Mid-November Menagerie

So, it's mid-November, and I've wasted entirely too much time being sick. I've had quite a few bouts of vomiting over the past few weeks, so I'm watching my diet to see what might be the cause. This weekend was a total wash, with very little accomplished. I've got to make up for lost time this week if I am to drive "over the river and through the woods" to (not grandmother's) house I go for Thanksgiving week. It's a trip I'm really looking forward to, and to see some people I don't get to see very often. In fact, it may be my last opportunity to spend Thanksgiving with them if they end up moving out of the country next year. (sniff)


I can say that I've been excited to have spoken to some very interesting people recently about some exciting projects coming up after the end of the year. I do have some things to look forward to.


I recently spotted this comment on my most recent post prior to this one that had me wondering why I didn't just say what he said. It's rare that I struggle to express myself clearly, but lately it has been a challenge to do so as well as this reader has:

"It sounds to me like your point was missed by many people. I have had the discussion for the need to re-examine what we are calling "time" for years, as have others in my field.

Perhaps the best (and most clear) way to explain it to those who enjoy time travel as their religion and/or imaginary friend is to remind them that regardless of time dilation, it is all local, not general, and as you said, all other objects (including crystal fluctuations) continue to move at their own pace unaffected everywhere but in the specific environment of where what we call time dilation is being observed. It doesn't change the speed of crystal fluctuation in the entire universe.

For some, their supernatural beliefs are bolstered only by their misinterpretation of science."

Indeed!


On another note, I've noticed people putting up winter decorations even earlier this year than last. I suppose we'll end up leaving them up year-round before long. Despite the fact that I'm not religious, I do enjoy winter lights and decorations, and have always recognized the biological origins from which all of our seasonal celebrations seem to stem. (Mammals tend to hibernate and/or be less active in the winter and eat more in preparation for what used to be a reduced food supply in colder months.) It doesn't really matter to me that we don't have the need to do that any longer. I continue to enjoy it, mammal that I am.


A.

Asperger's and Fries

I have never been diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome. However, I have been told by counselors when attempting to treat my O.C.D. that they see that as a possibility. I don't really think it matters either way, since I manage to function quite well in most social situations. However, when I see something that disgusts me, I can be quite caustic, and can also come across as extremely condescending and arrogant.


My father was the same way, and while those who knew my father well (and who know me well) would tell you that isn't a reflection of who either my father was or I am, those attitudes do sometimes display themselves when conditions are ripe for it.


For me, the arrogance of others when making assumptions and attempting to perpetuate falsehoods is a condition that qualifies for my inner bitch to come out and kick ass. Sometimes, in the process, I let my disgust get the better of me, and my communication skills take a dive.


I have (at least temporarily) removed my last couple of posts discussing some scientific issues for that reason. However, I want to make it clear what did, and did not, motivate me to do so.


First, I have several friends who are physicists. They, and a friend of a friend who is also a science writer, have let me know that some of the words I chose to express the flaws in the way people think about "time" are actually flawed themselves in the way I have applied them, so I am removing the posts in the interest of preventing anyone from believing something that isn't true based on my own miscommunication.


I suppose it would be appropriate and sound good for me to say that I also was motivated to do so by the fact that my wording was arrogant, condescending, and even hostile. However, though this attitude itself may seem arrogant, I'm afraid that had nothing to do with my decision.


My blog is most definitely not a professional publication, but more of a sounding board. As such, I will occasionally write things that are more a reflection of my own opinions rather than facts, but I will always attempt to make it clear that I am doing so when that is the case.


As someone who has spent much time working in the research field as well as having the privilege of working with many people much more intelligent than myself, I have learned many things and gained many perspectives on a variety of topics. I do not, however, claim to be an expert on those topics.


Having said that, when I do know something to be in error, and am subjected to hearing it repeatedly from people who have begun to accept it and repeat it as though it were their religion, I do NOT tolerate it well.


Some do not understand the necessity to argue semantics, because they do not value accurate communication. That doesn't change my determination to pursue accuracy.


For the record, my beef with Einstein's theory of relativity is not necessarily with the theory itself, which I say is most likely valid and all but proven in many aspects, but the assumptions that are so often made about the ramifications of the theory of relativity.


Like any statement, what I call "spin-off" ideas or statements often get made, and if the logic isn't kept in check, all kinds of ridiculous and inaccurate conclusions can be withdrawn from a handful of accurate facts.


