I hope everyone had a happy Memorial Day weekend.
Thanks to my not trusting the car (even though my neighbor Stephen finally fixed the tail light problem it had earlier), I did not make my annual trek to the cemetery to place the flag on my uncle's grave... but once the car undergoes an overhaul (which worker's compensation makes very difficult to afford) I will get out there.
... In other news, my pinched nerve on my left side seems to be growing worse. Twice over the weekend I was laid up for hours at a time because the pain just wouldn't go away. I have a re-check coming up this Friday and I almost dread hearing that I'll need an epidural injection... I have major problems with the sting of needles.
... Also, after about eight years, my cousin Raymond's house is finally finished! All it needs is cosmetic touch-ups to the new upper floor, and all his hard work will finally be paid off. I just hope he doesn't do what I fear he'll do: turn around and put the house on the market.
That's one thing I could never understand. I realize that to increase the resale value of a home, the seller must do some basic upkeep in order to make the house look clean & presentable. Code violations, etc., must also be addressed... and it does take time, labor, and money. But for a total house re-do (in my cousin's case, the house's square footage nearly tripled), wouldn't you want to at least live there a few years to enjoy the fruits of your labors?
My landlord had talked about adding a dormer to this house years ago. Were we to go about doing it, I wouldn't think about moving in the slightest. I'd love the new look of the house, as well as the new space.
Call me crazy for thinking like that; having not been a homeowner before. But when you work so hard to put your signature on your own home, wouldn't you want time to enjoy and show off for your family and friends?
I defer to Raymond, however... he is the engineer of the family and in this case, I guess he knows best.
May 30, 2007
May 23, 2007
Handing out a heart
Short entry today giving my heart and best hopes to Jenni, as she is prepping to undergo a massive venue change which will work out so much better for her family. I know she can do this; she has more guts than any of her friends ever gave her credit for.
I believe in her and I know she will get the job done - and she will be so much better off for it.
My heart also goes out to the neighbors, who are facing more health issues. The news as of last night is very encouraging, however, as the person in question did a 180-degree turn in terms of health and seems to be back to her old self. I hope so, because she is a wonderful mom, grandmom and great-grandmother.
You guys know where I'm at if you ever need anything at all. :)
I believe in her and I know she will get the job done - and she will be so much better off for it.
My heart also goes out to the neighbors, who are facing more health issues. The news as of last night is very encouraging, however, as the person in question did a 180-degree turn in terms of health and seems to be back to her old self. I hope so, because she is a wonderful mom, grandmom and great-grandmother.
You guys know where I'm at if you ever need anything at all. :)
May 22, 2007
The food chain is in danger
What "great" news we have been hearing the past three months or so regarding all these pet-food recalls for salmonella poisioning. I don't even want to begin to figure the ratio of good pet food vs. bad pet food. The shelves aren't empty, but they're certainly more light-weight.
Now Jenni emailed me an article which says that several dozen fish species are being killed off in Lakes Erie & Ontario due to the viral hemorrhagic septicemia virus which has infected 19 different fish species in the New York area. Although it does not directly affect humans, the disease has killed off members of six of the species, and can be spread very easily, even by tainted bait.
Look at what's happened the last ten years or so, especially in this area. Combine the salmonella issues and the VHS issue along with the Emerald Ash Borer, the zebra mussels which crowded the Detroit River years ago, all the beach closings in southeast Michigan with the e.coli bacteria breakout, mad cow disease in England, the pending arrival of the "killer bee" in the next several years, and you have to wonder: what is happening to the balance of nature?
And what will happen to our source, and our pets' sources, of food?
Remember also that corn is skyrocketing in price due to its use in ethanol. What will be left for us to eat that isn't just machine processed pellets with loads of preservatives?
Years ago, I used to laugh at a Looney Tunes cartoon featuring the Gopher Twins, who end up getting caught in a food processing plant. One of the gophers ended up in a water-soluable food packet which opened when you added water. The idea of such food packets was decades ahead of its time and was played for laughs.
Will we need to watch that cartoon in order to see what the future actually holds for our food consumption, the health of our pets, the safety of our beaches, and the well-being of the fishing industry?
If there's anyone who's an expert on how to truly slow down & eradicate these diseases so they do not threaten livelihood, please stand forward. We've heard all the news, and the situation could grow worse. Someone needs to step up and say there's a plan, then stop talking and implement the plan.
Science brags about being so technologically advanced that our heads would spin. Our heads are only shaking right now, particularly mine, at the fact that these advancements have done nothing to cure these conditions found out there.
The food chain must be kept out of danger, or lives will change from a totally different perspective: biological.
Now Jenni emailed me an article which says that several dozen fish species are being killed off in Lakes Erie & Ontario due to the viral hemorrhagic septicemia virus which has infected 19 different fish species in the New York area. Although it does not directly affect humans, the disease has killed off members of six of the species, and can be spread very easily, even by tainted bait.
Look at what's happened the last ten years or so, especially in this area. Combine the salmonella issues and the VHS issue along with the Emerald Ash Borer, the zebra mussels which crowded the Detroit River years ago, all the beach closings in southeast Michigan with the e.coli bacteria breakout, mad cow disease in England, the pending arrival of the "killer bee" in the next several years, and you have to wonder: what is happening to the balance of nature?
And what will happen to our source, and our pets' sources, of food?
Remember also that corn is skyrocketing in price due to its use in ethanol. What will be left for us to eat that isn't just machine processed pellets with loads of preservatives?
Years ago, I used to laugh at a Looney Tunes cartoon featuring the Gopher Twins, who end up getting caught in a food processing plant. One of the gophers ended up in a water-soluable food packet which opened when you added water. The idea of such food packets was decades ahead of its time and was played for laughs.
Will we need to watch that cartoon in order to see what the future actually holds for our food consumption, the health of our pets, the safety of our beaches, and the well-being of the fishing industry?
If there's anyone who's an expert on how to truly slow down & eradicate these diseases so they do not threaten livelihood, please stand forward. We've heard all the news, and the situation could grow worse. Someone needs to step up and say there's a plan, then stop talking and implement the plan.
Science brags about being so technologically advanced that our heads would spin. Our heads are only shaking right now, particularly mine, at the fact that these advancements have done nothing to cure these conditions found out there.
The food chain must be kept out of danger, or lives will change from a totally different perspective: biological.
May 21, 2007
Lawsuit in the making?
I'm not sure if this is a case of over-reaction or not... but based on the phone call I just made, my patience is worn thin and almost at the breaking point regarding my worker's compensation adjustor.
After two relentless days of searching for the source of a problem tied to no brake lights on the Contour, it has turned up nothing. The rest of the morning was spent online trying to troubleshoot the problem. The good news is, I think I have located the problem's source. The bad news is that I can't afford the fix right now, and in my panic about today's therapy appointment, I had to cancel, and then call the transportation provider to take me in tomorrow.
To say it was done grudgingly is an understatement. The adjustor treated me like she was the know-it-all mom, filled with sarcasm and making me question why I even pick up the phone half the time. "This stuff regarding your car is your responsibility to take care of," she said, "and I don't see where I still should be helping you."
Thanks a lot. In an effort to keep a technically street-illegal car off the street while waiting for my next delayed compensation payment to come in, she'd rather hope the law be broken?
Maybe it's a case of me trying to go through life with a perfectly spotless driving record. In these days, it may be unobtainable given the road rage conditions out there.... someone is bound to be at fault.
But the point is, I am aware of an electrical problem in the car. Without the means to fix it, I am still trying to steer my way around it (literally). And all I get in response is a soggy-bread session with the adjustor -- who, by the way, has left my April mileage compensation sheet unsigned & unprocessed for twenty days. She only found it among a mound of paperwork when it was mentioned to her. That's only $80, but hell, it could afford me the part I need to correct the brake light problem.
Co-workers have said I could pursue a lawsuit over all the anguish. I am half-tempted to inquire into it, although it might be equal to kicking a dead cow.
