the persistence of memory.

Today during a huge cleaning spree, (likely driven on by a bit of mania and a lack of meds but that's another story) I found that the power cord to my printer is the same as the one missing from my old computer monitor. That was all that had been stopping me from using my old computer for the fun of it. My old computer is a beast and I its Frankenstein. running parts are held together with duct tape, everything is relatively jerry rigged, and I love it.
This computer helped to get me thorough highschool and that year of psuedo college/senior year of high school.
I plugged it in and everything worked fine. I was very pleased because I'd done nothing to it for nigh two years. The computer is a blast from the past. I opened up the music player to hear lovely sounds of my youth. There was so much stuff on there that I hadn't been able to transfer previously. Eventually I'll get to it, but now I'm just revelling in music I'd forgotten or lost. I also love the games and poorly written poems and songs laying about on there.
The songs and poems aren't all bad, but some of them are certainly atrocious. I'm not going to say whether my writing has gotten better, but I garauntee that my editing eye has gotten better. \
I'm enjoying this. I listened to some music I love and haven't listened to as of late for one or another reason, Some Dashboard Confessional, I Voted for Kodos, The Wedgewoods, some older NOFX, some old Catch 22. and some songs just sound better sitting infront of the big ol screen and rocking out. I'm pretty sure it has to to with ties to memory and situation and all of that stuff. It's just so bad ass to rock out to some chiodos in front of the computer. I've been eating it up.
I've also been reading Swan's Way, by Proust for a while now and just passed the scene regarding how the taste of madelline cookie dipped in lime flower tea brought back the vivid memory of his childhood in combray. Sitting infront of the computer rocking out to Chiodos, watching out for things that might break if I am not careful enough brought back a lot of the good memories from highschool. It also did something similar to what Proust discribed, it made me feel that perhaps the time spent in my room infront of the computer was the only time which existed in that stretch. Proust says it as such,

"And so it was that, for a long time afterwards, when I lay awake at night and revived old memories of combray, I saw no more of it than this sort of luminous panel, sharply defined against a vague and shadowy background, like the panels which a Bengal fire or some electric sign will illuminate and dissect from the front of a building the other parts of which remain plunged in darkness: broad as its base, the little parlour, the dining-room, the alluring shadows of the path along which would come M. Swann, the unconscious author of my sufferings, the hall through which I would journey to the first step of that staircase, so hard to climb, which constituted, all by itself, the tapering 'elevation' of an irregular pyramid and, at the summit, my bedroom, with the little passage through whose glazed door Mamma would enter; in a word, seen always at the same evening hour, isolated from all its possible surroundings, detached and solitary against its shadowy background, the bare minimum of scenery necessary (like the setting one sees printed at the head of an old play, for its performance in the provinces) to the drama of my undressing, as though all Combray had consisted of but two floors joined by a slender staircase, and as though there had been no time there but seven o'clock at night. I must own that I could have assured any questioner that Combray did include other scenes and did exist at other hours than these. But since the facts which I should have recalled would have been prompted only by and exercise of the will, by my intellectual memory, and since the pictures which that kind of memory shows us of the past preserve nothing of the past itself, I should never have had any wish to ponder over this residue of Combray. To me it was in reality all dead."

I'll let Proust have the next to last word as he says things so well.
Hopefully light was shed.

The orgin of my writing voice.

I ran into an essay by Kurt Vonnegut about style, and one of the points of advice got me to thinking. The point of advice went something like this. Vonnegut writes best when writing like the kid from Illinois he is. Joyce writes best when writing like a Dubliner. Twain Writes best when sounding like a man of the Mississippi. Ones orgin is the basis of their best writing voice. I haven't been able to think of an example refuting this. Saul Bellows sounds like a Jew from Chicago, and that is part of why he's so great. When I write I don't know what I sound like.
That's not a function of my writing being convoluted, though that has been a problem. I'm pretty sure it's more a function of my personal influences being so nebulous. I don't just write like a boy from the mountains of northern California, nor do I just write like a boy raised partly in Japan. My influences are such that my writing doesn't fit a single accepted form of prose. I have a weird way of speaking in which anachronisms from my parents generation, sentence structure from Japan, the earnest simple speak of the mountains, and the odd turns of phrase used in my voluminous reading are melded. It's hard for me to divine my influences.
One good example of this is simply in my speech. When talking I use lots of idioms that are antiquated. I don't realise no one has heard them. I always think them to be normal phrases, but am corrected, or met with a blank stare. This is how it is with weird little turns in my speech. I don't know what is odd. I know how other's speech differs from mine, but I sure as hell don't quite know what is up with mine. I look at all speech through the lens of what I've read and what I myself say. It's just natural.
It would be interesting if someone could pick out what was specifically different about the way I write or speak. I know a lot of what I write is either dull or constructed in a normal stylistic manner, but there's something there that isn't at parr. I suppose it's more odd that that is the way I speak too. The odd turns of phrase and awkward sentence structure pervade my speech.
If I figure out what's going on I'll let it be known, though this is rather unlikely.
until next rant.

ahh, near sorted.

dealing with my insurance company wasn't so bad, nor was getting a new tyre. I'm pleased with the interactions and it didn't take a huge chunk of my day or anything. I'm looking forward to getting back to work, and hopefully this won't but a huge dent in my already dented finances. Not something to really worry about though, things are like to get sorted soon.

Frustration and a weird sleep schedule.

My sleep cycle has been drastically perverted. My car has been in disrepair, and so I haven't been going to work, which has changed my schedule a whole lot. This isn't a bad thing, but it proves to me that Ideally I live at a slightly different pace. I know that I work best if I am awake for about seventeen hours. I can go more or less depending on how things are. This would work great if sleeping eight hours were my normal set up, but I'm pretty sure it isn't I'm pretty good with at least ten hours.
None of this is for sure and I might take a log of when I sleep and all of that sometime, but it seems that the normal schedule doesn't quite fit for me. On that note, it's seven fourty in the morning and I'm still awake. I woke up sometime around seven pm yesterday after a few fitful bouts of wakefulness. I'm going to go off and get my car fixed, and deal with the world disliking me. It's nice having these things occur at what is really the end of my day. I don't feel like dealing with anything but, I don't really have a choice now do I.
I'm also not happy that I'm unlikely to see Julie this weekend, as she's got other engagements. I don't like being apart from her for so long. Having had to put up with months of it doesn't make the weeks that I'm putting up with now hugely better. All I really want is to be in the same damn place, but I can't do that without shirking responsibility. I really can't shirk my responsibility if I want to be at all Fair to Julie. It's quite the catch twenty two. I need to be with Julie to really do her justice. To do that I have to shirk responsibility, which doesn't do her justice.
It's rather annoying. I haven't had a good complain in a while, and I guess I'm just getting it all out at once. I'm glad that I'm not crazy, but I definitely am not happy about the rest of the world giving me trouble. I know other people have it worse, and I've kept my complaints to myself (well mostly) for just that reason, but I've had enough.
Oh well. there's naught that I can do at the moment. I'll figure it out.Or maybe I won't, that's to be seen. I just have to keep it up and hope that things will work out.

dealing with people can just be too much fucking trouble. I understand a lot of how they work, and about why things happen the way they do with people, but fuck, how to deal with them sure is opaque. I wish everything were just more straightforward. I'm always relatively striaghtforward, and try to avoid bullshit, why can't everyone else?
So what sparked this was a conversation, or rather a bit of talking and a lot of sitting in silence, with my girlfriend. If I didn't love her this would have pissed me off. As it is I'm just a little annoyed and perplexed. I try to be helpful, I listen to complaints over which I have no control, and I give what advice I can. I know advice can't be given for every situation, and I know that not everything can be fixed, but trying to understand everything just seems like an obvious must to me.
I can only deal with that which I can observe, or which I'm told of. Silence doesn't improve my understanding of anything. I don't think it's alright for her to get all pissy just because I don't understand what's going on when I haven't any information. Oh well. I'm not particularly able to assess the situation as of this time, so I'll leave it be, but I can't help but still be a bit bothered. Whatever, I'll figure it out eventually. I just wish I were with her so I could pick up those signs I can't over the phone, so I could understand better what was going on, so when she talked with me, I could stop when she was annoyed, or leave, or otherwise do something effective.
I just feel so impotent at this distance, or any distance really.

