"You came all this way just to see this?"
That question was posed by a tall blonde woman who had a bit of a blue tongue and too much foundation when we were chatting briefly in Centralia, Pennsylvania. It seemed incomprehensible that I had just ridden my motorcycle 11 hours for "this." Although, she had talked a friend into going four hours for the same purpose and I can only imagine that they were headed home that same day.
2014 finally ends with my last of that year's vacation consumed.
"but what can you expect these days? ... Company policy." - Mugwump
It is amazing how much clarity comes form several days of not working. I supposed I get used to five days in, two out, but the last 8 days have been like mental floss; cleaning the detritus that can't get cleared by the typical weekend.
"Your're missin' the whole point, Ed." - Lewis
The day in, day out, year in, year out creates a numbness, too easy to get caught up in the eddy currents. Things seem like they are moving at a rapid pace, but in reality not much is going anywhere. My time at work has a cost; they pay me to be there and I try to do the right thing while I'm there. My time outside of work has no cost since it would cost too much - there is nothing more valuable than my time that is really mine.
Tomorrow I'll be back at work for one day, before restarting a full week a few days later.
"There's no end to it." - Bobby
I ended my time off with a bang, by going target shooting for a while. It was another amazing late spring morning and surprisingly, I had the range to myself. It just doesn't get much better than that, especially when the targets all seemed to be in the right place.
My eight days allowed me time to do everything I was hoping to and then some. Sometimes, life smiles and things can work out.
Now, desparately fighting the natural neural tendencies to think ahead to what is coming...
"But the race is over." - Hotelier
"Not for me it isn't!" - Raoul Duke
I think I told her I was looking for an excuse to go to Pennsylvania coal country, but I should have proudly told the woman standing on a destroyed section of PA-61 covered in graffiti, "Yes, I came all this way just for this." But, that would not have been entirely true. The destination wasn't nearly as important as the act getting there. The clarity of a few days out of work, riding a motorcycle hundreds of miles through cold temperatures, rain, warm temperatures and sun make the destination one that everyone should go to. Because it is there and because more of life should look squalid to the outside world.
"Actual Happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the overcompensations for misery." - Aldous Huxley
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Friday, April 24, 2015
April Vacation
In the day in, day out, year in, year out that is life, the end of April 2015 brings the requirement to use the final days of my 2014 vacation. Six days of vacation and 8 out of the office with no agenda. Well, maybe more accurately an evolving agenda.
I started the vacation's first morning by reading American Hunter, the NRA magazine. Then I finished listening to the book Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls by David Sedaris. This is an almost incomprehensible pairing. While the NRA is, in theory, a single-issue non-partisan organization, the positions of the two major US political parties means that the NRA is somewhat right leaning. Anybody who has read anything by David Sedaris knows that he leans somewhat left. But, the magazine was there and I had started to listen to Diabetes on the way home from Michigan two weeks ago and didn't finish it before I got home. I've also, on occasion, listened to NPR while on the way to the range to target shoot, so the dichotomy is nothing new.
I've read just about every book David Sedaris has written and have enjoyed them. This book did take a more decidedly political slant which I found a little sad. Between that and the bizarre fictional-story end of the book, it almost seemed like his material was running thin. I read When You Are Engulfed in Flames last year and thought it was great so I'll hold out any long-term judgement for now.
Later in the day, I got a tattoo. This was a tattoo that was almost five years in the making, so was actually kind of momentous, but there will be plenty of time to talk about that later - maybe after it heals.
I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to do with my time off. I have some ideas, but I probably need a day or two to decompress from work. Sitting around sounded depressingly fine initially, but the urge to travel grows with each hour. A plan is forming; I need to convince the weather and timing to cooperate.
It would be nice to think that weather this time of year is averagely warm and dry, but average in April really means highly variable.
In a lot of ways, waiting until the witching hour to take my vacation is not smart. Yet, the "forced" time off this time of year is a both a good respite and good mental preparation that spring will lead to summer with more to come...
I started the vacation's first morning by reading American Hunter, the NRA magazine. Then I finished listening to the book Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls by David Sedaris. This is an almost incomprehensible pairing. While the NRA is, in theory, a single-issue non-partisan organization, the positions of the two major US political parties means that the NRA is somewhat right leaning. Anybody who has read anything by David Sedaris knows that he leans somewhat left. But, the magazine was there and I had started to listen to Diabetes on the way home from Michigan two weeks ago and didn't finish it before I got home. I've also, on occasion, listened to NPR while on the way to the range to target shoot, so the dichotomy is nothing new.
