January 2010 I got a cortisol injection for my Ithiopathic Adhesive Encapsulitis, which finally fixed itself. There's nothing like not being able to lift or bend to highlight how fragile a body is, how easily an accident can alter one's lifestyle.
I spent a lot of time in Second Life, an on-line game where players create virtual versions of themselves, called avatars, and interact in a virtual world. A friend from high school, Amy Beltane, had introduced me to "UUtopia," a collection of virtual land parcels owned (well, actually, leased) by Unitarians on Second Life. At the time, Amy was attending seminary school, and her wife, Sharron, would meet in Second Life in their tricked-out treehouse. (This was before Skype was common.) When I first joined, UUtopia was bordered by Anarchists on one side, and Communists on the other.
I found Second Life interesting because players in it can design virtual objects; because I found the fuzzy boundary between the physical reality of people pushing buttons on a keyboard and the virtual reality of interacting with players' avatars fascinating on psychological, philosophical and theological levels; and because I could have interesting discussions with people. OK, it was really fun to make things, and before two weeks had gone out, I was scripting programs to build things.
Once I'd been introduced, the UUtopians were incredibly nice to me and let me build stuff on their land. I built Wiccan-flavored altars in Second Life that would chat the words of ritual in response or create a circle of blue flame in response to an accurately typed ritual phrase. I built candles that would echo the intents of the candle lighter when virtually touched. I made ritual labyrinths, glowing pentagrams, and hollow hills. Sometimes I would help out and make a foundation or dome or something.
Most of the other folks I met were not builders. They were programmers, grandmothers, students, poets, and many of them seemed to live on the east coast. I think the most interesting was the person who frequently wore a fox body -- so yes, I've had religious discussions with a fox. Occasionally, I would attend UU religious services in UUtopia (the UUtopians took leading services and giving sermons in turns); but since it was Mark's night out and I had to attend to The Child, this usually didn't work out. I did manage to present one night, and that was well received.
Sadly, Amy and Sharron got divorced. Which I leaned virtually. Expressing my condolences to both of them was one of those times where the virtual and the real seemed both extra virtual and extra real. Their parcel of land went up for sale.
Eventually, the UUtopians got tired of being collateral damage from the "Griefer War" going on between their neighbors. ("Griefing" in Second Life is when players do things like cause it to rain giant penises, or create objects that duplicate wildly and use up all the hosting server's resource with junk objects, or otherwise crash the party and behave obnoxiously.) They moved to a new island that was all UUtopia. The move -- with its discussion of rent and sub-letting -- made me uncomfortably aware of how I was playing in a sandbox that other people were paying for.
However, the UUtopians (for the most part) seemed pleased to have me tinkering around and building things for them. Probably the most involved build was a "bridge" (and café), which was like a museum of history display about the development of Neo-Paganism and its subsequent incorporation as a UU Sixth Source. At one end was a large world map, about ten feet across. I got some help and figured out a logarithmic scale so that fifty feet away from the map represented the year 2020, twenty-five feet away from the map represented the year zero CE, and fifteen feet away represented the compressed centuries of hominid development. Then I placed various markers (the death of Hypatia of Alexandrea) and objects (Stonehenge) along the time-line and lined up where they would be located on the map.
The objects had "hover text" over them labeling them. Some even would dispense virtual cards with museum text on them. What became evident to me was that there was a cluster of events around 1880 CE and 1980 CE, coinciding with the English mystery lodges in England (e.g. the Order of the Golden Dawn), and the introduction of Wicca and Goddess Worship in the United States. To be sure, there were markers for events before the Common Era, but there was also a gap after about 300 CE were events thinned out. But, to my mind at least, it showed how new Neo-Paganism (at least the Wicca-flavored part I'm most familiar with) is.
As 2010 progressed, and after the Bridge was more-or-less done, I spent less and less time in Second Life. The laptop I was using at the time was an older one, and I was at the trailing end of supported hardware for the game. I really wanted to design things in it, and I'd told myself the typical maker's lie that I could make a living selling Second Life merchandise; but the reality was that it was a hobby, not a job, and I felt like a mooch creating virtual stuff on other people's virtual land. Also, it was difficult not to spend less than an hour or two playing, and Second Life began to cut into my writing. And it was something that was difficult to share with the family.
Spring 2010 This was the year we had to get The Child into a school. We had some friends who were Montessori teachers who were encouraging us to enroll in their school (four blocks away!), but getting in depended on the openings at the school, which were assigned by lottery. The previous year, without the threat of enrollment hanging over our heads, Mark and I were able to look at the various schools calmly. We decided most of the 4J schools were fine, and that the temperament and qualities of the individual teachers would have a bigger impact than a particular school.
I was really glad we'd practiced getting into a school. The Eugene 4J school system has neighborhood schools, with the option for parents to move their kids to a non-neighborhood school if their kid gets a good number in the 4J lottery. It's supposed to be equitable and flexible, but it engenders a heightened sense of an educational scarcity and encourages a cult-like following in the school a family eventually chooses. I can't tell you how many frazzled parents I saw who were about to have a breakdown over the fear that they were somehow doing something wrong and about to mistakenly doom their child to a lifetime of consequences of Not Getting Into Yale.