Friends, I don't think I'll ever be able to return to that job. You don't pour yourself full-force back into the job hoping the nerve miraculously stays normal. Many times, complete rest is the only prescription, along with an alteration in routine. That includes job routine. So my time at the airport is likely done. Point being, however, that I'd like to stick with the compensation arrangement a little longer just to see how the nerve reacts to further therapy. I'll use all I can, then say "screw it, I quit," if it comes to that.
But whenever the therapy and the compensation does end, you can bet hand will be meeting rear end in a not-so-subtle gesture towards this compensation agent, who has made this entire non-work experience a living hell; for me and for other co-workers who have been down her path.
Does it pay to be injured? I guess not -- and even if it does, it comes several days late according to the "pattern", whatever that may be.
After two relentless days of searching for the source of a problem tied to no brake lights on the Contour, it has turned up nothing. The rest of the morning was spent online trying to troubleshoot the problem. The good news is, I think I have located the problem's source. The bad news is that I can't afford the fix right now, and in my panic about today's therapy appointment, I had to cancel, and then call the transportation provider to take me in tomorrow.
To say it was done grudgingly is an understatement. The adjustor treated me like she was the know-it-all mom, filled with sarcasm and making me question why I even pick up the phone half the time. "This stuff regarding your car is your responsibility to take care of," she said, "and I don't see where I still should be helping you."
Thanks a lot. In an effort to keep a technically street-illegal car off the street while waiting for my next delayed compensation payment to come in, she'd rather hope the law be broken?
Maybe it's a case of me trying to go through life with a perfectly spotless driving record. In these days, it may be unobtainable given the road rage conditions out there.... someone is bound to be at fault.
But the point is, I am aware of an electrical problem in the car. Without the means to fix it, I am still trying to steer my way around it (literally). And all I get in response is a soggy-bread session with the adjustor -- who, by the way, has left my April mileage compensation sheet unsigned & unprocessed for twenty days. She only found it among a mound of paperwork when it was mentioned to her. That's only $80, but hell, it could afford me the part I need to correct the brake light problem.
Co-workers have said I could pursue a lawsuit over all the anguish. I am half-tempted to inquire into it, although it might be equal to kicking a dead cow.
Friends, I don't think I'll ever be able to return to that job. You don't pour yourself full-force back into the job hoping the nerve miraculously stays normal. Many times, complete rest is the only prescription, along with an alteration in routine. That includes job routine. So my time at the airport is likely done. Point being, however, that I'd like to stick with the compensation arrangement a little longer just to see how the nerve reacts to further therapy. I'll use all I can, then say "screw it, I quit," if it comes to that.
But whenever the therapy and the compensation does end, you can bet hand will be meeting rear end in a not-so-subtle gesture towards this compensation agent, who has made this entire non-work experience a living hell; for me and for other co-workers who have been down her path.
Does it pay to be injured? I guess not -- and even if it does, it comes several days late according to the "pattern", whatever that may be.
May 20, 2007
Safety net's down below
I went to the airport this morning to turn in some long-overdue medical paperwork. I went there anxious & rather happy. I left feeling some depression, resentment, and yet in glee, knowing I'm not missing much over there, and might be better off without that job, now more than ever... even with Michigan's economy continuing to take a tumble.
I didn't recognize half the staff that was there. And the half I did recognize took their sarcasm routines to a new level in which I only wished I could have dropped the paperwork off and did away with the socializing. Nine weeks away have shown me the bad attitudes I was working with, and they stick out like a sore foot the more I'm not there. If they're in misery, perhaps they deserve it.
No one knows to this point how much more therapy is needed for my back and waist nerve, and no one knows how long the worker's compensation will last. If in fact it runs out on me soon, I do have a safety net in place: a possibility of two jobs waiting for me. Combined, they can earn me more than the airport ever gave me.
The immediate hope is as a taxi dispatcher in Romulus. I have experience as a dispatcher in 1999-2000, and I did enjoy it with the exception of the hard-nosed boss. On one of the early April cab rides from the clinic, I struck up a conversation with Karl, an older driver. Turns out he's the father of one of the new company owners. He asked me then if I wanted a job; repeating the request later in the month when I needed the service to attend a funeral. I said sure, keep me in mind. He took my number and I thought nothing of it, until he made some calls to me within the last week.
Apparently they like the way I conduct myself with others; a value I have held dear since childhood. They are on the lookout for dispatchers as they move to a new building. I'm not crazy for the hours, since they are night hours, but it might be a good start.
Then my friend Jackie alerted me to a job in my career field at last: a videographer for weddings and such. Just think - a possible $200 per night doing what I specialize in. Now there's the salary that the field demands! I have had to put the call to the lady on hold until I found out about my transportation situation, which is technically good now. This week, I will be putting in a call just to test the waters.
Money is nice, but happiness is the most important. Should a person enjoy what they do for a living? I believe the answer is yes, and I hope I can be one of those yes-men in due time.
I didn't recognize half the staff that was there. And the half I did recognize took their sarcasm routines to a new level in which I only wished I could have dropped the paperwork off and did away with the socializing. Nine weeks away have shown me the bad attitudes I was working with, and they stick out like a sore foot the more I'm not there. If they're in misery, perhaps they deserve it.
No one knows to this point how much more therapy is needed for my back and waist nerve, and no one knows how long the worker's compensation will last. If in fact it runs out on me soon, I do have a safety net in place: a possibility of two jobs waiting for me. Combined, they can earn me more than the airport ever gave me.
The immediate hope is as a taxi dispatcher in Romulus. I have experience as a dispatcher in 1999-2000, and I did enjoy it with the exception of the hard-nosed boss. On one of the early April cab rides from the clinic, I struck up a conversation with Karl, an older driver. Turns out he's the father of one of the new company owners. He asked me then if I wanted a job; repeating the request later in the month when I needed the service to attend a funeral. I said sure, keep me in mind. He took my number and I thought nothing of it, until he made some calls to me within the last week.
Apparently they like the way I conduct myself with others; a value I have held dear since childhood. They are on the lookout for dispatchers as they move to a new building. I'm not crazy for the hours, since they are night hours, but it might be a good start.
Then my friend Jackie alerted me to a job in my career field at last: a videographer for weddings and such. Just think - a possible $200 per night doing what I specialize in. Now there's the salary that the field demands! I have had to put the call to the lady on hold until I found out about my transportation situation, which is technically good now. This week, I will be putting in a call just to test the waters.
Money is nice, but happiness is the most important. Should a person enjoy what they do for a living? I believe the answer is yes, and I hope I can be one of those yes-men in due time.
May 18, 2007
Surprised I wasn't deleted
Okay Kevin, remember what you kept telling everyone when you thought you would hit it big in television: "I will never forget my roots; I will never forget where I came from."
One humongous myspace account later, I sat here wondering where I came from. Hence, my return to these parts after a near two-month absence. What goes around comes around, it seems. Have I edited anything on myspace in the past three weeks? No. Yet I get the sudden desire to blog. And yes, it will become daily (or as close to it as possible) again - I promise.
So there will need to be plenty of updates concerning me, my condition, and the goings-on in life, so here goes:
* Me myself: things are progressing slowly. Tuesday I finally purchased a vehicle to replace that stinking Grand Am I threw money at daily: it's a 1996 Ford Contour, suspiciously identical to the one my cousin had in 2000-2003. I even got a bargain on it. The lot wanted $995 flat for it, but the internet site had it advertised for $850. Good thing I printed the $850 ad and showed it: apparently used car lots are now responsible for providing the plate; thereby adding an astronomical $125 plate fee to the mix. Otherwise, I would not have been able to afford it. As is, my budget for the next two weeks is now virtually non-existent.
This car looks to be another work in progress, and I am extremely concerned (to the point of paranoia) that something major will go wrong in this one too. It has trouble when it first starts going, and I had to deal with a plume of white exhaust on a run towards the airport. But the white plumes seem to be lessening the more I drive -- so maybe the vehicle just sat for a long while before the lot picked it up.