I've read just about every book David Sedaris has written and have enjoyed them. This book did take a more decidedly political slant which I found a little sad. Between that and the bizarre fictional-story end of the book, it almost seemed like his material was running thin. I read When You Are Engulfed in Flames last year and thought it was great so I'll hold out any long-term judgement for now.
Later in the day, I got a tattoo. This was a tattoo that was almost five years in the making, so was actually kind of momentous, but there will be plenty of time to talk about that later - maybe after it heals.
I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to do with my time off. I have some ideas, but I probably need a day or two to decompress from work. Sitting around sounded depressingly fine initially, but the urge to travel grows with each hour. A plan is forming; I need to convince the weather and timing to cooperate.
It would be nice to think that weather this time of year is averagely warm and dry, but average in April really means highly variable.
In a lot of ways, waiting until the witching hour to take my vacation is not smart. Yet, the "forced" time off this time of year is a both a good respite and good mental preparation that spring will lead to summer with more to come...
Sunday, April 19, 2015
In Defense of the Speling Mistake
Hank: So you see you can’t rewrite because to rewrite is to deceive and lie and to betray your own thoughts. To rethink a flow of the rhythm, a tumbling out of the words is a betrayal, and it is a sin, Martin.
Martin: I don’t accept your catholic interpretation of my compulsive necessity to rewrite every word at least 1000 times. Guilt is the key, not sin, guilt. Re not writing the best that I can. Re not considering everything from every possible angle, balancing everything.
Hank: Well how about guilt, censoring your best thoughts. Your most honest primitive real thoughts. Because that is what your laborious rewriting amounts to.
Martin: Is rewriting really censorship, Bill? Because I’m completely fucked if it is.
Bill: Exterminate rational thought. That is the conclusion I have come to.
Martin: What is the man talking about, I’m being serious.
Hank: So is he.
I was reading an online review of a self-published book recently. It was on WordPress or something that allowed commentary not usually seen on Amazon. Most of the reviews were very positive, but one from a purulent looking woman was caustic. She did not complain about the story, but attacked what sounded like a relatively few grammar and punctuation inconsistencies. She, frankly, sounded like my college English professor who stated within the first few classes that she wanted to help change the way commas are used in written English. The author responded to the review, asking for specifics. Two were given, one which as written seemed to follow The Chicago Manual of Style - not that I believe Chicaugou is definitively the ultimate authority of all linguists.
Contrast that review with a written eulogy in a magazine I read a couple years ago. I do not remember the magazine, editor, or writer, but the editor wrote that on taking the editor position, he was initially frustrated by the now-deceased outdoor writer's poor use of grammar and especially punctuation. But, after working at the magazine for some time, he found the writers stories so compelling, that correcting the grammar became more of a calling, not a frustration. The writer, apparently, would occasionally end his written text with a series of punctuation marks; initially confused by this, the editor eventually decided this was an admonition by the writer that his writing wasn't always perfect, and it was the editors job to find the place for the trailing punctuation.
Some spelling, grammar, and syntax errors are a bit hard to understand as software like Microsoft Word and Google Chrome love to put squiggly lines under algorithmically identified errors. I'm not sure that these actions along with auto-correct are not partially to blame for any apparent deterioration in spelling; the mechanization of intellect.
This is not to say that there are not places for purulent grammarists. Our textbooks should be nearly perfect; my own experience is that they are often not. It is wise for the New York Times to have well-paid and capable copy editors.
This can be taken too far. At the risk of being overly cliche, the syntaxinista too often ignores the forest for the trees while ignoring the trees for the leaves.
The grammarist is too quick to send the classic car to the crusher due to a faulty window winding mechanism, rather than take a step back and enjoy the beauty of the car and the thrill of driving it on a perfect April day. The spelling police will self-righteously chortle at a misuse of bear when bare is meant (but is the spelling police sure?). The syntaxinista will quickly kill the newborn calf since the spots on the calf are not symmetrical between her left and right side, rather than enjoy the milk for years.
