Maximum Multiplicity
On an episode of the TV program Curb Your Enthusiasm (HBO) I watched recently, Larry David took off on one of his famous stream-of-consciousness digressions – this time about his preference and tendency to use stalls, rather than urinals, when visiting public restrooms.
Interestingly enough (or maybe not), his admission stimulated some electrical impulses and activity in my warped brain that led me to think of Hund’s Rule of Maximum Multiplicity – a topic you must remember from general chemistry class. Of course, this postulate is often referred to as “the bus-seat rule.”
Hund’s Rule describes the process of populating atomic orbitals with electrons – specifically the way those electrons are arranged – as atomic number increases. Quite simply, the rule stipulates that if two electrons have two spaces (i.e., orbitals) to occupy, then they would rather occupy one orbital each rather than “pair up” and occupy just one orbital.
So, for example, take the case of the element Boron which has three “p” orbitals but just one electron in that particular energy level. For argument’s sake, let’s say that that lone electron occupies the p(x) orbital. The next element on the periodic table, Carbon, has the same number of p orbitals (but one more electron than Boron) with one electron in each of the p(x) and p(y) orbitals. And Nitrogen, the next element in line, has three electrons in this energy level, one in each of the p(x), p(y), and p(z) orbitals. Can you visualize this at all? Electrons are distributing themselves among the p orbitals much as passengers on a bus: nobody sits next to someone else unless and until they really have to. So, in the case of Oxygen, yet the next element under consideration, the configuration would have two electrons in p(x) and one each in the other two orbitals. (The two electrons in p(x) are said to be a “lone pair.”)
So, you’re probably wondering where I’m going with this? (If you’re still reading, that is). What does Larry David’s use of stalls have to do with Hund’s Rule and electrons?
Well, actually, hardly anything. It’s just that I’ve been thinking about bathroom behavior myself (remember I’m talkin’ Larry David not Larry Craig kinda stuff here!)…given that last summer, in some of the buildings on campus, new urinals were installed. Our urinals are supposedly the latest in “green” technology – as they are waterless devices that don’t use H2O to flush with. They actually don’t flush: all in all, not a bad idea to conserve water, and the campus is making points in the community for its conservation efforts.
The thing is, the urinals have been installed with no privacy dividers between them. When you’re standing there doing your business, it’s sort of like lining up at a public trough. And, for me, that’s not the most comfortable situation in the world. What’s the deal here, anyway? We’re already conserving 2.5 million gallons of water per year (!) …do we really have to give up our privacy rights too?
So: this is where the bus-seat rule comes into play. With no dividers between the urinals (hence no privacy) and, I think, many of us modern men having similar reservations about the public-trough concept, what we do is situate ourselves as far apart as possible when we’re in the restroom doing our thing. For example, I’ll walk in and I’m the only one in there. I’ll take the urinal that’s next to the partition separating the sink and the urinal sections. The next guy comes in and will take the urinal that’s tenth (out of ten) in line…around the corner a little bit. If a third person comes in, he’ll take one of the urinals approximately midway between us. And so on.
Given this, doesn’t it seem that our bathroom behavior is a little like seating on a bus or electrons in orbitals? Or, I guess, even other types of human behavior. For example, a blogger named Vishy, in a post from early 2005, observed that Hund’s Rule can also apply to seating ourselves in a cafeteria or taking the elevator.
Not that keeping your distance from others is such a bad thing. Sometimes there are certain activities that are just plain better when performed alone. Hund tells us that the pairing of electrons is an unfavorable process where energy must be expended in order to make it occur. I suggest that the closeness of humans, in some situations, is not the greatest of things either… with there being energetic, emotional and social barriers to making it (i.e., the closeness) happen.
Me? I support the practice of privacy dividers in our public restrooms or, in their absence, maximum multiplicity.
Five Point Six
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...
(“I Feel the Earth Move” – Carole King)
Aches and Pains
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 the cure, 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.
I’ll keep you posted.
I’m Walkin’
For the time being, I’ve given up running and aerobics. Perhaps I am forever retired from the world of Jazzercise, who knows? Now I walk for my physical, mental, emotional and spiritual health.
I base my practice on a proverb in Traditional Chinese Medicine which says that…
Worms will not eat living wood where the vital sap is flowing; rust will not hinder the opening of a gate when the hinges are used each day. Movement gives health and life. Stagnation brings disease and death.
So far here in Marin, most of my daily walking-time has been spent on one particular bikepath near my apartment. It’s a good route and very accessible. It quickly became known to me after I moved here. And it quite rapidly evolved into my routine.
And, of course: now it has become boring as well. I have been caught in a rut with no new scenery, no variation from the norm.
So, this last weekend, I decided to change all that. You know, mix things up a little bit…and live on the wild side!
On Saturday I drove down the road a little ways to the Natalie Coffin Greene Park in the Town of Ross – and actually found a place to park this time. Spots are very limited there (24 spaces or so), so on my previous visits, I had always ended up turning around to find someplace else to park and hike (namely my old standby path).