The ones that annoy me the most are those that claim things that we already know to be false. An example is the idea that (and I'm hoping I'm not expressing this inaccurately) because it is said that "time" slows down when you are moving, and continues to slow down the faster you move, that somehow this means you will age more slowly if you move more.


I know many people (myself included) who spend at least a third of their waking hours in vehicles traveling at around 60 miles per hour. And, while I am often told that I appear youthful for my age, I also know people who drive as much as I do and appear much older than they actually are.


What annoys me about that statement is that there is a huge (and inaccurate) assumption about what causes aging inherent in such a claim. Sure, if movement slows down for your body, it follows that anything occurring in your body will have a delayed movement, and theoretically, you can say that aging will occur at a slower rate.


However, aging has less to do with the speed of movement and more to do with the hormones, chemicals, and D.N.A. contained in the body. It is also important to remember that frequent travel (by car or air) often takes a toll on the body in the form of fatigue and stress, which can release toxins in the body and prevent the cells from performing their daily cleanup during R.E.M. sleep effectively.


Such claims of movement slowing the aging process are the types of things that often give birth to junk science, which gives birth to products that do not do what they claim to do, but that mislead millions of hard-working people to fork over their money for something that will do nothing but prevent them from using that money for something more worthwhile.


Someone recently tried to tell me that on an airplane or a higher elevation (such as a mountain) "time" slows down, and the proof would be that my heart rate would also slow. While that is often the case, one of the things about the heart is that it is not regulated by your elevation or the "speed" of time, as much as it is regulated by the brain. In low-oxygen conditions, the heart must work harder to maintain its pace, but that does not always translate to a slower heart rate. It is also true that it is the low oxygen level that causes the heart to beat more slowly at higher elevations, and it does so at a level perceivable to the person experiencing it, which is far more significant than an imperceivable effect the "slowing down of time" may have.


I lived at an 8,500 foot elevation about ten years ago, and my heart condition made itself known much more frequently at that elevation than it does at sea level, but my heart rate often increased with palpitations more often than slowing down.


Regardless of what anyone says about "time" slowing down on an airplane, or in a hot air balloon, or any other number of claims regarding the nature of time due to the ever-changeable way the word time is used, the rest of the world continues to move at its own pace.


My main point in my previous posts was that, in order to experience any point in the past again, (1969, for example), every sub-atomic particle in the entire universe would have to rearrange itself to its precise location at the point in "time" that the "time traveler" wishes to return, and, even if that were likely and/or possible (which I ever-so-arrogantly and condescendingly declare that it is not) it is highly unlikely to do so simply because one gets into a spaceship and travels at the speed of light, or because someone gets into a "time machine" and pushes some buttons.


Another example of assumption that annoys the hell out of me is that somehow shaving causes hair to grow back thicker. The television show "Mythbusters" has successfully addressed the fact that it doesn't work that way, but there are those who are so attached to their "anecdotal evidence" that it does that they actually attempt to ridicule anyone who tries to tell them otherwise.


I once had a woman tell me there was NO WAY that it wasn't true, because when she was pregnant and shaved the hair that had begun to grow on her belly, it got thicker and thicker. She never stopped to think about the fact that the hair had already gotten thicker before she shaved it, which was what prompted her to shave it to begin with. She didn't consider the fact that the hormones secreted by her pituitary gland (which are what prompted the hair to grow thicker in the first place) continue to secrete ever-higher levels of hormone throughout pregnancy, which means that her hair was going to continue to get thicker whether she shaved it or not.


The fact that hair is stubbly when it "grows back" (makes its way above the skin's surface as it continues to grow after having its end shaved off) has to do with the fact that sometimes the hair splits when shaven and that it is not able to lie flat until it grows long enough to do so, causing it to stick up and appear more rigid, even though it has the same thickness as before.


Why do these things bother me so much? Why do I care whether or not someone believes that shaving affects the thickness of their hair? It isn't the specific example itself that bothers me, it is the symptom indicative of a greater problem that disturbs me so.


We live in a world full of people who allow their freedom to be taken away, beg for it to be taken even, because they don't want the responsibility of having to meet their own needs. They do not see, nor do they seem to care, that this will ultimately strengthen all of the things they do not like about the world we live in, and their refusal to think beyond what they are spoon-fed by the media (or even their own elitist clubs where they feel safe in turning off their truth filter) is what makes them into instruments for the destruction of not only their own freedom, but the freedom of you and I as well.