I hate money.

Tonight I talked with Julie about money.
I have irrational fears about money, and obsess over how much I have and how I'm going to pay for things. My family wasn't poor or anything. Somehow frugality was simply instilled in me. My dad grew up poor and his father grew up during the depression. I can understand where some of this obsession comes from. The thing is that in the past I haven't let money stop me so much. I was ok with buying books and music regardless of money. I don't know what's changed, but lately I've been worried about how much I have and how much I don't.
I'm in debt right now and I have a little over a thousand dollars less a month coming in than I need in order to keep up with bills, without paying off my debt. This is with working thirty hours a week and using the money my family has saved up for years on end.
Julie is telling me money is easily attainable but that hasn't been my experience. I've done the whole applying for scholarships out the wazoo thing, and I've taken out loans. The thing is that it doesn't help. My dislike of all of this makes a certain amount of sense, but it is indeed irrational. However I know of lots of folks who worked their way through college. It's a common thing. I\I don't really understand how people can think that it's ok to just defer everything. I know that its ok to take loans and to focus on ones education, but what happened to contributing to your own education. The fact is that with the amount of money I was getting in financial aide loans and all didn't pay for the remainder that was left when my parents money was spent. (it's actually my money, long story, umm probably for later) I went further in debt because of that. Before I had my reckless spending binge while in a bout of clinical depression I already had debt from paying off parts of my school and housing etc. with my credit.

I don't know what to think right now. I don't want money to determine what I do, but I can't eist without my money figured out. Julie doesn't worry about money the same way, but I don't think it's just me being all irrational, though that is part of it. I think that some of it comes from the fact that I manage my money. I have to see where it goes, distribute it among accounts, spend it, and organise it. She doesn't do any of that. Her parents juggle the finances. They probably have to go through a similar set of hoops, but she never sees the hoops so her anxiety about money is subverted. I also imagine it's easier to get a loan when you have some twenty or thirty years of credit built up. as far as my parents taking out a loan, we already have some of those out, and I'm not sure where we are financially. Frankly money is the only thing my father and I really argue about.

Just like with everything else as of late I wish I could just drop it all and just curl up with Julie. That's all I want out of anything lately.
I can't fix my craziness in a flash, I can't fix my schooling in a flash, and I can't simply slough off my monetary responsibilities on my parents. Like it or not I've taken on this stuff, or have had it pushed on me, and now I have to deal with it. I'm not alone or anything, but I sure as fuck am not in the ideal situation.

Hopefully that made sense. It probably didn't considering my track record tonight.
maybe I'll figure it out soon.
until next time

a wonderful day for my student

My student was wonderful today. He wasn't in the classroom the majority of the time. I thing these two things may be causal. He does very well if things are put forth clearly, and in a non-classroom environment that is much easier to do. (it sometimes feels impossible in the classroom).
He followed directions well, enjoyed himself, was happy throughout the day as opposed to off and on, and his aggressions were exceedingly rare. It just makes sense though.
The reason he was out of the classroom was for a bit of testing. It wasn't for analysis. What they were doing (they being two people from the district) was introducing him to a new communication system (just feeling it out). It went' well. I don't think the communication system would stick, but his behaviour and reactions during the testing were brilliant.
I was very proud of him. His mother was also there during this (as was my consultant) She expressed surprise about some of the things I was doing, in a good way that is. for instance, in order to lead him places, and to give him a good amount of tactile input, my hands are on his shoulders a whole lot. She was under the impression that he didn't like that. It's just one of those problems that comes up when you assume every whim and need. She doesn't require him to clearly show what he wants, and so he doesn't feel the need to. If all things he wants are just given to him, why should he be insistent about it.
I'm proud of him, and I think that perhaps a switch in his mothers brain is being triggered. Maybe she'll realise the harm (and disrespect for that mater) she does him by enabling him.

She is very dedicated to her son. That is certifiable, it's simply her refusal of advice from people who know what's going on. It's a common problem, and if she realises that is what's wrong, she will take advice, because she wants what's best for her son.


other than that my day has been relatively uneventful. I may have more things of interest later, but who really knows.

post 100

I don't really feel it to be so important, but it is somewhat exciting that I'm to a one hundredth post. I'm still a little sick. I've been coughing and being up and about for more than ten minutes isn't so pleasant. I'm going to try to go in to work tomorrow anyways. I feel bad for missing a week or so of work, it just feels irresponsible, even if that's what was suggested to me by the doctor. I got an inhaler to help the coughing a bit, but that's all they could really do. It's a viral infection, and so I must let it run it's course. I can't say that's pleasing. I'm fine with it, but I hate being down, I'd rather be able to go back to work.
For the last few posts it seems that my blog has been largely complaint. I don't want to seem like the sort of person who complains endlessly.
I've watched a few football games in the euro cup, but I haven't been following too closely. I haven't a dog in that fight. I could route for just about anyone. For international Football its always Ireland at my top list. I like the Germans a lot, but that's partly due to my fascination at the skills of their goalkeeper during the world cup they played against Brasil.
I really wish I were up and about. That I've nothing more to talk about than a cold and football is really a shame. Not to say that I wouldn't be fine talking about those things.
I'm off to be sick some more. Perhaps I'll celebrate my hundredth post with some coffee. Hopefully I'll have more of interest to tell you later.

despondence

My day has tripped along at an uneven pace. I kept wishing I could just have my life back. It's been like that for a while now. I've been doing all I can to get back into the flow of things (at least now I have) but I feel helpless. I'm in an un-enjoyable waiting time. I've done all I can, and all I am able to do now is trudge day by day back towards some modicum of normalcy. I've been sick this week which can't have helped my mood.
I don't mind the hard work, I just wish it wouldn't take so damn long. I really wish that all that I came up against stayed constant. I wish that the only problems I had to deal with were getting back to school and getting well. That of course isn't the case, and with debt, bills, and the general bullshit the world has to offer me, of course things don't feel right.
I am in a position to complain, I shouldn't. It won't do me any good, but I suppose that philosophy didn't do me any good while I was going crazy. I sometimes think about putting my fist through a wall. That's the key odd thing that pops into my brain as of late. I picture my hand slamming into plaster and the small fissures formed in the plaster, the slow-motion tearing of my skin. I picture my knuckles compressing along with the wall. I see the sharp edges scratch at the edges of my hand and wrist. It's a very involved picture. This is in a few seconds mind you. It takes longer to describe than it does to see and feel and think. I get somewhat convinced that I'm going to do this. I really _want_ to do this. It's just an obsessive thought, but it describes pretty well how I'm feeling. I just want to destroy something, my own well being be damned. I just want to fuck shit up. It isn't very rational. I try to be rational as often as possible. It doesn't make me very popular, though I suppose most of that is actually due to my lack of tact. I just want to destroy something. I imagine it's not an uncommon feeling among young men. Angry young men seem to be the norm. I just want to destroy something. Shooting things in video games only does so much.
I was having a particularly low bout in the middle of the day (the early evening by all actual accounts) I went and finally got a French-press, and made some coffee. It increased my jitters, but I felt somewhat better. That reminds me of another thing which bothers, the damn side effects from my drugs. The sexual side effects have been much less marked as of late. The details are unnecessary to go into. The shaking hasn't gotten better. It's not bad enough for me to lower the dose, especially as I'd rather have a bit of shaking than be confined to bed for days at a time.
I'm just fucking tired of everything. If I can't be well, and be with Julie, then I don't want to let the world be okay. I want to fuck things up. It's not ok for me to sit here doing nothing, being despondent. I need to fucking do something. It all stays pent up though, because what outlet is there? physical outlets don't do it (and this week I've been sick so of course those have been out). It's just something I don't know how to deal with. Anxiety, Fear, Helplessness, and Anger are my bedfellows. They get capitilisations because they are entities within themselves. I don't know how to deal with any of them. All of them are building. All of the signs point towards more of the same, or at the best a gradual incline towards something better.




