This year, instead of making holiday Wish Lists for a gift exchange between the two of us, Eric suggested we make a joint Gratitude List. Given that I hate shopping and crowds, I readily gave his idea the thumbs-up. The decision was part austerity plan and part stress-reduction attempt. Money is tight due to a drop in Eric’s December/January workload and income, not to mention several unexpected expenses and challenges this past year. In the New Year, we will need to have three rotting decks replaced, and it is going to cost a pretty penny to drill five to seven new supports into bedrock and rebuild the decks themselves. The last few months have been stressful with moving Eric’s mother into an assisted living facility in Michigan, the loss of a close friend, and illnesses of other friends.  We always look forward to the holiday season, but felt the need to tone it down a notch. Far from being Scrooges (for gifts to others, we purchased new items), our circumstances prompted us to take a good look at everything we already have, and realize how grateful we are for it.

What we found was eye-opening. We are blessed with loving family, friends and neighbors, a spacious home in a beautiful neighborhood, satisfying careers, food on the table, a delightful canine pal — and more stuff than we have had time to appreciate.

All that stuff!  All stuff we wanted, stuff that had been on previous years’ Wish Lists; so it wasn’t an issue of having received junk we had no interest in. The excitement of new releases and momentary needs/desires had fueled our past gift giving. But when that holiday’s bustle gave way to a new year, priorities of the moment pushed holiday acquisitions aside, like the forgotten toys in “Toy Story 3.” We shed a few tears for the neglected objects on our own home’s shelves and promised that this year we would embrace them fully (at least in the movie version of this story).

In the weeks before Christmas, we made a table in MS Word with columns of category headings.  We printed it out, put it on a holiday-red clipboard, and went around the house and made notes.  There were books, DVDs, games, puzzles, clothes, etc. from previous Christmases that we had yet to read, watch, play, or use. Some were still shrink-wrapped!  With our 2011 Gratitude List partially filled out, we initially thought we would spend Christmas morning selecting items off of the list to take down from the shelf and put to use.

At around 6 p.m. on December 23, we finally had the time and energy to look for a Christmas tree. By that point some really nice trees at the Rite Aid drug store had been marked down by 50 percent. Though a bright shining star didn’t suddenly appear in the sky, I took the mark-down as a sign that the angels supported our frugal holiday celebration.  (The store manager was probably just afraid of getting stuck with over a dozen trees. Regardless, it was a win-win.) We picked out a bushy six-foot-tall tree, and I stood guard on the walk outside the store while Eric went in and paid for it. (Last year I went by myself to get the tree, and after ripping off the price tag to take in to the cashier, I set the tree to the back and off to the side. When I came out from paying for it, some guy in front of me in the checkout line had taken my tree, leaving behind an inferior tree he had bought. Infuriating!) We stuffed the tree into the back seat of the car and by bedtime, the tree was decorated and half a quart of eggnog and rum had been consumed.

The next morning, on Christmas Eve day, since we had a tree with no gifts under it, we decided we would wrap at least some of the forgotten gifts of Christmases past. During the course of the day, we took turns collecting items from the list and hiding them from the other until we could wrap them. We both came across things that weren’t on the list (which was good to create some element of surprise).  A wrapping station was set up in my office, and we took turns using it.  Later, we admitted that after a point, we had both felt a little silly rewrapping the former gifts, and stopped before wrapping everything we had collected or that was on the list.  Still, we ended up with 16 wrapped packages, tags and bows included, under the tree.

On Christmas morning, Eric walked the dog, we had our coffee, and he called his mother and his sister before we opened presents.  (We had a Skype call on the 26^th with my family when they all were gathered at my brother’s house.)  As is tradition, I sorted the packages into two piles. Since many of the gifts were labeled to us both, I placed eight presents in front of each of our chairs, and we took turns opening them.

Eric had written clever notes on the tags with clues to their contents and history, so I read them aloud before ripping the packages open. I was more succinct with my tags, and near the end of my wrapping frenzy, had labeled one of the excellent gifts that had originally come from friends as TO: Us, FROM: Them.  While items from the list were expected, both of us were surprised by a couple of gifts we had found in our search.  Eric had forgotten about a DVD set of early Disney short animated movies.  This had been given years before we visited the superb Disney Family Museum in San Francisco, which had renewed our interest in Walt Disney’s early innovations. I was surprised by a gift that Eric wrapped this year, which I had originally given to him on one of our first Christmases 15 years ago: an unused mosaic tile craft set, a hobby he once had.

Not surprisingly, we didn’t re-gift any electronic gadgets, as those are pretty much well used, except for a Wii fitness mat and software (which we really SHOULD use!)  For his birthday this year, Eric replaced his old Razr phone with an Android smart-phone. For the fun of it, he used his phone to scan the barcodes of all the opened presents, and I kept a handwritten tally. We found we had re-gifted several hundred dollars’ worth of “new” presents.

We were both pleased with the outcome of our experiment.  There was less anxiety about shopping for the perfect gifts, and less anxiety about opening gifts that might be a disappointment, not to mention going further into debt. Opening the gifts was genuinely fun—I felt strangely content and joyful opening what were essentially new but familiar belongings. To ensure the gifts weren’t unused this time around, we immediately drew up a plan for the vacation week we both scheduled between Christmas and New Year’s.  If we could squeeze in one or two movies per day, begin one jigsaw puzzle and a Wii fitness program together, and at least read part of a book, we would be off to a good start.

Admittedly, it’s an ambitious plan that may be a challenge to maintain, as has been the case after every Christmas holiday.  For that dilemma of abundance, though, we are certainly grateful.  To be honest, my concern is that once again, when the holidays are over and reality sets in, we won’t find time to watch all of the movies or read all the books by next Christmas. It’s some comfort to know that if that happens with our 2011 re-gifted presents, back under the tree they go!

On July 14, 2011, California Governor Jerry Brown signed into law state bill (SB) 48, the FAIR (Fair, Accurate, Inclusive and Respectful) Education Act, a controversial bill that in sensationalist terms forces California schools to teach five-year-old children about the lesbian, gay, bi-sexual, and transgender (LGBT) lifestyle and agenda, thereby destroying the traditional family. What the bill actually does and says is amend an existing law in two ways:

Require instruction in social sciences to include a study of the role and contributions of not just LGBT individuals but also: “Native Americans, African Americans, Mexican Americans, Asian Americans, Pacific Islanders, European Americans… persons with disabilities, and other ethnic and cultural groups, to the development of California and the United States.”

Prohibits instruction, school sponsored activities, or adopting instructional materials that reflect adversely upon persons including “Pacific Islanders, lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender Americans, persons with disabilities, and other ethnic and cultural groups.”

It sounds pretty dry to me. At the very least California school books will mention the Stonewall riots that sparked the gay rights movement and note the election and murder of San Francisco supervisor Harvey Milk, the first openly gay elected U.S. official. Several movies have been made on both topics and are readily available so it’s not exactly revolutionary information. Kids are more likely to know that history than they do the details of Paul Revere’s ride, if Sarah Palin has anything to say about it.

Opposition to SB 48 is predictably hysterical and irrational, focusing on innocent five-year-olds. The fact is rational-minded educators will no doubt develop the curriculum to be age-appropriate the same way they wait until sixth grade (puberty), at least they did when I was a kid, before they teach general sex education.

Protestors probably fear that social studies books will give details about LGBT sexual techniques paired with photos of scantily-clad/naked men and women dancing in pride parades. School books don’t have to do that because newspapers and the internet have that covered. TV has a wide range of depictions of LGBT people on “Modern Family,” “Glee,” and “True Blood.” Switch to cable’s Logo channel and kids in Redding and Fresno can see some pretty risqué gay movies and reality shows, which, I should say, are no worse or nauseating than heterosexual reality shows like “Jersey Shore” and “The Housewives of …” series. Sometimes it’s a matter of taste, not sexual orientation.

The mostly religion-based organizations that are opposed to the legislation are taking steps to repeal it by attempting to put a referendum on the June 2012 California ballot. Their only objection to the bill is the inclusion of LGBT Americans, but presumably repealing SB 48 would also remove the requirement for the other groups added to the law. It was a smart move by the bill’s author, Mark Leno, an openly gay state senator, to package the bill to expand the law for several groups. Voters are unlikely to vote for repealing it just to discriminate against the LGBT population, I would hope.

The legislature passed SB 48 on a vote of 50 to 26; all the Noes were cast by Republicans. Legislative analysis of the bill lists the following opposition organizations, among others:

• Bible Baptist Church
• California Right to Life Committee, Inc.
• Calvary Christian Church
• Concerned Women for America of Central California
• Faith Assembly of God
• First Southern Baptist Church
• GateWay Bible Church
• Hamilton Square Baptist Church
• Heritage Christian Fellowship
• New Harvest Christian Fellowship
• Praise Center Church
• Protect Kids Foundation
• Riverpark Bible Church
• The Conservative Party (California)
• Traditional Values Coalition

In other words, the usual anti-LGBT subjects that defeated California’s Proposition 8, the same-sex marriage bill. The need for SB 48 is reinforced, ironically, by the anti-gay bullying of these organizations as well as by gay intolerance online and in our communities. I came across the Conservapedia website that objects to the alleged left-wing leanings of Wikipedia and promotes itself as “the trustworthy encyclopedia.” However, search Conservapedia for the topic of homosexuality, and the focus is far from scholarly and exhaustive. Instead, they perpetuate hate and ignorance with biased content that has subject headings such as “Commonness of Homosexual Murder,” “Health Effects of Homosexual Lifestyle,” and “the Marketing of Evil.” It’s a laughable attempt to scare youth straight with negativity and idiotic, unscientific arguments. The scary part is that a lot of people will believe their arguments.

My partner Eric recently received a telephone call from a telemarketer ostensibly raising money for the Oakland, CA Police Officers Association. When he said he didn’t accept phone solicitations and asked to be taken off of their call list, the man on the phone replied, “Will do, faggot,” and hung up. Caller ID showed that the telemarketer was TBS Productions (510-568-8483). Eric googled them and found that there have been many complaints against this “professional” fundraiser company. He programmed his phone to block future calls.