The trail leading from this park goes very quickly into the woods and splendid isolation along Phoenix Lake. It’s a beautiful place, rather hilly and secluded (except for other like-minded outdoor folk; see photo of bicyclists above), and I fell in love with the place immediately. I suspect that from now on I’ll wait my turn to park in the lot, just to be able to enjoy this amazing little getaway place so near home. (Perhaps it’ll be my new “Mt. Pisgah” – the favorite hiking spot of all time for me, right outside Eugene, OR.)
Then, on Sunday, I did something I had envisioned myself doing ever since I entertained the thought of moving to Marin: I walked the length of the Golden Gate Bridge. It was a cloudless and balmy afternoon, and I figured: it’s time! I discovered directions on the web about where to park, so I found my way to the Vista Point lot on the north side of the bridge. I walked the bridge from north to south, wandered around the visitor’s facilities at that end (i.e., the gift shop and café), then walked the span again back to my car.
What a totally perfect day to do this! I’ll have to go back again soon, though, when the photos will turn out with more “mood” associated with them.
Soundtrack Suggestion
I’m walkin’, yes indeed and I’m talkin’ ’bout you and me
I’m hopin’ that you’ll come back to me, uh uh.
( “I’m Walkin’” – Fats Domino)
The Beaver Nation
Is it acceptable for a sixty-year-old like me to label another person “elderly?”
I wonder…
Anyway, whatever possessed me to make a trip to the grocery store on a Saturday afternoon, I’ll never know. But that’s what I did. I traveled over to San Rafael late today to pick up a few things from Trader Joe’s. It was very, very busy — and it took about 15 minutes to check out of the “express lane.”
Then, after I got back out into the parking lot, I started the car and proceeded to wait and wait just to back out of my spot. The traffic surrounding the store was totally ridiculous!
While looking in my rear view mirror to watch for an opening, I noticed an “elderly” guy (80ish, I’m guessing) exit a vehicle across the way. After he got out of his car, I could see that he glanced my way. Then it seemed as if he was staring at something in my direction.
It turned out he was. When there was a little break, and a car stopped for him so that he could safely cross, he walked directly over to me and tapped on the window.
When I rolled it down a notch (he looked harmless enough, but I was still suspicious of his motives), he immediately asked, “are you a Beaver?”
This is a rather strange question, of course. And, for many of you out there, I’m sure it could be a tad offensive. But, for me, given that I have an “Oregon State Beavers” license-plate frame and a “Member, OSU Alumni Association” sticker on the rear of my car, the inquiry was a pleasant surprise.
“Yes I am,” I answered. “I have two degrees from OSU and lived in Corvallis for twenty years.”
“Did you see the game last week?,” he asked.
“Yes I did! Was that amazing, or what?!” (OSU toppled the Number 2-ranked team in the country last Saturday, defeating California, at Berkeley, 31-28.)
We traded names, shook hands, and then continued on with our respective Saturday afternoons.
So I found another member of the Beaver Nation! (Or rather, he found me.) Right here in Marin!
Nuclear Medicine
I had my first experience with nuclear medicine this week.
Recently, as I was explaining my medical history and ongoing issues with chronic pain to my new doc here in California, he seemed to actually do some listening. Although he didn’t quite buy into a diagnosis of fibromyalgia to explain my problems, he seemed to concede that my symptoms could be accounted for thusly. He suggested we rule out other explanations as well, though, so he ordered some tests.
One of which is a nuclear-med procedure called a whole-body bone scan. I went to the hospital yesterday to have it performed.
The process started with an injection (into a vein in my arm) of a gamma-radiation-emitting radioactive substance (technetium-99m , a metastable nuclear isomer of technetium-99) suspended in methylene-diphosphonate (MDP), a substance which can be preferentially taken up by bone.
I was told to drink lots of water, then come back for the actual imaging procedure three hours later. I went back to work and tried to keep my mind on some simple tasks for awhile. Upon my return to the hospital, and after making sure I went to the restroom, the technician escorted me back to the nuclear-med scanner.
I emptied my pockets and took off my belt, sort of like preparing for airport security, and was told to lie down (face up) on the massage-table-like part of the machine. Buttons were pressed, there was a whirring sound, and soon I found myself inside the device with a portion of the machine about four inches above my nose. I closed my eyes and reminded myself to keep breathing.
Soon she said, “we’re taking pictures,” and I realized that the table was slowly moving. It wasn’t long before I was brave enough to open my eyes and discovered that my head was outside the chamber.
I lost track of time, but the first part of the scanning procedure probably lasted about 20 or 25 minutes. After a short rest-room break (I had taken the water-drinking assignment seriously!), we did the second part, which the technician called “close-ups.” It was during this part of the procedure, when my head was turned for a time, that I was able to see an image of the bones of my head and upper body, from my cranium down to my ribs.
Weird!
Apparently the way this works, for diagnostic purposes, is that any increased physiological function, such as a fracture in the bone, will typically lead to an increased concentration of the technetium-99m. This can result in the appearance of a hot-spot on the image. Some disease processes result in the exclusion of a tracer, resulting in the appearance of a cold-spot.