They're making laws about whether a restaurant owner is allowed to put salt in the food they serve to the public or not. It is NOT a far jump before they begin making laws about what you can and can not put in your OWN food at HOME. Oh, wait, they already have... you can't bake marijuana into brownies legally, that's for sure. The fact that I want nothing to do with marijuana doesn't cause me to think it is my right (or responsibility) to deny someone else the right to do so.


This disgusts me. It pisses me off. It pisses me the FUCK off. This blog is the one place where I can express my disgust, and yes, when I get pissed off, I use profanity.


Many people are shocked when they hear me use profanity in person, because they say they have never heard me do so before. I tell them that is because I use it as an exclamation point rather than a comma. However, there IS a place for profanity, and while a professional science journal is not the place for it, I have chosen that my blog will be.


When I'm writing in my blog, I'm not a professional. I am a human expressing myself in all of my imperfection. If that bothers you, you'll want to brace yourself when you read what I have to say, and if you choose not to read what I have to say because you can't bear to read my off-putting honest expression, then that's fine with me.


I do appreciate and respect well-meaning comments and suggestions, but I won't always agree with them, nor will I always abide by them.


I don't ask anyone to take me too seriously in any of my blog posts, especially when I'm baring my "soul". However, I have certainly learned that trying to discuss my disgust for inaccurate conclusions withdrawn from otherwise-accurate theories tends to ruffle a lot of feathers.


Sometimes we need to be offensive in order to bring attention to important issues. We get so comfortable with what we think we know that we can lull ourselves into a stupor of mental laziness so powerful that all the memorizing and reciting of data in the world will not allow us to escape.


I'll try not to discuss scientific concepts here in the future, since those are best saved for more appropriate venues, but please, don't tell me that sitting in a hot air balloon all day will make me age more slowly, because even if it had the ability to do so on a perceptible level, before you know it, some jackass will introduce a law requiring us all to do so "for our own good".


Fuck.


A.

Life's Curveballs - A Former Classmate's Tragic Loss

His name is Chris Granju. His family went to church at St. John's Episcopal Church in Knoxville, TN, where my family went and where my father's funeral was held. I also remember my grandparents square-dancing with his parents on occasion.

The Granju family was, like so many families in our town, wholesome, kind, delightful. They valued community and education. Good people.

Chris was always so well-mannered. He and I were about the same age. We were in the same Sunday school class at St. John's, and both frequently went to "P.E.P." meetings on Wednesday nights.

I'm sure if you had asked anyone back then, nobody would ever have thought that "little Angie" would ever end up in prison. To be sure, my life has taken many unexpected turns. Add all of them together, however, and the grand sum is nothing compared to what Chris and his family have gone through.

I'd been seeing the promotional teasers for "Henry's Story", and I knew it was about "some kid who died of a prescription drug addiction". I was drawn to the story because it was about a local family and was a local news special. I had hoped to watch it, but hadn't made special plans to do so. Now, however, I'm very glad that I happened to have the television on when it aired.

In all honesty, the reason the television was on is because normally I watch "Wheel of Fortune" at that time. (Ok, so I don't actually watch it. I glance at the puzzle long enough to figure it out, then go back to my six or seven tasks which I am simultaneously attempting to complete.)

"Wheel of Fortune" was pre-empted by "Henry's Story". Somehow I knew this was going to be a powerful story, but I had no idea it would hit so close to home...

The name Granju is not a common name. When I first heard that Henry's last name was Granju I immediately thought of Chris. Moments later, I felt a cold chill run down my spine as I saw Chris Granju appear on my television screen and realized that it was his son that had died at age 18.

I've never had kids. I've instinctively known that even the possibility that something awful might happen to any children I would have would add far too much anxiety to my already anxiety-ridden life. People tell me they think I would have made (or still could possibly make) a great mother, but it's not something I can see myself handling without constant feelings of anxiety and inadequacy getting in the way.

So many seem to think that there is a formula for raising healthy, well-adjusted kids. Take them to church (or not), send them to private school (or home school them), communicate well with them about alcohol, drugs, sex...

Henry Granju went to private (Episcopal) school. He had two parents who, even though they were divorced, loved him very much. He had an extended family who also loved him dearly. Friends. Community.

