The daughter I never had lives in Eugene; she’s part of my “Oregon family.” I’ve known this young woman since she was a rebellious adolescent, though, in the present day, she’s an incredibly mature and talented, 27-year-old married college graduate who has two delightful kids herself (one of them little Gracie).
The absolute, without-a-doubt, best part of my existence the past two Christmas seasons has been the opportunity I’ve had to support and encourage “B’s” interest in photography. Last year, it took the form of proposing the idea to her (real) parents that we split the cost of purchasing a digital SLR camera for her holiday gift. The proposal was enthusiastically accepted and, incredibly, I was the one lucky enough to accompany her to the store when we picked up the camera. As we exited the store, she was smiling hugely while she gushed, “this is the best Christmas ever!”
She’s now had a full year with that particular piece of equipment, and has reportedly loved every minute of it. Late this year she purchased another lens for her system, indicating that she was ready, perhaps, to move up a notch in the technology hierarchy. So, this holiday season, as we talked about her wants and needs via email, I offered to sell her, at a hugely discounted price, my current digital SLR. It’s a camera body that’s still being manufactured, only nine months old, under warranty, and little-used by me this year due to a scarcity of personal time (what with all the changes I’ve made in my life recently). This year’s proposal also became a reality and she’s had the camera a little over a week now…luckily I was able to get it packed up and shipped out in time for Christmas. She’s currently busily, and happily, snapping away with this more ambitious piece of equipment.
I’ve teased her about her newly-acquired “addiction” and advised her of the dangers of said Nikon Acquisition Syndrome (NAS)…though I suspect she has not, yet, caught on to the full implications of my warnings. Still, I’ve told her, regarding NAS: there are many more dangerous and terrible maladies in this lifetime.
For me, I hope to get “out there” this year and produce many more photographs than I have in the last few months. That is, perhaps, my number-one ambition. (Thank goodness: it appears that I’ll not be engaged in a job search during 2008!) To support my goal, I’ve taken a couple of photographic steps myself lately. First, I’ve placed an order for the newly-introduced Nikon D300 (see the video below), just out in November to rave reviews, and currently in short supply. (I’ll be getting this camera body when my number comes up in the ordering queue.) Second, I’ve signed up for another full-day session at Nikon School. Hence, on January 27, I’ll be over in Berkeley, sitting a dark room with a few hundred other Nikon nuts, learning more about digital photography. And expecting to be inspired.
If this season is thinking about people you love, and making some plans for the future…well, I guess maybe there’s been a little of the holiday cheer for me this year after all.
Soundtrack Suggestion
Ev’ry time i see your face, It reminds me of the places we used to go. But all i got is a photograph And i realise you’re not coming back anymore.
I’m often in a bit of a funk during this Midwinter time of year. It’s usually cold, cloudy, and rainy outside. Yet, for some strange reason, everyone’s running around projecting this feeling called “holiday cheer.” I always imagine that a lot of the time it actually may be sincere.
Most years, of course, I’m left out of all the activity. Hence my tendency toward the blues. I’ve never been able, much, to insert myself into the holiday season when I’m single and alone. All of that family togetherness stuff is missing for me. And it almost always has been.
But, this year, there’s a bright side.
The winter, so far here in northern California, has been pretty mild. While we had one day last week that subjected us to nearly three inches of rain, and while I’ve been shivering many a morning recently, for the most part, weather-wise, here in my new land, it’s been mostly dry and manageable. Today was not particularly warm, but it was very sunny. And it was in the fifties when I went for a walk along my usual walking path. I had a wonderfully invigorating 39-minute trek, me and my iPod.
I don’t have the sunshine of my life. But I do have some sunshine in my life. And the days: from now on, they do get longer.
This is a good thing.
Soundtrack Suggestion
Time, time, time, see what’s become of me While I looked around For my possibilities I was so hard to please But look around, leaves are brown And the sky is a hazy shade of winter.
Mostly, I believe I’m perceived as a patient person. Actually, it’s more than mere perception: I am a patient person.
I know things don’t happen right away. I believe that “all things in their own time” is a good motto to live by. I realize that others have skill levels arranged on a continuum – and that they have various, competing priorities in their lives that don’t coincide with mine. And I know that having low expectations is probably a good strategy to maintain one’s own mental and emotional health.
Yes, being patient is a good thing.
