I've Been Tagged

I've been tagged by Jason so I guess I'm s'pose to list 10 things about me ...and then tag several more people. Is this something like a chain e-letter? Okay, here are ten things about me ...remember, I was asked.

10. It takes me a hour to take a shower. I could never understand those people who can jump outta bed and be out the door in 20 minutes.

9. I haven't smoked a cigarette (or any other plant material) since 1987 ...at which point I was inhaling (literally) three packs a day.

8. I shave my head to deal with the fact that I was going bald anyway.

7. I'm addicted to chocolate. I wish I hadn't just said that. Now, I want, need, gotta have a Hershey bar.

6. I think falling in love is the better part of being in love.

5. I don't know or rather don't recognize my limitations. What limitations?

4. Although I've had some heated arguments, I've never in my life been in a fight.

3. My favorite foods are pizza, ice creams, and pinot noir -- not all at the same time. Oh, yeah, and of course chocolate.

2. My right arm (from shoulder to fingertips) is two inches longer than my left.

And the number one thing about me...

1. I blew out a lotta brain cells back in the sixties and now my short term memory is shot. What were we talkin' about?

I'm tagging: schaumi, meander, rodney (...sorry 'bout that guys)

The Gift

Websters defines "gift" as:
	1. "Something that is bestowed voluntarily, without compensation."
	2. "A talent, endowment, aptitude, or inclination."
My question is:
	"Is a gift truly a gift if it comes with conditions, and expectations?

Too often, we give gifts to others with the expectation that they will appreciate the gift ...and the gesture. And once they accept the gift, there are social obligations attached.

Jerry and Elaine introduced me to the concept of re-gifting. When I receive an inappropriate gift, I always keep it. I never use it, but I do keep it, just out of consideration for the giver. But what if there is someone who would really appreciate something that you were given and really don't want? Is it okay to re-gift?

Ha! Ha! -- The phrasing of those last few sentences makes me feel like Carry Bradshaw. Now I could really tell you about sex in "this" city. But I digress....

Then, there are those gifts that come with moral obligation. What comes to mind (and the motivation for this post) is a friend ...we'll call him John. John is a musical genius. He can play anything having heard it just once. His manual dexterity is phenomenal. He's had this ability since he was a young child. Problem is, John really doesn't like to play [the piano] unless it's when he wants to play ...for his own enjoyment. He doesn't want to make a career out of it, and hates when he's called upon to display his talent. He's suffered through years of musical training, and since he really is quite good, everyone is constantly urging him to develop his talent as much as possible. "You've been given a tremendous gift and you owe it to the world to develop and share it." But John didn't ask for this gift. And if he could, he'd gladly give it back for the opportunity to live (what he calls) an ordinary life. Does he have the [moral] right to deny such a "gift"?

It's one thing to "encourage" a gifted child, helping him reach his full potential. It's another thing entirely to force a child (or anyone, for that matter) into a life he doesn't want ...for some "greater good".

We talk about freedom, but is that a true condition. Are we really free to do what we want? Not really. Even free will is only an illusion when you consider the influential pressures at play. Sure the exception individual can rise above all the ordinary influences, but even the most well read and well versed among us has been affected by someone before him ...someone telling him what to think and what it means ...especially since meaning is transitory and subjective.

We are given "the gift of life", but in life, our individual roles seem to be, not pre-defined or pre-destined, but determined by the context in which that life unfolds. You can go with the flow, or [try to] swim upstream, but in the end, it's all about the river.

[chorus breaks into song]

Old man river, he just keeps rolling along.

Quote of the Week:"Take gifts with a sigh; most men give to be paid."

That Was Too Easy

	If anyone read my post of "27 February '06", you know how crazy I get over the misuse of the language. So, when I saw today's installment of "Foxtrot", I just had to make a comment ...in addition to my regular weekly editorial. My point is simply this. Before Bush instigates a "nucular" war, first he should learn to pronounce the word.