Henry Granju also had a lot of pain in his heart. This pain could not be lessened simply because he had a loving family, friends, access to a community of people who would do anything they could to help anyone who needed it. Ultimately, this pain led him down a road that ended his life far too soon. Now, his family has pain that surpasses exponentially the pain that any one person could possibly feel.

Losing a child is the worst possible loss. We bring children into the world to nurture them and watch them grow into the future adults who will help make the world a better place where we have failed to do so. We do not expect them to be devoured by that world before our own lives are over. Sadly, it happens far too often.

I don't care whether you are an atheist, a Christian, a Muslim, a Satanist, or a Wiccan, losing your own child will cause you the same unbearable pain. Please, share this video (link below) with anyone you know who has "children", regardless of their age. It may save their lives.

Henry's Story

Emerging From Hell After A Worm In My Apple

Well, it appears that my post about problems I was having with Apple has disappeared. (!?!) So, I will start my update by giving the background story...

First, some crucial info.: I had an Apple iPhone 3Gs 32G. I use it not only as my only telecommunications device, (no land line phone), but also to keep track of my personal life (health/medication for myself and others, apps. for everything from banking to cooking) and I find it CRUCIAL in my business life. (Appointments, database management, writing projects, etc.)

On Saturday, October 16, 2010 at approximately 1:30 p.m. I decided that, since the Apple iPhone iOS 4.1 had been out for several weeks, any bugs it might have initially had would surely have been resolved, and that I should go ahead and update my phone via iTunes.

I connected via U.S.B. to my computer, iTunes popped up, and I proceeded to back up and then update my iPhone. Problem: both the phone and iTunes froze just before the update was finished. Upon control-alt-delete of iTunes and a reboot of the iPhone, I tried again. At that point, I got an error message of "3014" each time I attempted to update, which is supposed to indicate not enough hard drive space or another user-side issue, but in this case it did not.

After doing some troubleshooting on my end (verifying most recent version of iTunes, uninstalling/reinstalling, checking firewall settings, checking port settings, trying different U.S.B. ports and cords,standing on my head, etc.) I realized that there was something going on that I could not address from my end. What was worse, is that the iPhone was stuck in "restore" mode, only it wasn't even an actual functioning "restore mode" because you couldn't restore from backup, even in D.F.U. mode. (D.F.U. mode is Device Firmware Upgrade mode, which requires some programming via holding down the home and power buttons of the phone for different amounts of time in different sequences.)

I got through to Apple's customer care pretty quickly, and was told that their activation/update servers were completely down, that there had been some scheduled maintenance that someone supposedly scheduled during the day instead of at night, like they were supposed to, and that until it went back up, I would not be able to do anything with my phone. Oh yeah, and I forgot to mention that they also told me they had no estimated time for when the servers might be back up. (They were down from Saturday morning until Sunday morning.)

I immediately had to cancel my plans for the day, as I tried repeatedly in vain to get my phone updated and working. I couldn't make or receive calls, couldn't do anything at all with the phone. It had become a paperweight.

During this time, Apple did NOT put ANY warnings on their web site or on iTunes to let people know there was a server issue. This is unfortunate, because many people update on weekends, when they aren't as busy and have an hour or two they can devote to doing so. This means that many people ended up with dead iPhones unnecessarily, and that really is a shame.

While waiting for the server to go back up, I surfed the net looking for others who had the same problem. There were thousands of posts, most by folks who, like me, had spent hours trying Apple's recommended troubleshooting steps, only many of them still didn't realize that it was an Apple issue and were pulling their hair out (many people actually claimed to be pulling their hair out) trying to figure out what was going wrong.

I shared what I had been told by Apple with as many as I could, but I'm sure there are many people who still don't know what happened. Apple should not be surprised if they start seeing many abandon iPhones and moving to Droid systems, simply because they don't understand what happened to their phone and they now perceive the iPhone to be unreliable, even though it's probably about as reliable as any other phone.

Sunday I called Apple again. This time, they said their servers were back up, yet many of us were experiencing a total freeze of both iTunes and the iPhone at exactly the same spot (2/3 of the way through the update/restore process) and were STILL unable to get our phones working. (What is the point of backing up your phone if you can't restore from backup in a situation like this?)