The Child got good numbers, and we got into the Montessori system. Over the summer there had been a fire at the Montessori school, with the result that the kindergarten was no longer at the facility four blocks away. We wont discuss the Driving Habits of Other Parents (in SUVs).
I volunteered to help out with kindergarten P.E. Wow; the coach was a miracle worker, and I took several pages of notes from him.
September 2010: My story, "The View from the Top" got published on the Analog website: It was part of an experiment the Wordos did. We nailed down the main character, the setting, and the plot elements. Then everyone went out and wrote stories; the idea was to see if we could isolate parts of a story.
After we'd critiqued them, Jerry Oltion sent a packet of the stories to Stanley Schmidt, explaining what we'd done. Stanley chose Jerry's story for inclusion in the print version of the magazine, but was gracious enough to include the other stories he would have bought if he'd received them the standard way. Although it would have been nice to have the story printed, it was an honor and a thrill to be published electronically at Analog.
November 2010: I tried participating in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). That lasted about five days. Despite just writing and "daring to be bad," NaNoWriMo requires about two weeks of preparation before hand if anything is going to come out of it -- and I'd have to agree with the mother who recently wrote, "Whoever planned this thing wasn't a parent with familial expectations about Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas." One of these days I suppose I'll have NaNoWriMo in June/July.
December 2010: Was pretty much all about the lunar eclipse, which happened on the Winter Solstice. The holiday card was about the eclipse, I wrote haikus about the eclipse, and I concluded an early birthday celebration with a hike up the hill to see the eclipse.
When I think about 2010, I'd have to say that this was the year of virtual hopes and fears. So much of the focus was on the realm of ideas -- and what might or could happen.
Showing posts with label shoulder update. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shoulder update. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Decade In Review: 2009
Spring 2009
I was hanging out at the preschool after classes with a klatch of moms who shared lunch while our children played. The discussion wandered from construction contracters to men in general. At one point one of the moms realized they were trashing men, paused, looked me in the eye, said, "No offence," and went right on trashing men.
This was the most blatant encounter with what I would call "The Soccer Mom Club." The SMC wasn't limited to any particular place. At other times, I could be speaking with one or two member of the SMC; but if they reached a critical mass, they would either slowly close ranks into a circle with me on the outside, or spontaneously Feel The Need to Have a Deeply Personal Discussion (which would be signaled by a demi-glare -- eye-brows down, head thrust forward, chest turned away and a shoulder aimed in my general direction, and an unspoken "why don't you run off and do your little guy-things?" -- before backs were turned toward me). If I didn't get the hint, the conversation would stall, and in the awkward silence, I would be stared at.
I could never quite tell if I was being excluded because I was a guy, or because I was gay, or both.
March 2009. Under the (non) guidance of the new(ish) settled minister, I officially withdrew my membership at the Covenant of Unitarian Universalist Pagans and the UU in Eugene. I was devoting a whole lot of time to something that wasn't speaking to me. This resulted in a bitchy, sarcastic, thirty page critique of (Eugene) NeoPaganism. The Nice Version got posted to the blog.
When I think about my spirituality, I wish I could do it in a community setting, but I haven't found a community that's a good fit. My credo is that one should attempt to live in a state of dynamic balance between different modalities of being (logical, emotional, physical, spiritual) and the cosmos. OK, and I like numinous moments.
I'm still interested to some extent in group Neo-Pagan Ritual with other Gay Men, but the more I think about it, the more gender and eros seems like a mask deity wears for the benefit of human comprehension. And the less involved I become in gender and orientation identity politics, the more connecting spiritually to trees and avoiding humanoid depictions of deity makes more sense.
April 2009. Still feeling the burn of not preparing for preschool, Mark and I started looking at various kindergartens a year early. We decided that most schools are pretty much the same, that the individual teachers probably have a larger impact than the general school, and that Parent Associations are functionally the same as cults.
We were pretty sure we'd try to get into a Montessori school, mostly because we already knew some of the teaching staff there and because it was less than four blocks away from our home.
July 2009. While at the beach, The Child cut open his big toe with a clam gun. This happened at the same time that I was alone with him on the beach, on the strand, when the tide turn and inundated all the plastic pirates we'd set up in the sand.
Part of me wanted to gather all the plastic toys floating away in the surf while I slung a shrieking child onto my shoulder for the trek back to the beach house. I jogged from the surf until my breath started coming out in puffs. I walked quickly through the dunes and grasses, wondering if The Child's toe was still attached. And then I started walking, with a stitch in my side, realizing that I would be a failure if a tsunami were coming and that I was a total failure anyway because now my Child would be maimed for life because I couldn't toss him over my shoulder and run a half-mile over sand in less than three minutes. And I was an unfit parent. And a lousy gay husband for being out-of-shape.
Thankfully, Mark was at the house, because the rest of the folks there were Mostly Not Helpful.
