This may be a little bit difficult to explain.  I think that's why I like haiku.  They don't have to make sense; they're really supposed to evoke an emotion or sensation.  They weren't necessarily even the 5-7-5 syllable arrangement when they originated in Japan.  One source says that the first line is the setup line and the last two resolve the first.  I'm not sure that's generally accepted as a rule, though.  Needless to say, I tend not to follow the rules unless I want to for some reason like wanting to write a true rubaiyat (think Omar Khayyam, the Persian astronomer-poet.)  I've only seen one example by a known American poet (Robert Frost's Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening) and I wanted to try it "for real."  It worked, I think.  Yes, I'm avoiding the explanation.

I believe everyone had at least a piece of my meanings, and as expected, some found more than I knew was there.  That's one of the really neat things about haiku.  Nobody knows when you get them wrong.  It also gives me a chance to see how differently people read short, ambiguous poetry.  I'll leave the exact thought that started this to the end.  It's just too ridiculous to start with.

How tough can it be to write a simple 17 syllable poem, after all?  This one went through at least 25 variations before I posted it and it still isn't up to what I consider good.  I started with the level of being physically supported and warm.  Those of you who guessed chairs, beds, or other things that would support or warm me were right on that level.  Then this morphed slightly to being the physical support for someone or something else.  Many haiku remain at this level, but noooo, I couldn't leave it alone.  With the change of a couple words (awaiting and touch) it became more overtly sensual or sexual.  I liked that version pretty well, but didn't know if it would go over well with the Space Police.  I then changed another word or two (Mass or mass, and changing the second line so it wasn't clear who or what was present for support) and I ended with a haiku that could be read as reliance upon a higher power, worship, or spirituality.  The question is, "What started this thought process?"  Right?  I randomly thought about a car seat that had bun warmers (electric heaters) and wrote it from the seat's point of view.  It didn't lose that interpretation by adding three more layers on top of it, and it makes sense in all those ways.

I'm so sorry, but I'm also laughing too hard to type very well.  Shrink says to self, "Self.  You know you just proved to them how nuts you are, don't you?"  *Self to Shrink, Over.  Yeah?  WTF?*

If any of you wish to play with haiku, be sure to click on the asterisk at the very end.

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2009, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

"Just when you thought it was safe to think in comes mental piracy." – Author Unknown

*

You never know what you’re going to get (or when.)  For some time now, I’ve felt there was something missing in my existence.  I thought further about what this might be and reached a moment of enlightenment.  I have not inflicted a haiku upon my readers in far too long.  I believe that the Windows Live Team had just removed the Lucida Calligraphy font from Live Writer, and having nothing better to complain about at the time, I grumbled about that irreparable loss.  Perhaps, just when I believed I’d found the perfect font for bits of my … umm … body of work (I heard those snickers and one really loud guffaw!) it disappeared and crushed my spirit.  Against such terrifying adversity, I shall proceed with a more plebian font.

Awaiting thy mass

Always present for support

Warming to your touch

There.  That was pretty good.  But what does it mean?  Heh, heh.  You get to tell me again.  The last time I tried this, I liked some of the interpretations I got in the comments better than what I had in mind when I wrote it.

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2009, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

“An orange on the table, your dress on the rug, and you in my bed, sweet present of the present, cool of night, warmth of my life.” - Jacques Prevert - French poet, 1901-1977   (Really.  I couldn’t have sunk so low as to make up that surname.)

Is it a wee bit strange to wish one’s blog a happy birthday?  Possibly so, but I’m going to do so anyway.  It was begun four years ago today, on March 19, 2005.  I wonder, how old does that make it in blog years?  When I began this, I did so as something I thought would be therapeutic for grief and because I had never blogged or even commented on the boards in the many years I had used the internet.

What I found, however, is that in addition to the words of the person who creates one, a blog takes on a character of its own.  The nature of Doc’s Place has been changed by me, by every person who has commented here, by how its content has been received, by the blunders and social faux pas made by the author, by being featured at least three times and mentioned in Microsoft Home Magazine, by a web war, and by renewed grumbling and interest each time the format changes.  It has offended a few people, for which I am sorry, and has helped or enlightened others.  It has made many laugh and has helped the author make many friends he would otherwise never have known.  It has led me to learn much that I otherwise would not.  Therefore, even though I realize and take responsibility for what it is and what is written, it has really become more than that.  Enough so that I don’t feel too uncomfortable in regarding it as something at least partially separated from myself, and therefore appropriate to receive a Happy Birthday from me.

There.  Now that we have that taken care of, people may go back downstairs to where the fun comments are.

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2009, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

“It is nobler to declare oneself wrong than to insist on being right - especially when one is right.” - Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

Quite certainly we all have little things that bother us for no good reason.  These would be the sorts of things that would result in a strange look from others if we were to give voice to the irritation in public.  Especially if we sound like we really mean it and are not just being silly.  I’ll set the stage for such a list of irritations by revealing a few of my own.  I invite anyone who wishes to add to the list to do so.