These are some fairly benign examples compared to kill-the-gays rap lyrics, anti-gay beatings and murders, and gays sentenced to death by stoning in countries like Iran, Iraq, and Uganda. Yet, conservatives argue that LGBT people don’t need “special” protections under U.S. or state laws.

Some schools in the Bay Area already teach about LGBT accomplishments. A grade school in my Oakland, CA community celebrates Harvey Milk Day and has an openly gay principal. A neighbor who taught at the school said there are several same-sex couples whose children are students at the school. While this is not surprising in the Bay Area, the San Jose Mercury News reported that 2010 Census results “found same-sex couples in every corner of the state, and revealed that those who live in many suburban and rural areas are far more likely to have kids.” So as a result of SB 48, LGBT kids as well as non-gay kids of LGBT parents in non-urban communities will get the same LGBT-inclusive curriculum as Bay Area schools. The authors of the bill said it was necessary to teach children to respect diverse populations, and reduce bullying, particularly against LGBT youth. A long-term result may be that rural and suburban LGBT kids might be able to live open and productive lives without escaping to the big cities.

Personally, I’m against mentioning the sexual orientation of historical figures just for the sake of it. Encyclopedias and grade school history books don’t usually touch upon the personal lives of historical figures, straight or gay. While they will mention the wives of U.S. presidents, I don’t recall my history or social studies teachers talking about the love lives of most likely heterosexual people such as Paul Revere or Winston Churchill. So I wouldn’t expect books to have to automatically mention that Joan of Arc or Richard III were homosexual unless they crusaded for gay rights and/or heterosexual genocide.

Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas, on the other hand, are inseparable, and their sexuality and partnership are a component of their accomplishments. They are, however, literary figures, and it’s unclear if SB 48’s “social sciences” directive would include their contributions. When Stephen Colbert on Comedy Central reported on SB 48, he joked that students will be taught about a milestone in gay history: Paul Lynde being given the center square on “Hollywood Squares.” Where California educators draw the line on notable contributions will be challenging. Most likely, those decisions will be made by text-book publishers. Come to think about it, there’s an opportunity for someone, starting a Rainbow Primers publishing company.

I think it’s important that students don’t automatically assume, as I did in my youth, that all historical figures were heterosexual. I admired and wanted to emulate people such as Daniel Boone, Benjamin Franklin, Harriet Tubman, and John F. Kennedy. If my English teachers had mentioned that poet Walt Whitman was gay, it might have been easier for me to come out, knowing that an accomplished writer was openly gay. Whitman’s sexual orientation is romantically and sensually celebrated in chapters of Leaves of Grass, and, therefore, is an integral part of his work. Because of his candor in the 1850s, he had to fight for many years to get his work published, an important lesson about American civil rights.

Eric and I have been watching, on Netflix’s instant-streaming, a 12-part History Channel series from 2010 called “America: The Story of Us.” During the episode on the Revolutionary War, our ears perked up when the narrator said that General Baron von Steuben was a homosexual who “changed the course of the War.” Von Steuben came to America to assist U.S. troops on a referral from Benjamin Franklin and joined the Continental Army as a volunteer in February 1778. In three months he became its celebrated inspector general. It was explained that von Steuben was “an ex-Prussian army officer, an elite soldier whose career is said to have been ruined by his homosexuality. But Washington makes him one of the most powerful men in his command.” Luckily for the fledgling country, the military didn’t have the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy at the time.

Von Steuben received about five minutes in the “Story of Us” episode. He joined Washington’s cold and starving volunteer troops during the harsh winter in Valley Forge, and soon built them into a cohesive unit. Von Steuben trained the troops how to use firearms more efficiently, including how to fight with bayonets, “which proved to be pivotal in winning future battles.” He is cited as having been an instrumental leader in several battles including the Yorktown, Virginia battle that won the War. Among his other accomplishments are putting latrines on the opposite end of the camp from the kitchens and living quarters, thereby reducing disease among the soldiers at Valley Forge.

I will admit that my memory of Revolutionary War history is dim, so it’s not surprising that I don’t remember learning about Baron von Steuben. Google him though, and you will find that he is a major historical figure:

• A query on the Library of Congress American Memory website brings up 333 citations, including letters written by and to the Baron.
• There are statues of von Steuben in the north-west corner of Lafayette Park across the street from the White House, at Valley Forge National Historic Park (the National Park Service has a detailed page of information about von Steuben and a photo of that statue), and in Utica, NY, near where von Steuben lived his last years on a Congressional pension. On the back of the statue pedestal in Washington D.C., a medallion has images of von Steuben’s aides-de-camp, William North and Benjamin Walker, to whom he left his property in New York on his death.
• In New York and Philadelphia there are annual German-American Steuben Parades in September.
• The Steuben Society of America was founded in May 1919.
• In both New York and Ohio the cities of Steubenville are named after the Baron.
• Late journalist Randy Shilts mentions von Steuben in his book Conduct Unbecoming about gays in the military.
• The documentary “Von Steuben’s Continentals: The First American Army” was released on DVD in 2007.
• You can buy lots of von Steuben merchandise online!

I also looked him up in Eric’s 1962 edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica. The von Steuben entry recounts his noble lineage and military service for both Prussia’s Frederick the Great and Washington. Von Steuben’s Regulations for the Order and Discipline of the Troops of the United States (1779) was the official “blue book” manual of the American military until 1812. Many of the manual’s methods are still used today. The encyclopedia entry doesn’t mention his homosexuality, but Paul Revere’s entry doesn’t mention his marital status or sexual orientation either (though maybe I shouldn’t assume Revere was straight). Wikipedia’s entry on von Steuben does mention his “alleged” homosexuality.

Besides ancient gay history, I hope that recent accomplishments of LGBT people will also appear in the curriculum. Our local newspapers had a lot of coverage of Mark Bingham, an openly gay public relations executive and athlete. He joined United Flight 93 passengers on 9/11 in foiling terrorists by bringing down the plane in rural Pennsylvania so it wouldn’t reach its intended target. Recently, a Facebook friend posted a story that I didn’t see in the San Francisco newspaper about the attack by a lone gunman on a Norwegian summer camp. During the attack, a married Lesbian couple used their boat in four trips to ferry 40 kids off of the island to safety on the mainland.

If you support California’s SB 48, I recommend you sign the Courage Campaign’s petition to block the referendum to repeal SB 48.

If you don’t think California schools should teach gay history, I don’t need to supply you with a link. The SB 48 opposition will undoubtedly find you and tell you what to think and do.

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State Bill 48 (FAIR Education Act) Update for 2012

The new California law requiring inclusion of historically important LGBT and other minorities in public school curriculums became effective January 1, 2012!!  That is great progress, though it will take several years before textbooks are revised. In the meantime, Wikipedia has a list of notable LGBT people who have contributed to society and culture.

Despite the historical Act now becoming the law of the land, organizations opposed to SB 48 are still working to repeal it. A coalition of anti-LGBT organizations failed to get enough signatures to qualify to put a referendum on the November 2012 California ballot to repeal the law in its entirety.  They haven’t given up. Recently, two organizations requested title and summary from the Attorney General to put three different initiatives on the November 2012 ballot that want to tweak, not repeal, SB 48. They’re not mincing any words this time around, no pun intended. One initiative just wants to remove from SB 48 the words: “lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender Americans” and “sexual orientation.”

A second initiative would allow parents to opt their children out of social science and family life instruction that conflicts with their “religious training or beliefs” including “personal and moral convictions.” That’s an interesting one as it could work both ways, with the possibility of removing all kids from the classroom at one time or another for specific social science lessons. Those opposed to the LGBT lifestyle would not allow their children to be present for lessons on Walt Whitman, Gertrude Stein, Harvey Milk, or Barney Frank. Gay and lesbian parents might not want their children to learn about the Ku Klux Klan or Nazi Germany. Muslim families could pull their kids when anything is taught about Christianity. The list goes on ridiculously, creating an administrative nightmare for educators.

The third initiative, sponsored by the notorious Louis Sheldon of the Traditional Values Coalition, simply wants to strike out the language that SB 48 added and restore the original wording of the Education Code.

Equality California has a website to “Protect the FAIR Education Act.” Once the initiatives clear the state Attorney General’s and Secretary of State’s offices, look for the anti-LGBT folks in front of your local California markets and churches with their clipboards attempting to gather signatures in a 150-day window. You can’t voice your opinion on the Christian Coalition website unless you become a registered member. A couple of brave souls have posted critical comments on the Christian Coalition Facebook wall, but it is truly like talking to a wall. You can’t become their friend, and so far they only have 114 likes.

Overview

Out of all the dog breeds in the world, why a Welsh Corgi, you wonder? 

• Low to the ground for smooth navigation of furniture, tykes, and bigger, clumsier dogs.
• Bred for herding cattle and sheep in Wales, Corgis are renowned for keeping your family in order with a simple poke of their nose on the backs of your ankles.
• Big dog personality in a little dog’s body makes for a cuddly—but not wimpy—lap dog.
• It’s the unofficial Year of the Corgi—now that Sutter Brown is the first dog of California Governor Jerry Brown, and Corgis were prominently featured in The King’s Speech, the 2010 Best Picture Oscar winner, Corgis are the rage.           
• Pembroke Welsh Corgis are ranked #11 out of more than 80 breeds for intelligence.

Good Corgis, however, are hard to find, and when you do find one, they can cost $1,000 or more. I own a top-of-the-line purebred Pembroke Welsh Corgi named Nia, and so have used my good fortune to model a dogbot after my Nia that the whole world can enjoy for just $992 (shipping, batteries, and eKibble not included).