August 2009. We're not sure if it was coming off of the water slide at the local pool the wrong way, or catching The Child a million times in the pool at my folks', but over the summer I developed Ithiopathic Adhesive Encapsulitis. Every now and then I'd have a moment where I would forgot that my shoulder and humerus were essentially fused, reach out to catch a football or open a door the wrong way, and nearly fall over from the pain.
I wound up seeing a physical therapist who seemed have gotten his certification straight out of high school (he was young). The pain meds I was taking to help me sleep through the night made me loopy and destroyed my short term memory; after a while weren't doing anything to help, so I stopped using them. I ended up doing a zillion stretches.
I was lucky, because although my shoulder Really Hurt A Lot, it didn't hurt all the time. And the PT helped. But I still couldn't lift things or get books from shelves above my head. Having a frozen shoulder made me feel ancient and useless and crippled.
Not being able to move my shoulders made dancing the Abbot's Bromely Horn dance at Shrewsbury difficult, and sleeping on the ground in a tent impossible. This was the first time in almost a decade that I hadn't camped on site at Shrewsbury -- and I didn't miss it.
Late 2009, I sold two stories to Thaumatrope, a Twitter e-zine. With a 120 character limit, these were fun to write and gratifying to see tweeted. I wrote one in thirty seconds, in the clutch of inspiration, after The Child ate a Christmas Angel Cookie's wings off. Sadly, Thaumatrope closed a year or so later.
This year was the first year where I was confronted by the limits of my body. I think I don't worry too much about getting old, but it would be really nice if I wasn't in chronic pain. Also, opening doors shouldn't be that hard.
I was hanging out at the preschool after classes with a klatch of moms who shared lunch while our children played. The discussion wandered from construction contracters to men in general. At one point one of the moms realized they were trashing men, paused, looked me in the eye, said, "No offence," and went right on trashing men.
This was the most blatant encounter with what I would call "The Soccer Mom Club." The SMC wasn't limited to any particular place. At other times, I could be speaking with one or two member of the SMC; but if they reached a critical mass, they would either slowly close ranks into a circle with me on the outside, or spontaneously Feel The Need to Have a Deeply Personal Discussion (which would be signaled by a demi-glare -- eye-brows down, head thrust forward, chest turned away and a shoulder aimed in my general direction, and an unspoken "why don't you run off and do your little guy-things?" -- before backs were turned toward me). If I didn't get the hint, the conversation would stall, and in the awkward silence, I would be stared at.
I could never quite tell if I was being excluded because I was a guy, or because I was gay, or both.
March 2009. Under the (non) guidance of the new(ish) settled minister, I officially withdrew my membership at the Covenant of Unitarian Universalist Pagans and the UU in Eugene. I was devoting a whole lot of time to something that wasn't speaking to me. This resulted in a bitchy, sarcastic, thirty page critique of (Eugene) NeoPaganism. The Nice Version got posted to the blog.
When I think about my spirituality, I wish I could do it in a community setting, but I haven't found a community that's a good fit. My credo is that one should attempt to live in a state of dynamic balance between different modalities of being (logical, emotional, physical, spiritual) and the cosmos. OK, and I like numinous moments.
I'm still interested to some extent in group Neo-Pagan Ritual with other Gay Men, but the more I think about it, the more gender and eros seems like a mask deity wears for the benefit of human comprehension. And the less involved I become in gender and orientation identity politics, the more connecting spiritually to trees and avoiding humanoid depictions of deity makes more sense.
April 2009. Still feeling the burn of not preparing for preschool, Mark and I started looking at various kindergartens a year early. We decided that most schools are pretty much the same, that the individual teachers probably have a larger impact than the general school, and that Parent Associations are functionally the same as cults.
We were pretty sure we'd try to get into a Montessori school, mostly because we already knew some of the teaching staff there and because it was less than four blocks away from our home.
July 2009. While at the beach, The Child cut open his big toe with a clam gun. This happened at the same time that I was alone with him on the beach, on the strand, when the tide turn and inundated all the plastic pirates we'd set up in the sand.
Part of me wanted to gather all the plastic toys floating away in the surf while I slung a shrieking child onto my shoulder for the trek back to the beach house. I jogged from the surf until my breath started coming out in puffs. I walked quickly through the dunes and grasses, wondering if The Child's toe was still attached. And then I started walking, with a stitch in my side, realizing that I would be a failure if a tsunami were coming and that I was a total failure anyway because now my Child would be maimed for life because I couldn't toss him over my shoulder and run a half-mile over sand in less than three minutes. And I was an unfit parent. And a lousy gay husband for being out-of-shape.
Thankfully, Mark was at the house, because the rest of the folks there were Mostly Not Helpful.
August 2009. We're not sure if it was coming off of the water slide at the local pool the wrong way, or catching The Child a million times in the pool at my folks', but over the summer I developed Ithiopathic Adhesive Encapsulitis. Every now and then I'd have a moment where I would forgot that my shoulder and humerus were essentially fused, reach out to catch a football or open a door the wrong way, and nearly fall over from the pain.
I wound up seeing a physical therapist who seemed have gotten his certification straight out of high school (he was young). The pain meds I was taking to help me sleep through the night made me loopy and destroyed my short term memory; after a while weren't doing anything to help, so I stopped using them. I ended up doing a zillion stretches.
