I hadn't intended to write a haiku, or even to complain for a while.  I changed my mind.  Actually, the pain in my back changed my mind.  In the process of downsizing my life and living situations, I have grumbled about ridding myself of such things as 9,900 nails, drill presses and tools, furniture, and many other material things.  In truth, a very large part of the "stuff" I moved to the apartment or into storage was paper.  It is easy to decide to discard five year old catalogs and outdated journals.  The real problem involved for me is the sorting of, and the appropriate disposition of, clinical records, papers kept from hospital days upon which client information might appear, and personal information which might make me an easier target for Identity Theft (although our government has already assisted me there by losing a hard drive with my personal and financial specifics on it.)

Sorting papers didn't seem too tough, just something that was time consuming, repetitive, and boring.  I recalled, (a little too late) that the last time I had caused a major flare-up of sciatic pain from degenerating discs in my lower back was when I sealed the deck at the house.  Neither of these tasks is physically demanding, but they have in common a repetitive bending forward and twisting to the left.  That sort of task sneaks up on me.  Warning pain, as when I try to lift something too heavy or incorrectly isn't there.  It irritates the lumbar and sacral areas "gently" until the inflammation really becomes noticeable in the middle of the night.

Lightning strike of pain

Streaks from disc to foot and brain

Won't do that again

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2008, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

“Wisdom is nothing more than healed pain.” - Robert Gary Lee

To begin, I have titled this post Six Idiosyncrasies Tag because I do not wish to publicly admit that I am in any way ... umm, ... odd.   My regular readers will immediately recognize this as a blatant and bald-faced lie, but some new visitors may be tricked.  I believe that with the current mini-feature thing, I should try to represent Microsoft Spaces Live in an appropriate manner.  To this end, there will be no mention of hemorrhoids, hairballs, or hemostats.

If any of you take the time now (or return later when you have a day or two to waste) to read over the past three years of posts, you will quite likely to be able to say, "Hah!  Caught him.  He repeated himself."  Probably so.  One can only contain a limited number of eccentricities before someone else (a psychologist, perhaps) starts calling them symptoms.  I can't have that happen, because I have found that I may not bill my insurance company for talking to myself, even if I feel much better afterward.

1.)  Cold food or drink must be cold!  Ice cream should be so hard that spoons are bent trying to get it out of the carton.  Milk is to be drunk with ice cubes in it.  Coffee and tea should be iced.

2.)  I believe in cleanliness and order in my life and in my living space.  I also believe in Santa Claus, the Tooth Faerie, the Easter Bunny, and ...

3.)  Almost all the books on the top two shelves of the living room bookcase were published prior to 1918.  One surgical dictionary was published in 1834.  I am not an intentional collector of antiquities.   These are family items that must not be parted with.  Firstborn got the complete works of Charles Dickens (and the handmade, glass front book case) when I moved.  Number One Son got a Winchester model 1896, octagonal barrel, pump action rifle.

4.)  When my time comes, (preferably 30-40 years from now) I wish to be buried in jeans, boots, and a flannel shirt.  I am considering buying a plain pine casket (pre-need) from a group of Trappist Monks in Iowa, to use as a coffee table or a book case in the interim, to ensure that my wishes are followed.

5.)  One of my huge cats (Bittle) expects to sleep under my right arm every night.  If I am able to get to bed and to sleep before he notices, he wakes me to "make room."  The other, even larger cat, (Stinky) "hides" in the bathtub and watches me.  He also expects me to find him, roll him over, sing to him, and rub his underside.  I do these things.

6.)  I always wear out the left elbow of any shirt before almost any other spot.  In looking back at number four, maybe I should make certain that I reserve a good one for "my time of need."  I had not considered this previously.