Breed History

There are two breeds of Corgis: Cardigan and Pembroke. The two breeds used to be combined into one classification, but in 1934 the Kennel Club recognized them as separate breeds. The Pembroke breed, native to South Wales, is thought to be related to the Spitz breed, which includes Pomeranians. The Cardigan breed native to North Wales is believed to have evolved from the Dachshund or Tekel class, which includes short-legged, long-bodied breeds like the Dachshund and Bassett Hound. Nia is a Pembroke Corgi so I’ll dispense with further discussion of the Cardigan, precious as they may be to their owners (who are welcome to market their own dogbot—and good luck with that as Pembrokes are the iPads of Corgis).

The origin of the name “Corgi” has several possibilities so take your pick. Some say it derives from “cur,” meaning “to watch over.” “Cur” is the term recorded in ancient Welsh laws to describe task-specific house curs, watch curs, and shepherd’s curs. So “corgi” or “curgi” could mean “cur dog.” Others say the Welsh word for “dwarf” is “cor,” and “gi” is a form of the Welsh word “ci” meaning “dog,” so “corgi” stands for “dwarf dog” and “dog of the dwarf.”  (Legends say that magical fairies or dwarfs used to ride the Corgi like a horse.) The British used to call both breeds of Corgis the Heeler breed and included the Heeler class in dog shows. Nowadays, Corgis are classified as Herding dogs by Kennel Clubs and dog shows.

Corgis, abundant in their native Wales, next became popular in England and have been favorites with British royalty since Queen Elizabeth II was a child. Corgis weren’t introduced in the United States until 1934. Of the Pembroke Corgi imports, the first one of renown was Sierra Bowhit Pivot, the first Pembroke Corgi best-in-show winner in Britain. Purchased by Mr. E. M. Tidd of Oakland, CA (which is also home to the Nia prototype), Bowhit Pivot went on to become the first American Pembroke champion. Pivot was busy outside of the competition ring also; two of his offspring rose to become show champions in 1937.  Given the storied pedigree of U.S.-bred Pembroke Corgis, suffice it to say that Nia undoubtedly has championship DNA. Tracking that lineage, however, would likely cause family-tree software to crash.

Specifications

• Large, erect, triangular ears. Described as bat- or fox-like by frightened children.
• Short legs capable of tucking under the body while reclined. Also makes balancing for long periods on their backs, tummies exposed, a snap.
• Long body that can become quite plump and barrel-chested if not kept on a restricted diet. Nibble Me Nia’s slender, 28-pound figure is ideal and a role-model, if not a prize-winner, for the breed.
• Its attractive all-weather smooth coat is resistant to water. Comes with standard red and white (see Photo Gallery) or optional tri-color or sable. While a real Corgi has a thick undercoat that sheds prodigiously, Nibble Me Nia retains her coat except from normal wear and tear.
• “Nia” is Welsh for bright-eyed, lustrous. Note the permanent black eyeliner that really makes her eyes pop.
• Dogs communicate in several ways such as tail-wagging, licking, vocalizing, and eye-widening. Nibble Me Nia is no exception except that, like most Corgis, its tail is missing, having been docked in early models of the breed, so the wagging/wiggling of her tail-less rump can be so subtle as to be unnoticeable.
• Nibble Me Nia‘s favorite mode of communication, therefore, is nibbling. Having mastered the soft bite, she uses her mouth and tiny front teeth to affectionately nibble fingers, legs, and toes, as if she were quickly eating an ear of corn. (In fact, this feature can be utilized in the kitchen for removing corn from the cob—must disable the gobble and swallow features first.)  While in “crazy mode” (see video!) everything is fair game to be nibbled: pillows, furniture edges, blankets, and plant leaves.

Choose from several modes of operations:           

• Waiting – Sullen and immobile. If eyes detect a significant turn of events, NMN automatically goes from “standby” to “engaged.”
• Needy – Whether it’s exercise, affection, or fuel, NMN will let you know when she’s ready for some give-n-take.
• Crazy (see video!) – Overloaded circuits spike NMN into crazy mode, in which she runs at break neck speed in circles, nipping at plants, furniture, and bedspreads in her path.
• Dreamy – Prepare to be entranced when NMN hops into your lap, stretches out with her head on your chest, and gazes dreamily into your eyes.
• Happy – NMN is designed specifically to make you feel good about yourself, and you will when she greets you with a toothy grin modeled after Julia Roberts.
• Fetch – Hold up a rubber ball and all systems are go for a rousing game of throw and fetch. Quick and agile, NMN can retrieve thrown objects in seconds, over and over and over. Your arm is guaranteed to fatigue before NMN ever does.
• Holy S**t! – Sudden unfamiliar noises such as thunder, doorbells, spoons clinking, and UPS person footsteps cause NMN to jump to attention, either with a look of dread that cues you to impending danger or with sudden ear-splitting barking.

Photo Gallery

User Reviews

“I’ve tried cats, birds, fishes, and snakes, but NMN is the best companion ever! Always there when I need her, for whatever reason. She does everything I tell her to do, and doesn’t have to be told twice. Cancel your eHarmony account, and get NMN instead.”  Anonymous

“I was surprised at how unbelievably cuddly NMN is for a mechanical dogbot. NMN lives up to the hype and is not yippy at all like many dogs her size. Hint for next upgrade: I wish there was a volume adjustment for the bark.”  EarlyAdopter@gmail.com

“Nibble Me Nia satisfies when nothing else does.”  Charlie Sheen

So what are you waiting for? Did you see the VIDEO???
Order your own Nibble Me Nia today!

I didn’t really mind that the packages of buff male underwear models were constantly in my face. What annoyed me was that Google was targeting me with products it thought I needed. Idiots—I just bought some, I don’t need any more. Maybe Google thinks I have an underwear fetish akin to their expansion fetish. I wish that Google could use their billions in revenue to fine-tune their marketing software to track if you actually made a purchase, so they can stop pushing for a sale that ain’t going to happen. Oh, but knowing my actual purchasing habits would be a violation of privacy, whereas knowing and exploiting my searching habits supposedly isn’t.

I don’t like to be told what to buy or what to think. Sure, I will ask friends for hotel, movie, and restaurant suggestions on occasion, but I’m not keen on taking unsolicited recommendations.  I like to make my own discoveries. According to my astrological sign, Sagittarius, that’s because Sag’s are fiery and independent. Yeah, right, what the hell do the planets know about me? Diddly squat.

Whether it’s organized religion, government, or parents/spouses, someone’s always telling us how to act and how to improve ourselves. Technology, though, has taken nagging to a new level of hair-pulling, usually in an effort to get us to spend money.

If I search for “loneliness” on Google, in the far right column are suggestions for products and services. Um, really?  Amazon has low prices on “loneliness”? At least when you click through to the site, there are books on the subject.

On Facebook when I click on the “Friends” link underneath my profile photo, I expect to see my list of friends. Instead, it gives me a list of people they think I should become friends with. Facebook annoys me in other ways. For example, every time I click on the “Home” button, it refreshes my Newsfeed. I would expect it to be the same every time, with the news listed from latest to oldest, top to bottom. Not so. Every time I click on “Home,” Facebook decides what it thinks is the most important news for me to see, and which friends are most important to me. At the top may be something from Friday night, often something I’ve already read, even though it’s Sunday morning. I scroll down, and there are the latest postings from within the last few hours on Sunday morning. Apparently, Facebook is determining who they think is in my inner circle.

Netflix thinks that based on my interest in “The Messenger,” which I added to my queue, I’ll also enjoy “Blue Collar Comedy Tour.” Huh? I guess they think that after watching a depressing movie about soldiers killed in the Iraq war, I’ll need something light, something to laugh about. But not white collar comedy like Woody Allen or Wes Anderson, no, it has to be working class comedy because soldiers are working class.  How narrow-minded and presumptuous, along the lines of blue is for boys and pink is for girls. Maybe it’s just that the two movies are from the same studio or distributor. In my darkest conspiracy-theory moments, I believe that so-called objective recommendations are based on subjective marketing deals. I searched on my Blackberry for “hardware” stores in my vicinity, and at the top of the list was Papa John’s pizza—for iron-clad stomachs only? Or do studies show that guys who shop at hardware stores eat a lot of pizza?  Give me what I want, not what you think I need.

Not only is it a pain that business directory searches miss the mark, it’s also naïve to think that any sort of business directory is comprehensive. My Blackberry Poynt application finds restaurants and businesses near my current GPS location. It doesn’t bring up every single existing business—I used the app near my office, and several restaurants on the same block did not come up in their search. Google maps can find any home address I type in, but since they can’t benefit financially from private homeowners, they list every one, for free, whether they want to be listed or not. Businesses, however, have to pay for the privilege of showing up in a search. The ones that pay more, following the old Yellow Pages business model, show up more prominently. As a result, incomplete searches of things we actually want will be the norm.

On the other hand, unsolicited and/or erroneous suggestions for consumers via technology are on track to get insidiously worse. When you download social networking and smart phone apps, they claim they “can’t” work unless you allow them access to your personal information and postings. Ridiculous—yeah, it won’t work for them because then they can’t bug you to death with unnecessary updates and product promotions. Most of the time, I just cancel the download and live without the app. The latest offender is Facebook’s new Instant Personalization feature that is defaulted to “enable” mode. When your friends visit certain partner websites, then those websites will personalize the page using your postings and profile photo. When I visit the sites, I’ll be instantly bombarded with my friends’ suggestions and activities. If websites want to turn my postings into testimonials to get my friends, and friends of my friends, to buy something; then they can pay me or give me some free products. It took some digging, but with the help of a friend’s posting, I was able to turn the Instant Personalization feature off.

There is a movement to fight back against the loss of privacy without consent or compensation. Apple Computer was sued for allowing iPhone and iPad apps to “transmit users’ personal information to advertising networks without customers’ consent.” Several other similar lawsuits have been filed. In January, the Federal Trade Commission’s first Chief Technologist, Professor Edward Felten, took office. Felten, an expert on computer security and privacy, will help the FTC juggle demands of consumer groups for digital privacy protections and online advertisers’ practice of collecting information about web surfers. We’ll see if the little guys win those battles.