Regardless, I needed my independence back, and this was a hell of a start.
* My condition: The MRI I spoke of in the last entry turned out normal, although the EMG (which is a nerve reflex test) showed a pinched nerve in the lower waist. This is now the primary reason why I am still out of work - and there is no telling whether the return date will be late June, late July, or whenever. I still have my 3x-week therapies, which don't do much, although it's fun to try to exercise and talk to the others in there. I can't believe how many people from different firms are off on injury - this is what you get when society stresses productivity per worker.
Times have changed, and the workers' bodies aren't adapting to this change as well as the firms have hoped.
* Steve is still here (cue the groans). However, the internet access here has been eased considerably, as he has rented (surprise) a new computer. Hey, at least it's not the ever-popular flat screen TV! My computer has now moved into my room, while his may be moving to his room in the next couple days. He seems to have recovered from his memory loss of late March, which to this day, I still attribute to stress regarding his overseas situation. His visit there earlier this month was great, but now he's beginning to feel ill again in the morning.
I'll just keep my thoughts to myself on that one and let him deal with whatever it is. I know he'd prefer a professional, rather than personal, opinion.
* The utility switchover I conducted in late March has paid dividends: our electric bill is only $63 -- while Mike's power is shut off at his trailer. Not entirely his fault, though... he's out on injury as well, and is being subjected to the same rude treatment by his worker's comp. manager that I have been on mine. Now I think he's seen it all, probably a reason why he's been more understanding towards my plight the past few months.
Stay tuned for more - within the next day or so (that is a promise!). It's good to be back to my roots.
One humongous myspace account later, I sat here wondering where I came from. Hence, my return to these parts after a near two-month absence. What goes around comes around, it seems. Have I edited anything on myspace in the past three weeks? No. Yet I get the sudden desire to blog. And yes, it will become daily (or as close to it as possible) again - I promise.
So there will need to be plenty of updates concerning me, my condition, and the goings-on in life, so here goes:
* Me myself: things are progressing slowly. Tuesday I finally purchased a vehicle to replace that stinking Grand Am I threw money at daily: it's a 1996 Ford Contour, suspiciously identical to the one my cousin had in 2000-2003. I even got a bargain on it. The lot wanted $995 flat for it, but the internet site had it advertised for $850. Good thing I printed the $850 ad and showed it: apparently used car lots are now responsible for providing the plate; thereby adding an astronomical $125 plate fee to the mix. Otherwise, I would not have been able to afford it. As is, my budget for the next two weeks is now virtually non-existent.
This car looks to be another work in progress, and I am extremely concerned (to the point of paranoia) that something major will go wrong in this one too. It has trouble when it first starts going, and I had to deal with a plume of white exhaust on a run towards the airport. But the white plumes seem to be lessening the more I drive -- so maybe the vehicle just sat for a long while before the lot picked it up.
Regardless, I needed my independence back, and this was a hell of a start.
* My condition: The MRI I spoke of in the last entry turned out normal, although the EMG (which is a nerve reflex test) showed a pinched nerve in the lower waist. This is now the primary reason why I am still out of work - and there is no telling whether the return date will be late June, late July, or whenever. I still have my 3x-week therapies, which don't do much, although it's fun to try to exercise and talk to the others in there. I can't believe how many people from different firms are off on injury - this is what you get when society stresses productivity per worker.
Times have changed, and the workers' bodies aren't adapting to this change as well as the firms have hoped.
* Steve is still here (cue the groans). However, the internet access here has been eased considerably, as he has rented (surprise) a new computer. Hey, at least it's not the ever-popular flat screen TV! My computer has now moved into my room, while his may be moving to his room in the next couple days. He seems to have recovered from his memory loss of late March, which to this day, I still attribute to stress regarding his overseas situation. His visit there earlier this month was great, but now he's beginning to feel ill again in the morning.
I'll just keep my thoughts to myself on that one and let him deal with whatever it is. I know he'd prefer a professional, rather than personal, opinion.
* The utility switchover I conducted in late March has paid dividends: our electric bill is only $63 -- while Mike's power is shut off at his trailer. Not entirely his fault, though... he's out on injury as well, and is being subjected to the same rude treatment by his worker's comp. manager that I have been on mine. Now I think he's seen it all, probably a reason why he's been more understanding towards my plight the past few months.
Stay tuned for more - within the next day or so (that is a promise!). It's good to be back to my roots.
March 25, 2007
Pausing -- turning a corner
Sorry for the gaps in the blog recently - things have been happening so slowly in my life that it wasn't worth repeating the same information daily. Even news in the world has been basically the same: getting more ridiculous by the day to where commentary by me would be re-iterating the obvious point(s).
But for those who may have worried, I am still here -- and here are two weeks' worth of updates (hopefully) crammed into one blog entry...
* Tuesday I am due in for an MRI on my troublesome back. Now the hip area bothers me; I cannot walk more than three blocks without dehabilitating pain, and forget the hour-long standup marathons... I spend most of my time off my feet now. Thursday I go in for what is called an EMG. I have never heard of such a procedure - and having lived with a mother who swore by Physician's Desk Reference for many years, the procedure is indeed a mystery to me.
* My cousin Mike has been more than generous with giving me rides to the various therapies and doctors I've needed to see. He has also finally found true love after 33 years, and I don't mind playing the part of the cheerleader on this one. A good relationship has to hit this generation sooner or later.
* Steve... I have no idea. Now he seems to have had a loss of memory. His overseas girl has upset him to the point that he couldn't remember her name, who he was, what his interests were, and so forth. I don't mean that officially in the past tense, as he has not truly lost who he is in a matter of 24 hours. But his behavior worries me, and frankly, I can't take much more of it. I've set a deadline of April 30th in fact to have him out of the house, and I may have a successor roommate ready to move in; one who finally cares about how a house looks & smells. I've carried that ball solo for four years and am tiring of it, back notwithstanding.
More to come...
But for those who may have worried, I am still here -- and here are two weeks' worth of updates (hopefully) crammed into one blog entry...
* Tuesday I am due in for an MRI on my troublesome back. Now the hip area bothers me; I cannot walk more than three blocks without dehabilitating pain, and forget the hour-long standup marathons... I spend most of my time off my feet now. Thursday I go in for what is called an EMG. I have never heard of such a procedure - and having lived with a mother who swore by Physician's Desk Reference for many years, the procedure is indeed a mystery to me.
* My cousin Mike has been more than generous with giving me rides to the various therapies and doctors I've needed to see. He has also finally found true love after 33 years, and I don't mind playing the part of the cheerleader on this one. A good relationship has to hit this generation sooner or later.
* Steve... I have no idea. Now he seems to have had a loss of memory. His overseas girl has upset him to the point that he couldn't remember her name, who he was, what his interests were, and so forth. I don't mean that officially in the past tense, as he has not truly lost who he is in a matter of 24 hours. But his behavior worries me, and frankly, I can't take much more of it. I've set a deadline of April 30th in fact to have him out of the house, and I may have a successor roommate ready to move in; one who finally cares about how a house looks & smells. I've carried that ball solo for four years and am tiring of it, back notwithstanding.
More to come...
March 11, 2007
Searching for a professional game
I have enjoyed bowling since I was three years old, throwing my first bowling ball at the old Sport Lanes in Wyandotte. I joke and say it's been 32 years of struggle since, but in the last three years I've developed a hook and much more accurate spare ball. Last time I checked, I was consistently hitting 180 per game.
With my bad back, however, comes extra boredom because it does no good to hurt the back worse by attempting to bowl. I thoroughly enjoy watching bowling on TV, but it's not on as often as, say, college basketball...?
So I have been on a hunt for a bowling video game. A REPUTABLE bowling game. I'm finding they hardly exist, new or used.
I wore out the one bowling game I had for the PlayStation, Ten Pin Alley. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised that the title isn't out there now, as it's ten years old. My copy was still working, but I traded it in for a 2005 baseball game, which itself got traded in barely a year later.