It should be noted that nuclear medicine differs from most other imaging types in that the tests primarily show the physiological function of the system being investigated as opposed to the anatomical. Additionally, this differs from an x-ray procedure because instead of delivering the radiation source externally, this time it is internal.
I’m told this is a pretty expensive procedure. Luckily, it’s covered by my insurance. And I’m hoping for a totally-negative result, because for many of the kinds of things this test picks up, well, nobody really wants to hear that kind of news.
The Mayo Clinic website has an easy-to-understand discussion of the procedure, in case you’re interested.
Soundtrack Suggestion
Toe bone connected foot bone
Foot bone connected leg bone
Leg bone connected knee bone
Don’t you hear the word of the Lord?
(“Dry Bones” – Negro Spiritual)
Be Prepared
In keeping with the Boy Scout Motto, Marin County has initiated the “Get Ready Marin” campaign in order to raise awareness about how to best prepare for the next earthquake, flood, fire, landslide…or whatever other kind of disaster you can imagine. Hundreds of these bright yellow signs, such as the one above (shown here attached to the Larkspur Fire Department building), have been appearing all over the place to alert us to the effort.
Even though evidence of this campaign is difficult to avoid (there are tons of banners, signs, posters, Golden-Gate-Transit-bus advertisements, cocktail napkins, cable-television public-service announcements and, I’m told, even an airplane with a trailing banner), I hadn’t really been paying much attention (nor had I visited the website) until I read the article in the Marin Independent Journal this last weekend which explained the program. Finally, I got it: pay attention, TechnoMonk!
Apparently, there are free, two-hour-long disaster-preparedness classes that we can now sign up for to help us “get ready” for the Big One: all funded by a huge grant from the Department of Homeland Security.
I suppose I should attend. After all, what did I do when I decided to live in one of the most earthquake-prone parts of the world?
I rented an apartment located on the side of a cliff.
Soundtrack Suggestion
Well, shake it up, baby, now, (shake it up, baby)
Twist and shout. (twist and shout)
C’mon c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, baby, now, (come on baby)
Come on and work it on out. (work it on out)
(“Shake It Up Baby” – Isley Brothers)
Update on October 13, 2007:
As a result of this post, the Pontificator has come out in strong support of the Marin County disaster-preparedness efforts. Click here to read his comments.
Citizens, hear me out! This could happen to you!
Life In Slow Motion
After receiving last week’s bad news, I desperately attempted to keep some semblance of normalcy in my life. For example, last Sunday I drove over to Berkeley to attend the city’s “How Berkeley Can You Be?” parade and festival. It sounded like it could be an afternoon of great fun, and I had expectations of displays of outrageousness from the citizenry there…reminiscent of the annual “out-there” behavior exhibited during the Eugene Celebration.
Now, perhaps it was my state-of-mind, but I was pretty disappointed. There were a smattering of laughs and “Berkeley-like” folk around (see the accompanying grandmother-for-peace photo), but my experience of the event was quite different from the all-out kind of effort that Eugene (for example) puts into its identity-defining celebrations. It seems to me that Eugene is more Berkeley-like than Berkeley is these days! Who woulda thunk?
My mood for this last week has been semi-dark. I seem to have been struggling with continuing issues of loss and change…or at least that’s the best explanation I have right now for the cloud I’m living under.
On one of my early-evening walks this week, I was trying to enjoy both the sunshine warming my face and the music coming from my iPod when, all of a sudden, I found both my hands clutching my chest as if I had pain there. But, it wasn’t really pain; actually, just momentarily, I was gasping for breath. I guess, maybe, I’d been forgetting to breathe. How weird.
But given my thoughts, not really too unusual. I had been dwelling on the loss of a friend to cancer; and the losses of jobs, attachments, familiar sights, and highly-significant people in Oregon: in essence, evidence of a total lack of control. While the changes I’ve made have also brought me meaningful gain, it’s the losses that have been my preoccupation. So much is gone. So much different.
This last week, I’ve been in a sleep-walk, a trance, moving in slow motion. As if this life I call mine is only some kind of surreal caricature of another’s.
Soundtrack Suggestion
While I was watching you did a slow dissolve…
Did I imagine they held us hypnotized
Did I imagine or do the walls have eyes…
Life in slow motion somehow it don’t feel real…
Snowflakes are falling I’ll catch them in my hands
Snowflakes are falling now you’re my long lost friend
(“Slow Motion” – David Gray)
In Memoriam
Martha Anne Dow
One of my best friends in the Oregon University System (OUS) has passed on. I knew Martha Anne Dow from the time I joined the OUS Chancellor’s Office staff in 1995. At that point she was the Provost and Vice President for Academic Affairs at the Oregon Institute of Technology (OIT) in Klamath Falls. When the incumbent president retired in 1998, Martha Anne was the natural and logical choice to take over the OIT reigns.