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2008, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

"The only success worth one's powder was success in the line of one's idiosyncrasy.  What was talent but the art of being completely whatever one happened to be?” - Henry James

At least if I'm grumbling about vacuum cleaners, you can tell I'm making progress with the sorting and pitching thing.  If I need a vacuum cleaner, by inference I have enough carpet showing to be able to clean it.  This is a definite improvement over the situation that was present only a day or two ago.  Several more boxes, some with actual things in them, have been taken to the dumpster and I am reaching that psychological point where success breeds upon success to positively reinforce further cleaning efforts.  For quite some time since my downsizing I was so intimidated by the piles of "stuff" in the living room and dining area, that I did very little to really dig into the job.  When my offspring visited and chided me for my lack of progress, I pointed out that I had cleared out almost half the living room.  They were quick to note, however, that it was the half between the recliner chair and the TV.  Being caught out like that tends to be a problem with bright and observant daughters and sons.

The vacuum cleaner had not been used since moving into the apartment and I had to think for a moment to recall where the controls were located.  I also had to warn the cats that that they were about to become annoyed with me for the loud noise that was soon to occur.  After the cleaner was plugged in, set to low carpeting level, and reclined for use, I determined that it was not turned on.  Following a thorough inspection of the machine, I finally found the on-off switch, well camouflaged, much smaller, and nearly invisible above the handle's recliner button.  When it was finally turned on, it made a quite satisfactory brushing, whining, and clattering noise.  The cats were not very upset as they had been prepared for the noise by my rather loud comments.  After several passes over a particularly needy area, I checked to see that all was in order.  It was not.  I would say that the results sucked, but that is exactly the opposite of what had happened.

OK.  A diagnosis was required.  Electrical problems were ruled out as the motor ran strongly and no flames or large showers of sparks were present.  Upon physical exam, all parts were found to be in satisfactory condition with seals intact and no cracks present in the plastic carapace.  The exam then centered on an intestinal blockage.  Hoses and filters were removed and replaced until the clog was found.  Wow, was it ever clogged!  The blockage was located behind the rotating brush, in the base of the cleaning unit, at the suction intake before entering the hose that led to the filter and catch bin.  *Whew*  Increasing sizes of needle nosed pliers were used to extract some of the dust and hair globs.  I once had an immense pair of tweezers that would have been perfect for the job, but it had apparently been "borrowed" at some time in the past.  When I tried the sweeper again, it was still clogged.  I thanked the Gods and Goddesses that long term memory lasts much longer than short term memory as one ages, because I remembered an old black and white TV show I watched when I was a kid.  On it, a woman solved every problem known to man with wire coat hangers. 

This part took some real effort.  The first difficulty was finding a wire coat hanger.  They're all plastic or wood or whatever, now.  When I finally did, I extracted the largest hairball I have ever seen in a vacuum cleaner.  I would never have believed it could have fit into the space into which it was compressed.  The thing, once released, was almost the size of a soccer ball!  No wonder it didn't seem to be cleaning effectively.  Now, to get to the rest of the cleaning rather than writing about it.

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2008, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

"There are days when any electrical appliance in the house, including the vacuum cleaner, seems to offer more entertainment than the TV set” - Harriet van Horne

This title will make the most sense to people who have watched the TV series "Monk."  It is a comedy-drama series about a private detective, Adrian Monk, who has Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD.)  The problems OCD presents to the individual are not, in themselves, funny.  The manner in which Mr. Monk's disruptive symptoms are intertwined with the aspects that make him an outstanding detective are hilarious.  The same attention to detail can either incapacitate him while arranging extraneous objects into a "perfect" alignment, or assist him in following an evidence trail to a final conclusion.  Most of us have little bits and pieces of thoughts and behaviors which, if they became intolerable to us or incapacitated us, would qualify for diagnosis as a disorder that would require some form of treatment.  Most of us never reach that point, and "disorder" remains "trait," or if one is wealthy or otherwise well respected, "eccentricity."