I was lucky, because although my shoulder Really Hurt A Lot, it didn't hurt all the time. And the PT helped. But I still couldn't lift things or get books from shelves above my head. Having a frozen shoulder made me feel ancient and useless and crippled.
Not being able to move my shoulders made dancing the Abbot's Bromely Horn dance at Shrewsbury difficult, and sleeping on the ground in a tent impossible. This was the first time in almost a decade that I hadn't camped on site at Shrewsbury -- and I didn't miss it.
Late 2009, I sold two stories to Thaumatrope, a Twitter e-zine. With a 120 character limit, these were fun to write and gratifying to see tweeted. I wrote one in thirty seconds, in the clutch of inspiration, after The Child ate a Christmas Angel Cookie's wings off. Sadly, Thaumatrope closed a year or so later.
This year was the first year where I was confronted by the limits of my body. I think I don't worry too much about getting old, but it would be really nice if I wasn't in chronic pain. Also, opening doors shouldn't be that hard.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Ratios and Design.
I was flipping through a design book earlier and I read that the designer liked the ratio 1:3:9. I thought of Arthur C Clark's Monoliths -- which, now that I think more about it, were 1:4:9. What the designer said was that it was an "important ratio" used to direct attention. I wonder, why 1:3:9 ? Why not 1:4:9, or 1:2:8 ?
And why is 1:3:9 important?
On the shoulder front: The physical therapist thinks I have only one more visit to go.
On the writing front: I think my challenge is writing not when my optimal writing time is (the afternoon and evenings) but when my current schedule dictates (the mornings). It's irritating; especially when I don't have enough sleep the previous night (either through circumstance or through lack of discipline).
And why is 1:3:9 important?
On the shoulder front: The physical therapist thinks I have only one more visit to go.
On the writing front: I think my challenge is writing not when my optimal writing time is (the afternoon and evenings) but when my current schedule dictates (the mornings). It's irritating; especially when I don't have enough sleep the previous night (either through circumstance or through lack of discipline).
Monday, February 15, 2010
Writing and Updates
Mark had a good time skiing this weekend. I stayed home and wrote. I've been writing (which is good because for most of December and January I couldn't seem to get up enough oomph to do so). I'm usually a "seat-of-the-pants" writer. Outlines are frustrating to me -- so this time I'm trying an outline. It's mostly fun, although I often get a feel for my characters by sotp writing. What the outline is good for is showing me the weak parts in the story.
I also went back and took a look at some of my non-fiction. I think what I have is a manuscript on Neo-Pagan Theology that started out as a book and ended up as a pamphlet. Okay - it probably started out as self-therapy. It was written in a sustained moment of peke, and, unfortunately, the bitter humor is more bitter than humorous. There are some good bits in there, and I have to decide if what I want to say is worth the time to clean it up for a paper-publication, or if I should winnow out blog-sized excerpts and time-release it to the blog.
On other fronts...
Second Life ... is fun. I'm trying to limit my time there. Current project is scripting markers for Aubrey Holes -- my script has a bug, changing the value of llSleep is somehow changing how the script calculates a position. It's weird, even changing the sleep value from 10 to 10.0 seems to make a difference (so I'm suspecting some kind of floating point overflow error).
On the shoulder front: I can now shampoo my head with my left hand, which is an improvement. Still have to stretch all the time, though.
I also went back and took a look at some of my non-fiction. I think what I have is a manuscript on Neo-Pagan Theology that started out as a book and ended up as a pamphlet. Okay - it probably started out as self-therapy. It was written in a sustained moment of peke, and, unfortunately, the bitter humor is more bitter than humorous. There are some good bits in there, and I have to decide if what I want to say is worth the time to clean it up for a paper-publication, or if I should winnow out blog-sized excerpts and time-release it to the blog.
On other fronts...
Second Life ... is fun. I'm trying to limit my time there. Current project is scripting markers for Aubrey Holes -- my script has a bug, changing the value of llSleep is somehow changing how the script calculates a position. It's weird, even changing the sleep value from 10 to 10.0 seems to make a difference (so I'm suspecting some kind of floating point overflow error).
On the shoulder front: I can now shampoo my head with my left hand, which is an improvement. Still have to stretch all the time, though.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Quck News
Shoulder Update: Today the PT had me on a bicycle for arms for a short period before manipulating my shoulder. It seemed to loosen things up quite a bit.
Writing Update: I guess I'm in a marketing mode. I've managed to keep stories in the mail. And I need to work on creating new stuff.
Second Life Update: I've created a build for Neo-Pagan ritual with call-and-responses. I suppose that I should offer some of them for sale, which seems a little weird because A) I would be essentially selling religious items and B) they're virtual religious items -- so I guess that counts as being payed for computer programming. Or, I could just give them away... and build other things for sale.
Writing Update: I guess I'm in a marketing mode. I've managed to keep stories in the mail. And I need to work on creating new stuff.