Some argue that as soon as you put something online, it’s public property. Let’s hope that’s not the case with cloud computing. Otherwise, storing personal documents, music, and photos online in the cloud (on web servers instead of on your personal hard drive) so they can be accessed from any internet connection in the world, is scary and foolish. Why worry about hard drives on discarded computers containing personal information, if the same info is on some server that can’t be controlled or permanently erased?

Being able to access my entire digital music collection over the internet via my Blackberry or laptop instead of loading just a small portion of it onto an iPod is enticing.  The industry leader for cloud music appears to be www.mspot.com, which offers free storage for about 1,400 songs and $3.99 per month for up to about 32,000 songs. I can’t imagine that cloud storage is completely safe from hackers, and frankly, I don’t much care if someone steals my music collection. Uploading unpublished writings, family photos and videos, health information, and financial information into the cloud are another matter.

I guarantee you that cloud providers will run into a money crunch and start selling data on the type of information users are storing to advertising networks. Then they’ll rub it in my face until I start to believe that I really do need to buy the same underwear that other listeners of Muse and Justin Bieber wear. That is, if they’ve developed the software to figure out exactly what kind of underwear that would be—black cotton with hair bleach built in?

The biggest hurdle for me with electronic devices is personalization. For my ‘Berry, the bell that gives me pause is selecting ring tones. You can assign a general ring tone for all phone calls, or specific ring tones for specific individuals in your contact book. For example, when you hear the theme from “Jaws,” you know it’s your _______ calling.

Listening to ring tone samples and making a decision of which one(s) to use is time consuming and tiring. I scrolled through the list of dozens of tones that come with the phone and played samples. I visited a couple of websites where you can buy tones at $2.99 each. If you buy a different tone for each family member and close friend, you’ll end up spending $40-50. It seems silly to spend money on ring tones, even though it adds an element of fun. Maybe if it was my personal phone, I would go hog wild. I was cautious about my choices because if the phone rings in front of business colleagues and clients, how much of my personality did I want to reveal? Would “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” label me as a complainer?

I have the same problem with any type of self-expression, of which the long-term side effect is self-labeling. When you first make a decision to express yourself, you’re in the moment, inspired by a heart-felt passion or commitment to a cause or point-of-view. Chaining yourself, however, to a redwood tree in May to save the environment, will by December and forever after likely brand you derogatively as a tree-hugger.

Fear of those long-term effects keeps me from expressing myself—will the resulting label always accurately describe me? I was walking my dog recently in our neighborhood and noticed a house with a wooden plaque hanging on the front door. The hand-painted message was “Live, Laugh, Love.” It’s an admirable sentiment, much better than “Die, Cry, Hate.” But I’m afraid to hang something like that on my front door and not be able to live up to it. The young man who lives in the house has an exuberant, joie de vivre personality and outdoorsy lifestyle, so it fits the persona he projects into the world. Behind the door, if it isn’t all laughing and loving every second of the day, who am I to judge? Sometimes self-expression is a promise to ourselves; simple proclamations of intention—like the Ten Commandments, wedding vows, or the U.S. Constitution—that we aspire to. 

There are infinite opportunities for self-labeling today. New school approaches are ring tones, profile photos, blog titles, and email signatures. Old school approaches are door mats, t-shirts, designer-label clothes, and bumper stickers. (I was recently proud and impressed when my 19 year-old niece did a new school/old school mash up—she changed her Facebook profile photo to one in which she was wearing a t-shirt that said “Some dudes marry dudes. Get over it.” She was also flipping the bird to the camera. She got the shirt in support of the anti-Prop 8 campaign at fckh8.com.)

Bumper stickers are my least favorite form of self-labeling. I’ve never put one on my cars, because I didn’t want to get stuck with a label or make myself a target. Family Feud surveyed a hundred people for the top five answers to this question: what do bumper stickers say about a person?

1. Political view
2. Religious belief
3. Sense of humor
4. Have kids
5. Type of music

One that didn’t make the survey was sexual orientation (though I suppose the judges would lump that into either 1, 2, or 3). When I met Eric, he drove a dark green Toyota Avalon—with a rainbow flag bumper sticker, meaning that he believes in equality for all, and/or that he’s gay. Let’s go with primarily the latter. I had no problem with him having the bumper sticker. I, in fact, respected him for taking a risk and not being an invisible gay. Nonetheless, when I became a passenger in his car, I was uncomfortable. It wasn’t so bad driving around San Francisco, Oakland, or Berkeley; but if we ventured out into the suburbs I was afraid of being targeted by homophobes. Indeed, there was at least one incident when we were driving on a freeway, and a car of three young men came up alongside us, pointing at us, laughing, and making obscene gestures. Actually, the further away we got from the Bay Area, the more comfortable it was, because people didn’t know that the rainbow flag was a symbol of gay equality.

Occasionally, I would drive his car when mine was in the shop, and I was self-conscious about the rainbow flag bumper sticker. Some days I felt confident, even defiant, about proclaiming my sexuality. Other days I would drive as fast as possible through certain neighborhoods. Sometimes I even forgot about it, and was taken aback when someone honked or smiled, whether for me or against me.

When my 1984 Honda Accord finally died in 2004, instead of me getting a new car, Eric got a new car for an early 50^th birthday present. I started driving his Avalon. In addition to adjusting the seat, mirrors, and radio stations, one of the first things I did with my “new” car was to scrape off the rainbow flag bumper sticker. It came off much more easily than I expected, and what a world of difference it made! I was instantly free of the worry of getting the car or my head bashed. (I was also working in San Jose at the time, where I parked among colleagues in a private lot, and I sometimes picked up our vice president at the airport. It didn’t seem appropriate to make a political statement in that situation.)

On a recent drive home from work in downtown Oakland, I was behind a car that had three bumper stickers. A thin rainbow flag stretched across the bottom of the rear window. The right bumper proclaimed “No One Knows I’m a Transsexual.” On the left was a sticker that said “Original Plumbing.” Way to go, I thought. It’s a confusing issue so how better to express it, and keep everyone from guessing what is really going on in there.

Maybe that’s one answer. Express several sides of an issue so you can’t be labeled one way or the other. It allows for the possibility—or inevitability—of changing your position or circumstance.

Inspired, I let loose with my ring tones and went in that direction, sort of by accident. I discovered that several work-related voice mails had been automatically saved in my ring tones folder. Most were simple “this is XXX—please call me.” So I assigned those as the ring tones for those individuals—if they call, instead of hearing a sound or music, I’ll hear their voice and name repeatedly until I answer.

It then occurred to me that perhaps I could use the phone’s voice recorder to create some custom ring tones. ‘Berry in hand, I taunted my dog into playing—I pressed record and she barked on cue—a perfect bark tone! That will distract people in the elevator. Still haven’t decided who to assign it to…

I then downloaded and installed Nexus Radio, a free download that includes an audio file trimmer, so you can create your own ring tones. I’m not selling them so there isn’t a copyright issue. With Nexus Radio, I was able to grab the opening guitar riff from a song by Ours, one of my favorite alternative bands, and set that as the ring tone for my friend Michael. For Eric, I chose a clip of his favorite jazz pianist, Don Shirley, playing “I Got Rhythm.” For my general ring tone, I settled for now on a distinctive Chinese gong, one of the free presets. My main objective is to distinguish my cell phone’s ring from other phones in the vicinity.

So I’ve crossed the personalization hurdle with my ‘Berry. It will probably be awhile before I set any more ring tones. More technologically committed people likely change them periodically, but I suspect those are the same people who rotate their art collection and wardrobe with the seasons.

If I get my own smart phone, instead of one issued by my employer, perhaps I’ll get even more expressive with it.  I’ll choose a ring tone that is funny, obviously gay, or bombastic and off-putting. It’s not that much of a risk, except for perhaps annoying people. On a ‘Berry, at least if I have a change of heart, I don’t have to scrape the bumper.

I recently gained some perspective on mortality while making cupcakes. The carrot-cake cupcakes were gluten-free, and I was baking them in celebration of Eric’s 56^th birthday. A couple of years ago it was suggested by our acupuncturist that Eric may be mildly gluten and wheat intolerant. As I age, I’m becoming intolerant to many foods, though wheat doesn’t seem to be one of them for me, yet. But I am slightly younger than Eric. For the cupcakes I used Bob’s Red Mill all-purpose gluten-free blend of garbanzo flour, potato starch, tapioca flour, sorghum flour, and fava flour in place of traditional wheat flour.

To mix up the batter, I used my Mom’s vintage Hamilton Beach mixer, which I believe she had received as a wedding present in 1947. It’s the mixer I used as a child when my Mom taught me how to bake. She gave the mixer to me when her arthritis got so bad she stopped baking. The mixer still works fine. When Eric used it for the first time, he quickly proclaimed with reverence that he loved it. It is a pleasing kitchen tool. It has an adjustable round platen on which you set the bowl. The platen—and the bowl on it—spins from the beater action. By moving the adjustment lever, you can control the spinning speed. I find it meditative to guide the turning bowl and watch the oil, sugar, eggs, and flours mix and spin together into a new substance.

Eric had gone to run errands and to the gym for a workout, so I took the opportunity to play music on the living room stereo while I made the cupcakes. I chose the CD Gord’s Gold, a two-disc retrospective of Gordon Lightfoot’s storytelling music released in 1975. To explain why I was inspired to dust off that old CD, I need to go back in time. This is a narrative device that is popular in TV and movies, finessed by the finished TV series Lost and used to add interest to a simple plot in the recent movie Get Low.

“But time has no beginnings and the history has no bounds
As to this verdant country they came from all around.
They sailed upon her waterways and they walked the forests tall
Built the mines, mills and the factories for the good of us all.”