Tell me a story and keep me interested from the first word to the last. Write a book which is so filled with non sequiturs that I can't tell what is going on, but refuse to put it down. Make me late for work while I finish listening to a compelling story in parking lot. I'll accept the flaws in the writing. I'll ignore a tumbling of the words or the odd spelling mistake.
The human brain has the unbelievable ability to take a slightly garbled sentence and turn it into a completely comprehensible thought. We should embrace that ability when called on. I'll accept the sin of poor vocabulary if what is being said demands it.
Rather than anger or resentment, I feel pity for the purulent, caustic woman who was compelled to give a negative review on a book for a few spelling mistakes. In addition to her perfect use of punctuation, I hope she has something worth saying.
Martin: I don’t accept your catholic interpretation of my compulsive necessity to rewrite every word at least 1000 times. Guilt is the key, not sin, guilt. Re not writing the best that I can. Re not considering everything from every possible angle, balancing everything.
Hank: Well how about guilt, censoring your best thoughts. Your most honest primitive real thoughts. Because that is what your laborious rewriting amounts to.
Martin: Is rewriting really censorship, Bill? Because I’m completely fucked if it is.
Bill: Exterminate rational thought. That is the conclusion I have come to.
Martin: What is the man talking about, I’m being serious.
Hank: So is he.
From Naked Lunch (the movie)
I was reading an online review of a self-published book recently. It was on WordPress or something that allowed commentary not usually seen on Amazon. Most of the reviews were very positive, but one from a purulent looking woman was caustic. She did not complain about the story, but attacked what sounded like a relatively few grammar and punctuation inconsistencies. She, frankly, sounded like my college English professor who stated within the first few classes that she wanted to help change the way commas are used in written English. The author responded to the review, asking for specifics. Two were given, one which as written seemed to follow The Chicago Manual of Style - not that I believe Chicaugou is definitively the ultimate authority of all linguists.
Contrast that review with a written eulogy in a magazine I read a couple years ago. I do not remember the magazine, editor, or writer, but the editor wrote that on taking the editor position, he was initially frustrated by the now-deceased outdoor writer's poor use of grammar and especially punctuation. But, after working at the magazine for some time, he found the writers stories so compelling, that correcting the grammar became more of a calling, not a frustration. The writer, apparently, would occasionally end his written text with a series of punctuation marks; initially confused by this, the editor eventually decided this was an admonition by the writer that his writing wasn't always perfect, and it was the editors job to find the place for the trailing punctuation.
Some spelling, grammar, and syntax errors are a bit hard to understand as software like Microsoft Word and Google Chrome love to put squiggly lines under algorithmically identified errors. I'm not sure that these actions along with auto-correct are not partially to blame for any apparent deterioration in spelling; the mechanization of intellect.
This is not to say that there are not places for purulent grammarists. Our textbooks should be nearly perfect; my own experience is that they are often not. It is wise for the New York Times to have well-paid and capable copy editors.
This can be taken too far. At the risk of being overly cliche, the syntaxinista too often ignores the forest for the trees while ignoring the trees for the leaves.
The grammarist is too quick to send the classic car to the crusher due to a faulty window winding mechanism, rather than take a step back and enjoy the beauty of the car and the thrill of driving it on a perfect April day. The spelling police will self-righteously chortle at a misuse of bear when bare is meant (but is the spelling police sure?). The syntaxinista will quickly kill the newborn calf since the spots on the calf are not symmetrical between her left and right side, rather than enjoy the milk for years.
Tell me a story and keep me interested from the first word to the last. Write a book which is so filled with non sequiturs that I can't tell what is going on, but refuse to put it down. Make me late for work while I finish listening to a compelling story in parking lot. I'll accept the flaws in the writing. I'll ignore a tumbling of the words or the odd spelling mistake.
The human brain has the unbelievable ability to take a slightly garbled sentence and turn it into a completely comprehensible thought. We should embrace that ability when called on. I'll accept the sin of poor vocabulary if what is being said demands it.
Rather than anger or resentment, I feel pity for the purulent, caustic woman who was compelled to give a negative review on a book for a few spelling mistakes. In addition to her perfect use of punctuation, I hope she has something worth saying.