I was a huge fan and supporter of hers, as I found her to be one of the most decent individuals I had ever encountered in a higher education leadership role. Similarly, I knew her to be a true-blue fan and supporter of mine. I don’t have an actual count of how many times she was contacted during the last three and half years of my job-search process, but it was several. At one point a prospective employer disclosed, after doing reference-check phone calls on me, “whatever you do, don’t take Martha Anne off your reference list!”
Martha Anne, I’ll miss you. You left us way too soon.
PORTLAND, September 29, 2007 – Oregon University System chancellor, George Pernsteiner, announced with sadness this evening the passing of Dr. Martha Anne Dow, president of the Oregon Institute of Technology, who died today after a six-month battle with breast cancer. President of OIT since 1998, Dow is widely recognized for her leadership in advancing the mission of Oregon Tech and her passion for expanding access to higher education for Oregonians.
Governor Ted Kulongoski said, “Dr. Dow’s dedication to raising the aspirations of Oregon students to attend college reflected her unwavering belief in every person’s ability to grow, learn, and give back to their communities. She will remain for us always a heroine of educational advancement and a true Oregon treasure.”
Henry Lorenzen, president of the State Board of Higher Education, said, “Martha Anne was not only a highly talented and innovative educator, she was also an incredibly kind, thoughtful and genuine friend and colleague for all of us who had the honor of working with her. Our hearts are breaking for her family, friends, and for ourselves. Martha Anne has left an indelible mark on OIT, Klamath Falls, the state, and on the thousands of students she has taught, mentored and guided to a college degree in Oregon.”
Martha Anne Dow became the fifth president of OIT in May 1998, after serving there for six years as Provost and Vice President for Academic Affairs. Enrollment at Oregon Tech grew by almost 1,000 students during her tenure, and programs in engineering, computer science, applied health fields and geothermal power grew to meet regional and state needs. Dr. Dow worked tirelessly during the 2007 legislative session and previous sessions to gain new programs and support services for students, and to expand programs to meet current and anticipated workforce needs. Earlier this month, OIT’s new Center for Health Professions was named after Dr. Dow at the request of the major donors to the Center, Dick and Nancy Wendt.
Caveat Lector
I have written previously about what the heck it is I think I’m doing here with this blog, proffering the opinion that a lot of this is simply for my own, much-needed therapy. And, just as importantly, I write because writing is what I do; being a writer is who I am. I write because it provides an outlet for thoughts and emotions I can’t conveniently put anyplace else. And this particular venue gives me a place to share, should anyone self-select into my online world.
Early on in my blogging days, as I was engaged in other self-reflection about these literary efforts, I explored the topic of blogger ethics, recognizing the potential for harming others with my words. You may recall that I clearly expressed the intent to avoid embarrassing, attacking, angering or hurting anyone of you out there. And although I have not specifically mentioned this, naturally my aim is to avoid harming myself as well.
Not that my efforts have met with everyone’s approval. There have been the occasional criticisms of my work, the most obvious and impactful of which was the feedback last spring, from a college president no less, that “ I might want to re-think my decision to discuss my job-search activities” on these pages. That unsolicited opinion of my writing really made me take stock. However, after a careful and deliberate examination of my intentions, as well as a thorough re-reading of the actual words I had published, I decided to discard that particular piece of advice and I re-published some posts I had temporarily taken down (while in a highly-reactive, semi-panicky mode).
Then, there’s the occasional bits of praise that come my way, namely the quite-recent observation that
There is a lot of humor in your blog. I hope you can see it. Is it not supposed to be funny? …Thanks for sharing all of your hopes and fears with the entire world … Your world view is so prickly (ala Mark Twain)…
Of course, any comparison of my writing with Mark Twain’s is really quite a stretch, but I appreciate this person’s comments nonetheless!
Finally, just this week, another person from my everyday world offered up some observations about this blog. She was clearly concerned that being so public about my life put me in harm’s way…in one way or another. After a long conversation about this, she subsequently wrote a clarifying email, stating quite unequivocally that, “ it’s the possible ramifications for you that I am concerned about.”
I found the clash of values between the two of us quite intriguing. She expressed a high need for privacy, even secrecy, in the normal living of life. Further, she articulated a distrust of others, fearing hidden agendas. I, on the other hand, expressed a strong preference for transparency and the need for emotional risk-taking.
In a short email back to her I said,
… my intention is: to not have hidden agendas; to live openly, honestly and authentically; to take risks; to live without fear. These are my values. Whatever consequences I pay for them, I shall pay…
Now, as I conclude this brief entry, I want to say that I recognize not everyone is going to have the same interpretation of my words. What one person takes as a totally depressing essay, another person might tell me, “Jim, that was hilarious!” (And, in fact, this has actually happened.)
In invite you to keep reading. Or not. It’s entirely up to you.
If my up-close-and-personal observations and disclosures turn out to be a bit much, I can only advise: caveat lector.
Let the reader beware.