An example of how the degree of a behavior can make the difference between being helpful or harmful would be a psychologist that worked for me on one of Elgin's acute units.  She felt she had to be perfect in all aspects of her position.  Some were obviously necessary; a good evaluation and treatment plan, teaching other staff, participating effectively in multidisciplinary staff meetings to represent psychology's viewpoint, and documenting details of the case in the clinical record.  If we had an outside group coming in to inspect the hospital, patient satisfaction, accuracy and completeness of records, or whatever, I would automatically pick the chart of a patient that I knew was on her caseload.  I was certain it would be perfect.  Part of the price she paid for this was voluntary, unpaid overtime, increased job stress, never being satisfied with her own performance, etc.  Sometimes she would become so stressed that she would schedule a cruise, then ask afterward for the vacation time to cover it, and leave me begging other units for part time fill-ins for her.  The whole staff would feel that she deserved the vacation, but could not resist playing with her attention to detail.  We did gotcha's to anyone who went on vacation, but to her, the more minimal, the more effective.  I believe that I was the perpetrator of the best gotcha done to her.  I moved her pencil.  I entered her office while she was away and turned the pencil two or three degrees to the right.  That's all.  Upon her return, she "stormed" into my presence and announced, "Somebody's been in my office!"  I think my snort while attempting to look aghast gave me away.

What does this have to do with me "becoming" Monk and displaying OCD traits?  In the years that I had lots of room to accumulate things, I kept a lot of things.  I have by now disposed of the obvious junk, and given to family, friends, or charities much of that which might be of use to a normal person.  A number of things are left, but much of the major stuff is either gone or has a plan for where it will go.  I am left with "the OCD stuff."  I have been quite organized in how I kept tools, parts, and equipment, for instance, for most of my life.  Some examples of what has now become a problem follow, with the general premise of, "having now lived the majority of my life, and keeping only that which I might really want or need, what stays and what goes?"

I want all of my tools.  I will need my tiny 1/4" ratchet set, I "might" need my 3/8" drive set, but what do I do with the 1/2" set.  There is an off chance that if I keep the 1/2" breaker bar, universal drive, an extension, and three or four sockets, I could keep them in the car and possibly use them to change a tire or tighten a belt sometime (or slightly reduce my gas mileage.)  Add to that the range of screwdrivers, pliers, box end, offset, combination, and flat (metric and SAE) wrenches, files, drills and special bits, two drill presses, two vises, a circular power saw, a jig saw, a saber saw, a grinder, metal tables, and so on, and we have a minimum of 750 - 1,000 pounds of tools to dispose of.

It gets much worse.  When we get down to electronics and modeling tools, parts, paints, and other supplies, the weight becomes much less, but the sheer volume of things to make decisions about increases by a factor of 3 to 5.  Literally hundreds of thousands (possibly over a million) things.  I'm sure I have at least 10,000 nails.  I probably need fewer than 100 to hang pictures and such.  Those should be easy.  How many and what shapes of Dremel bits and Xacto blades are really needed?  Surely not three plastic parts cabinets full of them.  How many resistors, capacitors, transistors, and IC chips might actually be used?  Possibly a few precision pots and resistors, some big capacitors for power supplies, a few 555 timers and some op-amps, and of course a CK-722 (the first mass produced transistor.)  These are neatly sorted by value and function into bins in several large parts cabinets.  Then there are the 200+ pounds of small bolts and machine screws.  Should I keep more 4-40, 6-32, 8-32, star washers, lock washers, equipment feet, knobs, battery boxes, breadboarding blocks, grommets, plugs, jacks, colors and gages of wire, VOM's, waveform and frequency generators, power supplies, semi-dead computers, and ...  I think you have begun to comprehend the immensity to which a small problem can grow for me.  I'm certain that if I died, the person cleaning out my stuff would have little or no difficulty deciding what to throw away.  And I didn't even start to list all the model aviation "stuff."

I'm sure this must be good for me because I'm finding things I haven't seen in 15-20 years.  I couldn't possibly need those ... or could I?  I've even found and wanted to keep self-designed and home built electrophysiological apparatus (35-40 years old) that I used for my Masters and Ph.D.  And I found in my own "baby book" which revealed to me that at three months of age, my head was 17 inches in circumference. ... AKK!!