I know that most of this ranting is in fact false. I know that I can do things, but I can't help but feel useless. I work, and I come home and that's it. I sometimes end up late on bills, and sometimes end up overdrawn on accounts. It's all really annoying, but ultimately this is what I have to do to get back to my feet. I have to trudge along like everyone else, and keep in the flow that the world requires of me. It's the only way I'll get the things I want, my sanity and a life with Julie (or at least a part of my life with Julie). I just have to continue working. I just wish the world didn't make it so damn hard.

a week of illness and an examination of storytelling

For the last three days or so I've been in bed sick. It's not too horribly pleasant. On the upside I was able to comendeer a few seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer from my girlfriend. I'm just now done with the second season. It was very very good. I'm likely one of the few fans of Firefly who had never seen any buffy. My girlfriend absolutely loves the show. I can see why of course, It's told very well and has good strong female characters.
That's certainly one reason I like it. I'm always interested in stories that put people who are written in a real way into situations which are by their very nature contrived. I've always had a thing for science fiction. The literature of ideas intrigues me. Ultimately it's characters who most take me out of my world, and in these situations which are completely new, it is amazing to see the way that characters work.
I imagine that many people would put the reading of fiction, watching of films, and listening to music into the enjoyable but mostly useless category. I don't think so. There was a good argument in a "introduction to Criticism" class that I went to a few sessions of. If someone writes about something, Whaling for instance, are they really an expert on it. For advice about whaling would you read Moby Dick, or would you want to speak to someone who spent their life whaling?
That is the general view of the worth of stories. What I think people miss is that they are their own study. I'm very interested in psychology and people, and stories are a very interesting way to explore. The insights I already have I feel I have gotten from reading and writing stories. Characters are rarely written to be completely human, but even when that is the case each of them must have very particular human characteristics. We deal with humans all the time and when we read a novel we have a feel for if the characters feel real or not. Reading stories give us a chance to see what is true of humanity by looking at what isn't. If a character feels false, feels dead, then there must be something not human about them. If a character feels vibrant there is a wealth of humanity filling them. This applies not only to human characters. Anything written by a human is ultimately about humans.
This could work out to essay size, and perhaps it will some time, but for now I'm going to go back to the work of getting better.

Until next time.

quickly passing time.

I've been drowning in a torrent of work. The hours are relatively low but the work is stressful. I've been focusing my writing efforts towards "The City, and a Misplaced Piece of Mind" I've not felt like doing much else.
I excel at my job. It makes me happy that this is the case, but my student is very hard to work with. He's been more difficult lately, and I have some lovely bruises to show for it. I still don't fault him, and I'm going to keep up the work. I don't much like his mother. This may have already been established, but if it wasn't it certainly is now.
I've already ranted enough about the mismanagement of his case throughout the years.

I've been rather blissful on the weekends, as Julie has been at home (about an hour from where I live). She's been coming to visit me, and I've been doing the same for her. The visits have been spectacular. I love her more now than I ever have, which is quite a feat considering the past two years. I'm going to see a new psychologist rather soon and look forward to the possible repair of my scattered brain. I've also been writing music. some of my strings broke on my guitar so I'm playing slightly different things at the moment, but I've about five songs that are up to performance standards when I've got all six strings.

I'll keep posting, hopefully with more frequency than I have.

a Monday, a headache, and a title for my novella.

Today went well for my student. He had fewer problems than he had most of last week. I however wasn't so lucky. I had a headache for the whole day. It wasn't particularly bad, but I had it over the weekend as well. It was very persistent. Last night I went to bed somewhere around ten or eleven (which is far earlier than I usually go to bed). I woke up at two ish, and at four ish, and at six ish. At four ish I went to takes of Ibuprofin and drink some water. that helped me sleep until six, and then at six I went back to bed. I was supposed to wake up at seven, but no such thing happened. I woke up fully and realised it was eight forty. My work is at least thirty minutes away from where I live. I drove quickly there but I still arrived a good ten Minutes late. the morning went well, but my head just kept throbbing. My left eye didn't want to stay open (this headache is only on the left side) and I was rather unhappy.
I managed to get some ibuprofin during lunch and so post lunch went somewhat more quickly. I got back home and managed to deposit a check my parents had sent me, and felt happy to have gotten that out of the way.
My headache isn't acting up right now thanks to ibuprofin (how I love thee). I'm sitting in my favourite coffee shop, listening to music and writing. I had been working on a title for my novella. I think I finally came up with one I like

This is tennetive but hopefully it works. "The city and a misplaced piece of mind"
It may not ring true to my later, but for now it's the best I've come up with.
The title for this story is pretty hard. No lines stand up as titles and I'm involved enough in the story that I can't very well explain it in a short emotive sentence.

I'll see how it goes.

I'll likely post tomorrow (if not sooner), perhaps sometime I'll try and post about something that isn't work, but for now that's what's kept me occupied.

adieu.

Ahh, Friday, Autism, Scripting, and my thoughts on Free Will.

I am done with the week. I have a few more scratches and bruises to show for it, and I'm not sure what to think about my students' improvement (or lack thereof). I feel overall alright about it. My student had a particularly bad day yesterday (thursday) He was aggressive all day. I'm not sure quite what it was, but he was sneezing a whole lot in the morning.
The whole day was me redirecting him away from aggressive behaviours. I have a number of open wounds from that. They're primarily on my left arm at about elbow level and on the front of my neck nigh the Adams apple. They aren't serious, but I can't say I like coming home from work with red marks down my neck and blood on my arms (this is after washing)
It's no fault of my student. His care has been so mismanaged in the past that you really can't blame him. He's gotten too used to getting things he needed very easily, and so never pushed himself. It's natural, and it's rather sad when it happens. It's going to be nice getting good data on how he's doing. We (being me and my supervisor) don't think the data that had been taken before was accurate. Setting a baseline of behaviour will make things much easier to deal with.
My predecessor wore long sleeves (every time I saw him at least). I've a feeling that this is why. I'd rather be cool and have some marks on my arms though. The thing is, my student doesn't have aggressions if given time to communicate, and if given the opportuninty to get enough rest. We have bad days when he hasn't had good sleep, and when his allergies are acting up. It makes sense. Honestly I still think it shouldn't take too much time before he starts to straighten up a bit. People have mentioned a marked difference.
I really hope they're right, because I can't stand the idea of a bright good kid being fucked over by poor management in the past. I don't know the particulars or the politics of it, and frankly I don't care. I just think that it's a shame he wasn't given the sort of help my organisation specialises in earlier.
In the long run, the track that his parents have set him on will make him incredibly dependent for a long time to come. (They've been very adamant about not having him go to behavioural schools or to the sorts of places that would help him.) As always in situations like this, where the child is hobbled despite natural ability, I wonder how much of it (subconsciously of course) is because the parents want to have the child dependent on them.
I get a lot of my thoughts on that from Eric Burns, particularly from his book "What do you say after you say Hello" It's quite good, and it's about the idea of Scripting. Scripting makes a lot of intuitive sense, and I imagine with more research could be developed further into a strongly applicable branch of psychology.
The primary idea is that we are scripted by those around us in our youth. The example I give most often is somewhat of an oversimplification, but of course no one ever wants to hear the long version, so here is my coloquial explanation.