This would be a perfect way to curb my boredom, until I remind myself of that transaction. With new & used video stores not stocking bowling titles, and with a proposed release still six months away, I decided to search eBay today for some bargains.
Hah! I could get them - at the expense of professionalism! Call me fussy when I prefer professional conditions, but look at it this way: as many "cartoonish" golf games as there are, you've always got the Tiger Woods series which shows the sport in its natural, professional environment. It's always a hot renter & seller. Why can't they do the same for bowling?
I do not consider the game shown on the left as having any promise for professional-grade content. Yet, the bulk of the eBay listings show games just like this - and worse. Am I interested in bowling on the beach, or on a pirate ship, in a graveyard, or even in Egyptian tombs? Yes, on some of these games, you can.
I, on the other hand, enjoy the pure sport, not the knock-offs, which unfortunately must be produced in order to grab any up-and-coming fans. Why can't the game itself in its true form grab gamer's attentions? I worked at Woodhaven Lanes back in 2000, and the place was always packed with young kids and teens in-season.
The sport has got a future in real life. Why can't video game designers follow suit?
With my bad back, however, comes extra boredom because it does no good to hurt the back worse by attempting to bowl. I thoroughly enjoy watching bowling on TV, but it's not on as often as, say, college basketball...?
So I have been on a hunt for a bowling video game. A REPUTABLE bowling game. I'm finding they hardly exist, new or used.
I wore out the one bowling game I had for the PlayStation, Ten Pin Alley. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised that the title isn't out there now, as it's ten years old. My copy was still working, but I traded it in for a 2005 baseball game, which itself got traded in barely a year later.
This would be a perfect way to curb my boredom, until I remind myself of that transaction. With new & used video stores not stocking bowling titles, and with a proposed release still six months away, I decided to search eBay today for some bargains.
Hah! I could get them - at the expense of professionalism! Call me fussy when I prefer professional conditions, but look at it this way: as many "cartoonish" golf games as there are, you've always got the Tiger Woods series which shows the sport in its natural, professional environment. It's always a hot renter & seller. Why can't they do the same for bowling?
I do not consider the game shown on the left as having any promise for professional-grade content. Yet, the bulk of the eBay listings show games just like this - and worse. Am I interested in bowling on the beach, or on a pirate ship, in a graveyard, or even in Egyptian tombs? Yes, on some of these games, you can.
I, on the other hand, enjoy the pure sport, not the knock-offs, which unfortunately must be produced in order to grab any up-and-coming fans. Why can't the game itself in its true form grab gamer's attentions? I worked at Woodhaven Lanes back in 2000, and the place was always packed with young kids and teens in-season.
The sport has got a future in real life. Why can't video game designers follow suit?
March 10, 2007
The Dawn of a nice night
I can't believe nearly a full week has passed without my acknowledgment to my friend Dawn for showing me a great time on Tuesday night, even though she says it didn't amount to much.
Well, in our pocketbooks, it certainly didn't show: a pool of family & friends spent $90 to try to share some of that record-setting $370 million Mega Millions lottery jackpot. Us Michiganders didn't even come close, but there was something more rewarding: quality time with a friend who I regret not spending more time with.
I'm close to the whole family next door; we're actually like extended family. There's nothing I wouldn't do for them. Dawn was the first one I met, and though she can have far-fetched ideas at times, she's always been there for me and I would hope I could be for her.
The Tuesday fun was simple: driving around, getting lost at least three times, and meeting other members of her family as we were collecting the proceeds for our stab at millionaires. Her Uncle Bob in particular was a joy to talk to: although I had to stand on my creaky back for nearly two hours with no available seat in the living room, he graced us both with stories about his life.
That night was simple, and simply wonderful. It got me out of the house and away from the routine with a girl I've always been fond of. Dawn, it means more to me than I let on that night. Money's nothing; company's everything.
Little things like that make me glad I'm in the neighborhood.
Well, in our pocketbooks, it certainly didn't show: a pool of family & friends spent $90 to try to share some of that record-setting $370 million Mega Millions lottery jackpot. Us Michiganders didn't even come close, but there was something more rewarding: quality time with a friend who I regret not spending more time with.
I'm close to the whole family next door; we're actually like extended family. There's nothing I wouldn't do for them. Dawn was the first one I met, and though she can have far-fetched ideas at times, she's always been there for me and I would hope I could be for her.
The Tuesday fun was simple: driving around, getting lost at least three times, and meeting other members of her family as we were collecting the proceeds for our stab at millionaires. Her Uncle Bob in particular was a joy to talk to: although I had to stand on my creaky back for nearly two hours with no available seat in the living room, he graced us both with stories about his life.
That night was simple, and simply wonderful. It got me out of the house and away from the routine with a girl I've always been fond of. Dawn, it means more to me than I let on that night. Money's nothing; company's everything.
Little things like that make me glad I'm in the neighborhood.
Punishing over minor things
When the Detroit Pistons traded for Rasheed Wallace three years ago, I questioned the move. Here was a man who made himself an outcast in his time for the Portland Trail Blazers. He was Mr. Technical Foul, and anything he did was counter-productive for the team.
I can't say he's done a complete reversal in his stint in Detroit, but he's worked hard to fit into the Piston mentality and has tried to be less of a distraction for his team.
The NBA refined their techincal foul penalty rule before last season, saying any foul over a season total of 15 warrants an automatic one-game suspension. Wallace hit that total last night and will likely be suspended for the Pistons' game on Sunday. But the technical he received in Denver the other night was due to him saying "ball don't lie"? Is there an obscenity in that statement that I'm not aware of? If I say that to someone, will I have a bar of soap headed for my mouth?
Absolutely not. That so-called technical was ridiculous. The NBA changed their rule specifically with Wallace in mind. Be aware: in the so-called "thuggish" life in the NBA, what he's done is tame compared to the past... and very tame compared to what "stars" like Kobe Bryant are doing.
Bryant received a one-game suspension for drilling a defender with an elbow while releasing a shot. He served the suspension, then came back tonight to score 30 points for the Lakers, while drilling Philadelphia defender Kyle Korver with another elbow in the process.
If this has always been a shooting flaw in Bryant's game, throwing elbows all over the place, then why did it start just this year? Why are the elbows obvious now? Aren't incidents like these the ones that justify the punishment? How can you punish someone for trash-talk and turn the head the other way for someone who deliberately tries to injure people or send a physical message?
I only recently started watching basketball on television again because of boredom around the house. I watch it grudgingly because I don't like the environment the NBA promotes: too much hip-hop in my opinion. Silly technical fouls and severe oversight of the obvious make my past unwillingness to watch basketball justified.
In attempting to "take over" the NBA mentality with dress code orders and such, Commissioner David Stern has let the mentality take over him even more. I get more pleasure watching a group of young kids in a recreation league do their best and show the best sportsmanship. On Tuesday's trip with Dawn, I saw one of these games, and I knew that the young kids have it right.
Life before agents, attitudes, and reputations beyond one's skills. That's how you play the game!
I can't say he's done a complete reversal in his stint in Detroit, but he's worked hard to fit into the Piston mentality and has tried to be less of a distraction for his team.
The NBA refined their techincal foul penalty rule before last season, saying any foul over a season total of 15 warrants an automatic one-game suspension. Wallace hit that total last night and will likely be suspended for the Pistons' game on Sunday. But the technical he received in Denver the other night was due to him saying "ball don't lie"? Is there an obscenity in that statement that I'm not aware of? If I say that to someone, will I have a bar of soap headed for my mouth?
Absolutely not. That so-called technical was ridiculous. The NBA changed their rule specifically with Wallace in mind. Be aware: in the so-called "thuggish" life in the NBA, what he's done is tame compared to the past... and very tame compared to what "stars" like Kobe Bryant are doing.
Bryant received a one-game suspension for drilling a defender with an elbow while releasing a shot. He served the suspension, then came back tonight to score 30 points for the Lakers, while drilling Philadelphia defender Kyle Korver with another elbow in the process.