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2008, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

"Have you ever noticed that their stuff is shit and your shit is stuff?" - George Carlin

Quite some time before moving into this apartment, I bought an office desk chair with all the adjustable positions possible.  I never took it out of the box until this week, however, because it would have remained essentially unused and in danger in an infrequently utilized home office.  It would most certainly have acted as a cat magnet, as I learned from past experience with a leather task chair.   That chair ended up with "fringe" hanging down from all sides of the seat due to The Boys adopting it as a scratching post.  That bit of furniture was one of the few things that I had little difficulty in deciding whether or not to move with me.

I have finally gotten around to setting up the second bedroom as an office, hobby, and computer room, so it was time to remove the various chair pieces from the box and assemble it.  I was initially careful to select one with a fiberglass underside and back, with most other surfaces exposed to felines covered in rubberized plastic.  This was a wise choice as The Boys have already had their way with the back of a small, cloth upholstered recliner in the same room.  I will soon take an "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" approach and get or make them a scratching post.

When the carton was opened, I found a few more parts than I thought could possibly fit into a box of that size.  They were also heavier than I remembered.  Probably because someone else moved that particular box.  Somewhat daunted by the seeming complexity of the project, I read the instructions.  Yes, a male who read the instructions before attempting to put the thing together.  After seeing the exploded view, it seemed simple enough, so I began.  The (single page) manual stated that the required construction tool was a Phillips screwdriver.  It went together almost too easily.  One roller caster put up a token resistance, but all the other parts cooperated. 

Then came the moment of truth - actually sitting in it and adjusting the various controls.  Amazingly, they all worked, and the armrest height, which is important to me because I tend to list to list to port and get my back out of position, clicked into a comfortable position, higher than that on the starboard side.  The other four controls worked perfectly and I believe I have finally found a really satisfactory desk chair.

Only two things worry me (aside from The Boys scratching the upholstery.)  I believe I lost a washer and I never found a use for the screwdriver.

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2008, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

"Nothing builds self-esteem and self-confidence like accomplishment.” - Thomas Carlyle

The sale of Windows XP to the public is due to be totally discontinued by Microsoft on June 30, 2008.  Support for it will continue via automatic or manual update, but it will be unavailable for purchase.  The vast majority of computer manufacturers have switched to "forcing" Vista on the buyer of new computers because that is the only Operating System MS will provide to them (except for relenting to some business customers who loudly and forcefully complained that Vista didn't work.)  A very few, small, specialized "white box" computer manufacturers (generally of ultra-fast, high-end gaming computers) have been allowed to continue new installs of XP.  One can also still buy the shrink wrapped, boxed software to install Win XP on your own if you are building your computer.  Some are going to dual-boot computers, using XP and another OS on separate hard drives. 

Even this set of dates has been atypical for Microsoft, which has left XP in production and available to manufacturers over a year longer than previous Operating Systems.  There are also industry rumors that Microsoft is pushing very hard to have an early release date for OS 7, the system that is to replace Vista, in the second half of 2009.  Enough problems, including lawsuits over proprietary rights, have reduced Vista from what was originally "promised" to a substantially less desirable OS.  About the only positive things I have found written about Vista is that it has a prettier desktop and is "safer" online.  Clearly, they are concerned about Vista sales, already have issued a Service Pack for it, and are trying to produce a better system as quickly as possible.

Many individuals and business users have resisted the adoption of Vista due to a variety of compatibility problems, system investment, and the generally much heavier draw that the Vista OS places on the computer's resources.  More and faster memory and system resources are usually necessary.  I have seen minimum specifications that state one Gigabyte of RAM is a minimum requirement.  Reviews that I have read, however, strongly suggest that three to four Gigabytes is the "real" minimum for Vista to work correctly.  Faster hard drives and more powerful CPU chips are also required for acceptable performance.  Problems with finding appropriate "driver" software to interface your older peripheral hardware have frequently occurred.