I made it clear to the representative I was speaking to that not being able to use my phone AT ALL for the past day and 1/2 was NOT acceptable. He understood the seriousness of losing the ability to use the phone and access the data on it, and, since my phone was still under warranty, made an appointment for me to go to the local Apple store and get a replacement phone. (One can not accomplish this at an AT&T store. It must be done at an Apple store.)

Note: Technical support runs out for the iPhone 90 days after purchase unless you purchase an extended technical support package, otherwise you have to pay for technical support after that. However, if it is an issue related to a firmware upgrade problem, that does not seem to apply and they do not require a payment to speak to technical support.

I wonder how many people hung up and didn't bother to wait to speak to anyone at hearing the recording warn them that they might have to pay for technical support on this call? This may be one of the main reasons that Apple is unaware of just how many people were affected by this issue, even though I was told they were receiving many calls.

I went to the Apple store at the appointed time, believing that I would be in and out in a few minutes with a replacement phone that I could restore from backup. (That's what I had been told.) Of course, it actually took more than an hour, because they first wanted to try to get the old phone working. (They couldn't.)

So, they went to the back to get my replacement phone, then called a supervisor back there, stayed gone a long time, and came back to tell me that they did not have any 3Gs 32G models available. I had two options: wait a week (with NO working phone!) for them to order one, or take them up on their offer to give me a new iPhone 4 instead. (Gee, can you guess which option I chose?)

I've never been wild about the ergonomics or the appearance of the iPhone 4, having been very fond of the attractively curved and comfortable models that came before it. It feels "clunky" in my hand, and takes some getting used to. That being said, I must say that the new features have really grown on me.

The dual-cameras that allow for video calling with other iPhone 4 users are really awesome. (Now you can also check to see if you have boogers hanging out of your nose without a mirror!) But, what's even more impressive, is the quality of the cameras themselves!

The iPhone 3Gs was a greatly-improved camera over previous models, but this phone has a camera that truly puts even stand-alone digital cameras and video cameras to shame. Turning the camera on, I can actually see the room through the camera more clearly and seemingly better-lit than in real life, (how is that possible???), and that's without using the built-in flash, which also doubles as a great flashlight in a pinch. (...and this thing which tells time! You'll shoot your eye out, kid!)

The display, while hard to imagine a better, more beautiful display than what Apple has already brought us in previous models, is also super-hero turbo-charged with impossibly vivid and high definition clarity. I. Am. Impressed.

Adding a case to the phone has helped somewhat with the ergonomics issues, and the slightly more narrow size makes it easier for a smaller hand to hold and operate without requiring the other hand. Just for the record though, I'd still like to see a return to the aesthetically and ergonomically-pleasing curves of previous models.

One more worm to go: when I got home and restored from backup, the data from my apps showed up in my phone as "other" in iTunes, but the apps themselves did not load.

Yes, I can re-load them, but it's a major pain for someone like me who does beta-testing for multiple app developers, (I have many jobs - survival requires diversification.), because I had over 300 apps on my phone.

That's why at 1 a.m. several days after getting the new iPhone 4, I'm still in the process of putting everything back in place. Thankfully, all of the data associated with each app. is loading into the app. once the app. is downloaded to the phone, so I guess I should be happy about that. Oh yeah, and the fact that I didn't have to extend my contract with AT&T OR pay the more than $300 with tax for the new iPhone 4 doesn't upset me at all.

:-)

Update: I'm glad I set the phone up as a "new" phone under iTunes before I restored from the backup of my old phone, because I've just learned that the original 4.1 update caused many phones to reboot after just a few minutes on a call. Apparently, you have to go to the Apple store to get a "clean" version of 4.1 - unless they've updated it on their servers. Glad they put the "clean" version on my iPhone 4 before I left. Now I know why they did it there at the store. I've had enough worms in my Apple already. One more and I'm calling it rotten! 

Note to Steve Jobs: REALLY??? You're concerned about stability issues with FLASH??? REALLY??? Isn't that kind of like Osama Bin Laden being concerned about vandalism?

Yes. It's a love-hate relationship I have with Apple.

A.

Dealing With The Sad Casualties Of Delusion

I have a friend whose life seems to parallel my own in many ways, or maybe it's the other way around. In any case, we are both able to relate to one another quite well as a result of our similar experiences.