Second Life Update: I've created a build for Neo-Pagan ritual with call-and-responses. I suppose that I should offer some of them for sale, which seems a little weird because A) I would be essentially selling religious items and B) they're virtual religious items -- so I guess that counts as being payed for computer programming. Or, I could just give them away... and build other things for sale.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
TMI and Shoulders
Shoulder Update: My physical therapist decided that he wanted an orthopedic specialist to take a look at my shoulder... so...
I visited the specialist. This required filling out various forms that made me wonder how much information the two offices really share (they're on the same computer system...).
I met the doctor, who seemed nice and not like he graduated from high school last June. He seemed amused when I answered "how's your health?" with "Well, I'm 45, I probably don't exercise enough and I could eat better."
After feeling my shoulder it was Off For X-rays! The X-ray machine uses a rotating anode source that is excited by lots of electricity so that its electrons emit gamma rays when the fall back into a more stable electron shell. Got the X-ray tech -- who doesn't read much science fiction -- to admit that the machine read-outs on CSI are from machines that the actors aren't using. Three shoulder X-rays confirm no bone spurs or arthritis. Real-live, honest-to-God, ithiopathic Adhesive Encapsulitis diagnosis confirmed. R-L H-T-G IAE is "rare." The doctor has only seen R-L H-T-G IAE three times in ten years (the others have been fake, I suppose).
This leads to the following Treatment Decision Tree:
After a discussion of the side-effects of cortisone, I accepted a shot. This required lying on my side on a foam wedge, a nurse, and Really Big Needles. The numbing spray was cool, but the shot hurt (I had no idea they had spray-on numb spray). Judging by the bandages afterward, I imagine there was blood everywhere (my eyes were closed and I was concentrating on breathing at the time). Driving home felt nice, but I think the spray is wearing off as I type this.
Orders
There's some calcium loss from the humorous bone because I haven't been stressing it -- so eat plenty of calcium pills and vitamin D pills (everyone in Oregon is vitamin D deficient). (I did actually mention broccoli, but I don't think the doctor heard me...)
Don't play baseball or do anything that might hurt because the cortisone kind of makes it hard to feel things. And don't overstretch (but keep doing your PT stretches).
Oh. Right. And check for diabetes, because there's a slight correspondence between R-L H-T-G IAE and diabetes. Sigh.
I visited the specialist. This required filling out various forms that made me wonder how much information the two offices really share (they're on the same computer system...).
I met the doctor, who seemed nice and not like he graduated from high school last June. He seemed amused when I answered "how's your health?" with "Well, I'm 45, I probably don't exercise enough and I could eat better."
After feeling my shoulder it was Off For X-rays! The X-ray machine uses a rotating anode source that is excited by lots of electricity so that its electrons emit gamma rays when the fall back into a more stable electron shell. Got the X-ray tech -- who doesn't read much science fiction -- to admit that the machine read-outs on CSI are from machines that the actors aren't using. Three shoulder X-rays confirm no bone spurs or arthritis. Real-live, honest-to-God, ithiopathic Adhesive Encapsulitis diagnosis confirmed. R-L H-T-G IAE is "rare." The doctor has only seen R-L H-T-G IAE three times in ten years (the others have been fake, I suppose).
This leads to the following Treatment Decision Tree:
- Do nothing -- L-R H-T-G IAE will probably cure itself in a year (or two). Probably there will always be some stiffness. Nobody knows what causes it.
- Cortisone injection -- Cortisone might loosen up the shoulder for PT to be more effective. It's a local injection, so it won't go all over your body like it was an oral application and suppress your immune system. It can't hurt, and it may help.
- "Manipulation" -- The doctor knocks me out and makes my shoulder move. Massive PT to follow to keep things limber (and there will probably be some stiffness). Possibility that I'll go to sleep and wake up with a broken arm.
- "Capsule Release" -- The doctor goes in with an orthoscope and snips away the shoulder capsule to release its death-grip on my humorous. He doesn't think much of the procedure, and prefers to rip (his word) the arm loose.
After a discussion of the side-effects of cortisone, I accepted a shot. This required lying on my side on a foam wedge, a nurse, and Really Big Needles. The numbing spray was cool, but the shot hurt (I had no idea they had spray-on numb spray). Judging by the bandages afterward, I imagine there was blood everywhere (my eyes were closed and I was concentrating on breathing at the time). Driving home felt nice, but I think the spray is wearing off as I type this.
Orders
There's some calcium loss from the humorous bone because I haven't been stressing it -- so eat plenty of calcium pills and vitamin D pills (everyone in Oregon is vitamin D deficient). (I did actually mention broccoli, but I don't think the doctor heard me...)
Don't play baseball or do anything that might hurt because the cortisone kind of makes it hard to feel things. And don't overstretch (but keep doing your PT stretches).
Oh. Right. And check for diabetes, because there's a slight correspondence between R-L H-T-G IAE and diabetes. Sigh.
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Ouch
I was going to write something long and detailed about how the stretches make my shoulder hurt. But I'll just say that I have to do stretches much more than I'd like to and my arm hurts a whole lot less when I don't do the stretches.
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Epiphany Stretches
Happy Epiphany! On this day in 1996, I came out to my parents. I was driving them to the airport. It was kind of like one of those family comedy movies: "So. Um. I'm gay. No joke. Oh, here's your plane; I'll get your bags. Have fun in Mexico. See you next week!"