So, what is it that I would ask you to do about this?  Go to InfoWorld's Save Windows XP site and sign the petition requesting Microsoft to continue production of XP.  It takes nothing away from anyone that wants, prefers, or needs Vista, but allows XP devotees to continue to be able to purchase current equipment that suits their wants and needs.  What will I do?  I've already signed the petition and read a fair amount about the subject.  I have a Maxtor backup drive that saves everything on a computer, including the OS, as a complete clone if you tell it to (so I could transfer this whole system onto a new, bigger, better hard drive.)  I'm considering buying the boxed XP software on June 25th or thereabouts.  In an ideal world, I would have the funds to buy a quad-core monster of a PC from one of the white box builders.  But if everything else fails, I still have a Win 98SE box that works.

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2008, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D."

I don't know about the rest of you, but I really have trouble wrapping my head around what $3 Trillion (USD) could actually buy.  As we slide into a recession with its attendant inflation and stagnant (or worse) wages, I am frightened.  We will have to deal with that debt in a very few months, as our current administration leaves office.  A short, satirical YouTube film depicting what this means financially to the average American citizen should be watched before you go on.

Robert Greenwald's Brave New Films website has created a virtual spending spree for you to purchase whatever you wish with this amount of money and tally up the total as you go.  I especially liked "Bob's" shopping spree because it included a box of yellow marshmallow Peeps for himself, and he only managed to spend less than $2.4 Trillion. 

The videos and opinions found through the links above and below are biased.  I am so sick of the lies, revisionist history, spying, and coverups that I feel it is an obligation to present the opposite end of the political spectrum.  Be warned, there is obscene language in the following, and even more obscene concepts and content.  I want these videos to make you angry.  Angry people do something about a problem.

A Compilation of Lies by the Bush Administration (6:26)

Linda Bilmes on Our 'Three Trillion Dollar War' (20:11)

Bush Administration Caught Contradicting Itself 6 Times  (6:26)

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2008, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

"Truth is not only violated by falsehood; it may be equally outraged by silence” - Henri Frederic Amiel

Addendum:  In my haste to post this before I regretted it, I left out the best video, "Who Owns You Americans?" narrated by George Carlin.

A new warning may soon be issued by all laptop computer manufacturers and the moguls of the recliner chair industry.  We are already warned of the perils of using plastic bags as toys, not using the computer in the bathtub or near water, and the possibilities of the chair tipping over if one stands on it, or relaxes too hard or too quickly.  I have discovered yet another legitimate cause for concern and shall report it to anyone who will attend to my natterings.

The basic danger stems from the design of the recliner chair itself.  In order for the footrest action of the chair to work properly, a mechanical system of thin, moveable steel bars and pivot points is required.  When the back of the chair is pushed toward a reclining position, the footrest rises into position to support the user's legs.  The reverse action occurs when the occupant desires to sit upright or to arise from the chair.  One might reasonably ask, "What's wrong with that?  That's what it's supposed to do." 

I will, of course, tell you.  You don't believe I'd get this far into a perfectly good rant without complaining about something specific, do you?  The danger arises when the laptop computer and the collapsing action of the chair required for the user to arise happen concurrently.  I dislike resorting to the use of hyperbole or fear-mongering, but I must state that the scissor-like action of the mechanism attached to the footrest presents a real and present danger to those of us who use a laptop, with power supply and Cat-5 Ethernet cables attached, while seated and blogging in blissful ignorance. 

Very recently, while arising quickly from the chair, I discovered the more personal and real-world meaning of the phrase "scissor-like action," when used in this context.  The wires pass close to the footrest mechanism, and in this case, became entangled in it. ... The power cord was repaired easily enough with a soldering pencil and some heat-shrink tubing.  It was quite a cleanly sheared cut, actually.  The Cat-5 Ethernet cable, however, required replacement.  Uh-huh.  I did that. 

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2008, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

"Stupid is as stupid does." - Forrest Gump

Sometimes writing poetry (or anything else) from one's dreams can be unsettling, especially to others.  Just to prove that my dreams are not all total nightmares, the following stemmed from a dream fragment which occurred about four hours ago:

There once was an old Doc from Ill. (y)

Whose haiku were not nice and frilly

This tiny town bard

Worked at them so hard

That few realized they were silly

And that's about enough of that.  Have a good Sunday, Friends.

