Too much Mountain Dew made me forget my blog. At least that is the working theory at the moment. I am planning to drink only water for an entire month, starting July 2nd. I will eat normally but no juice, no coffee and no Mountain Dew! I am just curious what will happen. I should lose some weight since I drink gallons of fluids every day.
Plenty of drama in my life at the moment, but not much that is bloggable. Right now it is so hot outside that I am just sitting at home with two air conditioners running and playing video games. I realize that is not the most productive thing I could be doing, but I have been in the mood lately. Killed a lot of people playing Bond today. No, I wasn't imagining they were real people. I am practicing the art of choosing to be happy even though there are plenty of reasons to be pissed off. It is working pretty well so far. That combined with feeling sorry for the haters rather than hating them.
I am pretty sure that is the first time I have ever used the word 'hater'. Possibly this was the last.
I haven't thought much about what I could post, because I literally forgot about my blog for a while. Too much else going on, I suppose. But I shall attempt to get back on track and refocus my efforts. Actually I took a great picture but my phone won't send it because it takes too much memory or something. Anti-that.
As for the picture above, I am actually DRINKING from the glass. It is larger than my head, which itself is larger than average. Water, my trademark drink for the next month.... After the month is over, perhaps I will celebrate by ordering the $50 beer that comes in this glass!
Showing posts with label Ponderous. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ponderous. Show all posts
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Oh my head!
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Cacophonous Bleating: Hack on Hack
Warning: Overly self-analytical psycho-babble may be contained in the following post.
Last week I had a day, actually just an evening, where it was nearly impossible to look at things positively. For a number of hours, no matter what happened, some dark childish monster inside me was spinning negativity into all my thoughts. Ok, that might be a bit passive, like I don't claim responsibility for it myself. But I let the monster out. "I" being, I suppose, the rational being, allowing emotions to have a joyride and ignore all the traffic signals. I have the driver's license, but at some point I let the DCM take the wheel. I just kind of watched.
I never talk on the phone. Well, rarely. But for some reason that night I talked to four different people on the phone. Gradually that helped me get back in the driver's seat. That, a stupid but humorous movie (the first 30 minutes of it, anyway), and a good book. By the time I went to bed I was feeling much better, but not before having a few collisions.
I am relatively certain that I am relatively normal. But I am open to debate. Does anyone else feel like there is a veritable herd of 'animals' inside, various manifestations of emotional energy, all in need of constant management in order to maintain at least a semblance of harmony, of synthesis? And that to keep them all in check perfectly is next to impossible, but at the same time that which you inherently know you should strive for? Is this the meaning of integrity? When the herd is living together in peace, I am my best self. But usually there are at least a few strays, and if I let them wander too long it throws off the balance and the whole group gets restless. Like a shepherd managing the flock that constitutes his very being. "Just being" is not always such an easy proposition.
In any case I am thankful for friends that call me back to myself, though usually unwittingly, and for the small things in life that remind me of the joy of living. This week I have been rediscovering some of these: literature, music, and even tackling a sudoku puzzle now and then have perhaps stimulated parts of my mind that were craving attention. Not that I hadn't been reading, or listening to music or using my mind. Just that I needed to do those things with a different perspective, one of feeding myself with what I need rather than eating whatever I happened to come across in my daily routine. A more intentional approach has reawakened my appetite for life, at least in a sense. I think maybe the isolation I sometimes feel being in Japan with few very good friends nearby has taken a toll on me, dulling my experience of life. It's as if in order to deal with the loneliness I have become comfortably numb. Yes I realize that is a Pink Floyd song and to be honest I have never thought much about it. But I am going to listen to it right now as I walk to the dentist. Sorry for imposing my marching band of introspection on your unprepared ears. Especially since we are still early in rehearsals.
BGM: Radiohead: Kid A
Last week I had a day, actually just an evening, where it was nearly impossible to look at things positively. For a number of hours, no matter what happened, some dark childish monster inside me was spinning negativity into all my thoughts. Ok, that might be a bit passive, like I don't claim responsibility for it myself. But I let the monster out. "I" being, I suppose, the rational being, allowing emotions to have a joyride and ignore all the traffic signals. I have the driver's license, but at some point I let the DCM take the wheel. I just kind of watched.
I never talk on the phone. Well, rarely. But for some reason that night I talked to four different people on the phone. Gradually that helped me get back in the driver's seat. That, a stupid but humorous movie (the first 30 minutes of it, anyway), and a good book. By the time I went to bed I was feeling much better, but not before having a few collisions.
