Waxing & Waning Interests

 

"I may have not been sure about what really did interest me but I was absolutely sure about what didn't." - Albert Camus

The topic of "interests" came up the other evening whilst we waited for darkness to fall and fireworks of commence. At first there some generalized debate about the concept of what exactly are interests. Hobbies, perhaps? Reading genres. Politics, sports, life, death, security, love, cats . . .

Overnight I pondered what interests I have these days and more interesting to me, what interests have fallen away over the years.

Sports come to mind. Professional sports in particular. I might check an NBA score, if the Warriors are playing. During the season I note the standings ever week or so, but watching a game before the finals, never again. And this year I even surfed a bit during the games. I do like to catch Pardon the Interruption on ESPN, but that's for the commentary and critique of the games, which bolsters my waning interest. 

Politics remains a high priority for a couple of reasons. First, the psychology of the nation around who, what, when, where and WFT! Second, those fascist bastards are attacking fundamental rights. But that discussion, we all follow on a daily basis. Politics as an American hobby has become a blood sport for more than just the engaged participants.

Poker Speaking of a hobby or three. I still play a far bit of poker online. Not so much live poker up here in Michigan. I do miss the live games at the rec. centers in The Villages down in Florida. The other parts of my poker obsession with the professional players and tournaments has been left behind.

Las Vegas -greed, greed, greed . . . never again.

Reading I still read some science-fiction but my leisure reading is a lot more diverse these days. Some best sellers and a fair number of classics I never got around to in my career filled younger days. For age related reasons, I read a fair amount of medical journal articles, both for my own maladies and those of friends and family.

Travel is really off my radar in my dotage. I last time I was on a plane I returned from Australia in 2007. After that I did a lot of driving around the country: California, Oregon, Nevada, Texas, Michigan and Florida plus all the pass-thru states to reach those destinations. These days the road feels like a chore without a pot of gold at the end of the highway.

Educational exploration remains a sustaining interest though now mediated via the internet. The last time I sat in the classroom was in the 20-teens when I took advantage of the elder programs at UCBerkeley. The policy then was free audits to seniors in any class that was not full.

So, in conclusion, I wrote this blog over six weeks ago and never hit the 'publish' button. I guess blogging is also a fading interest.

Rest In Peace Gator

REPOST: This is a repost from June 2011.

July 16, 2021: A friend is attending a funeral today for her friend who "got a gun and took his life." I learned of this news while listening to an NPR interview from 2016 with Anthony Bourdain. Seems like a good time to repost this piece about our dear friend Randy.

                                                                   ~

2011: A good friend died this week. He took his own life. We are all shocked and saddened by his passing and we are all asking ourselves - why? Which is to say, we are having the normal human reaction to such an unnecessary loss.

I am not going to praise him here, most of you did not know him. For those who did, we will find the time and place to share our memories. Today I am going to do something in his honor.

This is for our lost friend.

If you read this blog and you have my phone number then I ask should you ever feel so lost, so alone that you consider leaving us, I beg you to use that number and call me. If you read this blog and you don't have my phone number then I ask that you call that person today, the one who you talk to when times are darkest. Call them today and agree that should you ever walk too close to the edge, you will reach out to them. You make that promise in the light of day; promise you will cry out past the darkness. Make the promise, make it today.

My friend called me at times when he brushed against his demons and we would look at the world in ways only two friends in conversation could, I believe it helped. This time he didn't call and all of us are left to ask - why.

Rest in Peace Randy, we will miss you for a long, long time.

Internet Factoid of the Year - 2016

In an article about the python invasion of the Florida Everglades, I found this factoid.

It seems that Guam was invaded by the Brown Tree Snake after the species was introduced by all of the naval cargo ships during World War II. The snakes nearly wiped out the native bird populations in the years that followed. 

But enterprising naturalists found a couple of ways to finally eliminate the snake threat and thereby create my nominee for Internet Factoid of the Year.

"During World War II, heavy ship traffic brought the non-native brown tree snake to the island. There had never been a snake species on that island before, and the local birds had no idea how to evade it. In the decades since, 12 native bird species have gone extinct.

“That really shows how we’ve underestimated these animals in the past,” Boback says. “It took literally 20 years for scientists to admit that the brown tree snake was established and was causing population declines of these birds.” 

Eventually, officials did figure out how to deal with the brown tree snake in Guam. They devised clever traps, baited with live mice, that the snakes could squirm into but couldn’t easily escape. More recently, people have injected dead mice with acetaminophen (Tylenol) — which is deadly to snakes — and fired the mice out of a helicopter into trees to bait and kill the snakes. Once an area is cleared of snakes, they can reintroduce bird species." (Vox.com)

My nominee for Internet Factoid of the Year: Tylenol laced dead mice fired into trees from helicopters.