Suppose that while you're growing up your parents say with some frequency (doesn't have to be a lot) "You're so much like your uncle mike" Mike is an alcoholic. They never mention this in concert with saying how much you're like him. However they tell stories about mike and his alcoholism. This gives you the script that you are expected to become an alcoholic.

This is an oversimplification, so If it seems too blunt, that's because it is. Scripts are very hard to break, and very few people manage to. That's not to say that scripts are all bad, one can be scripted for success (sounds like the title of a bad self help book). The main point is that most people, most of the time will develop in adherence to their script.

This fits into my beliefs regarding free will as well. I gather that all people have the chance to chose outside of what they're _bound_ to do. However, most people will not.
Hence the world being largely Deterministic. People have free will, but it doesn't negate the general flow of fate or whatever you want to call it. This works well as an explanation for certain anomalies caused by individuals.

This is something I could talk much much much much further on, but I'll refrain for the time being.

I think next week will be better with my student, I am happy that I have a nice weekend to relax, and I wish all who may read this a good weekend (even though I'll probably post tomorrow too).

monday the twelfth

It's been a good Monday. I have some scratches and marks to show for it, but it went well.
My student's class went to a musical today. Sousical the musical. It was a production done by a local highschool. The showing was for just the school my student goes to. The school specialises in children with developmental disabilities.
What I saw of the musical was good. My student did have some trouble sitting still, and it was hard getting him to show me picture icons to ask for things when the lights were dimmed all the way down. We eventually went outside and walked about. we only walked for about fifteen minutes, and then the play was over. From then on my student was rather tired. He did well with all of his tasks, but got more easily frustrated after the change in routine.
He did a bit more grabbing aggressions, and dropped to the ground more frequently. He was clearly just tired. The aggressions weren't much of a problem, Though that is where I got the aforementioned scratches and marks. He's getting better at asking for things, and tomorrow should be better as it is on his usual schedule and he gets to swim.
He loves swiming. the class swims on Tuesday Wednesday and Thursday. On monday's and Fridays he continually goes back to his towel and swimming suit in anticipation.

A lot of people remarked on his improvement. I though perhaps some of it was making the rookie feel good, giving the new guy confidence, but it happened more, and after five or so times I took them seriously. (I knew my student was doing better, I just didn't figure it could be readily seen by outside observers)

I think it should be a good week for my student. Of course we'll see, but he's been getting better at asking for things, and he has been understanding that all he needs to do to get help for something is ask in some form we can know. This lessens the aggressions. I don't mind him grabbing onto my arm hard (well I mind, and more often than not it breaks skin, but I don't mind nearly as much as most people) but it will be nice when he only asks. He only has aggresions when he can't get his point across. It's relatively straightforward. I just have to continue through it, and keep the conversation going. I have colourful arms and some nicely stretched shirt collars now, but it's all for the better.(when he grabs at you sometimes he'll pull on your collar with both hands downwards trying to pull your face towards him. Sometimes he'll bite the centre of the shirt collar as well. The best way to deal with it is just support his weight by putting your arms against his, and giving no more reaction.) It can be somewhat hard to keep the reaction low when he give a really good pinch that breaks the skin, but it's an aquiered skill. If you jump too much when he grabs you or pinches you it reinforces the action. Since you jump at it, it's clear that he's gotten your full attention, and will likely get what he wants. We don't want him associating his aggressions with getting what he wants.
It's been going well so far.
The kid's bright, he just needs a vocabulary (in whatever form it may take, pictures words gestures anything really) to share it with others.
Sadly I don't think he'll ever be at normal functioning. I could be wrong of course, but he's thirteen and still non-vocal. Early intervention is the best way to deal with autism, and they botched it with him. I really wish the outfit I worked for could have gotten him when he was young (we specialise in really young children, and nipping it in the bud)
What I want for him when he's twenty can only happen if after I'm done working with him he's kept on the same general path, needing to practice his abilities and to learn new ones. I want him to be able to have some sort of a social life. I think it's doable. There's no doubt that we'll be able to get him to a level where he could live by himself if need be, I just want to make sure he has the skills to deal with people in non formal situations.


I'll keep you updated.

Sleeping does not come easily tonight

It is one of those inexplicable times during which my head will not settle. I have tried my usual methods for getting to sleep, but here it is, three hours before my time to wake up, and I'm still as awake as I was at nine in the evening.
I don't have any good explanation for this, but some nights this happens. Of course this happens every night to Julie, so I don't have much to complain about if I've only got to deal with it once in a while.
I tried sleeping, but frankly lying in bed bored isn't going to help much, so I'm trying to do things. I've edited a good five pages of my story, I'm writing a blog post, I've been listening to music, I had a drink, I may have a snack. There really isn't much to do that wouldn't be a bother to those around me. I can't make music, but I suppose I may read from the book I'm working on or the magazines I purchased today. I got a copy of Paste magazine (I like it quite a lot) Since Punk Planet went under Paste is my favourite music magazine. I also got a magazine called Poets and Writers. It's interesting, and has articles on writing and writers and the sorts of things to be expected in a magazine with its name.
It also has a handy list of publications to which things could be submitted. I circled a number of them that might have interest in the story I'm working on. I probably still have four edits or so before it's ready to send out to anyone, but It's a good idea to know where to send It anyway. Considering how quickly I've been going through it, It may get done before I had expected. I got the manuscript sent back to me from my dad a few days ago, and now I'm about two thirds of the way through my second draft. There will need to be much polish, and I can't guarantee that the remainder of my work won't have vast swaths of new writing, but I'm optimistic about it. Perhaps that's only the foolishness of a beginning writer.

anyway, I'm going to continue trying to sleep. It's unlikely to happen quickly, but one can hope (though one certainly can't dream at a time like this)

finally Independence

Today was a good day. I worked with my student by myself today. It went very well. The Aide he had been with was out for the day, so I was able to start my independent work a day early. It was much easier to deal with my student without conflicting messages flying around. it was my first time truly working with a student like this, so the first half of the morning I had lots of help from my supervisor, and gradually increased my skill. By the end of the day I felt pretty good about what I had been doing, and I felt that my student had improved.
He likes certain pressure points. He has a callous on his thumb from biting it, a bump on his arm from hitting himself, and a circle of hard skin at the space where his spine enters his head from pressing there. He likes pressure a lot. Understandably we're trying to decrease these behaviours. One well established methods is called a sensory diet. we haven't anything written up, but essentially periodically he is given certain allowed types of pressure by someone. He doesn't traditionally ask for it, but today I had him saying (in a way that was discernible from his other words but not very knowable to anyone else) Pressure when he wanted some. He is largely non-vocal and this is a huge step. I'm also going to have him use the Icon in his PECS book to show me. It's more reliable, but the vocal is great. He was very calm, and once I had gotten him saying Pressure He didn't have more of his aggressions.
I really like working with him, and I am glad that I got a kid who's both as cool as he is, and needs as much help as he does.