I am relatively certain that I am relatively normal. But I am open to debate. Does anyone else feel like there is a veritable herd of 'animals' inside, various manifestations of emotional energy, all in need of constant management in order to maintain at least a semblance of harmony, of synthesis? And that to keep them all in check perfectly is next to impossible, but at the same time that which you inherently know you should strive for? Is this the meaning of integrity? When the herd is living together in peace, I am my best self. But usually there are at least a few strays, and if I let them wander too long it throws off the balance and the whole group gets restless. Like a shepherd managing the flock that constitutes his very being. "Just being" is not always such an easy proposition.
In any case I am thankful for friends that call me back to myself, though usually unwittingly, and for the small things in life that remind me of the joy of living. This week I have been rediscovering some of these: literature, music, and even tackling a sudoku puzzle now and then have perhaps stimulated parts of my mind that were craving attention. Not that I hadn't been reading, or listening to music or using my mind. Just that I needed to do those things with a different perspective, one of feeding myself with what I need rather than eating whatever I happened to come across in my daily routine. A more intentional approach has reawakened my appetite for life, at least in a sense. I think maybe the isolation I sometimes feel being in Japan with few very good friends nearby has taken a toll on me, dulling my experience of life. It's as if in order to deal with the loneliness I have become comfortably numb. Yes I realize that is a Pink Floyd song and to be honest I have never thought much about it. But I am going to listen to it right now as I walk to the dentist. Sorry for imposing my marching band of introspection on your unprepared ears. Especially since we are still early in rehearsals.
BGM: Radiohead: Kid A
Friday, May 05, 2006
Osaka at 5 a.m.
Sometimes I need to get out and go for a walk, alone, to clear my head. Last Saturday morning was one of those times. Unusual for me to be out and about at such an hour, so I took the opportunity to take some photos with my mobile phone camera. Somehow the blurriness seems appropriate.
I felt blurry and so did Osaka. I went to a dance club because a friend invited me. The truth is, I don't actually like dance clubs. At all. And I don't dance much, either. If at all. But I like staying up late and meeting interesting people. Not that many options. I enjoyed socializing and the music was good, so I am glad I went. But after 6 hours or so of it, I had had all I could take of crowded venues full of strangers who all seemed to know each other, so I took a morning stroll to the train station. Of course I got a little lost. But I eventually made it home. The older I get, the more I realize that there is a lot that I just don't get about people, including myself. But that, I suppose, makes things more interesting. Right?
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Influenza as Incentive
After 21 hours straight in bed, I am finally able to do more than just lay around wishing I were doing something. Arguably, blogging is doing something, so here I begin. I tried this once before, when living in Taiwan, but apparently my account was deleted due to inactivity. It is a good thing inactivity does not always lead to deletion....
Why does this thermometer take so long to beep? Honestly, five minutes? Then again, at least it is in my armpit and not somewhere more unpleasant. Who thought of the rectal thermometer anyway? I mean of all the places one could conceive of to... never mind. Still waiting for the beep....
At last! Survey says: 36.5 degrees Celsius. That, I am pretty sure, is good. Yesterday it was 39.3.
Oh yeah and speaking of shoving long foreign objects into various orifices, I had to do this with what can most easily be described as an elongated Q-Tip, minus most of the soft cotton end, at the hospital yesterday. The doctor, who was kind of cute and about my age, and female too, said in quite matter of fact Japanese: "This is going to hurt." Uh, yeah, OK, well thanks for the warning. So she started, rather unceremoniously, to put it in, and I immediately jumped back. She seemed to have no appreciation for the fact that this was territory heretofore untrodden by the patient in question. No one ever tried to stick anything up my nose before, and I needed time to get used to the idea. I asked if there were no other ways to see if I really had the flu, and she said nope, this was the only way. One more scrap of my innocence to be taken by the Land of the Rising Sun. Finally I asked if I could do it myself. I like to be in control of this kind of thing (doesn't everyone?). I switched nostrils and, ever so slowly, in it went. Not so many years ago I would inhale spaghetti noodles through my nose and pull them out of my mouth, mainly to sicken friends, acquaintances, and random onlookers. But even that did not prepare me for the incomparable sensation of the super-swab. I felt a little violated, to be honest, when the doctor was doing it. And what's worse, I told her so. Though I know how to be polite in Japanese, I failed utterly on this occasion. After the ordeal I apologized profusely for my rudeness, but I knew the damage was probably already done. Any ideas I might have had about a cup of green tea after work were crushed before they could blossom.