Still, there are some behaviors out there in the world that I have very little use for. For example, it wasn’t long ago that I went on a rant about cell-phone users. I have absolutely zero tolerance for people who believe that shouting out the trivia of their lives to the world is more important than respecting others’ rights (to a little peace and quiet). I was at lunch in a Chinese restaurant two days ago, with a couple of work colleagues, when one of those walkie-talkie-type cell phones sounded off (right next to us). I turned to the (totally-oblivious) guy who was speaking into his mobile device while, at the same time, shoveling fried rice into his pie-hole. I mouthed, in his direction, much to the surprise of my lunch companions, “will you shut the f#*k up?!?!” (This asshole neither saw me nor heard me. Unfortunately.)
Then, yesterday, I was at Kinko’s doing some photocopying, while all the time listening to an embarrassingly-personal conversation between a woman and (apparently) one of her girlfriends. Their discussion of a relationship gone bad was something that really should have been carried out in private. Really.
Ok, enough about cell-phone etiquette (for now). The topic of today’s rant is about punctuality. Or, more specifically, the lack of consideration some people show to other people when they arrive late.
Isn’t this, though, the same kind of thing as the cell-phone issue: lack of sensitivity to, and respect for, others?
Last Wednesday, I had interviews scheduled to start in the early afternoon. I was the leader of a small, three-person hiring committee. We had a few, back-to-back, forty-five-minute interviews on the calendar. Still, one of the other two on the committee didn’t show up until fifteen minutes past the anticipated start time, thereby throwing everyone’s schedule off for the rest of the day. Candidates who had been instructed to arrive fifteen minutes early to review the questions, instead ended up with a thirty-minute wait before I went to fetch them.
The next day I was scheduled into a committee meeting that was to begin at 11:00 a.m. I arrived on time and there were only two others present (of a twelve-member group). The remainder continued to dribble in, until finally at fifteen minutes past the hour, the chairperson arrived and the meeting was called to order.
These are only two examples of the kind of chronic, non-punctual behavior I encounter on a daily basis. And I find it maddening!
Here’s what I think you’re saying when you show up late: you’re the center of the universe. That no one, or nothing, is as important as you and your agenda. That the time of others doesn’t count. That others don’t count.
For the record, let me declare to all you loud cell-phone users and “running-late” people (and I know this will be news): IT’S NOT ALL ABOUT YOU!
There I was, last Tuesday night (October 30). Minding my own business, at home. Vegging out on my sofa, watching TV.
It was a little after 8:00 p.m. (the cable box said exactly 8:05) and The Daily Show’s nightly re-run (of the previous evening’s broadcast) had just begun.
I vaguely remember that I was laughing out loud at something when: HOLY SHIT!
All of sudden it happened. It seemed as if I were, for a moment there, floating above my sofa. As if some immense cosmic force had picked me up with giant invisible hands and was joking around, having its way with me. The whole experience was a little bewildering, a lot frightening, and, weirdly, somewhat exciting.
Unlike the last time (which was actually my first time) I found myself in an earthquake situation, when I didn’t know exactly what was going on…this time there was no mistaking things: this was an earthquake! Holy craperino (I thought…), this is amazing! (And: I just hope I live through this!)
I was picked up and shaken once, then it seemed if as if there were a slight hesitation; subsequently I found myself being shaken again, even more vigorously the second time. The entire experience lasted only a few seconds, I suppose (quite literally, time seemed suspended), but that was enough for my thought processes (i.e, panic) to kick in and wonder if the whole apartment was going to detach from the building and slide down the cliff: with me scratching and clawing the entire way. To my ultimate, very painful, demise.
Then things stopped. Just. Stopped. The Daily Show continued on. The world switched back to normal, at least in my neighborhood. I continued to think and wonder: where was the epicenter? How far away was it? What must it have been like to be right ON TOP? How big was this thing, anyway?
Here’s the deal: news reports of the event listed it as a 5.6 quake, with the epicenter five miles northeast of the Alum Rock neighborhood of San Jose, along the Calaveras Fault. (I’m not exactly sure how far that is from me…but I suspect it’s at least 50 miles.) This temblor just happens to be the largest one to hit the Bay Area since the (6.9-magnitude) Loma Prieta disaster in 1989. (I safely followed news reports of that one from home on October 17…as I was watching, on TV in Corvallis, Oregon, the third game of the World Series.)
Just so you know: I’m keeping score. My arrival in the Bay Area was greeted by a 4.2 quake on July 20…just 18 days after I moved here. (It seems like only yesterday!) And, here I am again…this time experiencing the largest shaker since 1989. How (NOT!) lucky can I get?
One of the reports of Tuesday’s quake indicated that “the fault ruptured at a depth of 5.7 miles and the shaking was felt as far north as Eugene, Oregon.”
Well, good. I really wouldn’t want to have all the fun to myself. So, tell me: did any of my fine friends in the Great State of Oregon feel this thing, too?