First, I'll tell you about my friend's recent discovery: A man she works with (who also has a crush on her) started a rumor that she was having an affair, knowing that her girlfriend (yes, she's gay) would hear the rumor and hopefully break up with her. The intended and/or hoped for result was that the woman would then become available, and the man who started the rumor would have a chance with her. Why anyone would think that a break-up with someone would suddenly cause a gay person to become straight is something I don't understand, but that's a topic for another time.


Almost 25 years ago, I had a boyfriend I was crazy about. He seemed like a really nice guy, and we could both see ourselves spending the rest of our lives together, although we both had good enough heads on our shoulders to know that we should give ourselves until at least 25 before we got engaged.


He was a wonderful person to have in my life. My father had just died a year earlier and I found myself living in a new town and going to a new high school. I had dated some jerks at my previous high school, and it was so refreshing to have a boyfriend who truly seemed to care about me as much as I did about him.


One day, he just stopped talking to me. There was no explanation. No break-up. He just stopped talking to me. He didn't return my calls, he wouldn't look at me, it was as though I had dropped off the face of the planet. I never understood what happened, and chalked it up to a guy just not mature enough to be in a relationship, even though I felt as though there must be something I was missing.


Several years later, I was working as a deejay at a radio station and got a call from a friend I hadn't heard from since high school graduation.


His name was Jimmy. We met in homeroom when I first changed schools, mainly because he happened to be sitting in front of me. He was a short little guy whom others called a troll. He was mostly shunned by the other kids, but I thought he was nice and appreciated that I had an instant friend upon going to a new school in a new town.


Jimmy and I talked on the phone often. He brought my books and assignments to the house when I was out of school for several months due to a prolonged illness. He was a good friend.


Jimmy and I never dated. In fact, I had no idea he had any interest in me beyond friendship. Of course, I'm always the last to know.


When Jimmy called me years later, I invited him to the radio station to hang out while I worked the night shift. Between announcements, we drank Slurpees (I know, the story would sound much cooler if I said we drank liquor, but I've never been much into alcohol.) and reminisced about our high school days.


We talked about how, in just a few short years, our lives had changed so much, yet not so much. It was a nice visit, but near the end, things got pretty intense.


Jimmy confessed to me that he had carried a flame for me, and that all through high school he was jealous that I was dating someone else. He also told me that he had lied to my boyfriend and told him that he and I were seeing one another, and that I didn't have the heart to tell him.


It felt like the floor had dropped out from under me. Jimmy? My friend? Lied about me to someone I loved? What's worse, is that my boyfriend apparently believed the lie, and I then realized why he had stopped talking to me.


Jimmy said he had hoped that he and I would get together after the breakup, and that's why he had done what he did. I was flattered, and the fact that I viewed Jimmy as a special person in my life made it easier to forgive him, but it shattered my sense of trust in people in general, what little I had managed to have to start with after some of my childhood experiences.


For a long time, I wondered if I might have ended up marrying and having children and having a very different life than I ended up having if Jimmy hadn't lied. But then, someone pointed out to me that anyone who would believe something about me and then act on it without even discussing it with me first was probably not someone who truly cared about me that much in the first place. Maybe I was just being naive and the romance was just a ruse to get into my pants. I'll never know.


People tell me I'm cute. Truthfully, though, I'm nothing to write home about. I weigh more than someone my height should, and I am, after all, 41.


That's why it is quite shocking to me to learn that something very similar has recently happened with yet another friend I've had for several years. This time I'm not in a romantic relationship that has been destroyed by it, but suffice it to say there has been damage and unnecessary drama, and I SO dislike drama.


Jimmy had some mental health issues, and years later I was devastated to learn that he had killed himself. He was a lost soul, and I have a tendency to attract that kind of person into my life. This most recent situation is also someone who is a lost soul. I try to be a good friend, but sometimes it seems that no good deed goes unpunished.


I'm not sure what is more disturbing:


1) the fact that someone who claims to have romantic feelings for you lies and says awful things about you in the irrational hope that it will somehow increase their chances of developing a relationship with you (Only someone in love could engage in such irrational thinking, eh?)


or


2) a person (or people) you thought loved you and had your back would believe these things, and then totally change their attitude toward you without even telling you why


There are two kinds of people in our lives: the kind who would find anything negative they heard about you to be difficult to believe, even if it was true, and the kind who just really don't think much of you to start with, or harbor resentment towards you, and are therefore all too eager to believe anything negative they hear about you and almost seem to relish spreading the rumors.