The Liddypudlians
A couple of months ago I wrote about the one “day off” I had during the whole change-your-life kinda summer that 2007 provided me. On that day (June 30), in Eugene, I wandered about Saturday Market and ended up at the stage area listening to a local musician sing the entire Beatles Abbey Road album from start to finish…while accompanying himself on the ukulele!
What a tremendous treat that was!
And, what a totally Eugene, at-home-like experience that turned out to be.
Given my subsequent move to a new and totally unfamiliar part of the world, I have been asking myself: when am I ever going to be able to replicate that kind of feeling again? Will I ever be “at home” again? And also: when will I ever hear live Beatles music again?!
Well, as it turns out, I didn’t have that long to wait. (At least for the answer to that last question…)
Last Sunday, the little hippie-dippie Marin County town of Fairfax held its second annual Town-Wide Picnic at the local ball field. Now, I didn’t really plan to attend. In fact, I was absolutely oblivious to the fact that this thing was happening at all until, on a whim, I decided to visit Fairfax that afternoon simply to check out a nearby place with a Eugene-like (read: “liberal” or “tie-dye”) kind of reputation.
As I was walking around, I noticed posters in a couple of windows advertising the event (that was supposed to be happening at that very moment) and, at first, all I could think of was “where’s the ball field?” Well, given that this is an extremely tiny place, it didn’t take long to find out. (I simply followed the foot traffic!) Of course, I was initially a little reluctant to join in the festivities, given that it’s a very small town and I’d be gate-crashing their party. But the thing that helped me overcome my hesitancy was the Beatles music coming from the stage. A group called “The Liddypudlians” was up there churning out some great stuff!
The band was 26 members strong…yes, I needed to count them! There were several (rotating) lead vocalists, lead and rhythm guitars, drums, a chorus -- as well as horn, string, and woodwind sections. This was an orchestra that reproduced Beatles songs quite faithfully -- meticulously consistent with any studio-produced Beatles-album track.
I sat on the lawn, soaked up the sun, and enjoyed three sets of live Beatles tunes for just over three hours. I loved this group!
For a little while there, I almost felt like I was home.
What If?
I sometimes wonder: what if?
What if I had been born with more imagination, talent, artistic ability or intellectual capacity than was granted to me? What if I’d grown up to have more wisdom than is mine?
What if I had more depth as a human being?
What if I hadn’t been born working-class in the Midwest but rather to wealth in mid-town Manhattan? Or to college professors in Berkeley?
What if I’d not been so slight in stature that I was typically the last kid picked for a team? What if I were tall and strong, with perfect teeth and an infectious, extraverted personality? What if I’d had charismatic good looks in this life?
What if I had been able to write the Great American Novel or been able to produce photographic art rivaling Ansel Adams? Or Annie Leibovitz?
What if I’d lived one of the great love stories? How would my life be different if I’d found my soulmate early in life and had a loving, devoted partner by my side through all my struggles?
What if I’d not had to cope with chronic pain for most of my life?
What would my life be like today if even one of these things had been different?
These are thoughts I have on occasion. Typically, I’ll go down this path when I’m feeling a little sorry for myself or things are just generally not going well. That’s not really the case at this moment, though, because what currently brings on such mental meanderings is that I’m wondering how it is that I ended up here. After 37 years an Oregonian, here I am, all of a sudden, a Californian.
I guess the most terrible thing that’s going on right now is that I’m missing “home.”
I was on the phone yesterday with a friend who was, herself, 19 years an Oregonian — and has just moved to Pennsylvania to take on a new job. At the other end of the line I heard her teenage daughter come into the room and ask who she was talking to, to which she replied, “my friend Jim, in California.”
Jim. In California.
How weird to hear those words.
How could this possibly be?
Earlier this year I was a finalist for a position that would have landed me in one of my favorite little college towns on the planet: Corvallis, Oregon. From the moment I discovered the announcement, I pictured myself there, living back in Corvallis: my home for a full twenty years (1970-90).
What if I’d gotten that job?
I guess in a parallel universe, I wowed them at the interview and ended up there. But in this version of reality, I experienced another outcome: needing to move on from the rejection and continue with the interviews. I subsequently traveled to places like Burlington, Vermont; Palm Desert, California; Vancouver, Washington; and Kentfield, California…ending up with the job offer that landed me in my current location.
So here I am: now a Bay Area Golden Stater…wondering what life has in store for me in this place…and having an ache in my heart for a land I call home.
Blog Curiosities
Things I’m wondering about…
Why is it two specific blog entries have been obscenely popular with you out there in recent times? For example, in the past 7 days alone there have been 1,431 Google searches that have led ya’ll to an entry from last February entitled “March on the Pentagon.” And, coming in second is another piece with an entirely different kind of political slant; an entry from November 2006 called “A New Season” has received 238 looks in the past week. What can this possibly be about? (All this activity is a little intimidating!)
Why is it that the statistics generated by SquareSpace for my blog are WAY WAY DIFFERENT from the Sitemeter stats reflected in the counter over there in the right-hand column? They are not even close to each other! Most of the hits recorded by SquareSpace are not counted by Sitemeter, and some of those by Sitemeter are not captured by SquareSpace. What is going on here?