• It irrationally bothers me to receive a memo “from the desk of” someone.  Desks don’t write letters.  People do.  I suppose there might be a blurring of lines where virtual keyboards are projected onto the surface of a desk, or a computer uses an auto responder to reply to emails, but a person was ultimately responsible for the content.  Totally unimportant, but it will result in my pitching the missive into the paper recycling without reading it.
• Computer operating or repair manuals which are published by the manufacturer online.  Your computer just stopped responding, but you have to use a computer to find the repair manual.  Hmm.
• I dislike really obvious warnings on products which, if you were to do them, you probably can’t read or should be removed from the gene pool anyway.  I know these are a response to product liability suits, but really…  My irritation about this type of warning began many years ago when a company which made tiny wooden propellers for model airplane engines went out of business after being sued because it did not provide a warning that their product might whack one on the finger as one flipped it to start the engine.  I think we’re all fairly aware that we shouldn’t carry babies around in their packaging bags, that we shouldn’t be too surprised by paper cuts, that we shouldn’t eat packing peanuts, or even use our computers in the bathtub.  I don’t know about that last one, if one uses a wireless remote keyboard and mouse.
• There are some absolutely necessary ones, I suppose.  One should never put AAA batteries in backwards and should take their child to a doctor should one become lodged in their ear or nose.  I have been warned not to use noise cancelling headphones while riding a bicycle, especially at railroad crossings or ever to turn the sound too loud.
• None should ever pull a plug from a wall socket by the wire, poke their computer monitor with a sharp or abrasive object, and if there are any unusual smells or sounds coming from that monitor, we should unplug it.  My thought would be that pulling the plug from the socket would be permissible in this situation.
• It appears that USB flash drives pose little danger to us (perhaps they forgot about the family pet or child eating it or getting it stuck in their nose or ear,) but we are never to use an optical instrument to look into the laser beam produced by our cordless mouse.  And let’s not forget the most obvious warning for laptops; “Do not drop.”
• On any electronic item, I dislike seeing the “Do not open.  No user serviceable parts inside.”  We’ll see about that, I say!  Unfortunately sometimes they’re right.

This list was heavily weighted toward computers because those were the instruction pamphlets I had closest, but there many more categories.  For years when I was a child, I believed that there might really be bed police who would get me if I tore off a “Do not remove under penalty of law” tag.  Mail that looks much more important than it is has led me to nearly tear up two checks without ever opening the envelope, and the opposite is also true.

I feel better now.  I’ll stop being cranky for a while.

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2009, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

“How to store your baby walker: First, remove baby.” - Anonymous Manufacturer

Decisions, decisions.  I am somewhat afraid to write about taxes until they are finally settled.  I was very lucky on one page of the 1900 Federal Census of Porter County, Indiana, finding details of 10 relatives on the same page, so I don’t believe I’ll press my luck there.  I suppose that leaves me with my tale of triumph and humiliation associated with the printer, eh?

Actually all three are tied together to some degree, as I needed to print out some data, both for tax preparation and as worksheets for visualizing family tree information.  To do that, however, required a working printer.  I thought I had one.  A HP Printer/Scanner/Copier which worked perfectly the last time I used it.  When I tried to print, however, the PC controls for said device were sending me messages differing from the reality of the situation.  The printer made not a beep, whirr, or blink.  After trying to repair the transformer twice, I found no difference in performance.  This result was likely due to the fact that I was working on the wrong transformer.  This discovery led me to plug the correct one back together with its power cord and mark it clearly, “HP PRINTER” with bright labeling tape. 

Following this remarkable feat of electrical wizardry, lights blinked, the printer buzzed and whirred, tried to eat paper, but refused to actually print anything in response to the print command.  Hmm, I said to myself.  (I’m lying.  What I said to myself had four letters, none of which is contained in hmm.)  Tools.  Get tools.  Yes.  After partially disassembling the printer, I discovered the reason that the computer was telling me about paper jams.  It was true, in a very loose interpretation of what one usually expects to be a paper jam.  I found a paper packet of moisture absorbing desiccant crystals, which one is not ever supposed to eat, enmeshed in the sheet feed gears.  No, I have no idea.  It may have been in the printer for the past two years or the ink fairy may have left it there on her last maintenance stop.  The printer now works quite nicely, however, which was the result I desired.  I just didn’t expect so much humiliation to accompany it.