If this has always been a shooting flaw in Bryant's game, throwing elbows all over the place, then why did it start just this year? Why are the elbows obvious now? Aren't incidents like these the ones that justify the punishment? How can you punish someone for trash-talk and turn the head the other way for someone who deliberately tries to injure people or send a physical message?
I only recently started watching basketball on television again because of boredom around the house. I watch it grudgingly because I don't like the environment the NBA promotes: too much hip-hop in my opinion. Silly technical fouls and severe oversight of the obvious make my past unwillingness to watch basketball justified.
In attempting to "take over" the NBA mentality with dress code orders and such, Commissioner David Stern has let the mentality take over him even more. I get more pleasure watching a group of young kids in a recreation league do their best and show the best sportsmanship. On Tuesday's trip with Dawn, I saw one of these games, and I knew that the young kids have it right.
Life before agents, attitudes, and reputations beyond one's skills. That's how you play the game!
March 9, 2007
The family's still there
If I've given the impression that I've fallen off the face of the earth lately, it was not intentional by any means. That said, I'm glad I heard from my father and my aunt earlier today.
I want my father to know that conversations like ours tonight are great. There are concerns in life that are very apparent, but it's good to spend the course of a phone conversation without dwelling on the obvious problems. If you really enjoy doing something or going on a diversion, you do it because you want to get away from the "everyday" life for a short while.
We did this tonight, and I say thank you, many times over.
In the next entry, you will see the story of a supposed "best friend" relationship headed south. The moral there is (I guess) that friendship is fleeting. When all is in doubt, family won't leave you behind, because family understands you more than anything.
A gratifying thought in an otherwise ungratifying world.
I want my father to know that conversations like ours tonight are great. There are concerns in life that are very apparent, but it's good to spend the course of a phone conversation without dwelling on the obvious problems. If you really enjoy doing something or going on a diversion, you do it because you want to get away from the "everyday" life for a short while.
We did this tonight, and I say thank you, many times over.
In the next entry, you will see the story of a supposed "best friend" relationship headed south. The moral there is (I guess) that friendship is fleeting. When all is in doubt, family won't leave you behind, because family understands you more than anything.
A gratifying thought in an otherwise ungratifying world.
You can label it "best friend"
... but it seems like a label is all it is. If there's any true meaning to the term, it's lost on me.
There is some worry brewing. Sheila has not been heard from on a consistent basis for three weeks.
Granted: My internet time is screwy right now, as Steve is holding literal overnight vigils on cam with his fiancee, as his perceived illness grows worse by the day. Even if he's sleeping, I'd rather not barge in and surf the internet for fear a program will cause his communication to crash, further worrying the fiancee.
This is proof that yes, I am not readily available for chats or email opportunities as I used to be. But still I keep the modes of communication available as long as I possibly can; even if it means having Steve monitor my messenger communications until his fiancee (her name is Eden) comes online.
And Sheila has not been heard from at all in nearly two weeks; no sign of even being online. I have left repeated messages on the computer for her during that time, have tried leaving messages on her cellphone and house phone as well. No response whatsoever.
You should see her crowning Christmas present to me: a beautiful desk plaque in silver & marble with an engraving naming me her "dearest and best friend". This was back when we were literally inseparable. Can there be any more distance than there is now?
A nice guy can only go so far before he begins to kick the proverbial horse when it's already down... meaning that constantly trying for communication will get me no further than I am now. I had always hoped for patience & understanding for Sheila, as I will never forget her kindness as she filled a void over Christmas, normally my worst time of the year.
But when do you draw the line, stop worrying, and thinking about a lost cause? Will I be shooting off messages to her a month from now with still no response, or will I just say the interest has gone, and move on?
I want to move on if there's no answer, but I don't want accusations of not giving it a "final shot". I'm sure I will in the next few days. Between three methods of modern communication, Sheila had to get the message somehow. If she chooses to ignore me, then by all means, I say she should do so.
But at least explain to me why. If she values honesty as she so openly professes, she should give - and I deserve - that much.
You can hang the "best friend" label on a hook for all I care now. That's all it is: a label.
In a group of friends, there's a few you know better than others. That's how I would classify my little group right now. The last thing they need is a label floating over their heads.
There is some worry brewing. Sheila has not been heard from on a consistent basis for three weeks.
Granted: My internet time is screwy right now, as Steve is holding literal overnight vigils on cam with his fiancee, as his perceived illness grows worse by the day. Even if he's sleeping, I'd rather not barge in and surf the internet for fear a program will cause his communication to crash, further worrying the fiancee.
This is proof that yes, I am not readily available for chats or email opportunities as I used to be. But still I keep the modes of communication available as long as I possibly can; even if it means having Steve monitor my messenger communications until his fiancee (her name is Eden) comes online.
And Sheila has not been heard from at all in nearly two weeks; no sign of even being online. I have left repeated messages on the computer for her during that time, have tried leaving messages on her cellphone and house phone as well. No response whatsoever.
You should see her crowning Christmas present to me: a beautiful desk plaque in silver & marble with an engraving naming me her "dearest and best friend". This was back when we were literally inseparable. Can there be any more distance than there is now?
A nice guy can only go so far before he begins to kick the proverbial horse when it's already down... meaning that constantly trying for communication will get me no further than I am now. I had always hoped for patience & understanding for Sheila, as I will never forget her kindness as she filled a void over Christmas, normally my worst time of the year.
But when do you draw the line, stop worrying, and thinking about a lost cause? Will I be shooting off messages to her a month from now with still no response, or will I just say the interest has gone, and move on?
I want to move on if there's no answer, but I don't want accusations of not giving it a "final shot". I'm sure I will in the next few days. Between three methods of modern communication, Sheila had to get the message somehow. If she chooses to ignore me, then by all means, I say she should do so.
But at least explain to me why. If she values honesty as she so openly professes, she should give - and I deserve - that much.
You can hang the "best friend" label on a hook for all I care now. That's all it is: a label.
In a group of friends, there's a few you know better than others. That's how I would classify my little group right now. The last thing they need is a label floating over their heads.
March 8, 2007
Playing armchair psychologist
For those who may not have guessed, I may as well admit: I have been on medication since 2005 in order to control symptoms related to (but not directly pointed to) psychotic natures. If anyone reading this blog thru the past year wondered about that mysterious 5-month gap in my work career in 2005 mentioned previously, it was due to a nervous breakdown suffered in March of that year, as pressures from work and personal natures finally got to me.
I am proud to say that through the techniques provided during my week-long hospital stay, I have turned out to be more slow-witted than before, and more willing to take constructive criticism and pressure than I was before. It has helped immeasurably in work & responsibility for me and has been noted by co-workers who formerly deemed me lazy.
Crazy nighttime dreams were noted way before this "crash", and are still being noted now. What was most noteworthy was last night: for the first time in eons, I didn't wake up due to a nightmare.
I am becoming aware of a shortcoming in the quality of psychology I have received of late. Doctors in that field seem to be taking on a materialisitc way of thinking, like so many people do in their jobs: they rush you through a session so they can meet the next person, thereby meeting their daily quota. Does no one think about truly caring for a person, or even faking their way through a session?
I blab on & on during the sessions, and I would hope for some "blabbing" on their part to give me a clue. That hardly happens now, and makes going to a session counter-productive.
I do not live life on the edge; there's no suspenseful drama in my life during waking hours -- insomuch as I don't intentionally try to make myself worse off. I have experienced the afflictions of psychotic-like dreams all of my life and have no idea why, or why they won't even reduce in number (let alone cease to exist). To use the term "surrealisitc" would in fact downplay the term: too many psychologists would probably prefer retirement over helping me with this concern.
I'm teased all the time by Steve, who says I spend 90% of my waking time in my room. Okay, I may not be willing to face life's struggles, but I'm not afraid of them, having spent years working through them. But how much of that 90% is actually spent in peaceful, productive slumber with no drama or horror? It almost seems like one has dropped acid and is on a powerful high with everything spinning, and events going out of control.
Is that any way to calm a mind which usually goes through enough pressure and stress in the real world?