What’s behind the green door?!
And, finally, I seem to have picked up a new reader in Malaysia. Whoever you are, you’re the furthest-away regular I have. Thanks for finding me!
Update on September 15, 2007:
Thanks go to Mr. Mayor for the comment (below)...it is not often that TechnoMonk receives technical advice, assistance and/or information from Hizzoner.
Unrequited
So: here I am, all moved in and headed in the direction of being “settled.” I’m almost two months into the new job, and I’m generally finding my way around Marin County better and better all the time.
I’ve actually had a little time here and there over these last two weekends to see that leisure time is once again an occasional possibility. I’ve polished off a couple of novels sitting outside in my new lounge chair — so it appears that the stressful overload of moving and totally changing my life is about to be a thing of the past. (That is to say, things will now likely settle into more manageable and normal levels of work and health-related stress.)
However, as the perpetual adrenaline rush associated with these last few months of frenzied activity goes away, I’m recognizing a feeling of being a little on edge. Actually, what I’m experiencing is a renewed sense of emptiness. For here I am, in a new state, in a new town, in a new job: completely alone.
The silence is eerie. The phone keeps not ringing. The space once occupied by best-friend Katrina is presently a void. Her unique ring tone goes unused and unheard. And, the presence of unstructured time allows for old and familiar emotions to creep in. Feelings of loss and sadness are now my constant companions.
Still, the (ten-year-old) question remains: is she gone forever this time?
Round and round she goes, where she stops, nobody knows…
Soundtrack Suggestion
Unrequited love’s a bore, yeah,
And I’ve got it pretty bad.
But for someone you adore,
It’s a pleasure to be sad.
Like a straying baby lamb
With no mama and no papa,
I’m so unhappy, yeah…
But oh so glad.
(“ Glad To Be Unhappy ” – Mamas and the Papas)
Keep Those Cards & Letters Coming!
Here is an excerpt from a short missive that came in by email from a reader in Oregon…
There is a lot of humor in your blog. I hope you can see it. Is it not supposed to be funny? …Thanks for sharing all of your hopes and fears with the entire world … You sir, are in a word, a handful . I mean that in the politest and most complimentary way. Your world view is so prickly (ala Mark Twain)…
Yes, yes, yes (!) dear reader…I hope you are able to share in the soap-opera humor that seems to be my life. I know I perhaps come across as deadly serious at times, but I suspect that those of you who know me best can “hear” my voice and know that there is mostly a lightness there…trying to take things as they come, turn them upside down, and then talk about them…in an embarrassingly public way.
Thanks for reading!
You Can Observe A Lot Just By Watching
It was exactly two months ago today, July 2, that I arrived here in California to take possession of my apartment in Larkspur. I started packing up my boxes for this latest move the first week of June, and have been basically living from cardboard containers ever since…until last weekend, that is. I have finally unpacked the last of my things, put the artwork up on the walls, and reorganized my rented storage area. And I’ve had the apartment thoroughly cleaned by my new housekeeper for the first time. As of now, I’m officially “moved-in.”
I would like to say that I’m “settled” (as in: “Jim, are you all settled in yet?”), but that’s not really the case. There has been too much stress associated with moving to a different state and taking on a new, high-stress job to (in all honesty) say that I’m settled. But, being unpacked and moved in feels like good progress along that path, I must admit.
To be “settled,” I think I need a little more time to adjust culturally. The change I’m experiencing by moving from an ultra-conservative, economically-depressed community in southern Oregon to a liberal county with the highest per-capita income in the U.S. has been mind-blowing, to say the least.
And that’s not to say I’m not enjoying it here. Because I am. Believe me, living in a place that is on the liberal cutting-edge is quite refreshing. What an incredible relief that I’ve found my way here!
But I experience a good deal of preoccupation, and some degree of angst, about how different this place is, too. For one, I am continually reminded of the high cost of living: everything costs more here, and sometimes it’s way more expensive. Just this morning I went to the nearest car wash, for example, and paid $19.99 for the most basic service they offer. In Eugene, at what I think is the most pricey car wash in the city, the cost is less than half of what I just coughed up today.
And, of course, it’s the first of the month and I just wrote out another rent check. It’s a good thing I finally received a full-month’s pay: my rent is roughly two and a half times of what it was last year. Really, I can’t think of one thing that costs less here.
Additionally, one of the most interesting things that has been on my mind in the last few weeks, as I’ve been looking around trying to pay attention to my surroundings, is my perception that the residents of Marin County are a considerably better-looking lot than I’ve been around in recent times. I started out by noticing the much larger number of people sporting sun tans than are evident in rainy, cloudy, cooler Oregon. And then, as I kept reminding myself that “you can observe a lot just by watching,” I noticed that it wasn’t only the tans, it’s that people seem to look more attractive, more together, and just plain healthier here. For example, it’s my perception that there are significantly fewer obese folks around me now than there have been during the last few years.
