Peter Tosh ("legalize it") tells us that ganja is good for tuberculosis. I probably don't have it, tuberculosis that is, because the little skin-pop they did looks fine. Like a mosquito bite instead of a boil. However, they have found a mass in my chest, in my right lung. Today when I went back for more x-rays they didn't give me any of the dilaudid/phenergan party favors, and didn't even let me see them. Although because it looks like my tuberculosis test is looking negative, they're leaning towards pneumonia. Great.
The whole TB thing had me really tweaked. The "cure" for TB is six months of medication. Furthermore, I have no idea where I would have gotten TB. The hospital asked me the usual questions, "have you been out of the country lately?" And I answered "well, San Diego" -- which is close.
But in the end, it appears that the ulcers in my throat (the peroxyl/lidocaine approach works very well for the mouth) and the fluid in my lungs are benign. Or at least as benign as bloody mucous coming out of your mouth every couple minutes can be.
29 July, 2006
Cake's Patriotic Jumpsuits
Sometimes I hate living in DC. Washington is a pretty nice town to live in. There are myriad ethnic groups and associated cuisines, there are both high and low brow entertainment, and a thriving culture that seems to stretch back forever.
And then, every summer, I am reminded of why much of the world hates Americans and wants to attack us in our homes, to bring the fight to us. Because we're a really detestable group of people. We consume and consume, and what we consume, we waste. We treat the market as if there is a scarcity when there is rank abundance but for our consumption. Because they sully Arlington National Cemetery with their out of control children, dripping foulness off their persons and the meals they are so eagerly consuming.
People cannot teach their children to have manners any better than an unruly dog. They cannot fit through doorways or into chairs. They're a largely unattractive group of people who are here in the "capital of the free world" as some sort of sojurn to Mecca, and what do they want? T-shirts to prove they've been there. They are just like the rest of the world says we are: rude, inconsiderate, morbidly obese, ignorant, arrogant, and a terrible waste of resources.
What percentage of the population even begins to understand what is great about this country? What percentage give more than a token thought to the fact that somebody will die today, tomorrow, the next day, with more to come, so that they could purchase that t-shirt? What percentage understand the government well enough to be qualified to vote on its construction? If you're opposed to George W. Bush because of his cocaine problem, or drinking problem, or even because you didn't like his father, okay, vote against him. But I bet you don't even know your senator's your elected congressmen's names. So you just mark down the "party line", and we get a country that is governed by the ignorant idiocy of the people living in this country.
They come here in the summer. And for a short time every year, I am ashamed that I am a part of those masses. Most of the rest of the year, especially during business hours, you will meet what we -- Washingtonians -- think the rest of the world sees us as. We don't even know that the world hates us because of the people that come here in the summer.
And then, every summer, I am reminded of why much of the world hates Americans and wants to attack us in our homes, to bring the fight to us. Because we're a really detestable group of people. We consume and consume, and what we consume, we waste. We treat the market as if there is a scarcity when there is rank abundance but for our consumption. Because they sully Arlington National Cemetery with their out of control children, dripping foulness off their persons and the meals they are so eagerly consuming.
People cannot teach their children to have manners any better than an unruly dog. They cannot fit through doorways or into chairs. They're a largely unattractive group of people who are here in the "capital of the free world" as some sort of sojurn to Mecca, and what do they want? T-shirts to prove they've been there. They are just like the rest of the world says we are: rude, inconsiderate, morbidly obese, ignorant, arrogant, and a terrible waste of resources.
What percentage of the population even begins to understand what is great about this country? What percentage give more than a token thought to the fact that somebody will die today, tomorrow, the next day, with more to come, so that they could purchase that t-shirt? What percentage understand the government well enough to be qualified to vote on its construction? If you're opposed to George W. Bush because of his cocaine problem, or drinking problem, or even because you didn't like his father, okay, vote against him. But I bet you don't even know your senator's your elected congressmen's names. So you just mark down the "party line", and we get a country that is governed by the ignorant idiocy of the people living in this country.
They come here in the summer. And for a short time every year, I am ashamed that I am a part of those masses. Most of the rest of the year, especially during business hours, you will meet what we -- Washingtonians -- think the rest of the world sees us as. We don't even know that the world hates us because of the people that come here in the summer.