I am proud to say that through the techniques provided during my week-long hospital stay, I have turned out to be more slow-witted than before, and more willing to take constructive criticism and pressure than I was before. It has helped immeasurably in work & responsibility for me and has been noted by co-workers who formerly deemed me lazy.
Crazy nighttime dreams were noted way before this "crash", and are still being noted now. What was most noteworthy was last night: for the first time in eons, I didn't wake up due to a nightmare.
I am becoming aware of a shortcoming in the quality of psychology I have received of late. Doctors in that field seem to be taking on a materialisitc way of thinking, like so many people do in their jobs: they rush you through a session so they can meet the next person, thereby meeting their daily quota. Does no one think about truly caring for a person, or even faking their way through a session?
I blab on & on during the sessions, and I would hope for some "blabbing" on their part to give me a clue. That hardly happens now, and makes going to a session counter-productive.
I do not live life on the edge; there's no suspenseful drama in my life during waking hours -- insomuch as I don't intentionally try to make myself worse off. I have experienced the afflictions of psychotic-like dreams all of my life and have no idea why, or why they won't even reduce in number (let alone cease to exist). To use the term "surrealisitc" would in fact downplay the term: too many psychologists would probably prefer retirement over helping me with this concern.
I'm teased all the time by Steve, who says I spend 90% of my waking time in my room. Okay, I may not be willing to face life's struggles, but I'm not afraid of them, having spent years working through them. But how much of that 90% is actually spent in peaceful, productive slumber with no drama or horror? It almost seems like one has dropped acid and is on a powerful high with everything spinning, and events going out of control.
Is that any way to calm a mind which usually goes through enough pressure and stress in the real world?
March 6, 2007
Walter Reed needs own war chest
The Walter Reed Medical Center crisis: it cannot be underestimated, and it is disturbing to think about.
Many debate the merits of the overseas wars we are fighting. Regardless of how our troops landed in that mess, the fact is that we should be caring for the wounded. As we know through reading the papers, you don't hear about simple surface or shrapnel wounds. You either hear about the mounting death toll, or about those who can no longer live normal lives afterward because of irrepairable damages to body and psyche.
Walter Reed Hospital, at one time, was the nation's crown jewel in care for war veterans. Now some ugly details have seeped through the cracks, as they show just how borderline inhumane the patients' living conditions are.
As was the case with yesterday's blog about the Stephen Grant case in Michigan, this entry will not gauge my reactions directly to the upcoming congressional investigation. Yet, without having been a war veteran myself, I can see how conditions can deteriorate in hospitals, and I feel for the vets who have sacrificed themselves for this country, and are now being under-treated.
Neighboring Allen Park housed the area's vets at a then state-of-the-art hospital. However, when my father and I visited the complex in the early 1990s to see a friend of his (I cannot recall who; it was a buddy of his), I was astounded at what I saw. Just because the building itself may have been sixty-something, did it mean the infrastructure had to date from about that time?
Leaky radiators. Equipment not working. The equipment that was working looking like it was taken out of a bad 1960s horror flick. Unsanitary conditions. Lack of activities for the mobile, and an absence of staff appearing to take care of those with pressing needs. Especially for those who had no nearby relatives, or no family at all, what type of thanks was this for providing the country the ultimate sacrifice?
I basically kept my mouth shut during the visit, as my complaints would have been only one of many, and who would listen to an early-20s person with no military experience? Within the last ten years, they've moved the vets to a much more modern facility, where I'm sure diversions are more plentiful. But I wonder how deep-rooted their pain was at the conditions they witnessed and lived through.
It's like that at Walter Reed today. How can rooming quarters for some injured veterans be shared by rats & other creatures? How can basic infrastructure be left to rot, and still be open to patients? Whoever brought these conditions forward to the press ought to get their own medal for the admission; they've just opened Pandora's Box - but in a good way. These conditions need to be rectified immediately.
With all the near-$100 billion annual requests for additional war funds for the Middle East being approved at the drop of a hat, exactly where are these funds going? Walter Reed aside, how is our equipment holding up? Armored vehicles aren't armored enough. Helicopters break down. Ground weaponry -- don't even ask. Our fighting men & women have the skills, but do they have the resources? How can the war be effective if it's being fought with ineffective parts?
The committee investigating the Walter Reed finds is said to be bi-partisan, and that's the best news you can find, although being bi-partisan should be a given, not news. No matter where you stand, these conditions must be reversed.
The war itself needs the headlines, true. But those that have thought need more than just a fleeting concern from the budget-makers in government.
The patients just got done fighting an enemy and have paid the price. They don't need another battle on their hands over their care & living conditions. The obvious should be done, and should be done NOW.
March 5, 2007
Don't show him light of day
The big headline locally these days is the issue of Stephen Grant, accused of the murder and gross aftermath involving his wife, Tara.
I am not here to comment on this case, because it is so obviously disgusting. You can read the latest about the issue on the Free Press homepage (if the link outdates, I will fix it).
I think my opinion or commentary on the issue can best be summed up by a photo from the paper, versus anything my passive mind would add:
Amen, one thousand times over.
If fairly convicted, the man better not see the light of day outside of a prison cell.
March 3, 2007
Survey for the chronic worrier
It's likely that my next internet exploration will be to the world of surveys, to see if there's any survey gauging how much of a worry-wart a person can be.
I managed to get my worker's compensation check cashed, but only after I found out the bank wouldn't let me keep any cash, and to three other places that weren't sure if worker's comp. checks were cashable. The place I ended up going to told me to wait until 1:30, then 2:30, 3:00, 3:15... and were still unsure about things when I showed up at 3:20. The counter person gave me an evil stare at my request, then processed it grudgingly. Did I ever yearn for the safe deposit environment of a bank!
This was all to pay off one loan, while taking out another to get the rent money, which is already three days late. Rent time is always among the most stressful of times for Steve & I.
In the end, everything worked out for this month... but how much sweat was used, as well as rapid heartbeats? Many people say I worry too much. Sometimes I do question if all the worrying is valid. My main concern is to make sure I stay on top of things, trying not to miss a detail that may rock the budget boat the wrong way. This is why my mind is clouded with too much information at times, giving me my confused look.
Yes, more money would ease the worries. But is life really about money? I wish it wasn't, and I wish I'd be proven wrong.
If I find such a survey, I'll share the results with you whenever I do find it.
I managed to get my worker's compensation check cashed, but only after I found out the bank wouldn't let me keep any cash, and to three other places that weren't sure if worker's comp. checks were cashable. The place I ended up going to told me to wait until 1:30, then 2:30, 3:00, 3:15... and were still unsure about things when I showed up at 3:20. The counter person gave me an evil stare at my request, then processed it grudgingly. Did I ever yearn for the safe deposit environment of a bank!
This was all to pay off one loan, while taking out another to get the rent money, which is already three days late. Rent time is always among the most stressful of times for Steve & I.
In the end, everything worked out for this month... but how much sweat was used, as well as rapid heartbeats? Many people say I worry too much. Sometimes I do question if all the worrying is valid. My main concern is to make sure I stay on top of things, trying not to miss a detail that may rock the budget boat the wrong way. This is why my mind is clouded with too much information at times, giving me my confused look.
Yes, more money would ease the worries. But is life really about money? I wish it wasn't, and I wish I'd be proven wrong.
If I find such a survey, I'll share the results with you whenever I do find it.
Tend to the downtrodden
This will be my last work/injury post for, hopefully, awhile.
That's because it is likely that I won't be reporting back to work for quite awhile, particularly after a shockingly thorough examination by the clinic technician last night. How that company ended up with her talents, nobody knows; but judging the clinic for what it is, they don't deserve her.
Regardless... to make a long story short, my recovered state at work lasted 28 1/2 hours before the back simply said "enough". It locked up on me and I was helpless, staring at a building mound of bags. I called the appropriate supervisor - my "buddy", the guy I can't stand.