Playing the Cards You're Dealt

"We play the cards we're dealt."

"Just play the cards you're dealt."

"You can only play the cards you're dealt."

Interesting, yes I get the intent of the aphorism. No, not a metaphor, a simile or an analogy. Can you tell I've been immersed in editing the last few weeks?

Anyway, the meaning is simple. We get certain plusses and minuses in life and we make the best or the worst of them. Usually somewhere in between for most of us. But that's not how card games work. 

A single hand is not a lifetime, it's a moment, an opportunity, a chance. You play or not. Folding your hand is always an option. It isn't like life, you don't commit everything to a single deal of the cards, unless you choose to. 

In any card room or casino, these words are always spoken: 

"There's another hand just around the corner, 

you don't have to play this one."

That feels more like real life to me. We are presented with circumstances, sometimes of our own making, other times not. Free Will intervenes and allows us to play or pass. Yes, I know sometimes you feel like your choices are limited or non-existent, but so many of those situations are of our own making.

Most of the time, as adults, we have options. In this First World society, we have gobs and gobs of options. Sure, some things are fixed, even immutable but others not so much. Take your health for example. Can't change your DNA or not eat all those years of burgers and ice cream. But you can intervene now.

You may be holding a poor five card hand but the rules of this game allows you to discard and draw new cards. Your choice, play the hand you're dealt or step up and change the content of your hand and perhaps your life.

Voldemort Death Card image first found on Deviant Art

Chocolate

See I promised, no more politics. So let's get to something imminently more important -- Chocolate for Breakfast. A long-term study out of Syracuse University has shown that the consumption of chocolate is actually good for you.

"Habitual chocolate intake was related to cognitive performance, measured with an extensive battery of neuropsychological tests. More frequent chocolate consumption was significantly associated with better performance on these tests." 

The article goes on to point out that a high calorie breakfast can help you to lose weight. In fact, breakfast with dessert is even recommended. In a hurry in the morning? Skip breakfast but eat dessert.

The Catch-22 of this great morning news is that when the cocoa craving hits late at night, we really ought to be munching on a carrot or a yummy stalk of celery.

"Please don't throw me in the briar patch chocolate vat."

A Question (#1 in a series)

“Socialism never took root in America because the poor see themselves not as an exploited proletariat but as temporarily embarrassed millionaires.” -- John Steinbeck

How do you, how does anyone defend the right of the 1% to be greedy, avaristic bastards?

I asked that question of a friend of a friend, a known moderate republican. Okay, so I might have softened the wording just a bit, but I got an immediate answer.

"I don't know why anyone begrudges another person the right to make a lot of money."

I let that sit for awhile and then followed up with this: "Don't you think someone who has become wealthy based in this system of free enterprise. Don't you think they owe something to country that gave them the freedom to make all that money?"

"What exactly did the government give them?"

I had to go with the obvious answer: "Well let's see. Roads and railways to transport their goods, the Internet to advertise and make sales. An educated workforce via the public school system. Tax breaks . . . shall I go on?"

"What do you think they should give back?"

"Well, first it would be nice if they paid taxes and didn't ship jobs out of the country."

"But both of those are legal."

"So, you're okay with someone dodging taxes using IRS loopholes, while you pay your fair share and you don't come home to a swimming pool, a vacation villa and half a dozen luxury cars?"

"I am perfectly find with it. It's called the American Dream."

Clearly, this lady and others like her have a very different Dream than I do. Though their view of fairness does remind me of what happens some  dark nights, only I call them -- nightmares.

art credit: timeline photos

Political Comment of the Week

The first one up top is mine. I thought it captured the sense of the week before the Supreme Court spoke to marriage freedom.

The photo below, I received from a friend labeled as "alternative flag commentary."

Later, I got another. I really like this one, yes it's photoshopped and sexist and mean-spirited but I couldn't find one of Sarah Palin.

Damn! I just found out Ann Coulter is yesterday's news.

All Those Years Ago

My life changed 25 years ago today. Old friends from that time will know what I mean, some of them share the memory and the change. The event is not the point.

Change is.

How many times in your life has some event, some minor alteration, something completely happenstance or inevitably a person changed your life?

Sometimes it's immediate, Saul being struck from his stead. Other times, most of the time, there is just a slight nudge on your path. Often we miss it when it happens, but later, if we practice reflection, the ripples can be seen as a slowly rising tide that carried us away.