An interesting tangent, while on the topic of Japanese medical practice: A few months ago an Australian friend of mine had way too much to drink and managed to find a way to get hit in the head by a subway. (Speculation continues as to how he accomplished this feat, but two of the more credible theories are: 1) He was bending over to throw up on the tracks; 2) He was looking to see if the train was coming yet and, alas, it came.) When I heard the news, I and a Japanese friend went directly to the hospital to see him. She took it upon herself to tell the hospital staff that I was his cousin, and advised me not to speak any Japanese. Somewhat reluctantly I went along with her ruse. Since he believed me to be family, the doctor told us the whole prognosis. This is what he said: "He is in a coma. He will never come out of it. His brain is like tofu. He is a human vegetable." That was all in Japanese. Then he looked at me and asked, in perfect English, "Have you been able to contact his parents?" "Uh... no," was my clever reply. Anyway, to make a long story short, that same friend of mine, after waking up from his coma and going back to Australia for a few months, is now back in Japan doing business again. I told him what the doctor had said and his response was: "I love proving people wrong!" Apparently the saying "always get a second opinion" holds doubly true in Japan! It seems that because of cultural differences, doctors here prefer to paint a pretty dark picture of the situation, then if reality proves to be brighter, all the better. For if they were to hold out hope which would later be deferred, that would be shameful. This is not my observation only, but comes from many conversations with Japanese friends who all agreed that Japanese doctors, as a rule, have a tendency to be rather pessimistic. So remember that if you are ever in Japan. They may SAY you are dying, but you might just have dandruff.
Why does this thermometer take so long to beep? Honestly, five minutes? Then again, at least it is in my armpit and not somewhere more unpleasant. Who thought of the rectal thermometer anyway? I mean of all the places one could conceive of to... never mind. Still waiting for the beep....
At last! Survey says: 36.5 degrees Celsius. That, I am pretty sure, is good. Yesterday it was 39.3.
Oh yeah and speaking of shoving long foreign objects into various orifices, I had to do this with what can most easily be described as an elongated Q-Tip, minus most of the soft cotton end, at the hospital yesterday. The doctor, who was kind of cute and about my age, and female too, said in quite matter of fact Japanese: "This is going to hurt." Uh, yeah, OK, well thanks for the warning. So she started, rather unceremoniously, to put it in, and I immediately jumped back. She seemed to have no appreciation for the fact that this was territory heretofore untrodden by the patient in question. No one ever tried to stick anything up my nose before, and I needed time to get used to the idea. I asked if there were no other ways to see if I really had the flu, and she said nope, this was the only way. One more scrap of my innocence to be taken by the Land of the Rising Sun. Finally I asked if I could do it myself. I like to be in control of this kind of thing (doesn't everyone?). I switched nostrils and, ever so slowly, in it went. Not so many years ago I would inhale spaghetti noodles through my nose and pull them out of my mouth, mainly to sicken friends, acquaintances, and random onlookers. But even that did not prepare me for the incomparable sensation of the super-swab. I felt a little violated, to be honest, when the doctor was doing it. And what's worse, I told her so. Though I know how to be polite in Japanese, I failed utterly on this occasion. After the ordeal I apologized profusely for my rudeness, but I knew the damage was probably already done. Any ideas I might have had about a cup of green tea after work were crushed before they could blossom.
An interesting tangent, while on the topic of Japanese medical practice: A few months ago an Australian friend of mine had way too much to drink and managed to find a way to get hit in the head by a subway. (Speculation continues as to how he accomplished this feat, but two of the more credible theories are: 1) He was bending over to throw up on the tracks; 2) He was looking to see if the train was coming yet and, alas, it came.) When I heard the news, I and a Japanese friend went directly to the hospital to see him. She took it upon herself to tell the hospital staff that I was his cousin, and advised me not to speak any Japanese. Somewhat reluctantly I went along with her ruse. Since he believed me to be family, the doctor told us the whole prognosis. This is what he said: "He is in a coma. He will never come out of it. His brain is like tofu. He is a human vegetable." That was all in Japanese. Then he looked at me and asked, in perfect English, "Have you been able to contact his parents?" "Uh... no," was my clever reply. Anyway, to make a long story short, that same friend of mine, after waking up from his coma and going back to Australia for a few months, is now back in Japan doing business again. I told him what the doctor had said and his response was: "I love proving people wrong!" Apparently the saying "always get a second opinion" holds doubly true in Japan! It seems that because of cultural differences, doctors here prefer to paint a pretty dark picture of the situation, then if reality proves to be brighter, all the better. For if they were to hold out hope which would later be deferred, that would be shameful. This is not my observation only, but comes from many conversations with Japanese friends who all agreed that Japanese doctors, as a rule, have a tendency to be rather pessimistic. So remember that if you are ever in Japan. They may SAY you are dying, but you might just have dandruff.
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