To Write, or To Be Social

I was going over the archives from this blog, and my previous "home" blog and I noticed that my most prevalent posts were usually about, well writing or updating the blog again. Well to the observant out there, I'm sure there is a collective... DUH, if you don't update that often, when you do it's going to be about updating, or trying to write again.

To try to stave off a deja vu type of post, I decided to do a little self examination for why, or more when does this burst of creativity usually occur? The answer? When I'm more social, I write more.

In personality terms I'm considered a borderline introvert and extrovert. Any test I've partaken of, always put smack dab on the border between being social, and being, well not. In other words, sometimes I'm social and sometimes I'm not. The frequency of which appears to be fairly well balanced, to such a degree that I can't be pigeonholed one way or the other.

I then noticed that when I slide further in to a social state, I want to write more. That is, I want to express myself in more forms then previous. When I slide back to a non-social state, I can still be creative, but I usually output my expressive nature through other non-thought laden means.

Anyways, I thought it was just an interesting observation. Now that I'm aware of it, maybe I can figure out how to bank some of this output, or at least provoke it more often.

Mambo with Words

When as a writer, you attempt to put words down on a page or screen, you necessarily want to start with at least some direction. Direction of course, is usually at least some kernel of an idea, some word, phrase, or passing fancy to begin the metaphorical creative first step. Once you have this idea, you can then usually turn this first step into a dance of sorts, by putting one word after another, one sentence after another, and one paragraph after the next. Eventually, you are then moving from a simple cha-cha of words, to the tango of a story. However, like in any sort of dance, the first foot forward, has to know a little of where to go.

A couple of weeks ago, my friend Jeff, whom you can visit via the Friends and Family link, caught up with me and let me know he'd be in town with, well his family. Family in the loss sense of the word, being the people he cares about, hangs out with, and decided to come to town with, including his significant other MC. Knowing I would be up for a change, and having met several of his family before, he invited me to have lunch with them all, and basically introduce me to MC. I agreed, as any social life addition is more then welcome. Although as I found out later, I almost had to deal with his visit, another friend's visit, and another friend's birthday party on the same day. This of course being a karmic revenge for having little to no social life for the last four years, and of course now moving to shift that might allow it. The bad news, was the second friend ending up not being able to come down. But I was less harried, although still pretty much out the entire day.

As I digress, I eventually met up with Jeff and his family for lunch, which ended up being, me, Jeff and 9 or 11 women at one table. This wasn't as bad as some people might imagine, as most of the women were under 30, and those that weren't, didn't pay it any mind. So conversation wasn't the type cast girly, and it was a rather enjoyable meal.

After we had finished the meal, various groups went in different directions and I decided to walk with Jeff and MC. While strolling the conversation at one point turned to writing. As Jeff and I have both struggled with writing over the years, each with our own demons to fight in trying to become what we would call a writer, this type of conversation was not wholly unexpected. MC being relatively new to it, metaphorically kicked both our asses and pointed out things we knew, but had ignored. As such we both eventually fell to her authoritative arguments and agreed we'd try writing, again, and again, and again, till we finally break through the last wall to find ourselves, writers.

Whether or not this actually happens, I can at least say that MC is a great women, and Jeff is a lucky man to have her in this now time. And yes, this counts MC! Cheers.

Light of Many Days

A couple of weeks ago, my job decided to move me from graveyard shift to second shift. I'd been on graveyard for about four years up till then, and thus was both willing and nervous about changing shifts. Willing, because four years of only working from 9pm till the next morning, tends to impact the things you take for granted on many levels.

For one, you live opposite everyone else. When you go to work, everyone else is at home. When telemarketers call, they aren't interrupting your dinner, or leaving messages while your not at home, they are instead interrupting your sleep. Your social life basically goes to pieces, so if unless you are married, have kids, or a serious significant other already, the chances of meeting people, friends, or gaining new acquaintances is shot. You also are usually more tired, see light as the enemy, and generally never get anything done.