Probably not the best way to come out... and I'm thankful that my family is loving and supportive.
In other news... my shoulder is "stiffer than it should be." Sigh. I must do my stretches six times a day. I must do my stretches six times a day. I must do my stretches...
Probably not the best way to come out... and I'm thankful that my family is loving and supportive.
In other news... my shoulder is "stiffer than it should be." Sigh. I must do my stretches six times a day. I must do my stretches six times a day. I must do my stretches...
Monday, December 07, 2009
Quck News
On the shoulder front: the stretches seem to be improving my flexibility, but of all the places to feel them, I'm feeling them in my left pinkie and ring finger (okay, and also in some of the usual knots on my left scapula). On nights when I sleep funny (at least I think that's the cause) I have a tension headache the next day.
On the weather front: no snow, but December is starting out appropriately cold.
On the writing front: time to send things out. I'm considering Dropbox as an off-site back-up option for my final version of manuscripts (I already back things up to a RAMstick).
I'm having a bout of writer-self-doubt -- I'm probably about where I should be in terms of number of sales per submissions, but on bad days I wonder about what I'm writing for. Am I a mediocre writer competing with really good writers for slots in magazines and is this a good use of my time? Could I write (ooops, I mean sell) better if I wrote in a different genre? Since (as my friend Kevin Keanan likes to remind us) author pay is a logrythmic power curve, how do I need to re-tool my attitude about "making it" as a writer and my contribution to my family and household.
I was having one of these self-hating moments when my gaze stopped at the illustration for my WOTF story, Mask Glass Magic. On one hand, it's a spooky picture, and Mark has a sensible attitude toward having his husband's spooky illustration prominently displayed on the wall. And, sometimes it feels like a faded laurel. But when I allow myself to enjoy it, I recall how exciting and satisfying it was to have concrete proof that the images in my head had jumped into someone else's mind. Lorraine Schleter, the illustrator, skillfully captured the essence of the story at the moment of its central conflict.
So, yeah. I write stories because I want to get into your head. I write stories because I want you to get into my head. I write stories where the characters choose mystery, beguilement, portents, wonder, awe, connection, majesty, and surprise. Mark would add, and they do the dishes, get some exercise, and eat well-balanced meals.
On the weather front: no snow, but December is starting out appropriately cold.
On the writing front: time to send things out. I'm considering Dropbox as an off-site back-up option for my final version of manuscripts (I already back things up to a RAMstick).
I'm having a bout of writer-self-doubt -- I'm probably about where I should be in terms of number of sales per submissions, but on bad days I wonder about what I'm writing for. Am I a mediocre writer competing with really good writers for slots in magazines and is this a good use of my time? Could I write (ooops, I mean sell) better if I wrote in a different genre? Since (as my friend Kevin Keanan likes to remind us) author pay is a logrythmic power curve, how do I need to re-tool my attitude about "making it" as a writer and my contribution to my family and household.
I was having one of these self-hating moments when my gaze stopped at the illustration for my WOTF story, Mask Glass Magic. On one hand, it's a spooky picture, and Mark has a sensible attitude toward having his husband's spooky illustration prominently displayed on the wall. And, sometimes it feels like a faded laurel. But when I allow myself to enjoy it, I recall how exciting and satisfying it was to have concrete proof that the images in my head had jumped into someone else's mind. Lorraine Schleter, the illustrator, skillfully captured the essence of the story at the moment of its central conflict.
So, yeah. I write stories because I want to get into your head. I write stories because I want you to get into my head. I write stories where the characters choose mystery, beguilement, portents, wonder, awe, connection, majesty, and surprise. Mark would add, and they do the dishes, get some exercise, and eat well-balanced meals.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Shoulders
On the shoulder front. My shoulder is improving. Sort of. I have more mobility and less pain, but probably not as much as my PT wanted. At least I haven't gotten worse. So now I get to do stretches five times a day. Time to set the cell phone alarms...
Sunday, November 22, 2009
New from the Fronts
On the dream front: I was in my regular body, but I was also in high school, too. I think I went to a cast party at somebody's house. The house was on the very top of a very large mountain, and the host's name was "Bear." Bear was a classmate, not a grizzly or other ursine, and I didn't think about his name until after I woke up.
At some point I was trying to leave the party. I pulled out a shiny iPhone (which I don't own in real life) and I couldn't quite remember my (folks') home phone number. I got a lift from someone else, and we started down the mountain when I realized I'd left my phone at Bear's and had to go back.
The party had died down at this point, and lots of snow was falling. The four or five people still in the house were partied-out or sleeping / about to rest.
The mountain was like a world or city unto itself, and I think at some point traveling over its snow covered highways turned into a kind of James Bond movie.
On the shoulder front: My sessions with a physical therapist are almost over. I guess he's done everything that he can, so now I do about four or five stretching exercises three or four times a day and wait for my shoulder to unstick. Oh, and make sure I sleep with about three pillows so I don't wake from fitful sleep with a tension headache.
On the holiday front: They're almost here. After some reflection, I've decided that it's normal not to be wildly excited about Christmas on November 22.