Two nights earlier…we walked to a one-man show down the block from our house. New neighbors had turned their garage into a 30-seat performance space they call the High Dive. The distinctive house was built in 1962—the garage already had interesting architectural details such as exposed, sturdy redwood rafters. A portion of one wall is exposed red brick. Playing off of those elements, the new owners built a bar with a loft above it in one corner. An aluminum ladder from a diving pool leads up to the loft, which serves as a balcony/office. Guitars and a banjo hang on one wall. A mirrored disco ball twirls from the center rafter, theatre lights aimed at it in anticipation. Our host speculated in the show’s introduction that they have the highest bar in Oakland as the house sits on the crest of the Oakland Hills.

Our neighborhood has been changing. In the last few years, seven houses have changed hands, three of those in just the last few months. Two more houses are currently vacant and being spruced up for new residents. It’s no surprise that the new home owners are couples with young children. Some former residents downsized and moved out of family homes to condos. One family finally let go of the house their father had built after World War II. In the case of the High Dive, it had been the house where 84-year-old Harry had raised his family. Harry was a sprightly widower who with his dog Skipper was a familiar sight on the street. We could always count on him to come to the door to listen and applaud when Eric and his students stopped to sing carols at Christmas time. Late last year, Harry passed away in his sleep, alone with Skipper.

“And when the young man’s fancy had turned into the spring
The railroad men grew restless for to hear the hammers ring.
Their minds were overflowing with the visions of their day
With many a fortune won and lost and many a debt to pay.

For they looked in the future and what did they see
They saw an iron road running from the sea to the sea.
Bringing the goods to a young growing land
All up from the seaports and into their hands.”

Harry’s young-at-heart energy lives on in the new owners’ fresh ideas and energy. The High Dive converted garage was filled with neighbors and friends thrilled to have live theatre performed in the neighborhood. Before the show began, the audience gathered around the bar for beer, soda, water, and wine. We visited with one another, sitting and standing amongst rows of folding chairs. The hosts’ pre-teen daughter gracefully circulated with a plate of cookies. Around 8:00 p.m. her father closed the garage door and pulled back heavy stage curtains to cover the door and create the back wall of the stage. He stood up front and welcomed everyone. Eric and I took our seats in a middle row, my chair next to the right wall. The host thanked his in-laws, who were there in the audience, for helping him and his wife in realizing their dream of buying the perfect house in which they could create the performing space. With that he introduced the star attraction, Randy Rutherford, a friend of his for many years, with whom he claimed he had once shared a bed in Alaska. “It happens,” he shrugged nonchalantly, playing to several gay men in the audience.

Randy has several one-man shows under his belt; for the evening he was going to perform sections from three of the shows: two old, and one that was new and untested. His story, and the night’s performance, was compelling. He used to make his living solely as a singer/guitarist, but then he experienced severe hearing loss. He continued performing with his secret, playing his guitar by memory and by vibration even though he couldn’t clearly hear what sounds he was making. Using a distinct hand gesture and whoosh sound, he described the moments when his hearing failed as suddenly entering a tunnel where all sound was muffled. Eventually the hearing loss worsened, and he was in constant silence. He had to give up performing all together, and ended a relationship with a woman he loved in order to figure out how to live with his disability. Only recently, with improved digital hearing aids, could he perform on stage again.

He connected the sections of the shows by singing and playing guitar on portions of familiar songs by Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash, and one by Gordon Lightfoot, “Steel Rail Blues,” which showed off his guitar-picking skills. It was a moving, funny, and interesting performance, and I was sorry when it came to an end. Despite having just performed a one-man show, all by himself, he acknowledged and thanked everyone that helped make it possible: the audience, his girlfriend who prompted lines when his mind went blank, and the friends who videotaped the performance. Most of all, he thanked the hosts whose dreams and hard work of turning Harry’s neglected garage into the High Dive space made the evening possible.

“Bring in the workers and bring up the rails
We’re gonna lay down the tracks and tear up the trails.
Open her heart let the life blood flow
Gotta get on our way ’cause we’re moving too slow
Get on our way ’cause we’re moving too slow.”

I look forward to reaping the rewards of our neighbors’ pioneering spirit and future High Dive performances. The excitement of a new generation’s aspirations drives the plot of the novel I’m reading, Gold, by Stewart Edward White, published in 1913. I discovered it in a collection of novels I inherited from my late father. It’s part of a 10-book “Liberty” series of historical novels about North America that he subscribed to in the late 1940s. Their identical red-white-and-blue cloth hard covers; with an evergreen tree on the spine, gold-embossed titles, and bald eagle graphics on the front and back covers; always drew my eye to them on my father’s bookshelf. I used to play with them as a kid though I never ventured to read them—by the time I could read they seemed dusty and the titles were unfamiliar. They, however, took on a familiarity in that they followed my Dad around during his retirement. Wherever he was living at the time, I could count on seeing that block of books. Now they reside in my home.

Recently I wanted to start reading a new book, and I was missing him so I took a moment to examine the collection. I didn’t know any of the titles, but I did recognize some of the authors such as Winston Churchill, Edna Ferber, and Irving Stone. My Dad wrote the month and year that he had read a book in the inside front cover. He must have liked Gold—he read it in 12/1972 and again in 4/1987, so I took that as a recommendation. (When I finish it, I’ll also write the month and year in the front cover.) It’s interesting and well-written. As I read it, I feel the excitement my Dad undoubtedly felt when he read it. I recognize his characteristics of honesty and camaraderie in the book and think that this book may have influenced his life philosophy.

The literary style is simple but powerful and captures youthful enthusiasm. The action takes place during the infancy of the 1849 California Gold Rush. 1849 is referenced by the San Francisco 49ers, the City’s 49-mile scenic drive, and the song “Oh My Darling Clementine” about a fair maiden whose father had been “a miner, 49er.” The novel begins in New York City, where a group of young men band together and travel by land and by sea, via Central America, through the golden gates of pre-bridge San Francisco to the settlement at Sutter’s Mill aka Sacramento.

“So over the mountains and over the plains
Into the muskeg and into the rain.
Up the St. Lawrence all the way to Gaspé
Swinging our hammers and drawing our pay.

Layin’ ‘em in and tying them down
Away to the bunkhouse and into the town.
A dollar a day and a place for my head
A drink to the living, a toast to the dead.”

I am struck by the novel’s universal depiction of adventure, hopes, and dreams. The action is in 1849, and the novel was published in 1913, but it could be describing the creation and success of Facebook or Google. The narrator Frank recalls that “a holiday spirit pervaded the lot; for they were men…embarked on the great adventure. I do not now remember many of them individually. They were of a piece with the thousands we were destined to encounter. But I do retain a most vivid mental picture of them collectively…their eyes of eagerness, their souls of dreams; brimming with pent energy…altogether a wonderful picture of the youth and hope and energy and high spirits of the time.”

(Stewart Edward White, the author of Gold, wrote dozens of novels about the Old West. Later in his life he and his wife wrote books they claimed were channeled from spirits beyond the grave, contacted through a Ouija board.)

Just a generation after the 1849 California Gold Rush, and no doubt fueled by the urge to go west more easily, the North American transcontinental railroads were built. As I listened to the Gordon Lightfoot CD while making cupcakes, his song “Canadian Railroad Trilogy” came on. It’s one of my favorite Lightfoot songs, an epic story about life’s individual and collective pursuits, with a bright, driving tempo. It especially touched me while baking, because I had been inspired to play the CD after seeing Randy Rutherford’s one-man show two days earlier about the journey of his unique life. I’ve been quoting portions of the song’s lyrics.

“Oh the song of the future has been sung
All the battles have been won
On the mountain tops we stand
All the world at our command
We have opened up her soil
With our teardrops and our toil.”

Using my mother’s mixer to make the cupcake batter, I felt in touch, literally, with my mother and her existence. The mixer has many stories to tell of years of my mother churning out birthday cakes, holiday breads, and potluck concoctions for her large family. I thought about what her hopes and dreams must have been, getting married, starting a family, and keeping a house. Like any individual of any generation, she too had to decide what to do with her life, influenced by the opportunities of the time. Specific goals change with every generation, but the excitement and fear of the pursuit is timeless.

I don’t have a lot of grandiose dreams these days. I pursued several avenues when I was in my 20s and 30s, including acting on stage and in film. Some succeeded while others failed, but they all evolved as they unfolded. I didn’t do it all by myself; I had help along the way even if the dreams were mine. Some of those dreams have come true; I am living them right now. Perhaps I have been left with more crumbs than the full, satisfying mouthfuls I was hoping for. I still feel a yearning for more before my life is over—exactly what I want I have yet to figure out.

As the mixing bowl spun, and the Gordon Lightfoot song wound down, I wondered if my mother had achieved her dreams and was satisfied with the results. She, unfortunately, is no longer alive, and her life will have to speak for itself as there’s no changing it now. I poured the batter into muffin tins and carefully placed the tins in the preheated oven. Setting the timer, I hoped they would be perfect, golden-brown, for Eric’s birthday. They were tasty, as it turned out, although a few were slightly burned on the bottom. Nonetheless, baked with love, caring, and the weight of time, they added something special to the celebration of our time together, of our lives right now.

“For there was a time in this fair land when the railroad did not run
When the wild majestic mountains stood alone against the sun
Long before the white man and long before the wheel
When the green dark forest was too silent to be real
When the green dark forest was too silent to be real
And many are the dead men…too silent…to be real.”

In the past year, I published 30 postings, which may not be that impressive in the general blogosphere where bloggers post a couple of paragraphs every day. I, however, attempt to tell a story in every posting with a beginning, middle, and end. I often spend several hours over days or weeks writing and rewriting each entry. Even after I publish it, I’ll think of more details, find poorly turned phrases, or readers will point out errors and inaccuracies. So I continue to tweak it for a few days after publishing. In short, I’m not blogging off the top of my head—I’m carefully composing each entry like an article to be published in a magazine or book, even though it will probably live solely on ODN.

On this occasion, I would like to share some statistics that wordpress.com provides to its bloggers. In the past year, ODN has been viewed 3,134 times. The busiest day was Wednesday, January 6, 2010, when there were 105 views of the homepage after the posting of Lumps of Carbon Wrapped in Holiday Finery. I’m not really sure why, unless people searching for “Christmas” or the “San Francisco Symphony,” the subjects of the entry, were taken to the site.