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2009, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

“A printer consists of three main parts; the case, the jammed paper tray, and the blinking red light"

For those who haven’t been very interested in the continuing saga of Doc’s trials and tribulations with computers, I have the quad core 64-bit PC running and have (somewhat) tamed the Vista Home Premium with which it came pre-loaded.  I set as many functions, Icons, shortcuts, and the like to act as much as possible as XP-
Pro.  I was not completely successful, but I have time.  Just a few minutes ago I decided to print some forms, and the printer doesn’t even light up or whirr when it is turned on.  I suspect this is a difference in the drivers between 64-bit and 32-bit devices, but they’re both HP, so I should be able to locate a compatible driver.

After all the work I had done on Leonard the laptop, gotten the new keyboard installed, a new extended power battery, rented a geek, etc., he died a rather sudden death.  I suspect a post surgical complication and infection got him.  It seemed useless to throw good money after bad and our economy needed the boost, so I ordered the laptop from *ell.  I made a mistake at that time, though I didn’t realize it until I received the computer on Monday, nearly six weeks after I placed the order.  The mistake was having a sturdy, business model Vostro 2510 built to my specifications.  I didn’t even change it that much.  I only asked for the double life battery and a faster CPU.  Six weeks.  Had I known, I would have purchased the next stock model up and ordered a spare battery.  That one even had a fingerprint reader security device built in.

I was delighted when it arrived but had a few surprises awaiting me when I opened the box.  The first thing I noticed was that it was not the plain black color I had ordered, but a brilliant metallic candy apple red; a marvelous color for a Little Deuce Coupe hot rod, but not at all what I had in mind for a laptop.  I decided that this was OK because it could be more easily described to the police when it gets stolen, and because I'm not looking at the outside of it while I'm using it.

Then came a two hour quandary.  I had ordered this laptop specifically because it was sold as running XP-Pro with a Vista Home Premium install disk should I ever wish to change.  It arrived with the wrong manual and the possibility of having any of four different Operating Systems installed.  The little sticker on the lower right of the keyboard stated that it was Vista Basic.  The official license sticker on the back read Vista Business.  There were two install disks included, both XP-Pro and Vista Home Premium.  I openly admit that this left me puzzled enough that I was afraid to turn it on.  So I went to *ell (online) searching for answers.  Nothing.  The only reassurance I had was a PDF file of my original order which I might be able to use to return it.  Almost everything that could go wrong ran through my mind until I convinced myself it would probably start with Vista Business, I would have to wipe the hard drive and do a bare metal install of XP and eight other disks that came with it.  I did not believe it unreasonable to resist doing that, but could think of only one other thing to do.  Turn it on and see what happened.  OK, I got a Pepsi, took a deep breath and a Valium, and poked the button.  I have never been so happy to hear the very familiar, irritating little "tweedle-ee-dink" noise that XP makes on startup.

One might think that would be happiness and relief enough for the day, but then one would not be Doc.  The computer is solid, well engineered, has a good overall feel, a bright and clear LCD screen without a single dead pixel, but it wasn't "mine" yet.  I began removing crapware, activating needed programs (with the pleasant surprise that MS Works came with the full version of MS Word 2003 and the MS Office Picture Manager, probably my two most used MS Office programs or tools.)  I then downloaded Firefox and a number of add-ons and extensions with which I had become comfortable, Spybot-S&D, Belarc Advisor, Windows Defender, Eraser, Rainbow Folders, Evernote, 50+ updates from MS Update and Office Update, add-ons for Word, updated all of the various programs which needed it, downloaded most of the Google Pack, and finally ran Auslogics Defrag.  I stopped then as the room had become noticeably brighter and I realized I had been up all night.  I decided that it might be a good idea to take a nap. 

Twelve hours later I was up from my short nap and found that a UPS delivery was on my landing.  It contained a "toaster," not because it toasts bread, but because it looks like one when a hard drive is inserted into the top to transfer its contents to another computer.  It can also be used in reverse to write files from a computer to the drive placed in it to use as a backup hard drive.  Some of Leonard will live on.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2009, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

"There is no reason for any individual to have a computer in his home." - Ken Olsen (1926 - ), President, Digital Equipment, 1977

As we have all been told, before we go to bed tonight we are to set our clocks ahead one hour to yet again initiate the onset of Daylight Savings Time.   I have yet to understand why it is called that, as there will be exactly the same number of hours and minutes of daylight regardless of what number we call them.  We get no interest on them and the change seems to have no effect whatever upon the undomesticated animals that live around us. 

We are reminded to “Spring Forward” or “Fall Back” to make it easier for us to remember how to comply with this rather arbitrarily imposed standard.  This year I plan to merge the two suggestions and Fall Forward.  This will be less an act of protest or rebellion than an everyday occurrence which will be given special significance for one morning of the year. 

Stinky is an adult cat, now, but still plays like a kitten and follows me around the apartment or races past me as I walk down the hallway.  He has gained a few pounds and his coloring blends in with that of the carpeting almost perfectly.