Saturday, April 18, 2015
80's Music and Coffee
I had a dental appointment recently. For many years, I avoided the dentist - and I do mean many years. Those years caught up with the reality of getting older so a couple years ago I went and have been faithfully going ever since. Eventually I'll have to succumb to the same pain in going to the doctor for an annual check-up .. maybe. There is no shortage of articles questioning the necessity of an annual doctor visit. I'm suspect that a few minutes with an overly-hurried doctor will actually do much that my boring lifestyle won't do. About the only reason I can see to do an annual physical is to avoid a scramble to find a doctor when something does appear to be wrong. That, however, is more of an indictment of the current state of the current medical system.
I like my dental hygienist and she is somewhat good-looking; she splits the line appropriately between talking while simultaneously prodding inside my mouth. She is also a sadist. I cringe when the ultrasonic screamer comes out to clean my teeth, and I feel like I need a bullet to bite on - I guess that would defeat the purpose of the dental visit in more ways than one. The most recent visit was completed using a scraper, which sounds terrible and takes longer but is still preferable to the ultrasonic screamer.
Despite a fairly rigorous personal dental hygiene routine, the time my teeth-cleaning takes at my semi-annual dental visit is painfully long. I'm sure my daily coffee is partly responsible for this, but I refuse to give up my morning pot of coffee. When I say pot, I'm talking a small dorm-room size auto-drip pot that is almost antique in age.
I've moved on from the cheapest coffee to something slightly better that doesn't taste like drinking a grass hut. For a while, I was trying coffees that were were quite expensive, but the reality is that, above a certain quality level, the returns on the increase in taste of coffee diminish very, very quickly with increasing price. This is despite what the jack-wad coffee snobs expound. There are no shortage of experts to tell us why were wrong, dumb or wasting our lives on ordinary bottled water.
I'm currently drinking Kroger's Private Selection Guatemalan Antiguan.
It is pretty good, and a lighter contrast to my usual Sumatran Mandheling, which is a much darker roast.
A few bags ago I bought the slightly more expensive Westrock Rwanda coffee. I'm not sure if I believe Africa (or the world) will be saved by fair trade coffee, but I suppose it can't hurt. The coffee ... tasted like coffee.
The current trend continues to be the single cup Keurig "pods" that now take up a fantastic amount of wall space at my local Kroger. Not only are these amazingly expensive when making decent coffee is already fairly quick and easy, but the disposed plastic per cup seems heinously wasteful, aside from the added expense. Even the Inventor of the K-cup regrets the idea and doesn't even own one. Newer Keurig brewers are reported to "block" other pods or reusable baskets - an idea that shows the moronity of the entire pod concept.
The music playing at the dentist's office at my recent visit seemed to be some kind of mix from the 80's. My hygienist said it was due to the office recently getting satellite radio as the broadcast radio was too repetitive. I have a satellite radio on my Triumph Trophy motorcycle, but never got it to work. I also never tried too hard. I guess satellite radio might make sense in a dentist's office, but the cost model seems undefendable - $15 per month per radio - the K-Cup of music; it might be worth it if I could pay for it once but then use it on multiple radios, instead of just on the motorcycle.
Near the end of my dental visit, REO Speedwagon came over the satellite radio and I almost made a joke about junior high school make-out music before realizing how utterly creepy that could sound when someone is working in my mouth. Had I not caught myself, I would have deserved the ultrasonic screamer.
I like my dental hygienist and she is somewhat good-looking; she splits the line appropriately between talking while simultaneously prodding inside my mouth. She is also a sadist. I cringe when the ultrasonic screamer comes out to clean my teeth, and I feel like I need a bullet to bite on - I guess that would defeat the purpose of the dental visit in more ways than one. The most recent visit was completed using a scraper, which sounds terrible and takes longer but is still preferable to the ultrasonic screamer.
Despite a fairly rigorous personal dental hygiene routine, the time my teeth-cleaning takes at my semi-annual dental visit is painfully long. I'm sure my daily coffee is partly responsible for this, but I refuse to give up my morning pot of coffee. When I say pot, I'm talking a small dorm-room size auto-drip pot that is almost antique in age.
I've moved on from the cheapest coffee to something slightly better that doesn't taste like drinking a grass hut. For a while, I was trying coffees that were were quite expensive, but the reality is that, above a certain quality level, the returns on the increase in taste of coffee diminish very, very quickly with increasing price. This is despite what the jack-wad coffee snobs expound. There are no shortage of experts to tell us why were wrong, dumb or wasting our lives on ordinary bottled water.