The response? "I can't get to you at this time; I'll fit you in the best I can. Just take a seat,"... for the next two hours? What in the world could happen to my back in that time?
Now I respect authority to an exaggerated degree. I also respect the operation at an equal level. So I hated to jump over his head and call his supervisor - at home, no less. But the fears & helplessness going through me (I had no less than two arguments with a co-worker who thought - surprise! - that I was faking it) dictated I needed to take prompt action. I did so, and ended up having the girls upstairs take my medical information down.
But the surprises were saved for later: in addition to the back woes, the doctor noted my weakening left knee (work-related), and a possible hernia (work-related). If I do go under the knife, it will be for multiple ailments; well above what I budgeted for.
When I turned the paperwork in, the dumb boss had enough and had already left. The girls took my paperwork and said I had guts for even trying to make it in. What followed was a bad-mouthing session of their own, which made me feel I wasn't the only one rowing the boat.
Now I'll be out for quite some time, I would think. It's almost 6:00 as I write this, and the worst of the evening rush begins at this time. I'm just laughing to myself: I wonder how they're doing, and at the same time... I could care less.
But put yourself in a position of authority, and ask yourself: would you let an injured worker wave on the vine for two hours, virtually ignoring the need for that employee's well-being and prompt medical care? Perhaps this may be the beginning of the end for him, which so many people out there are hoping for.
That's because it is likely that I won't be reporting back to work for quite awhile, particularly after a shockingly thorough examination by the clinic technician last night. How that company ended up with her talents, nobody knows; but judging the clinic for what it is, they don't deserve her.
Regardless... to make a long story short, my recovered state at work lasted 28 1/2 hours before the back simply said "enough". It locked up on me and I was helpless, staring at a building mound of bags. I called the appropriate supervisor - my "buddy", the guy I can't stand.
The response? "I can't get to you at this time; I'll fit you in the best I can. Just take a seat,"... for the next two hours? What in the world could happen to my back in that time?
Now I respect authority to an exaggerated degree. I also respect the operation at an equal level. So I hated to jump over his head and call his supervisor - at home, no less. But the fears & helplessness going through me (I had no less than two arguments with a co-worker who thought - surprise! - that I was faking it) dictated I needed to take prompt action. I did so, and ended up having the girls upstairs take my medical information down.
But the surprises were saved for later: in addition to the back woes, the doctor noted my weakening left knee (work-related), and a possible hernia (work-related). If I do go under the knife, it will be for multiple ailments; well above what I budgeted for.
When I turned the paperwork in, the dumb boss had enough and had already left. The girls took my paperwork and said I had guts for even trying to make it in. What followed was a bad-mouthing session of their own, which made me feel I wasn't the only one rowing the boat.
Now I'll be out for quite some time, I would think. It's almost 6:00 as I write this, and the worst of the evening rush begins at this time. I'm just laughing to myself: I wonder how they're doing, and at the same time... I could care less.
But put yourself in a position of authority, and ask yourself: would you let an injured worker wave on the vine for two hours, virtually ignoring the need for that employee's well-being and prompt medical care? Perhaps this may be the beginning of the end for him, which so many people out there are hoping for.
March 2, 2007
Batting a blind eye
It's safe to say I'm not as confused by MySpace anymore. If you remember reading a few weeks back when I originally started my page, it took a double-team of tutorials for me to understand the simplest terms. Now with practice, of course, the process is pretty easy.
Unfortunately, the process is too easy for people of questionable intents to start pages on the site. The group moderator (who also happens to be the founder) insists he is there to help, and will quickly monitor those borderline pages, doing what he can to make sure the process is safe.
Steve & I noted one of these questionable pages yesterday with a blatantly offensive photo adorning the cover page. The profile was very suggestive in nature. It was pages like this that have thrown MySpace into the news at times. Citing its inappropriateness, we sent a message to the moderator in hopes this page would be removed.
Now, if he's available to everyone, obviously he may not get right to our message, since he has many other requests to process.
But this is what I don't understand. We were a bit long-winded in our original request, and the prompt came back from him: "Whooo!" Okay, we thought that was an honest reply; we used too many words. So we made a much shorter paragraph, asking him to take a look at the questionable page.
Immediately again: "Whooo!"
Is this the type of quality communication that we are promised, time & again, throughout the site? Some sort of staged comment which would pop up no matter what you typed?
This happened yesterday morning. If there's no response by Sunday, and we retype to get the same "Whooo!" response, well... we won't count on that bad page being removed. It just left a bad impression on us -- this is the extent of the technical support? I would hope not.
Canton Township authorities recently apprehended a juvenille escapee who had left taunting messages on his MySpace page, which authorities cite as key to his whereabouts and capture.
I say "Whooo!" simply because society has re-captured & locked up another convicted felon, making us safer. I only wonder what the moderator would say, at the risk of cuing up another staged statement to cover his investment.
----------------------------------------
The OJI bug hit Mike yesterday, as his shoulder went out on him at the airport lifting a golf bag, and he's already saying that the clinic people don't know what they're doing. I've been saying that since I got injured in January. I go back in today after three days off, and Mike told me not to play games, and go to that clinic the minute the back goes out on me again (which I know it will).
Gee... part of me wants to, and yet...
Unfortunately, the process is too easy for people of questionable intents to start pages on the site. The group moderator (who also happens to be the founder) insists he is there to help, and will quickly monitor those borderline pages, doing what he can to make sure the process is safe.
Steve & I noted one of these questionable pages yesterday with a blatantly offensive photo adorning the cover page. The profile was very suggestive in nature. It was pages like this that have thrown MySpace into the news at times. Citing its inappropriateness, we sent a message to the moderator in hopes this page would be removed.
Now, if he's available to everyone, obviously he may not get right to our message, since he has many other requests to process.
But this is what I don't understand. We were a bit long-winded in our original request, and the prompt came back from him: "Whooo!" Okay, we thought that was an honest reply; we used too many words. So we made a much shorter paragraph, asking him to take a look at the questionable page.
Immediately again: "Whooo!"
Is this the type of quality communication that we are promised, time & again, throughout the site? Some sort of staged comment which would pop up no matter what you typed?
This happened yesterday morning. If there's no response by Sunday, and we retype to get the same "Whooo!" response, well... we won't count on that bad page being removed. It just left a bad impression on us -- this is the extent of the technical support? I would hope not.
Canton Township authorities recently apprehended a juvenille escapee who had left taunting messages on his MySpace page, which authorities cite as key to his whereabouts and capture.
I say "Whooo!" simply because society has re-captured & locked up another convicted felon, making us safer. I only wonder what the moderator would say, at the risk of cuing up another staged statement to cover his investment.
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The OJI bug hit Mike yesterday, as his shoulder went out on him at the airport lifting a golf bag, and he's already saying that the clinic people don't know what they're doing. I've been saying that since I got injured in January. I go back in today after three days off, and Mike told me not to play games, and go to that clinic the minute the back goes out on me again (which I know it will).
Gee... part of me wants to, and yet...
March 1, 2007
Passe: Quality education
When does the vicious circle stop? People have often said "life goes around in circles... when things get so wrong, they start getting right again."
Automatically? It might be too late for the type of formal education I received growing up.
In the era of political correctness, which tries to excise any mention of religion from the conversation lest a war of words & actions flares up, I will abide by the times by only mentioning I went through private (pre-charter school era) schools from first through twelfth grade. Take away the peer teasing (my early Achilles heel) and I reflect on those times as some of the most rewarding of my life.
The Detroit Archdiocese, battling budget problems for years, plans to close fifteen more private schools by the end of this term, including one in Riverview and one in Wyandotte, precariously close to my hometown. I know them well, and it upset me when I found they were among the targets. Chances to save these schools are deep: one school has raised $25,000 of the approximate $110,000 needed just to keep the school open for 2007-2008.
The $110,000 deadline: Monday. Bless all those who contributed, but that mountain looks impossibly steep to climb, especially when you consider how poor off most Michigan workers are.