27 July, 2006
D20_2061.jpg
I took the 'Ru in to the dealer today to have it coated with some sort of sealant. They're also going to buff out some shopping cart mark (we find these marks on our bumper, with finger marks on them, so the guy that did it, knew it, estimated the damage, and decided "eh, why bother leaving a note"). Mike Mentes, the services advisor there is an ASE master mechanic (this is very hard thing to accomplish), and knew everything he needed to know about the STI.
We have a loaner Forester, and, uh, it's 100% gutless. Lots of headroom, but gutless. And don't go telling me that the 2.5XT Forester is fast. It's slower than a WRX, but faster than a Dodge Caravan. Now that's an accomplishment.
Anyways, so I am headed to the pharmacy with a script for mouthwash, percocet, and phenergan. The mouthwash is supposed to numb the mouth, and I have Peroxyl (hydrogen peroxide mouthwash) to help clean up the ulcers. This is such a gross disease.
So, since the drugs are happy drugs (percocet), and the 'Ru is getting detailed and sealed today, we are in a happy place. I figured these pretty flowers would offset the disgusting tongue photo.
We have a loaner Forester, and, uh, it's 100% gutless. Lots of headroom, but gutless. And don't go telling me that the 2.5XT Forester is fast. It's slower than a WRX, but faster than a Dodge Caravan. Now that's an accomplishment.
Anyways, so I am headed to the pharmacy with a script for mouthwash, percocet, and phenergan. The mouthwash is supposed to numb the mouth, and I have Peroxyl (hydrogen peroxide mouthwash) to help clean up the ulcers. This is such a gross disease.
So, since the drugs are happy drugs (percocet), and the 'Ru is getting detailed and sealed today, we are in a happy place. I figured these pretty flowers would offset the disgusting tongue photo.
DSC00251.JPG
I got sick the morning of my flight out to San Diego. I wasn't hungry, I wasn't thirsty, and I was feeling top-dizzy (I think tall people will relate to this terminology). By the time we got on the plane, I was having cold sweats and chills while I slept on Sandy's shoulder.
As we got to San Diego, it got worse. I couldn't eat -- I threw up anything that went down the gullet. I couldn't drink for the same reason. I'd literally throw up plain water. This has happened to me before, and we generally agreed then (it's actually happened twice before) that it was psychosomatic. So I just figured I didn't want to be there in San Diego, that I certainly didn't want to be involved in any wedding, and it was just hot as fuckall.
This lasted and lasted, including my throwing up the catered food at the wedding reception (discreetly, so as not to offend anyone).
Mother was very understanding, and suggested I go home to the hotel, force fluids, and "get at least twelve hours of sleep." Well, that I did. Except the fluids part. Between last wednesday and today I've had less than half a gallon of water (or any liquid).
Today when I woke up, I felt more like shit than I had in the past few days. I opened my mouth to brush my teeth and found these disgusting ulcers and pocks on it. It appears that whatever was pissing off my joints (knees and wrists mainly) and giving me searing stomach cramps had either weakened me to the point that I got a bacterial infection, or it was expressing itself in my throat.
Whatever the case, we called UHC's 24/7 nurse, who said it constituted an emergency, so off to the ER we went. They gave me three litres of saline which I was ever so grateful for (not being able to drink, but being incredibly thirsty). They gave me ice chips, which I can "drink" without moving my tongue, which means it doesn't hurt. They also gave me dilaudid and phenergan for the pain (twice!), which is always pleasant. The pain went away and I have actually managed to eat a small sandwich. However, I'm sticking to the water (Vitamin Water "Revive" from Glacieau) and non solid food. In particular I find the Dannon "la Creme" to be both tasty and easy to eat.
There were a few people at the wedding reception who implied that I was leaving because I didn't like my sister, or because I didn't want to be there. I hope those people catch this very illness and it rots out their tongues so they cannot speak such vileness anymore.
Picture is of the pocks/ulcers on my tongue in the ER. They went all the way down my throat.
As we got to San Diego, it got worse. I couldn't eat -- I threw up anything that went down the gullet. I couldn't drink for the same reason. I'd literally throw up plain water. This has happened to me before, and we generally agreed then (it's actually happened twice before) that it was psychosomatic. So I just figured I didn't want to be there in San Diego, that I certainly didn't want to be involved in any wedding, and it was just hot as fuckall.