I had to get re-fingerprinted with the school district today as well. It didn't take very long, but I'm never a fan of that sort of thing. I've no serious plans for the evening, though a film and perhaps a party are likely options.

Monday should be nice. I want to see if the things he got to today stay with him over the weekend.

after work activities

My life does not revolve around work, though it certainly may begin to seem that way. I actually have quite a bit of free time when not working.
I'm going to be running the Tahoe relay with my girlfriend her sister and some other folks, so today I went out for a run. It was only about 1.6 km which is traditionally too short for me to pick up a pace, but it was my first successful run in some time. I'm likely to do about 3.5 km tomorrow, (maybe 3 km not sure yet depends on my route) I'm looking forward to being all in shape. and it'll be nice running Tahoe relay. I'm sort of excited to have a Tahoe relay Tshirt like the one's Julie always wears. It's sort of silly, but it'll be really cool to match.

After running I showered Etc. At eight I had a meeting for new DJs at KDVS. It was pretty interesting. It's nice having time to do that now (last quarter I had an Aikido class at exactly that time) I really like the idea of having a radio show. I also much prefer finding music in physical form and I've not the money to buy records right now (or tapes, or cds etc) At the station they have a HUGE library of music, and one of the volunteer jobs that I get my required hours for is sorting through the library. Things get put in the wrong places, get taken out, get out of order, and It is the job of volunteers to sort it all out again. This is a really good time to peruse the stacks, and since you're sorting other folks choices you'll likely run into something you wouldn't have picked yourself. I'm really looking forward to hearing some of the obscure music there that I can't really get through all my current sources.
The meeting was basically a lecture on Indecency and Obscenity. It was covering the nuances of what can and can't be said or played on the radio. Interspersed was a short history of the tightening of FCC regulations and a smattering of pleasantly indecent and obscene songs.
I may write a post just on the nature of the Indecency and Obscenity rules later, perhaps when I need to know it really well.

It was a nice class, and I'm REALLY looking forward to the next bit where we're covering the history of certain music (I expect to hear about a lot of bands I've never heard of and that's a hugely exciting prospect for me.)

my third day on the job

Today I was the primary tutor with my student. It was nice not shadowing, and as expected I found myself somewhat inept at certain things. My student did rather well considering the amount of change and the confusion of having three people attend to him (his current tutor, my supervisor, and me) He had some problems later in the day, and grabbed at me rather hard. I now have a nice little mark on my neck. It's not that noticeable anymore though. He was just trying to get my attention though, no harm intended. I was pleased that I didn't come close to getting angry. I'm glad because that means he'll grab less and less, because anger is attention, and when he grabs he wants attention. Getting angry is reinforcing the behaviour.
I'm looking forward to my second day working with my student on a more one on one basis. I think it will be somewhat easier once his current tutor is out of the classroom. The fellow is very nice, but having both of us ends up sending conflicting messages.
A lot of information was thrown my way today, which was very helpful. I'm relatively sure I'll be able to remember it, and tomorrow I'll be taking data on my outfits sheets rather than on blank page. The data sheets help me do the tasks. It's easier to keep track of what's going on, and keep everything consistent when you have to write it down.
I did a Relatively good job with DT (discrete trials). It was my first time doing DT with an actual student. During my training in DT I practised on other trainees, and they on me. It was useful, but trainees don't read into unintentional patterns or get distracted when reinforcement is slow in coming.
I do realise now what one of my main problems was. During DT I should have put him at a lower phase. I was performing the trials at a higher level of skill than he had. I won't get into numbers or anything as you needn't know them, but I'll be going close to the bottom tomorrow and then working up to see what level he's at.

It was a good day, and I enjoyed it. It's nice working with my student, he's a very cool kid. I really hope my training helps him out (it should, the technique my outfit uses is the only proven treatment for autism).


Tomorrow should be good.

day two, timing it full.

my second full day of work was rather nice. I observed similar things as I had the day before, and today I took data. It's nice having evidence to back up improvement or decline. The current people haven't been very good about data. It's just not something that they do. The outfit I work for is very very good about taking data. Everything we do has to be supported by evidence. It's a very nice set up.
I'm sure I'll have more to say once I am the only tutor on the case, but it will mostly be training(for student not me). the methods remain the same, we just change the goal a little bit each time I expect immense improvement.

Changing my habits.

I really shouldn't be up right now. It's only one forty AM. That's about two hours before I would normally begin to get tired. The only thing that changes all this is that tomorrow I am getting up at six thirty. That's less than five hours away. I shouldn't try to go on five hours of sleep. It's just not normal for me to go to bed at this time though. I suppose I could manage it, but some nights you just don't have any sleep in you. this is one of those nights. I don't really have to wake up bright and early at six thirty though. It takes me a little more than thirty minutes to get to work, and I don't need to be there until eight thirty, but for some reason I insist on waking up two hours early, to make sure I'm on time.
That's been a problem in the past. I used to be hours early to everything. This isn't very convenient. Let's just say I got very well into the habit of always carrying a book. It's not that bad anymore. I'm sure that once I get into a flow I'll figure things out, but right now it's still a little odd. If I'm lucky I'll be asleep by two thirty. I don't know if I care right now though.

I really should be asleep right now.

First Full Day of Work

Today was my first full day of work. I was really just shadowing someone today, and will be again tomorrow, but I was at the school all day, interacting somewhat with my future student. It was nice. The fellow who's going to be my student is very interesting. he's a nice kid. He's non-vocal, but likes very much to communicate. His only problems generally have to do with not being understood. he's getting better at using PECS (picture exchange communication system) and hopefully once I start things will be even more smooth.
The fellow who teaches the class proper is very nice, as is my students current tutor. The current tutor has been with him for four years, and things have fallen into a routine. That's one of the problems. It's likely to happen with anyone. The student is very bright, and has perfected, to an art, getting people to do things for him. He takes cues that you didn't know you were giving. His current aide prompts him more than necessary, and after all, he has been with him for four years, even back when he needed so much prompting.
Not much data is being taken on the students improvement though. One of the key things about the way that I've been trained (and the things I already know about behavioural therapy) is that it all must be observed carefully, and recorded. They don't really know how well or how badly the student is doing because they haven't been keeping track meticulously. I've never been someone who liked keeping records. I rather hate it in fact. But in this instance it's the best way to do things.
There are a lot of open opportunities to apply various behavioural techniques. These opportunities aren't being used now, but I'm excited to exploit them myself. This kid is quite awesome, and I think that if we tighten up the program, get the trials in order (behavioural training, not like draconian stuff, more like. Do this, get a reward.), and shake things up a little he should do really well. It's sad that he's as disabled as he is. If we had gotten in, doing the ABA (applied behavioural analysis) when he was young, he would blend in with any normal thirteen year old. Walking around, he does. He probably won't have that anytime soon, but I think we can improve things for him a lot. It's going to be exciting.


and that was just the first day.

finally I start my job

Tomorrow I finally start working with kids. It's going to be very nice. I'm looking forward to it. From what I've heard the kid I'm working with is awesome. It's going to be great.
It's nice getting out of a slump where most days are spent almost wholly inside. I can't say I like that. In heat like this it's hard to get yourself out, and it is awfully tempting when you can just sleep in and sit at the computer all day.
It will be very very nice to get to work.
I've been waiting for a while.

an update

I felt it time for another post on my oft neglected blog. I haven't a good excuse for not writing blog posts, excepting perhaps lack of readership. Things have been very unusual in my life lately. I needn't go into the details, but the world is unhappy with me.
Despite some problems Many good things are happening too. I recently got a job working with Autistic children, which I'm expecting will be very fun and interesting. It also may give me more to write about.
I've also been working on a book. It needs much work, but I have finished the first draft and am happy with the characters and storyline. The other pieces need polish and expansion, etc, but that comes with time.