Celebrating Disaster

This month, in San Francisco, there's lots of celebratory activity in acknowledgment of the centennial of the greatest earthquake to hit an American City, the famous San Francisco Earthquake of 1906.

On Wednesday, April 18th at 5:12 AM, an 8.3 (Richter scale) quake hit with the force greater than an atomic bomb and totally devastated the city.

This, is an image of the area around Union Square after the quake and is one of the many photographs, (along with links and articles), featured at The Virtual Museum of San Francisco, in its section relating to the "The Great Fire and Earthquake".

The Richter scale (Charles Francis Richter) is one of the ways of measuring earthquakes and runs from 1 to 9; a magnitude 7 quake is 10 times more powerful than a magnitude 6, 100 times more powerful than a 5, etc. Theoretically, this scale is open-ended, but improvements in seismic measuring techniques have enabled seismologists to refine the scale, and 9.5 is now considered the practical limit. On that basis, the magnitude of the 1906 San Francisco earthquake has been revised from 8.3 to 7.9.

Whenever there's a tremor of any kind, (and there are many), a lot of attention gets paid to earthquake preparedness ...or the lack thereof. According to seismologists, we're way overdue for the next big one, which could strike at any moment, and generally people are totally unprepared for such a disaster. People insist on building houses on hillsides and in areas subject to liquefaction.

Liquefaction is the condition when, as a result of earthquake, sand doesn't actually liquefy but takes on a fluid characteristic. Anything built upon it becomes unstable. The Marina District, which is built on landfill, suffered the greatest damage from the Loma Prieta quake ...due to liquefaction.

The last major earthquake to hit the San Francisco Bay area was the 1989 Loma Prieta 7.1 earthquake. It's been nicknamed the "little big one" since, despite the damage caused, it was not "the" big one that is predicted to eventually hit.

I've lived in S.F. for over thirty years and I've never become comfortable with quakes. Whenever the building starts to shake, and I notice the chandelier swinging, I get that sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach and my heart starts to pound. Sure, you chuckle after it's over, but during those few seconds, when you don't' know just how intense it's gonna get, it's quite unnerving. Even worse are those nocturnal quakes that cause you to sit bolt upright in the bed, still half asleep, totally discombobulated, and utterly terrified.

On 17 October 1989, the day of the Loma Prieta quake, I was sitting at the computer. Suddenly, at 5:04 PM (PDT), everything started to shake and sway. After I realized that this was not going to be the usual little tremor, my first reaction was whether to try and save my rather large TV, (which was swaying violently and about to topple off its foundation), or try and save the work on my computer, (the multiple open documents I had been working on over the past couple of hours). Then, I didn't have my battery-powered notebook, so a loss of power would mean a loss of all my unsaved files. I opted to save the TV. It didn't occur to me 'til after the fact that I should've been thinking about placing myself in a doorframe to avoid bodily injury.

Curious thing about that quake -- for all the devastation it caused, (including loss of life), it had no direct effect on me ...other than a few broken dishes, and those documents I had to reconstruct. My area of the city was totally unaffected, other than the loss of power, which was restored by the following morning. During the night before, I and other residents in my building, watch the fires and other activity from the roof of the building, while listening to news reports on a portable radio. So I really can't stay that I've actually experienced [the devastation of] a major quake.

FYI: The largest earthquake ever recorded was 9.5 in Chile (1960)

Quote of the Week: "...a foolish man which built his house upon the sand." (Matt. 7:26)

Talkin' To My Shrink (Part 2)

I've always wanted to have a better understanding of my mind, of myself. Many years ago, I started keeping a journal, but writing by hand was cumbersome. The process got in the way of the thought. I was concerned about legibility and coherency ...so that future perusals wouldn't read as gibberish.

At the time, many people I knew where in therapy and I thought how great to have someone so totally focused on your thoughts. It would be all about you; you could delve as deeply into "you" as you wanted, and there would be someone whose job it was to listen.



You know he's not personally invested in your dissertation, but as a professional, he's supposed to make you feel that he is. However, when you can plainly see that's he's bored to tears and couldn't possible care less about your ranting, it severely undermines the process. So I stopped.