So, it was with great interest that last Thursday I came across an MSNBC article that suggests ZIP codes are surprisingly accurate predictors of obesity. As I was able to learn, “in a study published in the September issue of the journal Social Science & Medicine, University of Washington researchers found that adults living in ZIP codes with the highest property values were the slimmest, and those living in ZIP codes with the lowest property values were the fattest.” The data presented in this study are entirely consistent with my informal, non-scientific observations of Marin County residents. With property values here that are literally off-the-charts, according to the UW research people here should be slim(mer). And they are.
My one last observation (for today, anyway) about the culture here is that the attitudes of Marin County residents tend toward elitism, entitlement & privilege. My opinion is that these Mariners know they live in an enchanted place among the rich and beautiful…and somehow these conditions give them a rather special place in society. It’s not really anything specific that anybody says…it’s just that the sense of entitlement here is palpable.
I imagine that once I’m more accepting (i.e., less judgmental) of the cultural values I’m discovering, then I’ll consider myself more “settled.”
Off The Beaten Path
Yesterday I took a little road trip. No, I didn’t have another enzyme bath. (The next one is currently being planned, but it’s not on the calendar yet.) This time I visited the western part of Marin County. I needed to travel to Bolinas for a short meeting at the College of Marin Marine Biology Lab…a rather ancient facility owned by my current employer.
Yes, this time Saturday was a workday. At least I got to see the ocean for the first time in a long time, though.
I had been told that Bolinas is quite the little community. One of the elements of the town’s culture is its isolationist tendencies. Residents mostly just want to be left alone, and they like being off the beaten path. Everyone I talked to, when I mentioned that I was going to Bolinas, informed me that people from the town regularly tear down the road sign on Highway 1 that points would-be visitors to their little burg. Indeed, yesterday when I took the turn-off, I noticed there was a post but no sign. (Luckily, I had a co-pilot, as well as a navigation system, that knew the way there.)
I also learned that the San Andreas Fault runs the length of the Bolinas Lagoon, just a thousand feet from where I stood on Wharf Road. It’s prime earthquake territory, as is just about everywhere I am these days. (I just try to not think about that too much!)
The photo at the top of this entry shows an informal, mid-Saturday-morning gathering of Bolinas residents on the dock owned by the College.
“Chee” Whiz
chi
Variant: or ch’i also qi \'chē\
Function: noun
Usage: often capitalized
Etymology: Chinese (Beijing) qì, literally, air, breath
: vital energy that is held to animate the body internally and is of central importance in some Eastern systems of medical treatment (as acupuncture) and of exercise or self-defense (as tai chi)
A year and a half ago (February 2006), I wrote an entry entitled, simply, “Qi” (pronounced “chee”). At that time I speculated my “life force,” “vital energy,” or “spiritual energy” [rough English-language equivalents of the Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) term “qi”], was in decline – and I was just beginning to see an acupuncturist in Portland to determine whether or not I could address some of my body issues via the TCM route. I saw a practitioner there for about four months, right up until the time I had to move away. One of the things that always concerned me about her, though, was that she did not seem to subscribe to the philosophy upon which the practice was based: while she was a seemingly adequate technician of the craft, I don’t believe she believed. Ultimately, I didn’t really experience much benefit from those treatments.
At the current time, of course, I have improved my health situation a lot. The TCM practitioner I found in Roseburg earlier this year was instrumental in helping me dramatically turn my life around. She was an all-around Medicine Woman: a true healer. I was fortunate to have found her when I did. Western Medicine was not helping, and in fact may have been hurting, me. This “alternative” approach very likely saved my life.
Alas, I had to leave my Oregon Medicine Woman behind and move yet again. (Don’t get me wrong: it was a good, good thing to leave Roseburg.) So, ever since I’ve been here in Marin County, almost two whole months now, my quest has been to find other healers who can keep me on my recovery path.
As of last week, I have found two individuals who fit this description, both as a result of referrals from my Roseburg miracle-worker. As it turns out, two of her primary instructors are from the Bay Area. The Lauren Berry Method (of bodywork) teacher she studied with lives in Berkeley; when I contacted that person she referred me to a colleague in Marin County who works a few miles north of here in Novato. The TCM guru she studied with lives in San Francisco; and he subsequently referred me to a practitioner even closer, just over in San Rafael.
My new bodywork person seems to be incredibly gifted in her craft. She is very intuitive and gentle, and after just three treatments seems to be making a positive difference with regard to my pain and energy levels. I can’t believe my luck that I’ve found someone with these talents so swiftly.
The TCM story is a bit different, however. Before calling the San Rafael practitioner, I first tried one in San Anselmo. This person had Saturday office hours, which I found desirable, and I had heard good things about him in terms of making a difference in people’s lives. Alas, after just two sessions I determined that he was not the one for me. When I reported to him little results from the first session, the second time he proceeded to get much more aggressive with his acupuncture needles…resulting in unwanted (and I believe unwarranted) pain. (“Holy shit!,” I shouted out, at least a couple of times.) I decided I needed to try something (someone) different, so I called the San Rafael practitioner I had been led to from my Roseburg contact.