I have also been writing songs. I only have three I care to perform at this point in time (I've written more than three, but a good number of them 5 or 6 are better left unheard) I think that a seven song set would be enough for a first show. I'm not sure how I'd go about it, but I only need to write three more suitable songs for a set (I've one relatively good cover)
I'll of course continue to post and rant and rave on this blog, though the frequency may be uncertain.

If you want to see a slightly more frequent number of postings from me check out my tumblelog snowisjustfine.tumblr.com

Primaries

Tomorrow is the California primary. I'm voting for Obama. I have not drunk the coolaid, but hes the least shitty of a group of shitty options. At least he's smart enough to act like he doesn't like war. I don't think my vote will make much of a difference, and I've questioned the morality of voting when all it's doing is legitamising a system which gives us the same shmucks why convincing us that we have some sort of power over what happens.
I'm voting because I might as well take the ten minutes out of my day that it will take, and I care about local measures. The primary doesn't really matter, it's the local things that I want to vote for.

I'll save more ranting until tomorrow or some other time.

Pills

Every morning I take six pills. This is sort of fitting as the number I used to do everything in was six. I would touch the door handle six times, check the lock six times etc. There are people who definitely take more, and there are people who take less. To be completely fair only four of them are prescribed.
I have two Fluoxetine (prozac) two wellbutrin (bupropion) and two Ginko biloba suplements.
The prozac is for OCD the wellbutrin is for depression, and the Ginko is for sexual side effects of prozac. It's quite a fun mess.

It's become part of my routine, wake up-eat-take pills, go to whatever I need to go to. I've even gotten in the habit of carrying my pills with me with me everywhere. Sometimes I'll end up someplace other than home, and frankly a day without pills is horrible. It's not so immediate, so three days without pills is a little like being mildly OCD, but one day is still a perceptible difference.
It's just interesting how these are now a part of my life, and unless I somehow find time to do therapy, will always be. (OCD therapy is like having another university course, there's homework and everything)

it just deserves a certain amount of credence. Sure I'm not drinking and smoking to self medicate or anything (I did do that for a while), but I still have to rely on something artificial to keep me sane. It's a little disturbing.

Getting used to drugs is too long of a process. I don't want to have to take my medicine for a month before feeling any better. I don't want to have more energy but be just as little desire to do things as when I was too tired to leave bed. I would rather just get better right now. Honestly it would be a lot easier if I just got some physical injury. If I broke my leg, then there would be a clear cut way to deal with it and I would have a general idea of how long it would take me to get better. Same with most medical things, but it's not so with mental illness.
Once you're determined to get help and get things figured out it's still months until you feel any better.
I started getting treatment somewhere around January of last year, and yet here it is a year later and I'm still struggling to get things straight. New problems have arisen and some of the old problems aren't so bad, but I sure as hell am still crazy.
The thing is I'm not even that bad off. I caught the signs early, got early help, had a relatively mild case (at least I think so) if it's this bad for me, then how bad must it be for schizophrenics and manic depressives? How much time is lost to being crazy. Statistically the majority (don't quote me but it's higher than eighty percent) of people will get some sort of mental illness or defect sometime in their lives. you probably know someone with something wrong with them.
Frankly it just sucks.
I still don't really want to tell people that I'm obsessive compulsive, or depressed. I don't know how to explain it.
Depression is fairly common though.
even the common things are hard to admit too.
There's such a stigma, and healing takes such a long time, and while you're healing the entire world is that much harder to deal with.
It's so gradual, getting back to a base level of existence.
I've just about had enough of it, but of course it's likely to keep going, and it's not going to be a short process.

I Hopefully will soon be fixed. Today I got a new prescription from my psychiatrist, and as soon as that kicks in I should be alright. I managed to avoid complete failure in the whole staying in school front, and it seems that I should be able to right my wrongs sooner rather than later. We'll see.

I'll keep ya'll updated.

Rainy days

I have an unusual affinity for rainy days. I love the smell of freshly rained on dirt, and the feel of cold drops hitting my forearms. Davis winters are so perfect for me. I don't have to shovel snow as I had every winter before coming to Davis. I don't have the obligatory two power outages that winter always would bring. I just have water coming down from the sky and making the world spring up green around me.
There are other pluses of course, Like not feeling guilty for staying inside all day and reading. The extra time for homework is also nice, because you aren't wasting a sunny day on homework.
I think that some of my love for rain comes from my interest in plants. I adore plants. There is something very nice about the way a plant lives. I like the things that everyone else likes about plants, like food and flowers and scents, but I like the little things too. I like the little tendrils that vine plants send out to hold on to their surroundings. I like the way that plants lean towards the light. I like the way that their inner workings are structured, the phloem and xylem, the meristem and the endodermis.
So rain has a lot for me to love. I also love the relation my mind always makes with Ireland when rain begins to pour down. I'm enough Irish to say that I'm Irish, and I like the culture (what I know of it) enough that I'd seriously consider living there. There's just something that feels very like home when I see a field of green and rain siphoning out of the sky in sheets.
Today with the rain falling down more than it had been during any other part of the school year I felt very at home. I came to campus with no umbrella and no jacket and walked from my class to the MU holding a copy of the Aggie above my head. The sound of rain hitting the branches above me calmed my mind down.
I saw a girl walking with no covering, smiling to herself as if the world were absolutely perfect. She had her head phones on and on every surface of her face the smile was spread. This was a kindred spirit, unless she had just been proposed too, or just aced a test, she was indeed a kindred spirit. There is nothing as refreshing as walking about in the rain.
It washes everything down, including us. I never understood the symbolism behind having rain coincide with depression in film. The rain is refreshing. Maybe you don't agree, but if you just give it a chance and cherish the beautiful drops of water, the spinning polar molecules of an Oxygen and two Hydrogen atoms, perhaps rainy days will bring a full face smile to you too.

a typical day

When I walk down the paths and streets of our city I watch people. I know this isn't unique. Moments of simple bliss taken from the nearly imperceptible flow of people are common, at least if there's any justice in this world. All mind's fill with ideas of the nature of classmates, coworkers and passersby. All minds collect stories, long and short, false and true. All minds make up tall tales to accompany the odd observations which slide before our eyes.
Some of us make slightly more ridiculous stories. There's no harm in this, it is from this tendency which fiction is born. Even fewer of us believe, if only for the fevered moments in which the thrall of fear and anxiety takes us, the myths we construct.
Many of the things in our world provide potential for death and destruction. Think of fire alarms. The shiny red handle so tempting; screaming to be pulled. If I pull it, what happens? Death. People rush out of their seats, running about as if the world were to end. The slower among us, as if we were in a sped up nature film, are picked off, and gradually are trampled by the remainder of the herd.
Just as in nature and in the world at large this destruction and mayhem has a pattern. it is only the weak who are destroyed, who are trampled. Today those who are weak are wearing white shoes. They are wearing the colours red and green. They are easily labelled for anyone to see.
When, not if but when, that fire alarm is triggered by some menacing person these people will die. I am that menace. I am seated next to the fire alarm, and when I feel the power arching through my fingers, when I feel the urge to reach for the lever, I will strike a death blow on the unsuspecting weak.
I don't pull the alarm, and no chaos ensues, but as I leave the room I touch my left shoulder to my left ear six times, and wait for a S.W.A.T. team to speed around the corner in pursuit of the mass killer, me.
That is how life is for me. This is not a bad day, but a normal one. I am not haunted by the fear of killing because I've done it I am haunted for a more perverse biochemical reason.
This is OCD.
OCD is exactly as it sounds Obsessive and Compulsive. I Obsess over things, particularly things which no one else would give a second thought to, and I Compulsively do things. It's a very straightforward name for a very ordered disorder. I could bore you with the DSM IV-TR definition of OCD or the biochemical screw ups that help to cause it. All you absolutely need to know is that my brain doesn't produce enough serotonin, which is the same thing all those clinically depressed people out there don't have enough of. For that reason I take the same stuff they do, just in a higher dose (and some unfortunate individuals take a much higher dose). (and some unfortunate individuals have both OCD and Depression, I happen to be one of them)