On the writing front: This is the time of year when I need to push myself so that when February roles around and I really have to push myself I don't have any "make-up" work to do. This leads to ...
The job front: I have to start looking for some income (no, we're not in any danger of losing the house, we need more cash fluidity). I'd hoped that between Writers of the Future 2007 and now I'd have sold more short stories; but I haven't. (Insert writers' angst here.) So it's time to polish up the resume.
At some point I was trying to leave the party. I pulled out a shiny iPhone (which I don't own in real life) and I couldn't quite remember my (folks') home phone number. I got a lift from someone else, and we started down the mountain when I realized I'd left my phone at Bear's and had to go back.
The party had died down at this point, and lots of snow was falling. The four or five people still in the house were partied-out or sleeping / about to rest.
The mountain was like a world or city unto itself, and I think at some point traveling over its snow covered highways turned into a kind of James Bond movie.
On the shoulder front: My sessions with a physical therapist are almost over. I guess he's done everything that he can, so now I do about four or five stretching exercises three or four times a day and wait for my shoulder to unstick. Oh, and make sure I sleep with about three pillows so I don't wake from fitful sleep with a tension headache.
On the holiday front: They're almost here. After some reflection, I've decided that it's normal not to be wildly excited about Christmas on November 22.
On the writing front: This is the time of year when I need to push myself so that when February roles around and I really have to push myself I don't have any "make-up" work to do. This leads to ...
The job front: I have to start looking for some income (no, we're not in any danger of losing the house, we need more cash fluidity). I'd hoped that between Writers of the Future 2007 and now I'd have sold more short stories; but I haven't. (Insert writers' angst here.) So it's time to polish up the resume.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Unhappy Shoulders
The other day I lunged after something without thinking and inflamed a muscle in my shoulder. My physical therapist is not happy. I've also been slouching my shoulders when doing a particular stretch... so my therapist wants me to remember to use better posture. My arm has been sore, so I've been holding it in my lap -- this is a tight position and undoes the work of all the stretching exercises I've been doing.
I can feel a throbbing line from my scapula to the underside of my elbow. It hurts and wakes me from sleep. Endothermic crystallizing packets are now my friends.
I can feel a throbbing line from my scapula to the underside of my elbow. It hurts and wakes me from sleep. Endothermic crystallizing packets are now my friends.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Shoulders and Socks
Quick shoulder update. Woke up this morning with a lot more flexibility. I can actually turn the steering wheel of a car with my left arm, which is an improvement from this weekend.
On the dream front: Mark and I were in a shoe store shopping. They had a machine they could feed your socks into, and the machine would un- then re-knit your socks (one sock at a time). I was wearing mis-matched socks at the time (a red and a white one) and they came back clean and satiny.
On the dream front: Mark and I were in a shoe store shopping. They had a machine they could feed your socks into, and the machine would un- then re-knit your socks (one sock at a time). I was wearing mis-matched socks at the time (a red and a white one) and they came back clean and satiny.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Lava Lamp!
Happy new moon ◯
I found my green Lava Lamp up in the attic. I plugged it in last night, and I guess it needs some cooking (or something) because it's not quite flowing the way it should be. Last night it seemed like the stuff at the bottom was a giant convecting blob at the bottom with no larger blobs reaching up to what looked like a floating brain at the top. Occasionally an oily drop would condense off of the brain. I'm not sure if the solution is too hot or too cold, and the web sites I've read suggest gentle heating and cooling to fix things -- if fixing is indeed possible. Resisting the urge to slowly turn the lamp upside down.
In shoulder news... man, my shoulders hurt. I think I woke up about five time last night because my left arm was in an uncomfortable position. Half of my scapular, trapezoid, and biceps want to stretch and the other half really don't. Which reminds me, I need to do my stretches...
Today will probably be one of the nicer days of Autumn; the rains and very cold weather are in the next days' forecast.
Off to the Corn Maze!
I found my green Lava Lamp up in the attic. I plugged it in last night, and I guess it needs some cooking (or something) because it's not quite flowing the way it should be. Last night it seemed like the stuff at the bottom was a giant convecting blob at the bottom with no larger blobs reaching up to what looked like a floating brain at the top. Occasionally an oily drop would condense off of the brain. I'm not sure if the solution is too hot or too cold, and the web sites I've read suggest gentle heating and cooling to fix things -- if fixing is indeed possible. Resisting the urge to slowly turn the lamp upside down.
In shoulder news... man, my shoulders hurt. I think I woke up about five time last night because my left arm was in an uncomfortable position. Half of my scapular, trapezoid, and biceps want to stretch and the other half really don't. Which reminds me, I need to do my stretches...
Today will probably be one of the nicer days of Autumn; the rains and very cold weather are in the next days' forecast.
Off to the Corn Maze!
Friday, October 09, 2009
Moon, characters, fall and shoulders
Second PT visit for my shoulder. The good news is that the exercises I've been doing have restored some mobility in my shoulder. The bad news is that I probably haven't been doing them enough. I'm still managing pain with ice -- this morning my arm kind of felt like electrical current was running through it. If the pain becomes too bad, I've got some acupuncturists recommendations.