Soundtrack Suggestion
I feel the earth move under my feet I feel the sky tumbling down, tumbling down I feel the earth move under my feet I feel the sky tumbling down I just lose control Down to my very soul I get a hot and cold all over I feel the earth move under my feet I feel the sky tumbling down, Tumbling down, tumbling down...
The last entry was about my rather ambitious level of physical activity during the weekend. Activity that came with a price. Silly me! As it turns out, there can be too much of a good thing. Since then, I’ve been dealing with the fallout from those outings. Oh, woe is me; my aches and pains have flared up.
Which has me asking, as always: what’s the deal with my body?
The medical establishment clearly does not have it together when it comes to understanding, diagnosing and treating this mysterious affliction called fibromyalgia. Theories about this disease (or is it a syndrome — who knows?) abound.
Right after the first medical opinion came in suggesting that fibromyalgia was the label for my condition, one of the first reference works I found was Fibromyalgia and Chronic Myofascial Pain (Starylanyl & Copeland, 2001). This book became the starting point in my search for answers to what ails this aging shell. The authors state that they “believe that there is often an initiating event that activates biochemical changes, causing a cascade of symptoms” (p. 11). There are many statements throughout the text that fibromyalgia “may be due to this” or “may be due to that.” And there is an incomprehensible preoccupation with the distinction between tender points and trigger points and their role in fibromyalgia and myofascial pain. The book is subtitled “A Survival Manual,” and that’s exactly what it is: a blueprint for living with chronic pain.
In an ambitious 2006 book (What Your Doctor May Not Tell You About Fibromyalgia), authors R. Paul St. Amand, M.D., and Claudia Craig Marek postulate their theory of “inadequate energy as the cause of fibromyalgia” (p. 32). They suggest that the bodies of sufferers do not produce enough ATP (adenosine triphosphate), which they label as the “currency of energy” (p. 31) in our cells. They claim to have “stumbled upon the treatment for fibromyalgia quite by accident” (p. 40). And that treatment, they say, is a substance called guaifenesin (an expectorant drug, often present in cough and cold remedies, and also available in pill form as a supplement).
In an equally-impressive analysis and argument, Dr. David Dryland (of Ashland, Oregon), just this year (2007), published The Fibromyalgia Solution. His hypothesis is that fibromyalgia victims suffer from fight-or-flight fatigue (an ubiquitous condition of modern living), which leads to sleep deprivation and a diminished supply of the neurotransmitter dopamine. In terms of possible treatment implications, Dryland suggests that two dopamine drugs (originally prescribed for Parkinson’s disease and/or restless-leg syndrome) are likely candidates to provide relief for many. These drugs go by the names of Mirapex and Requip.
What is going on here? Well, what I’ve just provided is a brief list of examples demonstrating that fibromyalgia remains a total mystery not only to me but to the entire medical world. And those of us who suffer with this illness, or think we do, are left to go from doctor to doctor, or one alternative practitioner to another, in order to find some relief from our ever-present pain.
This last week, in the space of three days, I revisited my Traditional Chinese Medicine practitioner and my body-work therapist. They are both very skillful and helpful in my quest for pain relief. I will keep seeking them out, especially when I’m in the kind of state I find myself in now. However, of all the approaches I’ve tried, in all the experiments I’ve performed on myself, the single most effective remedy I’ve found so far is the element magnesium (in the form of a supplement called Fibroplex.) I discovered this particular miracle because of an off-hand remark made last winter at a neurofeedback specialist’s office. He said, “Jim, you may want to try some of this” – as he went over to the shelf to pick up a bottle of the product. I purchased it, tried it, and I’ve felt much, much better ever since. Of course, it wasn’t thecure, it’s just the one thing that has made the most difference in my life in years. Since then, I’ve discovered much evidence to suggest that magnesium deficiency is commonly associated with a significant percentage of my current symptoms.
Now, another possibility has come along. A few days ago, good friend “V” in Oregon suggested that I take a look at the latest issue (November 2007) of Scientific American. In a persuasive article (pp. 62-72; the full article is not available online without a subscription) entitled “ Cell Defenses and the Sunshine Vitamin,” researchers Luz E. Tavera-Mendoza and John H. White outline the dangers to a human body without enough Vitamin D.
In short, the authors offer evidence to suggest the possibility of “widespread vitamin D deficiency contributing to a number of serious illnesses” (p. 64). And, as it turns out, fibromyalgia may be one of them. Yes, you guessed it: doing a Google search on the topic turned up several references, among them an article entitled “Vitamin Deficiency Causes Fibromyalgia!”
Who knows. Maybe this is the answer. At any rate, it seems easy enough to check out. I’ve now added 4,000 international units of D3 to my daily regimen of supplements.