This lasted and lasted, including my throwing up the catered food at the wedding reception (discreetly, so as not to offend anyone).
Mother was very understanding, and suggested I go home to the hotel, force fluids, and "get at least twelve hours of sleep." Well, that I did. Except the fluids part. Between last wednesday and today I've had less than half a gallon of water (or any liquid).
Today when I woke up, I felt more like shit than I had in the past few days. I opened my mouth to brush my teeth and found these disgusting ulcers and pocks on it. It appears that whatever was pissing off my joints (knees and wrists mainly) and giving me searing stomach cramps had either weakened me to the point that I got a bacterial infection, or it was expressing itself in my throat.
Whatever the case, we called UHC's 24/7 nurse, who said it constituted an emergency, so off to the ER we went. They gave me three litres of saline which I was ever so grateful for (not being able to drink, but being incredibly thirsty). They gave me ice chips, which I can "drink" without moving my tongue, which means it doesn't hurt. They also gave me dilaudid and phenergan for the pain (twice!), which is always pleasant. The pain went away and I have actually managed to eat a small sandwich. However, I'm sticking to the water (Vitamin Water "Revive" from Glacieau) and non solid food. In particular I find the Dannon "la Creme" to be both tasty and easy to eat.
There were a few people at the wedding reception who implied that I was leaving because I didn't like my sister, or because I didn't want to be there. I hope those people catch this very illness and it rots out their tongues so they cannot speak such vileness anymore.
Picture is of the pocks/ulcers on my tongue in the ER. They went all the way down my throat.
25 July, 2006
D20_1866.jpg
So I started fooling around with night photography. I so much prefer inanimate subjects (except in a very few cases) to people. Take twenty people out to a football game or something and I'll be the one looking intently at the cracks in the asphalt with the macro lens, or trying to take pictures of trees.
So the shot is somewhat cliche, but it turns out (this is why it is a cliche, it's a cool technique). The location is Torrey Pines beach looking north on US 1, with Del Mar sort of off on thr right.
I'm definitely going to be experimenting with night photography more in the future. Sandy and I have discussed a camping trip to shenandoah for a weekend. Talk about ample subject matter (stars, trees, and critters!!)
So the shot is somewhat cliche, but it turns out (this is why it is a cliche, it's a cool technique). The location is Torrey Pines beach looking north on US 1, with Del Mar sort of off on thr right.
I'm definitely going to be experimenting with night photography more in the future. Sandy and I have discussed a camping trip to shenandoah for a weekend. Talk about ample subject matter (stars, trees, and critters!!)
D20_1854.JPG
My first real night time photo. This mushroom is the same as the one previously posted, only shot after the sun had set. I set the ISO to 100, got the tripod out on its shortest setting and set the 60 to f/7.1. The exposure was about twenty seconds, and the orange hue is from the low pressure sodium lights they use in california. This photo is one of my all time favorites.
D20_1890.jpg
You can see in exquisite detail the gills under the mushroom (which I had photographed the night before). This lens (60mm/f2.8) is wicked, wicked, wicked, for macro. Sandy loves the 60 and will go find things with it I didn't even know was there.
23 July, 2006
Stress again
About six years ago, I had a period in my life which was so stressful, I could not bring myself to eat. If I forced food, I would throw up. Most people haven't starved before, so I'll explain a little detail. Your body starts to consume your muscles. It seems to me this happens especially at night. I wake up with an excessively sore body. Everything from the little muscles in my hands to (most especially) my pectorals as well as deltoids, quads, and biceps.
I haven't been doing any heavy lifting, so we can't blame that so easily. Stress just makes it really hard to eat.
My body is apparently telling me things are much, much worse than I thought.
I haven't been doing any heavy lifting, so we can't blame that so easily. Stress just makes it really hard to eat.
My body is apparently telling me things are much, much worse than I thought.
D20_1513.jpg
Drinking with Dad... We met at the Poseidon in Del Mar after our flight came in. The shot turned out well, although it was completely off the cuff -- I wanted to show dad the LCD on the D200. A commentor on flickr says it has great composition. If that's true, great! Otherwise, just enjoy the beautiful wood grain, the contrast of the orange and the blues, and the fade to infinity.