I saw him for the first time last Thursday. When I told him, at the intake conversation, that I was turning 60 the next day, he reported that he had turned 60 the previous Saturday. He was very patient, listened attentively to all my concerns, carefully examined the Chinese herbs I have been taking for a few months, and very thoroughly explained his way of working. Fortunately, he was also quite skilled in terms of the actual decorating of my body with his needlework.
His assessment of me rang true…that I was “deficient in qi.” Of course, this is no surprise. This is a long-standing life issue and, as much progress I have made in recent months, I know I still have quite a long way to go.
In case you’re interested, I found a website that explains the five functions of qi (and what happens when one is qi deficient). These are direct quotes from that discussion…
1. Promoting function
Qi provides the active, vital energy necessary for the growth and development of the human body and to perform the physiological functions of the organs, meridians and tissues. If there is a deficiency of qi, its promoting functions are weakened…and growth and development can be affected or delayed, the organs and meridians cannot function properly and blood formation is hampered…2. Warming function
Being a heat source, qi warms the body and keeps it at a constant temperature so normal physiological functions can take place. Deficiency of qi can lead to a lowered body temperature, intolerance of cold and cold hands and feet.3. Defending function
In TCM, one of the main causes of disease is the invasion of “Evils”. By resisting the entry of “illness evils” into the body, qi defends against their attack and maintains healthy physiological functions. In western terms, this qi defending function acts like the immune system.4. Consolidation and retention function
Qi consolidates and retains the body’s substances and organs by holding everything in its proper place…if qi is deficient, the consolidating function is weakened, leading to various kinds of health problems such as hemorrhage; frequent urination, premature ejaculation and stomach or kidney prolapses…The promoting and consolidating functions work in a complementary manner. For example, qi promotes blood circulation and the distribution of body fluids, but it also controls and adjusts the secretion of fluid substances. The balance between these two functions is essential for maintaining a healthy blood circulation and water metabolism.
5. Transforming functions
Qi also possesses “vaporization” or “transformation” functions, which are important for the metabolism of fundamental substances. As suggested by these words, qi may “vaporize” substances in the body and transform them into essence or vital energy. For example, certain actions of qi allow food to be changed into food essence, which is in turn transformed into different types of qi and blood. Indigestible food and waste are also transformed by qi into urine and stools for excretion.
A lot of the description above is, really, the “story of my life.” Consider, especially, the “warming function.” As a chronically cold human being, nothing could be more profound evidence that I am qi deficient.
Through the use of acupuncture and herbs (as well as the aforementioned bodywork techniques), I am hoping to turn this qi deficiency around and be whole again…transforming myself into a physically-healthy person with a correspondingly healthy spirit.
The Sexagenarian
Some days are a little more difficult than others. Today has been sort of a rough one.
It’s the eve of my sixtieth birthday.
Oh. My. God.
Six. Oh.
You know, I’ve always tended to dismiss the importance of birthday rituals. I just haven’t had much use for them…who needs yet one more reminder of another year gone? For me, it’s typically the thought: I’ve traversed another 365 days…and I’m still alone.
I guess I’ve most always, most years, wanted to just breeze on by the whole birthday scene.
As I prepare to mark the big day tomorrow, I’m realizing that I’ve now lived twice as many years as I thought I would. Some of you have likely heard me say (because this is what I truly believed) that I didn’t feel like I’d ever live past thirty. And, now…well, here I am.
Who woulda thunk?
Tomorrow will be a normal day at work: meetings virtually all day long. I’m new here, and of course nobody knows it’s this particular day in my life. I’ll spend the day among others, but totally alone.
And, this will be a year when I can’t even expect a call from my best friend. We’ve had a tradition of sending cards and calling each other on birthdays, even when we’re totally out of touch…but this year seems to be different. She’s just moved on and I’ve indicated a desire for no contact.
This year, especially…alone in a new place, with a landmark day staring me in the face…I’m not in the happy place that I’d like to be for the occasion.
Where’s the party when you really want one?
Soundtrack Suggestion
Only the lonely
Know the heartaches I’ve been through
Only the lonely
Know I cried and cried for you
(“Only The Lonely” – Roy Orbison)
The AARP Generation
Last October, I told the story of the kid at the Subway sandwich shop who asked if I “did the senior discount.” To which I gave a gentle, but firm, reply: “no!”
Fast forward to yesterday, approximately ten months later. This time, at the local (Greenbrae, CA) Noah’s Bagels store, a modified version of this scenario played out…
I typically visit Noah’s here (as I did the Noah’s on Hawthorne when I lived in Portland), on Saturdays and Sundays, to have an egg mitt and a cup of tea – and read the morning newspaper. Yesterday morning there was a veteran behind the register taking orders, along with a trainee. The experienced Noah’s employee explained that I was a regular and that she typically didn’t charge me the “gourmet bagel” premium on my egg-mitt order, and that since I am such a good guy, she gives me a “family discount.”
Or at least that is what I thought she said.
Senior Discount?!