The 30 postings have generated 112 comments: some are by readers, some are replies by me. ODN hasn’t exactly gone viral, but I am pleased to have 20 subscribers, plus I know I have several more loyal readers. Thank you to all who have supported ODN, not just in taking the time out of your busy days to read about my day-to-day life, but also in creating a dialogue and sharing your perspective with your comments both online and off.

I give a big thanks to Eric and others who have previewed certain postings and offered editorial input prior to the entries going public. It has helped me to fine-tune my thought process and my writing style. After this past year, I have much more confidence as a writer and am enjoying the creative process of putting together each new posting. I have a sticky note on my PC desktop with a list of 12 possible future topics. A year ago I brain-stormed a list of topics to see if I had enough ideas to even launch the blog—out of those original 60 ideas, so far I have only written about 14 of them.  The other 16 out of the 30 that I did publish came to mind as the year and circumstances unrolled (or unraveled). With new ideas born every day, it’s safe to say that ODN will continue for at least another year.

When I launched ODN last year, I had no experience with blogging or blog services. I selected wordpress.com based on a blog I enjoyed that had an attractive layout and incorporated video seamlessly. The interface and blogging tools are easy to use, for the most part. It took me a couple of weeks to choose a layout from the couple dozen templates offered and then design the pages and concept. I’m goal-oriented so I pushed forward and just learned what I needed for launching. WordPress offers many features that I haven’t taken the time to explore or use.

One feature, however, that surprised and intrigued me is Top Searches. Everyday a short list of terms that people have searched for, leading them to ODN, is generated. When ODN came up in their search results, they clicked through to my site, usually to a particular posting. Over the past year I’ve been collecting those search terms. Obviously, the terms are related to the topics I wrote about so it’s a reflection of my choices. But people are very creative and bizarre with what they type into a search engine.

The most searched term is “apconrecfee.” It appeared in the Show Me Your Privates Part I posting in a listing of charges from my rental car statement. I’m still not sure what the charge is for and clearly I am not alone.

Another area of concern in which I’m not alone is dry skin. These are the search terms related to that topic:

Dry Skin

• chapped hands
• cracked bleeding hands
• cracked bleeding fingers
• pictures of dry peeling skin on fingers
• fungal peeling fingers
• skin cracks on fingers
• signs of dehydration in fingertips
• eczema cracked fingertips image
• cracked dry fungus fingertips
• deep cracks in thumbs
• dry cracking thumbs
• steam room seborrheic dermatitis
• the skin on my penis dries, cracks, and bleeds

My problems with dry hands seem so minor now. Following is a collection of other Top Searches that were reported to me. I’ve categorized them for your enjoyment. Humankind’s inability to spell has brought me new readers, and for that I am eternally grateful.

Oh Dave homepage

• dave now
• dave waters costume big cowboy hat small
• oh dave
• oh dave’s into my own
• ohio dave’s into my own
• where is dave now

Food

• foodie dinner party menu ann barr paul levy book
• craigslist stainless steel cheese vat
• dinty moore beef stew changes
• how to doctor up dinty more beef stew
• 1975 hormel dried beef
• spicy food potlucks prank

Food Poisoning

• “food poisoning”+”on the toilet”
• can you get food poisoning from calamari
• how long does it take to get food poisoning after eating calamari?
• fried calamari intestinal problems
• salmonella calamari
• if my sandwich tasted funny will i get food poisoning
• avocado gives me diarrhea
• salmonella in avacados
• tadpole in my stomach stool
• “secrets of psyllium”
• the thought of pysillium makes me queezy
• goldenseal and ibs
• goldenseal cured in two day
• goldenseal for puppies
• why would one person get food poisoning and another one won’t who ate the same thing
• my digestive system changed after salmonella

Music

• long long time linda ronstadt mp3
• ours music jimmy gnecco
• plain jane automobile reviews
• you really got it oh you
• you really loving now oh you really lovng now

Urinals

• electric eye urinal
• home depot urinals
• ellen degeneres/ female urinals
• male pee
• urinals england
• expensive urinals
• men peeing in snow joy
• now i have to pee

Dreams and Defecation

• dreamed of bowel movement then blood stains on toilet
• www.dream dumper.com
• stool dreams interpretation
• bowel movements omen
• holding hands dream interpretation
• “clean break”
• shit toilet paper
• dream meaning feces in bowl
• clean p dump in dream
• psychology of obsession with potty humor
• tupperware thatsa bowels 

Miscellaneous

• cased glass night water set
• missing water coffee maker
• spic bridge engineering
• jockstraps in high school gym classes
• free mother son having sex in station wagon cars porn
• scripture reading for nose bled
• how would a groomsmen look with a red shirt and a black vest and tie
• stupid wedding theme
• naive insult
• state of being naive
• download sex movies +freely with cream pie anal sex outside in the woods
• jeopardy game show contestant double jointed hips
• how to set allowable margins for printer

Ah, humanity. We have a complex and varied list of concerns.

As a result of the above searches, some ODN postings have been visited more than any others in the past year (not necessarily on the merits of the posting). Drum roll, please… The three most visited ODN postings in the past year are:

1. Signs of a Dry Constitution
2. You Really Got Me–Not
3. Dream Dump

Keep coming back. It works.

It happened at 9:10 in the morning. The sky was overcast and dreary. A light film of fog drifted in the trees. Eric’s first voice student of the day arrived at our house right around 9:00 for her lesson. I was upstairs showering and getting ready for work. I could hear them talking down in the foyer, and the dog barked a little to greet her.  Ten minutes later, just when I finished drying off, I heard the dog downstairs at the front door, barking like crazy. I stood on tiptoes to look out the window down to the front steps and driveway, and saw the rear end of Eric’s student’s car parked in the driveway. A bright blue, small (2 door?) late-model car was idling on the street behind the student’s car. I thought maybe another student was dropping off some music. Suddenly I heard a car alarm go off–the dog started barking ferociously. I watched a thin, medium-height Caucasian or Hispanic man, probably in his early 20′s, dash from the driveway and jump into the blue car. He put the car into reverse and rapidly backed up to the corner, out of my sight. 

Since I was naked I didn’t immediately run downstairs. But I heard Eric and his student go out the front door to investigate the alarm. They discovered that the man had broken the driver’s window and stole an iPhone from the front seat.  The iPhone had all her business information, so she immediately made a call to her company’s tech department to disable the phone’s network capability. Then she called the police. I put on a robe and went to the other side of the house to the deck to see if the car drove past on the street out back, thinking maybe I could see the license plate number or better identify the make of the car, but it was nowhere to be seen.

I put my clothes on, pausing briefly to give a description of the car and thief to the police dispatcher on the phone. While we waited for the police to arrive at the house, I swept up glass from the driveway while Eric’s student vacuumed glass out of her front seat. Eric called our neighborhood watch street captain to get information about a young Hispanic woman who had come to the door just a couple of minutes before the burglary, claiming to be the captain’s baby sitter and looking for her house. It turned out to be legitimate, but the timing had been suspicious. He also reported the crime to the captain, and later in the day she emailed our neighborhood watch group with details. We were all shaken but tried to maintain a sense of calm and control. One of us, I forget who, left the front door ajar, and the dog slipped out without our knowledge and went for a joy romp down the street. When we realized she was gone, I yelled out her name and the treat word, and she came back from around the corner. 

A policeman did come within the hour to take a report (we were amazed, considering department staffing issues). He was very calm, understanding, and congenial. He examined the vehicle, took some notes, and got contact information in case the iPhone showed up or a car or person matching the description was reported in another crime.  And we all went on with our days.

Coincidentally, the next day our neighborhood captain sent another email announcing the launch of a password-protected neighborhood watch website. Neighbors can post information about suspicious cars and people in the neighborhood, view a roster of contact information for everyone in the neighborhood, and view a log of crimes in the neighborhood, the most recent being our car break-in. With police department budget issues, community policing is becoming a hot topic, especially in Oakland, but I’m sure it will spread to other communities. Keeping watch 24/7 may be impossible, even for trained police, but I’m glad we’re in a neighborhood that’s willing to take charge to reduce and hopefully eliminate the recent crime wave on our block.

There was a posting on the website reporting an unfamiliar car cruising the neighborhood, a metallic-blue Honda model. Very similar to the car I saw out the window. The posting included the license plate number!  Eric sent the information to his student who had the info added to the police report–we haven’t heard anything yet but it would be great if the culprit was caught, thanks to the neighborhood watch group.

One evening on our way home from dinner out, I brainstormed about ways to reduce crime or catch a thief. I suggested to Eric that we should park one of our cars in the driveway, and leave the driver’s window down and the door unlocked. We could leave electronics that we want to recycle on the front seat, as bait. Whether we installed a surveillance camera and ID’d the thief would be irrelevant–it would be a win-win as they’d get to steal something and we’d get rid of unwanted stuff. And there would hopefully be no mess to clean up. It’s an idea that could work, as long as they don’t steal the whole car.

Building on that, I thought of suggesting to our neighbors that everyone leave a Burglar Box inside the front door of their house. Sort of like an earthquake preparedness kit, but it could be filled with items they’re willing to part with–if a burglar does get in the door, then maybe, in a rush, they’d just take the easy pickins. Ideally, they’d sort through the box and only take what piques their interest and leave the box for future burglars to also rifle through. It could become a national solution, and houses everywhere would have a Burglar Box and post a Burglar Box sticker on a front window, showing their support for burglars in need. The box would be in a locked place so the there would still be the thrill of the steal and wouldn’t seem like charity. Burglars would show their gratitude by only stealing from the box. It’s a system I’d be willing to try–no cleanup of ransacked rooms, no need to file a police report or insurance claim.