I'm currently drinking Kroger's Private Selection Guatemalan Antiguan.
It is pretty good, and a lighter contrast to my usual Sumatran Mandheling, which is a much darker roast.
A few bags ago I bought the slightly more expensive Westrock Rwanda coffee. I'm not sure if I believe Africa (or the world) will be saved by fair trade coffee, but I suppose it can't hurt. The coffee ... tasted like coffee.
The current trend continues to be the single cup Keurig "pods" that now take up a fantastic amount of wall space at my local Kroger. Not only are these amazingly expensive when making decent coffee is already fairly quick and easy, but the disposed plastic per cup seems heinously wasteful, aside from the added expense. Even the Inventor of the K-cup regrets the idea and doesn't even own one. Newer Keurig brewers are reported to "block" other pods or reusable baskets - an idea that shows the moronity of the entire pod concept.
The music playing at the dentist's office at my recent visit seemed to be some kind of mix from the 80's. My hygienist said it was due to the office recently getting satellite radio as the broadcast radio was too repetitive. I have a satellite radio on my Triumph Trophy motorcycle, but never got it to work. I also never tried too hard. I guess satellite radio might make sense in a dentist's office, but the cost model seems undefendable - $15 per month per radio - the K-Cup of music; it might be worth it if I could pay for it once but then use it on multiple radios, instead of just on the motorcycle.
Near the end of my dental visit, REO Speedwagon came over the satellite radio and I almost made a joke about junior high school make-out music before realizing how utterly creepy that could sound when someone is working in my mouth. Had I not caught myself, I would have deserved the ultrasonic screamer.
Friday, April 3, 2015
Exquisite Fats
It is Good Friday. But then again, any Friday that I don't have to work is a good Friday. The company I work for is dropping Good Friday (Easter) holiday next year and replacing it with an extra personal day (religious sensitivity and political correctness, I suppose). I guess this is a good thing since this really isn't often a usable day off for me. It would be nice if this day was always a splendidly warm and sunny spring day, but that isn't often the case; weather this time of year is quite temperamental. Today is cool with snotty rain; 2014 was tolerably nice, but the last really good year looks like it was 2010: dry with a high in the mid-80s.
I believe I got my motorcycle back from the dealership after killing a deer with it on Good Friday, 2001 - which was also a Friday the 13th. Regardless of the weather, that was a good day. In some ways, I miss my Harley Davidson days...
It would not surprise me if within a few years the company I work for takes away that additional personal day that a future lack of Good Friday holiday is providing. The narrative will go as follows: We lose the Good Friday holiday and get an extra personal day. At some near-future date, the company does a comparison of the number of personal holidays granted to its serfs and decides the number of personal days is not commensurate with other peer companies - it then takes action to remove that holiday at a future date. I suppose that sounds a bit negatively bitter, and maybe even conspiracy oriented.
At least the extra day off gives a day this year to have another lazy morning with cornbread pecan waffles. I added real butter to the batter today, although I'm unsure why I did this. It made the waffles taste quite rich but won't help me meet any Easter's Resolutions.
I saw an article about avocado oil recently. I don't remember the source, but it claimed that avocado oil has nearly magical health properties, "even better than olive or coconut oil." I do not believe this. There is no elixir of life that will mystically bring around better health, and less weight. The whole idea that a fat will result in weight loss is quite preposterous, unless it induces vomiting. Still, I couldn't help but look on Amazon this morning for avocado oil. Maybe syrup of ipecac is a more honest thing to search, although it appears that ipecac is now more in quackery camp and is no longer available commercially, perhaps one day olive and avocado oil will join it.
The cornbread pecan waffles were followed by hot chocolate since I didn't feel like over-caffeinating with more coffee. The hot chocolate had a sell-by date of November 19, 2012. Oh the risks I take!
(belated edit*)
My original plan for Good Friday was to complete a list of things that have needed to be done for some time, but weren't getting done. Instead, I bought Tim Kreider's book Refuse to Drown. I don't usually buy books, but as a self-published book through CreateSpace, this book is not available in any Ohio library (apparently, many libraries are apprehensive about holding self-published books). I started to read it, intending to finish over the three-day weekend, but I could not put it down - it was that good.