On the plus side, you usually make more money, don't have to deal with traffic, and can drink beer in the mornings, although this could be a big minus depending on your state's blue laws. Night work is also usually slower then daytime, although in my case, it wasn't, but that was due to work being unable to staff up correctly part of the time.

As is, going for four years, and one gets used to things. Thus moving to a day shift was going to need some adjustment. I was certainly all for the move, just internally a little apprehensive, over both the different work atmosphere, as well as the possibility of rejoining the human race in my own timezone.

Being several weeks now, I can still say I'm glad of the whole move. Work is different, but not in a bad way. I never really had a lot of time on the graveyard shift, but now I'm more focused on set procedures and work then before. My diet is also coming under control as I'm able to eat at more regular times, and have a lot more choice. I still don't have a big social life, however already I'm not stressed when friends show up in town, and want to do lunch, as now, I'm certainly awake.

It'll still take some time to fully adjust, and more time adjust my own self perception and get back on the dating horse again, but now I see the light in the distance, as a beacon, and not as this hostile otherworld.

Step One, Two, Three

And then again, maybe I'm not...

For anyone just joining us, let's recap. Due in no small part to several nudges and comments over the last week, I had finally decided to make another concentrated push at writing again. Large or small I was going to set aside some time each day, give myself a deadline, and write... anything. So what happens after the first day? I run in to one of my not so unusual sleepless periods.

That is it was the weekend, I didn't have to work, and of course I couldn't sleep. Oh I still averaged 5 hours a day, it just that it came in dribs of 1-2 hours at a time. This of course causes me to be even more lethargic then my normal and thus any desire to, well do anything vanishes. I end up not cleaning, cooking, working on my house, or even playing a game. I basically veg all day long, trying to maybe become interested in something, tv, music, anything at all, and not succeeding.

Luckily this only happens maybe every other month or two, and is usually sparked because I'm overworked, over slept, and just not focused on anything. Others who I've confided in have put forward the theory that I might be a little manic depressive. The major flaw with this theory of course being I'm never in the manic phase. Plus when I'm lethargic I'm not depressed, just uninterested.

Is it some sort of early, early Alzheimer's? Doubtful, as I have only one grand parent with Alzheimer's, and they didn't begin to exhibit problems till their late 60's early 70's. I still have some 40 years then. I've also had certain odd memory issues since I've been a kid. Such as trying to remember a person or place's name. Never could, but I can fairly easily remember long strings of numbers, and have a high, not perfect, photographic style memory.

Then why? I don't personally know, and probably can't afford the neuro-physicist who might be able to find out.

As for a psychiatrist? Likely they would either side with the manic depressive, or decide it's some sort of adult ADHD. And I'll admit, in a way it is some sort of adult ADHD. But I don't think taking drugs designed to "mellow" one out would solve a lethargic problem. Amphetamines on the hand might, but I'm not very big on drugs to begin with. Which is odd contradiction because of my personal politics, but that's a completely different subject.

Anyways, due to multiple factors currently in my life, including my weird sleeping schedule, I'm not sure if there ever is going to be a good answer to my problem. However my flatmate, with whom I discussed this recently, half joked he was going have me take ginsing and some other memory herbs and such. I think I might try them out.

As to the writing... well I'm back at work, so likely I'll sleep normally again for the rest of the week, and that means I'm back to writing, again.

[TB] I was gently reminded today,...

I was gently reminded today, that I hadn't posted in awhile. Awhile of course being two months. I don't have any really cool or good excuse for this, other then to say, I just didn't feel like it. Not in the, I'm lazy and couldn't think of anything to say, there is always something going on, even as something as inane as which movie sucked more "Bad(der) Santa", or "The Manchurian Candiate" (2004). More it was the didn't feel like it as in I just couldn't write.

My soul was willing, my brain was not. Or is that the reverse?