Think about it, no really think about it. In just a few moments I can think of 5 individuals who changed my life. More than just a great professor, an amazing lover or a challenge put to me; well, maybe the lover; but it's your life, do your own inspecting

Simple choices eventually altered my life forever.

The final play of the Stockbridge game.

A sixteen year old applying to just one college, because the high school counselor handed over just a single application.

A friend who signed me up for the real estate exam and then told me I had two weeks to study.

A woman I didn't love, who told me she loved me.

A catalog in an unread pile for over year, only to somehow appear a day before the deadline.

. . . and first, last and always -- the magical time that ended June 19, 1990.

For One of My Best Friends

and her ever present to-do list . . .

I got nothin'

. . . time in the turgid backwaters of life.

Some Days

Today is bright and sunny around San Francisco. A light marine haze lays over the coastal strip but it is unseasonably warm. I know this type of day gives many people a mood lift. Rain does that for me, but sun seems to be the go-to mother nature stimulant for most.

I took a long, walk this morning, sticking to the sunny sides of the streets. I'm usually a shade guy myself. But today, I hoped to wash away a bit of shadow that lingers in my soul.

This morning a friend of over 50 years has gone away. She was ill, so very ill. Others will say that passing was a blessing. It may have been, only she can know that now. For me, it's another lost friend.

When you say you have known someone for 50 or 60 years, it leads inevitably to the place where you no longer have them around, even if they were only an email or facebook post away. Slowly they aren't there anymore.

We knew each other in high school, afterwards our paths didn't cross for twenty years. When they did, it was hit and miss for awhile and suddenly a short, intense time for both of us. Then it was back to holiday letters and infrequent contact. Somehow another 25 years passed.

So, today is sunny. Remember on your next bright, clear day that for some the light is a little dimmer, doesn't penetrate as deeply. We all pulse with the fullness then the emptiness of life. Share your light while you may.

Some days are not like all the others.

Prolotherapy

I've had a pain in my lower back for fifty-two years. Tried many therapeutic approaches to deal with the pain and chased dozens of potential cures. Belts, needles, pills, ointments, manipulations, machinery, prayer, anger and offerings to both light and dark deities. Then back in September I went to see a new cannabis doctor to renew my medical card. He gave me a diagnosis I had never heard before and referred to a therapy also new to me. Because I was days away from hitting the road for 3+ months, I didn't pursue this avenue until I returned last month. On December 29th, I had my first in a series of Prolotherapy treatments.

Prolotherapy involves the injection of a irritant solution into either joint space, or into a weakened ligament or tendon. Dextrose is the most common solution used with some local anesthetic and other additives. The injection is administered at joints or tendons where there is connection to bone, in my case vertebrae. In addition, I also had platelets injected into the tears and holes in the lower back/spine structures. The process involves taking blood I donate and then spin it down in a centrifuge to extract only the platelets.

Because I am having both forms of therapy my interval between treatments is eight weeks. I am not due for a second treatment until late next month. The anticipated course of treatment is based on decades of evidence. I am not and should not expect any changes that rise to the level of 'healing' until after the second treatment. So as of now I am where I have been for five decades. But with a degree of cautious hope.

I will say that extensive research prior to going under the needles leads me to believe I am in the prime category for having prolotherapy be effective. More reports will follow. My fingers, toes and vertebrae are crossed and I am doing the other work (physical therapy, aqua-aerobics and extensive walking) to compliment the treatments. Please remember me and my sacroiliac in your offerings and supplications to deities of all persuasions.

Reflections from My Window

Regular readers know I live with a truly amazing view out my windows on the San Francisco Bay. Previous photographic evidence may be found and fondly remembered here, here, here, here, and, of course, here.

But there is also a neighborhood below my view. Just in the last week I have had several quixotic experiences through my personal looking glass. First came the new municipal lighting. Berkeley changed out all the old sodium street lights with LED canisters. The savings in electricity apparently was well worth retrofitting the entire city. Good for the earth but a side benefit is that all of the LED illumination is direct downward to the street. Up here on the eight floor it is suddenly dark at night. No, not out in the forest dark, but much less bright than before.

I came home christmas day to find a colony, not a flock, of seagulls wheeling around outside my window. Being close to the Bay, it's not uncommon to see gulls in the sky but this was at least twenty birds. They were all engaged in some swirling flight pattern over the adjacent buildings. Since I live in the tallest structure in the neighborhood, the aerial display was both above and below my floor. The contra flight went on for fifteen or twenty minutes before a loud cacophony of squawks and cries heralded a disbanding. The colony flew off in all directions.

Brief internet research turned up no explanation for the behavior.