I did want to continue the process, but with someone that [I felt] was as emotionally invested as me ...and that could only be me. So....

I started recording my thoughts. I'd turn on the tape recorder, hang the mic unobtrusively over my head, relax with a glass of wine, put on some background music, and verbalize my thoughts ...my random streams of consciousness. This was a great idea, but the "sessions" were unorganized. I talked about whatever crossed my mind at the time. There was no cohesiveness, no linear progression from one session to the next.

Then came the computer. I'm a good typist, so that didn't get in the way of the flow of thought. Afterward, it was a simple process to correct spelling and grammar without changing the thoughts, and to re-arrange those thoughts into linear threads.

After doing this for a number of years, and transcribing my old journals and tapes, I organized all these random thoughts into a cohesive narrative. I use "the book" form as the structure and I wrote the dialogue as if confiding with my therapist. After a couple of years, I finished. The process was quite cathartic.

It's hardly the "Great American Novel", but its completion gave me such a sense of accomplishment. The next step was to have someone read it. Everyone around me knew of its existence, but I allowed only three of my closest friends to read it ...after all, it was a compilation of my most intimate thoughts and motives.

Since two of those three have died, there's now only one other person on the planet who's privy to the contents of my psyche ...at least up to that point and to the extent that I understood it myself. Aside from being a close friend, he was an English teacher and the ideal person to proofread my "manuscript". I took a real chance in handing it to him, but he was impressed with my effort. And I was impressed that he was impressed.

This process resulted in such discernment and purgation, that I continued writing ...not under the presumption of "being a writer", and surely not with the intent of enlightening a general public. It was for me. I found that I could better grasp what I thought when I wrote it down. So, as with this blog, I continue to write my thoughts down ...with no other intention than to write my thoughts down.

Quote of the Week: "I know you believe you understand what you think I said. What you don't realize is that what you heard is not what I meant."

Talkin' To Myself (Part 1)

I'm standing there in front of the produce counter, playing the scenario through in my head, trying to decide what I need to buy. I'm actually verbalizing what it is I need. I noticed a shopper who's stopped and is looking at me in wonder. "What? I said. You never saw anybody talkin' to themselves?" She chuckled and said, "Yeah, I do it all the time".

Sanity is merely the act of censoring oneself, when one is being observed. We all act a little crazy when we're certain we're alone. Because deep down inside, no one is completely sure of his sanity.

So often, when no one else is home, I find myself playing that imaginary instrument, performing on that imaginary stage, standing in from of that imaginary crowd accepting my Nobel Prize [or whatever]. Don't laugh, you know you've done it too. And sometimes when I'm alone in a crowd, I get so intensely immersed in that conversation going on in my head, I stop and wonder, "Was I saying that out loud?" I immediately look around for any signs that someone overheard my internal rant and is perceiving me as "strange".

Actually, I don't mind being perceived as strange. It's the not being aware of your strange behavior that's disconcerting. You see, the only difference between the sane and the insane is that sane people know their crazy ...and compensate accordingly. I addressed this question of sanity in my post of 7 November 2005 ("Crazy, Man").

It's all about censoring. Not only one's action but one's speech. Too often you encounter those who don't seem to have any buffer between the thought and the spoken word. You know if they actually thought about it, they probably wouldn't have said [that].

And then, there're the words that have escaped my own lips before I could constrain them. That reaction containing the comment I wish I could take back. That outburst that revealed that "ugly" side of my nature, that part of me I'd taken such care to conceal.

Just think of the chaos that would ensue if nobody censored himself and everyone said exactly what he thought at the time he thought it. Wow! Our society would collapse into anarchy. Surely our economic system would suffer, since commerce depends so greatly on collusion and deception. This sounds like a great idea for a TV sitcom. "The Awful Truth". Oh, wait, that title's already been used. How 'bout "The Unfettered Truth".

(Cont'd in part 2)

Quote of the Week: "Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most."