Driving home from work I noticed several houses are still for sale, still vacant after several months on the market. Hmm, I thought, maybe the Burglar Box idea can be expanded. Maybe neighborhoods could agree to turn a vacant home into a local Burglar Barn. They would pay the owner a monthly fee ($20?) and donate items to the house. The house would be marketed to burglars as a safe place to steal from. There would be regular posted lock-down hours, when burglars are free to try their luck at breaking in and making off with a specified amount of loot. Only if they go over the maximum would they be arrested and prosecuted–surveillance cameras would be timed to turn on 5-10 minutes after a break-in. A consultant (one of the authors of the video game Grand Theft Auto?) would be hired to stage the house, to setup true-to-life obstacles and create an authentic burglar experience. Except that there wouldn’t be any residents in danger, other than perhaps a Doberman on a chain in one of the rooms. And whatever happens between rival burglars in the house at the same time–well, let nature take its course. People living in the other houses in the neighborhood could rest a little easier, knowing the chances of their house being burglarized would be reduced. There is a risk that people might take up burglaring who wouldn’t have otherwise, just for thrill recreation like bungee jumping, skydiving, or hazing. Hopefully they would lean towards catch-and-release sportsmanship. In fact, each house could have a no-questions-asked return drop-box/donation box. Secured, of course.

Geez, I’d better take out a copyright on the name Burglar Barn right now–it could be a real cash-cow when companies realize it’s a perfect way to advertise and get new products into the marketplace with minimal overhead. With the money I make on this idea, I could afford to move into a gated community, far far away from all the Burglar Barns popping up across the nation. Move over, Starbucks.

I’m not suspicious and snoopy like Mrs. Kravitz on Bewitched, who was always poking her nose out from the curtains to see what’s going on across the street at the neighbor’s. If there were a witch living across the street, I probably wouldn’t know it—live and let live I say. My suspicious nature perhaps makes me look nervous or shifty-eyed. That’s how I think of both of my parents when I consider their facial expressions in public situations.

Self-preservation, that’s why I’m suspicious and cautious. On top of my parents’ influence, a couple of incidents steered me in this direction. At around the age of five, my older brother and I rode our tricycles a couple of blocks from our house to a cul-de-sac to see if some rowdy neighborhood boys we’d seen around wanted to play with us. We barely said hello before we were greeted with a hailstorm of thrown rocks. With our heads ducked, we frantically turned around and pedaled back home. I don’t remember why they attacked us or what epithets were shouted. Whatever, I’m cautious as a result and don’t trike into unsafe territory without all my defenses engaged.

At age 14 I had to let my guard down to help my brother and was almost kidnapped. My older brother, a neighbor boy, my best friend, and I had slept out in our backyard in a tent. Once we saw lights go out in the houses and knew our parents had gone to bed, we decided to sneak out and ride bicycles several miles to the community swimming pool and go for a midnight dip. For some reason, I rode my younger brother’s bike—he was asleep in the house. A block from the park a large car, a Cadillac perhaps, careened dangerously past us, and the male driver and his female passenger yelled out the windows, “What are you kids doing out here? Get the hell out of here.” He slammed on the brakes and in a flash they jumped out of the car and grabbed my brother by the arm.

My friend and neighbor rode off out of harm’s way, but I stayed there, out of reach of the man and woman, and tried to reason with them. I wasn’t about to abandon my brother even though these two people were clearly trouble. While my brother struggled to ride away from the woman, the man came over to me and seemed to be listening to my reasoning. But as soon as my brother got away, the large, fat woman barked out an order, and came over and pulled me off of my bike. She dragged me to the car, which was idling with open doors, and shoved me into the driver’s seat, cussing and screaming the whole time about rotten kids. I yelled back and told her to let me go.

She kept a firm grip on my hair, pulling so hard I was seeing stars. “Get the gun,” she ordered her companion. As he made his way to the trunk, my brother and I suddenly got serious. I scratched at her face and eyes. My brother jumped on the hood of the car with his boy scout knife opened to create a distraction.  It worked. The man left the trunk area and went after him just as the woman, screaming, let go of my hair.  I pushed out of the car past her and ran blindly at breakneck speed into the yard of a house. When my brother saw I was free, he jumped off the hood and ran before the guy could grab him. I kept running through yards until I got to the next street. When I was certain they weren’t following me, I stopped and regained my senses. Back at the car, I could hear her yelling, heard the trunk slam shut, and the car screeching away. I remained hidden by a house while I listened to the car drive away from the scene and the park. I walked back to get my bike and met up with my brother, who informed me they had thrown the bike into the trunk before driving away. We never did climb the fence and go swimming. Our companions cautiously rode up to us and asked what had happened. Shaken and angry, I rode on the back of my brother’s bike, and we returned home to the tent. We never told my parents or our siblings about what had happened, because we were afraid we would get into trouble and not get to sleep out in the tent again, let alone attempt a late-night swim. When my younger brother discovered his bike was missing the next morning, we speculated that it had been stolen out of the garage.

The incident gave me nightmares for several years, mostly disturbed by what could have happened to me and/or my brother if we hadn’t gotten away. Would they have killed us? Drugged us, abused us, and kept us captive for years like Jaycee Lee Dugard?  Could we had never been heard from again like Jacob Wetterling? Knowing that my brother had been there for me helped me deal with it–at least I could talk to him and my best friend about it though we rarely did  after awhile. The terrifying experience solidified my suspicious nature towards strangers. When venturing into questionable urban and rural neighborhoods, I go about my business with purpose at a quick stride. I take in my environment, the layout and the characters, instantly gauging the energy of everyone. I try not to cringe or shy away from anyone and look vulnerable, but stand my ground and take command of my personal space and consider the humans I am sharing the sidewalk with at any moment. If I encounter a group of two or more men or young people, they outnumber me so I give them extra space, maybe even cross the street. I certainly don’t turn my back on them or pretend I don’t notice them, even if I don’t make eye contact.

I work in downtown Oakland, so I get sufficient practice with defensive walking. Just a few weeks ago, a young man was fatally shot in the evening at 13^th and Broadway, a block from my office and across the street from Oakland’s City Center Plaza, a bustling sunny pedestrian area at day with shops, restaurants, a gym, and transit station. You’ve probably heard all the horror stories about crime in Oakland—a recent study ranked Oakland number 4 in the nation for violent crime rate, down from number 2 in 2008. Most crime occurs in bad neighborhoods east and west of the central downtown district, and there are several beautiful, safe neighborhoods in Oakland.

I am fortunate to live in a quiet, semi-rural neighborhood in the Oakland hills. I would describe our neighborhood as a very desirable location with a mix of small to large houses generally ranging in age from 80 to 20 years old; the newest house is 11 years old. The residents are mid- to upper-level professionals, so it’s certainly not a gated, exclusive enclave of the very wealthy. Our particular sub-neighborhood consists of three intersecting dead-end streets, with a total of 85 houses. All are single-family homes. Many of us have spectacular views of San Francisco Bay and the Oakland and/or San Francisco city skylines.

On the home front, a suspicious nature only goes so far. It’s of no value if you’re not there to witness or prevent a crime. In the last six months, our neighborhood has had an unprecedented number of burglaries and thefts. According to Oakland’s Crime Watch website, within the last 90 days in a ½ mile radius from our house, there have been three car thefts, and 14 burglaries. Four of the burglaries and one of the car thefts occurred on our three streets. That, however, does not count the other seven reported burglaries and thwarted prowlers on our streets within the last year, including: a bicycle stolen out of an open garage (see, bro—it really does happen); a laptop taken from the backseat of a car when the owner ran into the house for five minutes; a man climbing into a yard over a fence on a weekday afternoon only to be confronted by the homeowner with a gun—and held at gunpoint until the police arrived.

Many of the burglaries, the neighborhood has speculated, were probably a result of the poor economy and high unemployment rate. There have also been several ongoing home and landscape construction projects in the neighborhood, with crews of non-English speakers, possibly illegal immigrants. We’ve all been suspicious that they or their friends are the culprits in many of the burglaries.

As a result, we have formed a neighborhood watch group, and there are warning signs posted at key entries to the neighborhood. Our street’s representative sends out regular e-mail notices of crime and suspicious behavior so everyone is aware of recent activities. I’m always on the lookout for suspicious cars while walking the dog, and I write down license plate numbers in case a burglary is reported. A community liaison officer from the Oakland PD gave an evening presentation at our representative’s house and advised us that security systems are a reliable deterrent: a burglar will choose a house without one if they have a choice.

One of the more brazen burglaries was five houses away from us and probably an inside job. The owners were picked up by an airport shuttle service at 5 a.m. to go on a trip for three days. By the time a neighbor checked on their Golden Retriever at around noon, the house had been cleaned out of computers, a big-screen TV, and jewelry. So who tipped off the burglars that the owners would be out of town? Someone at the airport shuttle service? Someone they worked with? Perhaps they stopped their newspaper or mail, and an employee there took note. The homeowners did not have a home security system, but within a day of their return home, had one installed. Apparently, they hadn’t received the security signs to post in their front yard because the next day, a prowler tried to open a window and set off the alarm.

“Secured by” home security system signs have now been springing up in neighborhood yards like daisies. On a recent walk through the neighborhood I counted signs in the yards of 31 out of the 85 houses (36%). However, on our 1-block long street, there are 10 signs out of 23 houses (43%). Ten different security companies were represented, but one particular company is used by 16 out of 31 that have security systems. It’s the same company we chose. After the house five doors down was burglarized, it didn’t take much convincing for us to get a system, and for our 13^th anniversary present to ourselves we had one installed. It’s a shame to have to resort to it after more than 10 safe years in the house just relying on my built-in suspicion system, but it seemed like common sense, given the trend of burglaries.

I definitely feel more secure and protected now. At least we and the police will be alerted, by a loud siren, if someone tries to open a door or window. Hopefully, the alarm will scare criminals away. My degree of suspicion at bedtime has been reduced; even if I do hear a car door outside late at night (our next-door neighbor keeps late hours) or a critter on the stairway or roof, I’m less apt to jump up out of bed and look out the curtains. Now I stay in bed with moderate alertness and am less concerned that a stranger will suddenly come in through the bedroom door. I fall asleep hopeful that we’ll never have to experience that deafening siren or the resulting panic if the alarm ever does get tripped.

