned that you just can’t trust the future. I certainly can’t trust the future, and I don’t enjoy the present, and I’m ashamed of the past.

So I’ll just coast for a while and enjoy this. It’s a nice change of status. Debt-Free. I like how that sounds.