It should leave little to the imagination how a cat so broad in the beam that he tips a stool to the window frame simply jumping up onto it could easily trip me in a dark hallway.  Thus I shall Fall Forward, but I will also be the one who apologizes to him, pets him, and reassures him that I really didn’t mean to kick him.  So there you have my reasoning.  Whether I actually end up resetting the clocks or not remains to be seen.  At least the most important clock, at the lower right corner of the monitor screen, will be correct.

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2009, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

“How you behave toward cats here below determines your status in Heaven.” – Robert Heinlein

You may wonder what the elements in the title might have in common.  I heard that!  You should wonder.  I’m taking time to write about it so it obviously must be important.  No?  OK.

I’ll start with the last and work my way back toward the Jello.  A package arrived at my door yesterday for which I had been waiting rather impatiently.  It contained a pair of Audio-Technica ATH-ANC7 noise canceling headphones.  I had done my usual obsessive research on comparative specs, price, performance reviews, and the like before I made my impulse purchase.  I wanted Bose or Sennheiser, top of the line models, but the specs were nearly the same and I just couldn’t bring myself to pay more than the cost of a new PC for a pair of headphones.  I have never personally tested either of the latter, and in all honesty, I doubt that I could have noticed the difference.  With age, one progressively loses the ability to hear high frequency sounds.  Additionally, I have a slight hearing loss in my right ear and constant, but varying intensity, tinnitus.  Finally, the phones I purchased were on sale for less than 20% of the cost of the very high end models.  With all those disclaimers made, these are flat out the best set of phones I have ever used.  With the noise canceling on and the cushions surrounding my ears, the outside world went away.  I couldn’t hear the furnace monster over my head or the TV.  The hearing losses and tinnitus left as the little blue LED lit, and I was back in the 60’s and 70’s enveloped by the Beach Boys, Jefferson Airplane, the Eagles, the Grateful Dead, Joplin, ABBA, and many other favorites.  I think I may have been singing howling along with the music, but I couldn’t tell because of the noise cancellation. Woot!

The EFF comes into the story as I repeatedly happened upon songs which wouldn’t play on the Vista PC and Windows Media Player.  I saw several messages stating that WMP would not play them because I couldn’t produce the original license acquired at the time of purchase.  That was true, because I had backed up the tunes on disk and transferred them to the current PC after the one to which I had originally downloaded them ad died.  The EFF organization works tirelessly for intellectual property fairness, innovation and interoperability among downloaded media, free speech, privacy, and transparency.  It would be well worth your time to have a look at their website.

But what about the purple Jello, you may ask?  That started in graduate school when a professor was making a case for cognitive types of psychology over pure, reactive behaviorism by having the class consider what functions would be lost if the more recently developed portions of the brain were made of Jello.  I think I am finally able to answer that question because the marathon session with the new headphones has reduced much of my cortex and neocortex to insensate gelatin.  Damn, it was fun!

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2009, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

“If little else, the brain is an educational toy.” - Tom Robbins

*   *

Thank you to everyone who commented or messaged me for their assistance, experiences, and suggestions.  I remain a near-total amateur but my very recent success in tracing a family line, has already produced another ancestor junkie.  My knowledge in some areas resembles a pathological type of diffuse brain damage, sometimes described as Swiss Cheese OBS.  It is so called as there are areas of solid knowledge and some “holes.”  The results are much the same when a person is self-taught in a field or area of knowledge.  We tend to learn what we need to accomplish a task and not notice or follow up on other information that is not immediately necessary.  We may keep these dark areas somewhere in latent memory until we need them.  An everyday example might be never taking much notice where the local storage facility is until you need a place to keep some of your “stuff” and then recall this previously unnecessary information.

I remembered from reading somewhere, that there was once a pattern of naming children after the parents’ parents and other relatives in some English, Irish, and other cultures.  I had given this no thought whatever for many years, because I had no use for it.  I was surprised that I remembered it at all, even when I did have a use.  I didn’t remember the pattern, of course, but knowing that there was such a thing led me quickly to a search to find it.  My paternal grandfather had a somewhat unusual middle name which sounded as if it might be a family name.  It was.  It was my paternal great grandmother’s surname.  I searched and stumbled around several sources, finding several small bits of information, until I found the trail of bread crumbs left by a previous researcher following the same family line.  I suspect that this will not happen nearly as frequently as I hope.  The upshot of this was that I “pulled an all-nighter,” gave myself a migraine, and followed the line directly back to “Carrie” of 1786 Liecestershire, England.  The line appeared to have somewhat loosely followed the naming pattern mentioned previously, but I admit that I didn’t follow many siblings in two generations which would have led me off into at least another 14 directions.  I believe that I’ll leave that for another time when I might really be looking for them.

Below is a picture of the first (1914) HHS yearbook I mentioned in my last post.  When I found it online, it startled me because I have one in very good condition and was surprised that another still existed, let alone being found posted on the web.

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2009, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.