Footnote:  I was amused to discover that our security system company also supplies anti-theft devices in the towels at a local gym. Seems patrons were taking the towels home. Now if they try that, an alarm goes off when the towel passes through the door. But how about a full monty protection option if you drop the towel in the locker room or shower? It could release a smoke screen so other guys couldn’t see your junk. That’s a level of security I for one would be willing to pay for.

• Prepared/typed up a 74-page Powerpoint presentation, including coordination of getting 53 color copies printed landscape, double-sided, three-hole punched, and stapled in the upper left corner. (Cost to my personal Visa card: $1,704.31) And then carrying the box of copies on the subway from Oakland to San Francisco to deliver it to the hotel where the conference was taking place. And then doing an electronic expense report and Fed-x’ing the original with receipts to Pennsylvania for processing.
• Edited three quarterly financial reports (20 pages each), proofread against corresponding Excel files, 6 tabs per file, and then Win-zipped and e-mailed drafts to the client for review.
• Updated three File Code Listings (about 14 pages each) for three different projects, to incorporate new work orders received from the client.
• Proofread and formatted two technical reports, one about real estate acquisition (12 pages), another about a bus fleet management plan (25 pages). This involves painstakingly reading every word of the report, paying attention to punctuation, logic, acronyms, formatting, and consistency. I processed both on Friday, in the course of a day—received them in the morning, sent them to the client for review before close of business.
• Developed from scratch in Excel 12-month staffing plans for two regions, taking into account all current work orders, future work orders, and current and future staff members. Each file has a tab for each staff person (25 so far for one region) that rolls up into a Summary sheet. Hours and cost are tabulated by month on the bottom, by task in the far right columns, and the two approaches reconciled in the lower right corner.
• Typed up minutes for a quarterly meeting from the project manager’s hand-written notes, converted PDFs to JPEG files and inserted into the Word document, and transferred info from a sign-in sheet to a grid of attendees by organization. Sent out for review.
• Several other little tasks that came and went, whatever they were, it doesn’t matter now. Lots of e-mails to be sure.

Still with me? If so, congratulations, you have the capacity for paying attention to details. Or did you just quickly scan the above list?

Thankfully, I was able to work at home on Friday. The meeting minutes did me in, and I collapsed in a reclining chair, turned off my mind to work, and snoozed for about an hour. I even dreamed. It amazes me how much I accomplished, but it took its toll. I love my job and the company I work for and even love being busy. To make deadlines, I ate lunch while I worked on a couple of days. I didn’t sleep well Wednesday or Thursday because my mind kept racing, going over what I had worked on during the day, and what I had to accomplish the next. The only exercise I had time for was walking the dog for four blocks twice a day. Meals were take-out or quickly prepared soup, leftovers, and frozen stir-fry.

The work I do as our department’s “Quality Monitor” takes real concentration. It can be a challenge because there are many interruptions, external and internal. I am the last one to read reports before they go to our client for review or for final submittal. From the number of errors and inconsistencies I find in important information, it’s clear the concentration of other people is similarly scattered. And I’m not perfect—when filing the reports later, I find details I wished I had caught.

Diminished attention span has been getting a lot of attention in the media recently. I read a review in the San Francisco Chronicle about a 276-page book on the subject, The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains, by Nicholas Carr, who believes that the physical structure of our brains is changing in order to manage increased multi-tasking brought on by the internet. I haven’t read the book, but it sounds interesting, and it’s not too long so maybe I’ll order a copy online. From what I read in the review and on Amazon, it makes sense. Our brains are adapting to the type of information we receive on the internet and via e-mail, Smart Phones, Facebook, and Twitter. Most of the information comes in small bites, sometimes all at once. Texting (and Prince song titles) rely on abbreviated code such as LOL, IMHO, WTF, KISS, CYA.  Emoticons reduce communication even further to simple graphics.   >:-(

Carr points out the obvious: that we are scanning text and following links on the internet more than deep, concentrated reading. We scan a list of responses to a Google search. We scan through status updates of our friends on Facebook. We scan lists of songs on iTunes and Amazon. Our queues on Netflix. Reviews and comments on Yelp and YouTube. Lists of people online that want to hook up. The string of incomplete sentences in this paragraph. And as we scan, we make instant decisions of what to focus on, what or who to ignore.

Scanning versus concentrated reading isn’t new. In 6^th grade I was in an advanced, self-directed reading program. My teacher, Mrs. Barrett, suggested that I increase my book count by scanning through novels and only stopping to focus on important plot or character information. I thought she was crazy. The writer took the time to write each and every sentence; to this day I take the time to read each and every word. For over 60 years Evelyn Wood has been pushing speed-reading courses that rely on scanning.

The concern is that if our brains are adapting to scan bites (my term) of information, our brains will lose the physical capacity to focus and concentrate on longer articles, novels, and even symphonies. The quality of our mental capacity and creativity will lessen; our attention to detail will get worse. Hello, Facebook; goodbye Shakespeare and Tolstoy. It stretched my mental capacity as a 20-year-old to read, for example, the final Penelope chapter of James Joyce’s Ulysses. The famous “yes I said yes I will Yes” soliloquy of Molly Bloom is eight run-on paragraphs/sentences with no punctuation that go on for 46 pages. How will future generations get through it, or even Hamlet’s “to be or not to be” monologue which is only 276 words or 1,214 characters?

Twitter is infamous for its 140 character limit per text message. The number of characters in this blog so far is 5,396. (If you have read this far, your brain isn’t entirely shot to hell.) The Huffington Post has a blog entry titled “Overloaded: 7 Things You Should Know about your Internet-Interrupted Brain.” But it’s a mere 1,581 characters and a list, contributing to the problem IMHO (that’s “in-my-humble-opinion” for you non-texters). The post has so far generated 159 user comments—a quick scan shows most are in agreement about the decline of Western concentration, but some think the hoopla is a multi-tasker’s buzz-kill.

Other than technical reports at work, nowadays I mostly read magazines, two in particular. I’ve subscribed to Entertainment Weekly since its debut in 1990. Its editorial style is sarcastic, and it’s entertaining, light reading. The other magazine takes more concentration. Friends recently gifted Eric and me with a year’s subscription to The New Yorker, which I subscribed to for several years during and after college but could never keep up with. Now, I’m being selective with what articles I read, because in contrast to most magazines and newspapers, its articles tend to be long. An article on gay marriage spanned across 12 pages and 50,983 characters—I didn’t finish that one, but it was very engaging and thoughtful for 6-7 pages.

I always have a book going, usually a literary-type novel, but it’s slow going as I only read 5-10 pages at bedtime. During childhood I was teased for being a book worm. I sat for hours on the sofa or lying in bed, absorbed in a book. I was reminded on a recent long weekend of how relaxing that can be. We stayed in a cottage in the woods about a mile inland from the Mendocino coast of California. It was cool and foggy most of the time, so we bundled up under throw-blankets on two sofas. Taking up my current book, The Age of Dreaming, about the memories of a fictitious Japanese-American silent film star, I read uninterrupted for an hour. I got up and used the bathroom, poured a glass of water, had a snack, and returned to the sofa. And read uninterrupted for about another hour and a half.

It’s the most relaxed I’ve felt in years, in that my mind wasn’t racing. I was at one with the universe of the novel. We didn’t have internet access in the cottage, and our cell phones were out of range, not what we expected, but a fortunate situation. I was relieved to know that I could settle my mind and read something in-depth for an extended period of time without distraction or feeling that I should be doing something else. Unlike proof-reading and processing technical reports on a tight deadline, reading the novel didn’t exhaust me. My mind was energized at the same time that it was calmed. I wonder if that degree of relaxation will be possible with e-books, especially if they become more interactive, as has been speculated.

Short of technological isolation, there are other methods, good and bad, of improving our attention spans, and off-setting the effects on the brain of internet browsing. 60 Minutes reported that high school and college students are illicitly using Ritalin and Adderall to boost academic concentration and excellence. Both of the prescription drugs are intended for patients with clinical Attention-Deficit Disorder (ADD). But they’ve been found to be useful for concentrated studying, paper-writing, and exam-taking, when No-Doz and Starbucks aren’t cutting it. The drugs stimulate dopamine in the brain, helping students to become more detail-oriented, alert, and interested. Opponents argue that the drugs are addictive and amount to cosmetic neurology. The same ethical arguments against performance-enhancing steroids for athletes are raised for these pill-popping academics, especially when they continue using the drugs in the workplace upon graduation.  

Don’t want to resort to drugs for yet another personal deficiency? Posit Science, as featured on PBS, offers Brain Fitness software to improve memory and focus. A Google search brought up free, sensible suggestions for 6 Ways to Improve Your Brain on the Health Zone website that essentially involves focusing on one activity at a time. I read somewhere recently that a study shows that taking regular walks improves brain function for the elderly—in general, physical movement and increased blood circulation equals a healthier brain. Ditto for drinking a sufficient amount of water everyday. And don’t forget yoga, meditation, Sudoku, Scrabble, crossword puzzles, and the Hocus Focus puzzle in the Sunday comics.

Every morning I do five Brain Gym movement and balancing exercises that are designed to get all parts of the brain working in coordination. It has helped me to reduce stress. Also, when I’m trying to remember a fact or word that’s “on the tip of my tongue,” I’ve found that rubbing my “brain buttons” helps to unlock my brain, and the missing information comes to mind. I don’t do it in public, though, as people think I’m practicing a different sort of self-stimulation.

Writing today’s entry has also been a good change of pace from my normal brain activities on the job. In fact, maintaining “Oh Dave Now” exercises the creative side of my brain. But I’ve reached 1,972 words and 9,686 characters, and this is beginning to feel too much like work. Pardon me while I log-off and get some exercise or lose my mind in a book. And you, dear reader, who have paid attention to the end, have nothing to worry about. Your brain is fine.