Basically I had slipped into this visual input/output mode where I couldn't write or express myself in cognitive ways. I could communicate, but I couldn't expound. I could see, taste, and smell, but I couldn't hear or speak right. I gobbled up seasons worth of TV shows for the first time in six months, cause they were short, flashy, and all visual. But I couldn't stand to get through 2 minutes of Cary Grant's "Bringing Up Baby".

My imagination had shut down, and in it's place was this vacant life-vamping thing. I didn't do anything important. I didn't do anything utterly exciting unless it was by accident or outside force. I did work on some sutff around the house, but there was no umph behind it. I had stopped being hyper, and I did not know, or really care why. I wasn't depressed, but I wasn't exuberant either. I was just. Unless you've been there, you wouldn't understand.

Then one day, about a week ago, it snapped. Something, even I don't know what, changed. Maybe it was the walking with 20,000 other people on a hot day, to support a cause that hadn't directly touched my life, but was important. Maybe it was the sudden snap from having trouble sleeping, to getting sleep when I wanted without problem. Or maybe something else entirely.

Whatever it was, the pilot light was lit, and I started thinking again. I started reading all my websites, heck I picked up a book and read it front to back in two days again, and I started communicating. So when I saw a new blog out there that really stoked the fires of creativity I realized, I had forgotten my own creation. Thus I'm writing here again today, and hopefully many days to come.

24 hours in a day

One O'clock and all's well! It's one am my time and for the first time in two weeks, I'm back to blogging again. Before I head off into the ponderance of life at one AM, let me at first at least try to apologize for the unremarked absence. Basically, shortly after my last post, I learned that TPTB (The Powers That Be) at my new job, had finally figured out where they were going to assign me, and the four others of my training class. It was a true red letter day, as we all could finally stop agonizing about what was to happen, and instead start the process of integrating into what we would make happen. I personally was quite baffled, as TPTB threw me a curve and assigned me to one of the hardest teams. Still though, I was happy. Then two days later I went from baffled to down right perplexed.

No, I wasn't let go, fired, put out, etc... Instead, after some last minute haggling, TPTB changed their mind and instead assigned me to a general team, on a 9 by 6 schedule. 9pm to 6am that is; Tues through Saturday. Let's set the record straight, I'm not a night owl. Yes I am a computer level techno weenie, but unlike my flatmate, and his friends, I'm not a night owl. For some reason, I've always liked the daytime, I just wish it started two hours later then it did. The closest I came to being a night owl was in college, where I sometimes stayed up for three days at a time. I've also previously worked a 12pm to 9pm shift before, still, I always was asleep by 2 or 3am, and then up inside of 6 hours.

Thus later, on the next weekend, I bit the bullet and began to adjust my sleep schedule, so that I wouldn't fall asleep at work. Now it is two weeks later and I'm pretty close to adjusted. Since Friday September 26th, I have yet to go to sleep before 7am, and by now, my body appears to have adjusted to sleeping from 8am-ish to 3pm-ish. On the downside, I was so preoccupied with becoming a vampire, that I cleanly forgot to make time for the blog. As such, I apologize.

On the upside, the new hours are so freakishly devoid of humanity, I will almost certainly be blogging more just to keep up my conversation skills. Cheers

Surgery is a Powerful Word, Part 2

In only a few hours I will be going under the knife. A specialist in oral surgery and dental medicine will be cutting into the gumline just above my canine, in order to cut out a small cyst hanging onto the root of the tooth. Before you eep though let me explain a few things. Cysts are actually not very uncommon around teeth. Frequently they are caused by blood being cutoff from the tooth, and causing some organic decay. Root Canals are the usual treatment of such Cysts, and as evident by how common the procedure is, quite easy to fix.