I suppose it's better to know how people really feel about you than it is to labor under the delusion that they have your back. I don't have the strength to carry grudges. That is a burden I can't afford to bear. However, I can tell you that there is a great feeling of loss that comes with knowing that you are a fool to think that certain people have your back, or have unconditional love for you. I suppose, at least, we can be happy for those who do.


A.

Buried Alive: Clawing Our Way Out Of The Abyss

I'm watching the rescue of the Chilean miners. They are discussing the depth at which the Chilean miners were trapped underground. Of course, we all knew they were deep underground. I don't know about you, but I hadn't given much thought to how deep underground they were. I just knew they were deep enough to be trapped and to make it very difficult to get out alive.


It has always been difficult for me to process just how huge the earth really is. Perhaps it goes back to when I was a child and my neighbor, Scotty, warned me that digging in the dirt with my kitchen spoon past the red clay would allow the devil (who, in my mind, looked like Super Nut, the cute little guy with the cape on the package of Goobers, circa 1973) to come out and "get me". That just made me want to dig more, so I could see the cute little devil goober in person!


So, when I heard them say that the miners were at a depth far deeper than the Empire State Building, it really struck me how amazing it is that these guys are surviving the whole ordeal and finally being brought to the surface.


There is so much symbolism for me in the whole scenario of being trapped underground, then brought to the surface. I have always been both fascinated and terrified by the idea of being "buried alive".


The Vanishing, with Jeff Bridges (a favorite) and Sandra Bullock (another favorite), was a haunting tale of a disturbed man who buries a stranger alive. He does this just so he can prove to himself that he is capable of being a good person, since in his mind, only someone capable of evil is also capable of making a choice to be good. (Not sure I understand that logic, but whatever.) Sometimes I think the people who write these things are more disturbed than any psycho killer!


In the movie "Kill Bill 2", Uma Thurman's character is buried alive and, impossibly, manages to escape. It is such a dramatic scene, and she plays the role so well. One can feel the character's terror and panic, the hopelessness, the doom. And yet, she is inspired by her training with Pei Mai to use her skills to defy the odds and, quite literally, arise from the grave.


When KB2 was in theaters in 2004, I must have seen it more than a dozen times in the theater for that scene alone. I was so inspired by it that, for my birthday that year, I got a few friends and co-workers together and had myself buried alive (pine box and all) for 15 minutes. I must say that it was extremely liberating to face such a fear by embracing the object of it in such a way, and then to enjoy the pseudo-rebirth upon resurfacing. (Not even the fact that I ended up fracturing my collarbone and spraining my ankle after tripping afterwards could put a damper on the experience.)


A few weeks later, there was a magazine in the U.K. (Bizarre Magazine) that interviewed me about the experience after reading about it on my blog. The story never made it to print, and I'm guessing it's because, even though she asked me about 20 different ways if I got turned on sexually by the experience, the answer was always "no". It was more of an intellectual thrill for me, which doesn't make for an interesting story to readers of a fetish magazine.


I didn't realize it then, but I can clearly see now that part of my desire to be buried and then brought back to the surface was about wanting to kill my afflictions (O.C.D., anxiety) and reclaim my essence (creativity, expression).


I had lost so much of myself over the past couple of decades that there didn't seem to be much of me left for a while. I sometimes feel as though life has whittled away at me from the beginning, so that I've never actually had the chance to grow upward, always having to grow more substance to replace what was cut away.


I've had a rough summer, and so have many others I know. That being said, few of us have had the kind of harrowing experience that the Chilean miners have had.


When I was in prison, the only way I could think of to adequately explain to someone what it was like to be isolated from the rest of the world for two years was to tell them to "Ponder everything you have done over the past two years. Every meal you have eaten, every night you have slept, everywhere you have gone, all of the people with whom you have interacted. Now, imagine all of that never happened and the whole time you were sitting in jail." It's a huge loss of life. It's not a loss of your entire life, but it is a significant part of your life, and it affects the rest of your life in many ways. The fact that you were put there for allegedly having done something wrong in no way makes the post traumatic stress disorder many people struggle with upon release any easier to deal with. If only that were so!


And yet, as difficult as that was, I can only imagine that it must have been far worse for the miners in Chile. They didn't know for sure that they would make it out alive. They were deep in the bowels of the earth, unable to shower, unable to receive emergency medical care, unable to receive mail or make phone calls...