Peace, Doc

Copyright ©  2008, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

 

Just breathe in, breathe out.

She tried until she could not,

Then peacefully stopped.

~

Fifteen compressions

For each time our lips were pressed,

Cried the kiss of life.

~ 

So cold, my Annie.

Tried to warm you with my breath

Changed to kiss of death.

 

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2008, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

Once again, daNiece is mocking her elders (that would be me.)  I was emailed a string of "old" jokes and a "you know you're old if you actually used ... " quiz.  I scored 24 out of 25 only because I was not a gum chewer and did not actually use Black Jack gum.  Below are some of the other signs one might be considered old, (I don't know the original author) followed by the piece de resistance, the modification of the Serenity Prayer.

"The only phone in the house was in the living room and it was on a party line. Before you could dial, you had to listen and make sure some people you didn't know weren't already using the line.

Pizzas were not delivered to our home. But milk was.

While cleaning out an older relative's house my forebear found an old Royal Crown Cola bottle. In the bottle top was a stopper with a bunch of holes in it. I knew immediately what it was, but my daughter had no idea. She thought they had tried to make it a salt shaker or something. I knew it as the bottle that sat on the end of the ironing board to "sprinkle" clothes with because we didn't have steam irons. Man, I am old.

How many do you remember?

Head lights dimmer switches on the floor.
Ignition switches on the dashboard.
Heaters mounted on the inside of the fire wall.
Real ice boxes.
Pant leg clips for bicycles without chain guards.
Soldering irons you heat on a gas burner.
Using hand signals for cars without turn signals."

I will not pass along the 25 question, "Older Than Dirt" quiz in fear of ruining Friday or possibly your whole weekend.  The following "prayer," thought about from a certain perspective, may make as much practical sense as the original:

Senility Prayer

God grant me the senility to forget the people I never liked,

The good fortune to run into the ones that I do,

And the eyesight to tell the difference.

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2008, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

"You know, I have found a new way to get high and stay spaced out for hours on end, and the government can't stop me ... It's called senility." - Robert Anton Wilson

I have written a number of dark, depressive haiku, but I don't recall having written any about a particular symptom.  That shall be remedied forthwith!  It is not about a psychological symptom, per se, but rather a physical one that I have lived with since my youth in greater or lesser degree.  It is the result of the cumulative effects of an ear infection, tuning race engines "in a rickety old garage," gunfire, and loud rock music, all without the use of hearing protection.  Probably the despised lawnmower added significantly to the problem in more recent years.  Some medications seem to exacerbate the annoyance.  The symptom is tinnitus, that ringing or hissing in one's ears that occurs when nothing outside is producing it. 

As an aside, I pronounced tinnitus incorrectly for years as "tin-eye-tis," like the "itis" in an infection.  I was informed by my friend and family GP, that the word was from the Latin and was pronounced more like "tin-ih-toose," with emphases on the first and third syllables, unlike the usual American English tendency to emphasize the second syllable of a word if we are unfamiliar with the actual pronunciation.  What could I do with this new knowledge after nearly fifty years of error?  Well, writing a haiku seemed like a good idea to me.  The possibility that it might not seem like that wonderful a response to you is admitted in advance.

White Noise

Noise generator

Susurrus of tinnitus

Always in my mind

When I published this on the site where I usually publish poetry, the only comment I saw was a question as to whether I always carried a thesaurus around with me.  No I don't.  I'm just full of high quality bullshit, which can be proven by the fact that I have brown eyes and am not "a quart low."

Peace, Doc

Copyright © 2008, Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

Rather than the usual quote, here is a link to the "tinnitus" wiki.  It affects about 1 in 100 people, so someone might derive some benefit from this.  I found two things I can easily try to reduce its annoyance, and one relatively complicated thing that fits in with some informal experimentation I have been doing with the psychophysiological effects of sound for a different purpose.