In my case, the tooth in question has already had a root canal. Normally then, the dentist, would just retreat the tooth (do another root canal) and fix the problem. Unfortunately, because it was a canine, I had a post put inside the tooth during the last root canal, in order to stabilize it and keep from losing the tooth. Here's where the problem set in. Although a post can be removed and a root canal performed, my canine has been deemed to integrated into the post to risk removing it (it'd probably destroy the tooth). Instead the doctor will go in above the tooth, and perform a kind of reverse root canal. The procedure itself should take about 20-40 minutes, and isn't considered dangerous. However, in order to do it, the dentist will still have to cut into live flesh, and then stitch it close again, ie, it becomes Surgery.

For the non-layman, Surgery is a bogey-man kind of word. The average person does not cut into themselves deep enough to draw blood daily, nor does the average person tie flesh back together after-wards. Although Surgery is so common place these days, with all the corrective procedures available, and the wonderful world of plastic surgery to alter one's appearance, Surgery itself still holds a residual charge of emotion.

Most of this emotion stems from the association people have between surgery and pain. Coupled with the fact that people dread anything to do with changing their body, and that until this last century, surgery had a very high rate of death, and you've created a very highly perceived source of danger. On the other hand, a lot of it is just perceived notions of association.

Why is association so powerful? The human mind is a very powerful tool, most of revolving around memory. Association is a big tool that memory uses in order to link similar things together in order for a person to complete thoughts and ideas. Thus in order to assure that a person, doesn't devolve in repetition, association between thoughts takes place at a more base level motivator. Take for example a dog. Common four legged animal, it generally like to explore and be active. When it comes across another dog that is larger and more angry then it, one usually leaves with a couple of scratches vowing never to return. Ie, to the Dog, pain = Big Dog = don't go near that area or dog again. In humans, its roughly the same way, the more real pain is, the more a person wants to avoid it, ie Surgery. Oddly enough, because the mind can be so screwed up, sometimes this doesn't always prove out. Course it more often then not does, as evident by drug addiction and the like.

The end result? Although Surgery is a powerful emotion motivator, you have to realize that it's not all that bad. Frequently surgery is a needful tool to make sure you don't have a longer pain from something you refuse to treat. That is, get done with the sharper pain immediate, and spare the longer more nerve racking pain from occurring.

[TB] Surgery is a Powerful Word

To someone not in the health care industry, Surgery is a kind of bogeyman word. Any mention of it, conjurs up all sorts of nasty preconceptions about whats going to happen. And frequently, what is just a minor procedure can completely be blown out of the water, by misconcieved notions and rumor.

Yesterday I had an appointment with a Dental specialist over a possible problem with a tooth that's being involved in a bridge. My normal dentist was worried about what an X-ray might or might not have shown and wanted me to visit the other, before proceeding on sealing up the bridge work, again. The specialist proceeded to check me out and pronounced that tooth fine. However he had found the problem that was causing the blip on the X-ray. It seems, that the fron tooth of the bridge had developed a small cyst at the root, and was causing some gum distortions.

Since the tooth in question had previously been root canalled, the normal procedure would to just retreat it with another root canal, clean out the cyst and use anti-biotics. In this case however, the tooth in question was fragile, and had a post inserted to shore it up. Because it was so fragile, the specialist deemed it ill advised to remove the post, which might destroy the tooth. Instead he advised a "minor surgical" procedure, where he'd cut into the gum's above the tooth, a do a kind of reverse root canal from the roots of the tooth on down, and then stitch the gumline back close.

The procedure itself is relatively straight forward, and will most likely be even less painfull then a root canal. However, since I'm not in the medicial profession, Surgery has always been something to dread and avoid. Admittedly I'm also ferverent about my teeth with all the problems I have with them, and thus have allready scheduled an apointment for the procedure, but the very thought of Surgery brought up this bogeyman spector.

Since it's late however, and it has been a long day, I'll leave you with this and touch back on the subject Friday. Why, are we, as a human race anthamine to the notion that cutting into the body in order to correct something that could otherwise not be reached or treated?