And so here we go with the vicious circle previously mentioned: Workers are already poor in the pockets. Next, the knowledge quality goes down significantly, continuing a trend. You can imagine what this will do to the skill level & confidence of the future workers of the world. What if they're ill-prepared to work the jobs waiting for them?
I remember slacking off, both in grades & personal conduct, in junior high school. Tuition, while tame then compared to now, still comprised a hefty chunk of the household budget. Be it due to that fact, or just for an intimidation factor, my mother used to threaten to pull me out of the private school and put me in the public school system.
It worked as an intimidation factor for me, as I would hustle and reverse my skidding grades by the end of the term. I had heard so many negative stories about how the public schools didn't care; that they turned a blind eye to fistfights, and casual tobacco & drug use. Is this really the environment I was ready for?
Absolutely not! There was a certain comfort level in attending the school I went to. The teachers cared. There were parent-teacher-student-principal bonds built on a natural scale that I know public schools could not duplicate. You were treated to a full education and a full life experience going there. You lacked confidence, they built it up. If caught doing wrong, you were told the moral implications of the deed as well as paying the penalty with detention. The staff really wanted to see the entire person move ahead, not just the scholastic individual.
The public schools were only interested in graduating out one group of people in order to bring another one in. Failures in life were not their fault - the kids were seen as numbers, not individuals. This would grow into a lot of the ineptitude that we see at places like McDonalds these days.
I worked my butt off at reversing myself because, yes, I was in a comfort zone. But it was for my own good to stay there, in spite of the rising costs. I like the kind of person that I am, and I don't think the public school system would have done the job.
But it's coming at a cost of lower enrollment and skyrocketing tuition rates in 2007 that may never be reversed. And the capacity for greater learning could downturn right along with it.
Makes me wish there really was a money-tree species growing amongst us.
Automatically? It might be too late for the type of formal education I received growing up.
In the era of political correctness, which tries to excise any mention of religion from the conversation lest a war of words & actions flares up, I will abide by the times by only mentioning I went through private (pre-charter school era) schools from first through twelfth grade. Take away the peer teasing (my early Achilles heel) and I reflect on those times as some of the most rewarding of my life.
The Detroit Archdiocese, battling budget problems for years, plans to close fifteen more private schools by the end of this term, including one in Riverview and one in Wyandotte, precariously close to my hometown. I know them well, and it upset me when I found they were among the targets. Chances to save these schools are deep: one school has raised $25,000 of the approximate $110,000 needed just to keep the school open for 2007-2008.
The $110,000 deadline: Monday. Bless all those who contributed, but that mountain looks impossibly steep to climb, especially when you consider how poor off most Michigan workers are.
And so here we go with the vicious circle previously mentioned: Workers are already poor in the pockets. Next, the knowledge quality goes down significantly, continuing a trend. You can imagine what this will do to the skill level & confidence of the future workers of the world. What if they're ill-prepared to work the jobs waiting for them?
I remember slacking off, both in grades & personal conduct, in junior high school. Tuition, while tame then compared to now, still comprised a hefty chunk of the household budget. Be it due to that fact, or just for an intimidation factor, my mother used to threaten to pull me out of the private school and put me in the public school system.
It worked as an intimidation factor for me, as I would hustle and reverse my skidding grades by the end of the term. I had heard so many negative stories about how the public schools didn't care; that they turned a blind eye to fistfights, and casual tobacco & drug use. Is this really the environment I was ready for?
Absolutely not! There was a certain comfort level in attending the school I went to. The teachers cared. There were parent-teacher-student-principal bonds built on a natural scale that I know public schools could not duplicate. You were treated to a full education and a full life experience going there. You lacked confidence, they built it up. If caught doing wrong, you were told the moral implications of the deed as well as paying the penalty with detention. The staff really wanted to see the entire person move ahead, not just the scholastic individual.
The public schools were only interested in graduating out one group of people in order to bring another one in. Failures in life were not their fault - the kids were seen as numbers, not individuals. This would grow into a lot of the ineptitude that we see at places like McDonalds these days.
I worked my butt off at reversing myself because, yes, I was in a comfort zone. But it was for my own good to stay there, in spite of the rising costs. I like the kind of person that I am, and I don't think the public school system would have done the job.
But it's coming at a cost of lower enrollment and skyrocketing tuition rates in 2007 that may never be reversed. And the capacity for greater learning could downturn right along with it.
Makes me wish there really was a money-tree species growing amongst us.
February 28, 2007
Health initiatives: Part 1
Here I sit this afternoon, with the back getting worse by the hour, with at least three calls into different people trying to get me into a spinal specialist sometime this week. I won't delve into the gritty details about how many times I've struggled to prove my point, and even to shout them down in order to get that point across.
It makes me wonder: Is the healthcare industry ready for the up-and-coming generations as they get older and we get larger & more diverse? At the same time companies are cutting back benefits, we get scare bulletins on occassion that say we better be careful how to eat, how to breathe, and so forth.
Nothing in this world seems to be healthy for you anymore, and yet there's precious little quality medical care available to help us? It reminded me of a computer blog entry I made last April addressing these scare tactics. It's divided into two parts... enjoy.
Humans do not possess an infinite life-span, and were never intended to do so. Early biblical teachings pontificate that Adam and his descendants would live to ages approaching 800-900 years... What makes modern media and medical science believe that such a life is possible: scare tactics or hard evidence?
One could argue a bit for both, although the common physical logic will drown out the hard evidence. We live in a world filled with scare tactics, designed only to hold our attention more than it was held during the previous tactic. Common physical sense tells us that we have beliefs that drown out what the media is saying. In this case, we know we will not live forever. Predestined or not, our demise will be recorded at the appropriate time...
But why has medical science touted breakthroughs in increasing life expectancy for decades now? Our life span is easily a decade longer now than in the early 1900s. Cures have been found for a barrage of diseases and many more are in research. Does this give them the right to insinuate that we can live to be 100-150 years old in the near future? Think for a moment what that would do to the population of the planet, which is increasing at an alarming rate and whose citizens of impoverished countries cannot feed their own.
Look also at the pronouncements made by groups like the AMA, which offers "scare" bulletins every month or so, saying that something-or-other will cause cancer in a person. That point alone is my focus here.
An "All in The Family" character, Justin Quigley (age 92) once said, "They make all sorts of remedies to make us live longer, then they don't know what to do with us."
(Conclusion below)
It makes me wonder: Is the healthcare industry ready for the up-and-coming generations as they get older and we get larger & more diverse? At the same time companies are cutting back benefits, we get scare bulletins on occassion that say we better be careful how to eat, how to breathe, and so forth.
Nothing in this world seems to be healthy for you anymore, and yet there's precious little quality medical care available to help us? It reminded me of a computer blog entry I made last April addressing these scare tactics. It's divided into two parts... enjoy.
Humans do not possess an infinite life-span, and were never intended to do so. Early biblical teachings pontificate that Adam and his descendants would live to ages approaching 800-900 years... What makes modern media and medical science believe that such a life is possible: scare tactics or hard evidence?
One could argue a bit for both, although the common physical logic will drown out the hard evidence. We live in a world filled with scare tactics, designed only to hold our attention more than it was held during the previous tactic. Common physical sense tells us that we have beliefs that drown out what the media is saying. In this case, we know we will not live forever. Predestined or not, our demise will be recorded at the appropriate time...
But why has medical science touted breakthroughs in increasing life expectancy for decades now? Our life span is easily a decade longer now than in the early 1900s. Cures have been found for a barrage of diseases and many more are in research. Does this give them the right to insinuate that we can live to be 100-150 years old in the near future? Think for a moment what that would do to the population of the planet, which is increasing at an alarming rate and whose citizens of impoverished countries cannot feed their own.
Look also at the pronouncements made by groups like the AMA, which offers "scare" bulletins every month or so, saying that something-or-other will cause cancer in a person. That point alone is my focus here.
An "All in The Family" character, Justin Quigley (age 92) once said, "They make all sorts of remedies to make us live longer, then they don't know what to do with us."
(Conclusion below)
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