How OCD Wasted A Year of My Life

I suppose an update is in order. I've a lot to explain, so I'll likely separate this into multiple posts.
Though I doubt anyone is reading this, I do think someone may in the future. I've been away from writing for two reasons and two reasons only. (or one if you want to be over simplistic)
Over the first year and first quarter of my second year at UC Davis, I've been suffering from OCD and depression. It's been "interesting"

I've had troubles in my academics, in my life in the outside world, and in simply existing. I'm not one to blame everything bad that happens on some external source, however I can't help but feel that my failures have not been my fault.

The story starts with my turn from simple tics and habits to full on rituals.
I'm not able to tell when the change truly was, as I've had obsessive compulsive tendencies my entire life, but somewhere in the fall quarter 2007 I went crazy.
Six is my number, I do many things in sixes. I do fewer things now that I'm medicated, but the medication only lessens the urges, it doesn't manage to quell them.
I had a number of rituals, but for expediency I will refrain from listing them all. The most common, and most marked rituals were these: I would touch my left shoulder to my left ear in some multiple of six (very hard to hide), I would turn in a clockwise circle for some multiple of six times, and I would lick car tires while walking past them.

These were only the most notable visible acts which I indulged in during my first year here at Davis. more troubling were the thoughts that filled my head.
every day, for what seemed like many hours (time goes much more slowly when you are afraid) I would see vivid mental images of my girlfriend's death.
I can call up many a scenario, and nearly everything in this world has some potential as an instrument of death.
The most prominent visions were those of Julie being hanged, of Julie being burnt at the stake, and of me slamming Julie's head against the corner of a table.

Of course these images were distressing. It felt like I spent more time in the foetal position during that year than I had as a foetus.

It took me until winter quarter to finally get some help (this after a first quarter of a D in chemistry and an F in maths)
I went to the campus counselling centre and made an appointment. I spoke to a rather nice psychologist, sitting in what was normally her chair so as to avoid having my back to the door.
She referred me to a psychiatrist and a specialist in OCD.
The whole process went interestingly enough.

I was unwilling to drive for my first five or so meetings with the OCD psychologist. I took the bus to Sacramento and rode my bike the other two miles to her office. I would come about an hour early, but I did that with everything. I would miss a class instead of showing up late. Tardiness was something I avoided at all costs.
I did this until the meds I got from my psychiatrist kicked in a little and the overwhelming feeling that I was going to kill someone with my car left me long enough for the drive to Sacramento.

I kept on with the drugs, gradually upping them to my current dose (which it turns out is still too, low. However that is for another time) And eventually I began to succede in some classes. Throughout my First year I got at least one A every quarter. This didn't significantly raise my grades enough to keep me out of academic probation, but somehow I managed to avoid complete dismissal.

Summer came and I went back to working at camp in Tahoe. It was good as my girlfriend was working with me (she had been in Boston the entire year). I stopped going to my psychologist because it was too much work. While one is working and studying and living it is too much to try to work out ones issues.
Psychotherapy for OCD is different than for other disorders. It is technically called CBT cognitive behavioural therapy. The essential basis to this treatment is that the person must do that which they are afraid of until they are desensitised. This means spending those hours you used to spend trying to avoid thinking about horrible things, intentionally thinking about those horrible things.

I had some minor problems over the summer, usually spurred by a lack of medication (it took much more effort to renew prescriptions away from my psychiatrist) but overall the summer was much much better than the school year, and I began to believe I was getting better, maybe at a standard that I could live with.

I went back to school and started working on two classes which I had done poorly on while unmedicated. In this whole plan I didn't intend to spend every day of the week lying in my bed with the curtains drawn.
I would come home from class, and the first things I would do would be to strip, and hop in bed.
I didn't shower, I didn't do the laundry, and I most certainly didn't do homework.

I slept, or sometimes cried.

No longer were my bouts of crying fully explained by horrible images, now they just came.
I just felt unbeleivable sadness about things that shouldn't have bothered me nearly that much. I swear that I slept more hours of the day than I was awake.
I don't fully know where my quarter went, but for some odd reason I didn't think to question my depression untill the end of the quarter.
I've still yet to make my new appointment with my psychiatrist.
I left that first partially medicated quarter with an F, a D and a C. the first time I have not gotten at least one A.
Today I got an email saying that without some serious hoop jumping I would be dismissed from the university.
I had expected this, but I am not looking forward to talking to all of these functionaries, telling them about my insanity, with papers and medical records to prove.

I'm guessing that this is one of three (four if I'm being pessimistic) things they would accept as reasons to not dismiss someone.
1. serious mental illness
2. Serious physical illness
3 Serious family problem
4. (pessimistic) large contribution to the university by a rich parent, some sort of legacy deal.

I'm sure they'll let me stay, if they don't I'll be fighting it to the end.
I still would rather have been sane this whole time.

In fact, if it were between finishing college and staying sane I would chose sanity.

favoured fixie #6 revisited

I saw the bike in Favoured Fixie 6 again recently and had a short chat with the owner.
the beautiful paint job is covering up an old eitehr ten speed or 3 speed frame from back in the day (much like what I'm converting)
Instead of converting his back wheel, he simply had fixed wheels made, which seems to be the best option (I suppose that means I have to wait for the money of course).
Also, since taking the picture that is up on this site, he has replaced the front fork.
So picture it with a different front fork.
sorry I've no example.

favoured Fixies #8 Davis, CA

I had intended to have a longer break before my next bike posting, but I stumbled upon a fortuitous site (the binachi website which had this exact bike on it) and I simply had to post it up. Luckily it was also the bike that I intended to have as my next in the sequence. It's the Binachi Pista. it seems like quite a nice bike. it's a track bike in it's natural environment. Another Binachi single speed I've seen around here (fixie only because the owner put on a flip flop hub) actually started life as a single speed cyclocross/comuting bike.
who knew.
anywho, do enjoy this bike, I certainly did.
here is the link to it's Binachi posting if you'd like (it's out of my price range, but of course that's why I simply scavenge parts and convert, ah the joys of abandoned bikes)

Favoured Fixies #7 Davis, CA

Otis Redding

I do have a number of other fixies to post, but since the deluge of pictures I've already posted I felt it appropriate to post something else for a change.
I've been listening to Otis Redding as of late. I really cannot express how amazing this man is. Some of the best songs ever written (certainly some of the best known) were written by this guy, " "Respect", and of course "Sittin' on the dock of the bay"

I know this isn't news to anyone, that Otis Redding is amazing, but it's a nice departure from the Punk, Hardcore, and Screamo I've felt like listening to lately.

Favoured Fixies #6 Davis, CA

This fixie (no brakes front or back I might add) is purely beautiful. pictures do not do it justice.
I really wonder how wonderful it must be to ride this.
ahhh.