Directly below my windows, eight floors down are two parking spaces, designated for contractors and/or maintenance staff. Early last week a thirty foot dumpster was delivered to that space. One of the units in the building is being emptied of old furnishings prior to being completely remodeled. The bin is half full of old furniture and detritus of someone's life. This next week deconstruction refuse will fill it to the brim.

But work slowed over the holiday week, which means that the discarded stuff would be picked over by any number of scavengers, urban miners and street people. A few days ago, I heard a loud conversation and looked down to see that one such scrounger had been surprised to find an obviously homeless man nested in one end of the dumpster. He had built quite a cozy space with discarded chair cushions for his bed and the chairs as windbreaks. He had a meal from KFC and then settled in for a long day nap.

A hour or so later, I was down in the garage and dropped him a twenty with wishes for his new year being more stable. He thanked me, our brief interaction finished.

Two nights later, I was reading and heard a shout and a thump. Now my building is all concrete, I hear nearly nothing from neighbors above or below. So hearing the noise was unusual. The sound was metallic, heavy metal even. I thought of the dumpster but at night the area is pitch black. From eight floors up I could see nothing. I watched and waited but still not a sound, until I started to slid the window shut -- then there was a low moan.

Shoes, jacket, keys and a flashlight, I went down. Different guy. Disoriented, couldn't tell if it was his normal state -- off his meds or perhaps the side effect of the lump on his forehead. Either way, I offered to drive him over the the ER. He declined. I asked him if he could stand up. He did and fell back into the trash. "Maybe I should go to the clinic," he said.

Don't know where the clinic is but there's a hospital ER three blocks away. I got us there and got him inside. He gave terse, rambling answers to the nurse at the desk. The second in charge gave me a sign to step aside and deliver my side of the story.

They took him right in, it could have been the six inch knob on his forehead or not, but they were going to find out. As soon as he disappeared into the treatment area, the security guard asked me to move my car out of the entrance lane.

"Go home," the nurse told me, "we'll keep him for observation until morning. You've done your holiday good deed. Go back to your book."

How did she know I was reading?

-pictures from Pinterest

Spreadsheet Sex

While I'm tempted to say -- "Now I've seen it all." I know better, we ain't seen nothin' yet. But this is one hell of a giant leap into the strange and prurient arena.

The Spreadsheet App measures several aspects of sexual performance. You load the app to your smart phone and then toss it on the bed next to where you plan to do the dirty deed.

The app measures duration of event, total number of thrusts and decibel peak. Screamer, you know you are a screamer. For any ladies in my immediate future -- no, I do not have the app. For everyone else out there in the wide world of sexual experience. Be very careful when your lover tosses his or her phone on the pillow, your performance might well be posted on the internet.

I mean we all have off nights . . .

But what if you're sleeping alone you ask. Well, there's an app for that too! I mean doesn't everyone need their personal sleep score . . .

Addendum: are there even stranger sex apps out there? You bet, take a look, if you dare.

Fordite

Last month I wrote about the Anthropocene Era, a time deep in the future when humans will be revealed by the geological footprint we are leaving today. Apparently a lot of the questions that alien geologists will be puzzling over will have to do with the residue our industrial age leaves behind. Those stones above are the result of excess automobile paint left by the factories that once flourish in Detroit and other sites around the world. Hence, the name Fordite, often also referred to as Detroit or Motor Agate. 

See more examples and a brief explanation here. Thanks to Amy for the world wide pointer to this slice of stoney art. And yes, of course, some of those beauties are toxic; I mean Duh!

image by Talyer Jewelry

The End of History Illusion

  “What we never seem to realize is that our future selves will look back and think the very same thing about us. At every age we think we’re having the last laugh, and at every age we’re wrong.” -Daniel Gilbert

The end-of-history illusion is a complex psychological postulation in which humans from teenage years through old age believe they have consistently experienced significant personal growth and changes in both likes and dislikes until the present, but will somehow not continue to mature in the future. Despite knowing how much we have changed in the last decade or more, we believe that ten years from now, they will think and feel the same as we do today.

There is a simple explanation for this phenomenon. In the past we are quite easily able to observe who we once were and then assess the changes we have made. Change that has already happened is personal history. Predicting or anticipating change in the future is much more difficult. Life will enfold in ways we cannot presently conceive and therefore we find it difficult to predict the processes of growth and change we will experience.

However, now that we know about the End of History Illusion; one might think we would at the very least alter conscious projections about our own future and anticipate the seemingly inevitable potential for change and personal growth. Now that you are aware of this illusion, you certainly will change your attitude towards your own future, won't you?

Which leads us to the question: What changes will you make in your life and how will those changes reflect in the person you will be in 2014?

pdf of full article from Science, 4 January 2013

Spirituality

"A workable definition of spirituality is one's emotional relationship with unanswerable questions." 