I originally found the book after reading a different Tim Kreider's book We Learn Nothing. It was somewhat flippant, but still thought provoking and I was curious if he had written anything else similar. It took quite some time to ensure that the two Tim Kreiders were not the same person - the books have as much in common as oranges and Concorde Jets. Yet, the hook to read the second Tim's book had been set.
Good Friday's morning rain let up for a while but more appears to be imminent, with no way to stop it. The day looks to be an idle one. Perhaps that is something to embrace. In closing on this non sequitur of a Good Friday, I'll quote from Tim Kreider's We Learn Nothing:
Idleness is not just a vacation, an indulgence or a vice; it is as indispensable to the brain as vitamin D is to the body, and deprived of it we suffer a mental affliction as disfiguring as rickets. The space and quiet that idleness provides is a necessary condition for standing back from life and seeing it whole, for making unexpected connections and waiting for the wild summer lightning strikes of inspiration -- it is, paradoxically, necessary to getting any work done.
*I rarely edit these things, even to correct a flaw in the words as I see blogs as a historical record. Do not photoshop the ex-girlfriend out of the family picture! As I reread what I had originally wrote, I realized it sounded more mean-spirited than I had intended. That is not me; at least I hope it is not me.
I believe I got my motorcycle back from the dealership after killing a deer with it on Good Friday, 2001 - which was also a Friday the 13th. Regardless of the weather, that was a good day. In some ways, I miss my Harley Davidson days...
It would not surprise me if within a few years the company I work for takes away that additional personal day that a future lack of Good Friday holiday is providing. The narrative will go as follows: We lose the Good Friday holiday and get an extra personal day. At some near-future date, the company does a comparison of the number of personal holidays granted to its serfs and decides the number of personal days is not commensurate with other peer companies - it then takes action to remove that holiday at a future date. I suppose that sounds a bit negatively bitter, and maybe even conspiracy oriented.
At least the extra day off gives a day this year to have another lazy morning with cornbread pecan waffles. I added real butter to the batter today, although I'm unsure why I did this. It made the waffles taste quite rich but won't help me meet any Easter's Resolutions.
I saw an article about avocado oil recently. I don't remember the source, but it claimed that avocado oil has nearly magical health properties, "even better than olive or coconut oil." I do not believe this. There is no elixir of life that will mystically bring around better health, and less weight. The whole idea that a fat will result in weight loss is quite preposterous, unless it induces vomiting. Still, I couldn't help but look on Amazon this morning for avocado oil. Maybe syrup of ipecac is a more honest thing to search, although it appears that ipecac is now more in quackery camp and is no longer available commercially, perhaps one day olive and avocado oil will join it.
The cornbread pecan waffles were followed by hot chocolate since I didn't feel like over-caffeinating with more coffee. The hot chocolate had a sell-by date of November 19, 2012. Oh the risks I take!
(belated edit*)
My original plan for Good Friday was to complete a list of things that have needed to be done for some time, but weren't getting done. Instead, I bought Tim Kreider's book Refuse to Drown. I don't usually buy books, but as a self-published book through CreateSpace, this book is not available in any Ohio library (apparently, many libraries are apprehensive about holding self-published books). I started to read it, intending to finish over the three-day weekend, but I could not put it down - it was that good.
I originally found the book after reading a different Tim Kreider's book We Learn Nothing. It was somewhat flippant, but still thought provoking and I was curious if he had written anything else similar. It took quite some time to ensure that the two Tim Kreiders were not the same person - the books have as much in common as oranges and Concorde Jets. Yet, the hook to read the second Tim's book had been set.
Good Friday's morning rain let up for a while but more appears to be imminent, with no way to stop it. The day looks to be an idle one. Perhaps that is something to embrace. In closing on this non sequitur of a Good Friday, I'll quote from Tim Kreider's We Learn Nothing:
Idleness is not just a vacation, an indulgence or a vice; it is as indispensable to the brain as vitamin D is to the body, and deprived of it we suffer a mental affliction as disfiguring as rickets. The space and quiet that idleness provides is a necessary condition for standing back from life and seeing it whole, for making unexpected connections and waiting for the wild summer lightning strikes of inspiration -- it is, paradoxically, necessary to getting any work done.
*I rarely edit these things, even to correct a flaw in the words as I see blogs as a historical record. Do not photoshop the ex-girlfriend out of the family picture! As I reread what I had originally wrote, I realized it sounded more mean-spirited than I had intended. That is not me; at least I hope it is not me.
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