Autumn is here. In the morning the rising sun burnishes a maple on the other side of the fence. And the acorns are falling out of the oaks. No frost yet, but we've taken in the cherry tomatoes, and just yesterday I found three strawberries ripe for the picking.
This morning, despite not being a morning person, I got up at 4:30 AM PST to watch the L-CROSS crash into the Moon. For some reason I thought I'd be able to see a flash or a dust plume or something. My eyes weren't through cleaning themselves or something because looking up at the sky that early was like looking at a movie with dirty contact lenses. I did see a shooting star in Taurus, though.
In other developments, I've been playing with UFT-8 characters, like ♬ ✈ ❂ ❊. I'm looking forward to being able to write (☉♑ Happy Winter) or (☥ Back from the MET) or include the moon phases: ☽ ◯ ☾ Or it's a Mercury Retrograde Day: ☿ʶ Or start singing old Sound Garden songs: ☀ I wish that Egyptian Hieroglyphs were part of the UTF-8.... but it looks like I'd have to include a character set somehow. But if I'm really clever, I can figure out a way to use ❧ in bullet lists.
Autumn is here. In the morning the rising sun burnishes a maple on the other side of the fence. And the acorns are falling out of the oaks. No frost yet, but we've taken in the cherry tomatoes, and just yesterday I found three strawberries ripe for the picking.
This morning, despite not being a morning person, I got up at 4:30 AM PST to watch the L-CROSS crash into the Moon. For some reason I thought I'd be able to see a flash or a dust plume or something. My eyes weren't through cleaning themselves or something because looking up at the sky that early was like looking at a movie with dirty contact lenses. I did see a shooting star in Taurus, though.
In other developments, I've been playing with UFT-8 characters, like ♬ ✈ ❂ ❊. I'm looking forward to being able to write (☉♑ Happy Winter) or (☥ Back from the MET) or include the moon phases: ☽ ◯ ☾ Or it's a Mercury Retrograde Day: ☿ʶ Or start singing old Sound Garden songs: ☀ I wish that Egyptian Hieroglyphs were part of the UTF-8.... but it looks like I'd have to include a character set somehow. But if I'm really clever, I can figure out a way to use ❧ in bullet lists.
Monday, October 05, 2009
...and stretch.
I suppose that it's a good sign that the part about PT that hurt the most this morning was when I forgot about my arm for a moment and opened the front door as I was arriving. Okay... and discovering what my deductible is. The stretches my therapist did felt kind of nice.
Good news: I have "frozen shoulder" or encapsulitis. No one really knows the cause and it usually goes away. PT and some special stretches will accelerate the healing process. Bad news: my shoulder will probably hurt and have limited mobility for up to a year. Worst case scenario: surgery will be required to convince my shoulder socket tissue to release its death-grip on my humerus bone.
Off for some ice. And my stretch regimen.
In slightly related news: this morning, I dreamed that I was swimming around in a very large pool with a yellow canary on my left shoulder. I forget why I was taking care of a theatre's yellow canary this way -- instead of walking, everyone in the dream was swimming / flying.
Good news: I have "frozen shoulder" or encapsulitis. No one really knows the cause and it usually goes away. PT and some special stretches will accelerate the healing process. Bad news: my shoulder will probably hurt and have limited mobility for up to a year. Worst case scenario: surgery will be required to convince my shoulder socket tissue to release its death-grip on my humerus bone.
Off for some ice. And my stretch regimen.
In slightly related news: this morning, I dreamed that I was swimming around in a very large pool with a yellow canary on my left shoulder. I forget why I was taking care of a theatre's yellow canary this way -- instead of walking, everyone in the dream was swimming / flying.
Chi-chi!
Shoulder update. I'll be seeing a physical therapist today. I've filled out about eight pages of questionnaire. I can't help but think of a medical joke my friend Laura once told me, where some explorers were captured and given the choice between "Chi-chi" or death; the last explorer -- after listening to the horrific screams of his fellow explorers who have chosen Chi-chi -- chooses death. The final line is the leader of the captors exclaiming, "He chose death. But first... Chi-chi!" I think the humor has something to do with western medicine's methodology. After reading Jay Lake's posts on PT, I think "Chi-chi!" will be one of the least likely things I'll be saying while my arm is getting manipulated.
In slightly related news, I decided that the shoulder meds I was taking were making me too loopy for the amount of sleep they were supposedly giving me. The first few days they really did help me to sleep mostly through the night, but I must have gotten used to them because I started waking up in the middle of the night. So I've stopped taking them, and I can feel my short-term memory returning. Man, I am so thankful I don't have really chronic pain -- I'd hate to spend decades in a medicated haze.
In slightly related news, I decided that the shoulder meds I was taking were making me too loopy for the amount of sleep they were supposedly giving me. The first few days they really did help me to sleep mostly through the night, but I must have gotten used to them because I started waking up in the middle of the night. So I've stopped taking them, and I can feel my short-term memory returning. Man, I am so thankful I don't have really chronic pain -- I'd hate to spend decades in a medicated haze.
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