Jaron Lanier 

Religion therefore might be thought of as means of providing answers to unanswerable questions. Faith then is the overt reaction to the state of being where some important questions are indeed rationally unanswerable. Then again that might not be 'faith' it might just be existential dread.

For me personally, I am very fond of the questions and a life-long contemplation of potential answers. Always remembering the best words of wisdom I ever received.

"When we die, all of our great inquiries are answered but only after we discover we have spent a lifetime asking the wrong questions."

Online Information

Remember Lily Tomlin's character Ernestine on Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In and her famous tag-line: "We're the phone company, we don't care, we don't have to." Well this is a recent story and more importantly a little trick I learned during my time spent in the online customer service arena.

I needed a copy of my most recent Pacific Gas & Electric bill but I don't get a paper bill, I'm your paperless kind of guy. So I went on my bank's billing paying website only to discover that the bank software had a bug and my bill couldn't be displayed. No problem, I went to the PG&E website but they couldn't help me unless I signed in with my account number. But I didn't have my account number because, of course, on the bank website it showed as *00169. For safety purposed I couldn't see my own account number, just in case I was a hacker who had broken into the account and wanted to pay my bill.

Now I was in a nice little Catch-22; no bill without the account number and no account number without the bill. But I remembered a little trick I learned back in the 90s when I supervised customer service for . . . well that's another story.

Here's what I did, feel free to lift this little maneuver the next time you deal with the cyber version of customer service. I wrote an informative email requesting my account number. Gave them all my personal information and explained the online bill glitch at my bank. I sent it off to PG&E customer service. Then I waited an hour and sent it again. The next morning a sent the request a third and later a fourth time.

Two days later I got responses to all of my requests but from four different customer service drones.

Response #1: We cannot fulfill your request without further information. Please provide your account number. Mind you my account number was what I was requesting.

Response #2: We are unable to provide the information you requested online. Here is the address for the nearest PG&E office.

Response #3: This information is not available online but there is a phone number you can call.

Response #4: Thank you for your request for information from PG&E customer service. Here is your account number as requested.

You see they have these rules but they also have actual humanoids responding to your questions and needs; usually about 1 in 4 times you get someone who thinks for themself. Either that or they have dealt with 'customer service' in their own non-work life and they know it's an oxymoron 3 out of 4 times.

Dystopia

For a variety of reasons, I have become familiar with the various "lists" used by Amazon books. You probably know about the Top 100 Books and perhaps the Top Kindle sales list but Amazon literally has hundreds of these.

Take for instance How to Win Friends and Influence People written by Dale Carnegie, first published in 1936. It is currently the 387th best selling book on Amazon. But it also qualifies on three other uniquely Amazonian lists:

• #2 in Books > Business & Investing > Job Hunting & Careers > Guides
• #7 in Books > Self-Help > Relationships > Interpersonal Relations
• #18 in Books > Self-Help > Success

Then there is the current hot summer offering from Dan Brown - Inferno. Currently the best selling book on Amazon (well at least it is this hour, Amazon updates all of its list every hour). Inferno also rates a #1 on several other lists.

• #1 in Books > Literature & Fiction > Genre Fiction > Action & Adventure
• #1 in Books > Mystery, Thriller & Suspense > Thrillers > Suspense
• #7 in Books > Literature & Fiction > United States

How can the #1 book be #7 on the U.S. Literature and Fiction list? Blame it on the algorithm that runs the lists. But my point today is not about how Amazon rates every book it handles but what I have discovered about the Young Adult reading category. YA for those not yet in the know, refers to books marketed to the age demographic 12 to 18.

And what are the teens and pre-teens reading these days? Very dark fiction. Stories lean heavily to dystopia, post-apocalypse, plague, collapse, invasion and oh yes, vampires. Sure there is young love mixed in but a lot of heroes and heroines go the way of Romeo and Juliet, who if you forgot, ended up quite dead.

Psychologists and anthropologists are having a field day with the overwhelming rise of darkness in teen fiction. All kinds of phobias, psychosis and ominous predictions are being forwarded. My only suggestion is that you give The Lord of the Rings to any teenagers who cross your path. I considered Dante's Inferno since they are almost there anyway but if you really want to stir the morose, why not just give them Atlas Shrugged.

Yikes! that darkness stuff tends to rub off on you.

Powerhouse Fire (L.A.)

Awe and frightening beauty - photographs from the Powerhouse Fire in the Angeles National Forest. A truly amazing series of images from The Atlantic. Click on the hollow tree to see what I mean.