Think about everything you have done since August 5. Vacations, weddings, work days, weekends, meals, movies, places you've gone, people you've seen. During that time, the miners were trapped underground and unable to do anything but stare at the same underground tomb and the same co-workers. Their world was extremely limited. Their lives were on hold.


The abstract idea of being trapped underground for 69 days is bad enough, but when you put it into real terms of your daily life and then contrast the two, it really puts it all in perspective.


The fact that these people have survived is extremely inspiring to me, as is the outpouring of love and concern on a global level. It's just what I needed to help get me out of my funk.


Thankfully, most of us will never experience something so terrible. However, it is worth noting that many people are experiencing their own difficulties, things which are difficult in their own ways and for which there is no public outpouring of support.


Deaths, debt, depression, divorce, illness, unemployment, even the frustrations of daily life, can weigh us down to the point where we feel overwhelmed and "buried alive". What good is the ability to walk freely on the surface of the earth if we feel as though we are smothering under the overwhelming pressures of daily life?


I have learned that, much like Uma Thurman's character in KB2, if we are to survive we must draw on whatever resources we have at our disposal and summon the courage and determination to use them in whatever way necessary to climb out of our (often self-imposed) tombs.


For me, I find strength in discovering what inspires others. Their words and actions can move me to believe that I can, once again, overcome life's assaults.


On some level, I believe that we all dwell within the confines of our own inner abyss. The key is finding ways to rise out of that abyss, using its dark energy to propel us towards the light of determination and accomplishment.


Recently, I read a couple of quotes from Twitter buddies that made me feel as though someone had inserted oxygen directly into my lungs.


The first I found under @WordWhispers: "Take your tears of grief outside, where the sun will paint wee rainbows between each drop."


Wow.


@NatashaBadhwar is one of the godesses of Twitter. Anything she writes is profound in one way or another and I have been honored (!) to have her read and comment on my blog posts in the past. I recently discovered at one of her links the following:


"As you find the courage to name what you may have lost on the way, you also find a way to reclaim it."


Regardless of whether these quotes are original to these two, or whether they found them inspiring and quoted them, the fact that they share them says much about who they are.


I highly recommend checking out their Tweets, and welcome any comments from you, dear readers, about what inspires you to keep breathing each day. After all, everyone can use some "mind-oxygen" on occasion.


Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some things I've lost on the way to name and reclaim.


A.

Falling Back - Dogs To The Rescue

Fall is here. I'm happy about that. Unfortunately, it seems that many of my friends are having a difficult time, as am I.

My friend Julie, whom I blogged about over the summer, and whose mother died just a few months ago, is now going through a divorce. She discovered that her husband of five + years has been cheating on her while she's been caring for her family.

What's worse, is that before she discovered he had a girlfriend, when she told him she wanted to go on a trip with me this month, he told her no, she couldn't, because she has a family to take care of. WHAT A DOUCHE!!! He's telling HER she has a family to take care of, even though her mother is gone and now it's just her and her 4-year-old adopted daughter, while HE is out screwing around. That's a DOUBLE DOUCHE!!!

This has all happened so fast that it's making MY head spin, so I can only imagine how Julie feels. Last week she found an apartment and I have been helping her with her move and trying to find new homes for her pets that she can't take with her to the new apartment.

Other friends are losing loved ones right and left, people they've known for ages who seem to be falling like leaves in the wind.

I don't like to blog about negative things, but sometimes it's good to get these things off of one's chest to make room for optimism and motivation.

I've been sick for a couple of days and am feeling so overwhelmed by everything I need to get done. I keep hoping for a major surge of energy to rush through me and help me get things done more quickly, but my concentration hasn't been good at all. I find it very difficult to focus lately.

I'm angry and frustrated, disappointed, stressed, and just plain blah.

I've got to go now (it's almost 5 a.m.) and pick up a small dog of Julie's that she can't find a home for. She's an adorable doggie, about three years old, tiny, and Julie named her "Big Mama", of course.

She will stay with us until I can find her a good home. It will be interesting to see how she and Booger interact. Mutt and Jeff?

Meanwhile, Booger is the SWEETEST dog ever. He's nice and big and solid so I can grab him and hug him and squeeeeeeeeeeze him when I'm having a rough day. He makes me happy. He's so pretty and adorable and his fur is so soft and shiny. I really can't imagine life without him.

Dogs. In the end, it's all about the dogs.