I feel almost dirty putting pictures of this bike on the Internet, it's like exploitation.

Favoured fixies #5 Davis, CA

this is a rather nice bike I ran into today, it's an old convert with a nice coat of spray paint. I had the luck of speaking with the owner (he came out as I was taking the photos). this bike isn't truly a fixie as it can freewheel, but it is still quite nice. The back hub is actually a BMX hub which makes some serious sense for money saving, the bike is rather nice, and I would quite like it. the gentlemen who owned it was quite niece.

favoured fixies #4 Davis, CA

wowie, there sure are a lot of nice bikes in Davis, especially on a nice sunny day like today.
I've a feeling that with another few days I'll have all of the fixies that go on campus photographed, which will be quite a shame as I'll have nothing else to distract my lens.
luckily I can think of at least one (a lovely gray fixie with a license plate for a spoke card) which I've been lusting after and have yet to see while in the possession of my camera.
on that note here starts a long long set of posts with various fixies I favoured today.

Favoured Fixies #3 Davis, CA

I've got a bit of a thing for those old Peugot bikes. they seem like a lot of fun, and of course are the perfect fixie conversion. this one is rather nice, so nice I even parked my bike next to it on the way to philosophy. you can tell mine by the spray painted racks, the CD front reflector, and the keep Tahoe blue sticker. under all that ugly spray paint and dirt is a beautiful Fuji Royal from the seventies.

Favoured Fixies, #2 Davis, CA

I'm not going to make this blog a bike blog or photoblog or anything drastic like that, but i've been on the outs with writing in it because I've no readers and I've no time. I figure that taking pictures of things that interest me (at this point in time very nice bikes of which there are so many in Davis) and posting them here might give me more interest, if not increase readership.
most of the bikes will be fixies, because until (and likely even after) I get my fixie put together (it may be a while for monetary reasons) I'll be a bit obsessed.

on that note here are some pictures of a lovely fixie I saw in Davis which I would love to draw your attention too.

Favoured Fixies, #1 Boston MA

While I was visiting my girlfriend in Boston I saw this very nice Fixie, since I was with my girlfriend who I see far too infrequently and we were eager to step out of the literally freezing cold into a nice Indian restaurant I was only able to get one good picture, and one horribly blurry one which I won't torture you with.

I like this bike mostly because it's a fixie, thats really the key quality here. the color scheme is nice and all and it certainly seems like a wonderful bike, and I like it even though I much prefer fixies with drop handle bars or bars with a slight upward turn at the ends, but really, I'm on a fixie fix (excuse the pun) so I'd likely like it if it were a converted ten speed about 30 years and three paint jobs out of its prime.

So I just finished my first quarter at UC Davis.
I got an A in my Neurobiology Physiology and Behaviour class. about that I'm quite excited.
in my psych class I did alright, in my chem class I did as well as I expected I would do, and in my math class I did horribly.

the fact is that the class was conducted poorly and I understood little of what was going on.
when I did homework I didn't really understand it, and the things we covered just didn't click.

It's looking like I'll have to retake it.
but I think I can inch it in next quarter, and I guess that's what matters. I really hope that it works out better this time, because really I feel bad for my abysmal performance. the truth is I've never done that badly in anything.

I guess there's a first time for anything. But I was hoping that retaking a college course wouldn't be one of the firsts I encountered.

Ghost World

I never pictured myself as the sort of person who would read comic books.
I've always loved books in general. Reading is definately one of my favorite things to do, but comic books never really caught my eye.
About a week ago I saw this article on BoingBoing.net about the release of the first issue of a particular comic for free on the internet. The comic had been out, but the first issue was going to be free for download.
I didn't have all that much to do so I figured it would do no harm to read it (because I do have interest in some internet comics, but that is definately a bit different than comic books)
the comic was called Transmetroploitan. I read it, and it was absolutly amazing. went ahead and found the local comic book store, and picked up a collection of some of the transmetropolitan comics. while there Ghost World caught my eye. I had heard of it (partly because it had been a movie, which I had not seen btw).
I read the first little bit and it looked good but not perfect. I bought it anyway.


I read it just now (I felt quite dorky, though, I cared less and less the more I got into the story) and it was amazing.
I can't even really describe it.
it's not all that involved, and I'm sure I could explain the story fine, but I could never do it justice.

You have to read it.
well I guess you don't have to, but you'll definately be missing out if you don't.

UCLA Tasering Incident

I'm sure that this has been coverd so much in the past week that its nearly up to overload, but as a UC student myself, and having interest in a preventing abuse of power in organizations more wide reaching than the UCPD, this seemed like something on which I needed to post.
It's possible that as a member of one of UCLA's sister universities I have a different view on this incendet. Not meaning that I don't think it's wrong, more meaning that it also makes me feel that perhaps the people who I am paying to protect me (because I am indeed paying this univeristy for all of their services including those of our police force) are more interested in the power relationship that we as students permit them to have, in interest of saftey, than they are in actualy protecting our safety.
That the prime officer involved in the tasering was only suspended, especialy after a long record of abusive behaviour, is an agregious error on the part of the UCPD.
(a list of these prior incidents in which this officer, one Terrence Duren, has been involved is on boing boing)
I had considered organizing protests at UC davis, but upon hearing that an independent investigation was under way ceased plans. Hearing that the only consequence for absuing someone, and threatening the absue of others who object is a suspension, has renewed my desire to protest.
I don't want to, and indeed dont intend to, pay for a police force which beleives itself to be above question.
We'll see what happens.


With any luck we can gradualy weed out all of the Terrance Duren's in our police forces, and stop paying to be abused.

EMT Jobs

It's almost time for me to begin looking for a job. Among other things, that means that I will soon either have to trim or shave my beard, or at least try to groom it. I've been hoping for a serious job on a ALS ambulance, but looking at job openings that seems less and less likely. This summer I'm intending to work (for the last time) at the summer camp I've been working at for the last few years. Taking two months off is not conducive to a good employer employee relationship. For these reasons I may have to take a small inconsequential transfer job on a bls transfer bus. this wouldn't be bad in and of itself because hours would be better and I'd have some expirence to show for future job searches, but it doesn't feel like real medicine. its important to have good transfer services, but that's not what prehospital emergency care is about. I'm not an emergency medical technician to take stable patients from one place to another. I want to deal with real medical issues, and wil trauma, and with darting through trafic at 2 AM with a gunshot patient in the back of my bus. it feels like that would be the best use of my skills, and i'm afraid that a transfer bus might just allow my skills to atrophy.
if I can get a job with a ALS bus, that's all the better, but if it has to be transfer so be it.
I also must say that I don't slight transfer service as unimportant, it's simply not for me.

oh, and incase you didn't catch on bus is the shorter slang for ambulance.

Midterms

You wouldn't expect my posting to go up durring midterms, but somehow that seems to be what's happening.
perhaps more time spent on the computer means more time for procrastination of the blogging sort.
I'm thinking that thats likely the case.

My RSS feed now works

the title says it all.
I have my rss feed working again. there are subscription links on the right side of the screen.
thank you so much for reading.

Eating Red Meat increases risk for a certain type of breast cancer

According to a Harvard run study red meat increases a womans risk for a certain type of breast cancer. this particular type of breast cancer is hormonaly driven.
Red meat has already been shown to contribute to one's risk for colon cancer.
further study is needed to fully coroborate the findings, but it's not looking good for red meat, or those who provide it.

here's the article from MSNBC

"Red Meat May Raise Breast Cancer Risk"