And then I posted
So, after ages of not posting, what is worth putting up here?
I have joined the "big monitor" club. I have a 20" flat panel, which is more monitor than I strictly need, but it's beautiful. Text has crisper edges, and other things are also significantly prettier. And it doesn't have that weird perpetually-too-dark vibe that the other one had going on. It was an awesome gift. :)
Hmm, other completely-shareable-with-the-whole-internet news...
I dragged Elf up to Berkeley Springs yesterday for my birthday. It's a 2-hour drive, but it was a very nice way to spend the day. The state park has a traditional Roman baths-with-massage deal, which was the main reason to drive so far. It's an older facility, not a shiny and expensive spa -- more Rome-in-decline than Rome-in-glory. Except that, architecturally, the park buildings are partly Colonial American and partly utilitarian brick and tile. I can't describe it sufficiently. Elf said "ghetto" wasn't too far off the mark to use the word at all, but it was ghetto in an okay way -- the facility was well-designed, albeit back in the 40s or 50s, and made to last. Particularly with the electric fan blowing when I was being massaged, I had this sense of being part of 20th century America -- the sun and the breeze and the tiny amount of interacting with other women was a warmer experience than we could have had in a shiny, modern facility with excellent feng shui that clearly screams, "We are spending lots of money to create an artificially relaxing environment". Maybe that's the real difference: they sold a soak in hot mineral water followed by a massage, using historical precedent as a marketing gimmick, rather than trying to sell total relaxation (to be reached in X hours for $Y), which just seems overhyped. Not that there's anything actually wrong with a pretty salon, of course, but the honesty in this case (it's a massage, not the path to nirvana) was refreshing.
Hmm. I've been diagnosed [tenatively?] with Meniere's disease, which is interesting. It's mild, in that I'm not having the vertigo (though the bouts last fall may have been related) and it seems to be responding to the "lower your sodium intake and take a diuretic" treatment. I did have a horrible afternoon when I first found out -- my hearing was all messed up and I was irritable, and then on top of that I found out that this may re-occur worse and worse and eventually I would go deaf in that ear. That may still happen, I guess, but I'm not as concerned as I was. It's not going to happen suddenly or soon, and in the meantime I'm far more mindful of sounds than I was.
I'm almost done reading The Promise of Sleep by William Dement. The book is nonfiction about sleep, sleep research, and stories about what happens when people sleep (and what happens when they're awake after geting enough sleep). It's much more interesting than I thought it would be. Dement's picture of well-rested and sleep-deprived individuals is rather vivid, and the end result is that I don't feel so bad about needing sleep or being more sensitive to lack of sleep. The research and the case studies (at least the ones he's presenting) lead to the conclusion that the "sleep is for sissies" attitude of society is flawed, rather than me being flawed for needing (and even wanting) sleep. Not that it's any easier to set aside all the things I want (or feel compelled) to do late at night and just get myself into bed on time, but at least don't feel like as much of a wuss. The down side is that, having read the book, I'm even more worried about those of you who I see as likely to fall asleep while driving.
In general, I'm doing a lot better this spring than I was last spring. I've noticed what season it is, and how bright the sky, and how soft the grass. It's a good thing. I still break down and cry with disappointing regularity, but I suppose I should give myself credit: my happiness is also very close to the surface. I wish I had more words to describe happiness: the different kinds, the meta-happiness, the brightness of the world sometimes. I want to hug things until they become part of me, even things that aren't physically huggable in a bear-hug sort of way -- the smell of an apple blossom. The moon. A small animal. A rainy day. There need to be more outlets for these things and more words to express them.
I have joined the "big monitor" club. I have a 20" flat panel, which is more monitor than I strictly need, but it's beautiful. Text has crisper edges, and other things are also significantly prettier. And it doesn't have that weird perpetually-too-dark vibe that the other one had going on. It was an awesome gift. :)
Hmm, other completely-shareable-with-the-whole-internet news...
I dragged Elf up to Berkeley Springs yesterday for my birthday. It's a 2-hour drive, but it was a very nice way to spend the day. The state park has a traditional Roman baths-with-massage deal, which was the main reason to drive so far. It's an older facility, not a shiny and expensive spa -- more Rome-in-decline than Rome-in-glory. Except that, architecturally, the park buildings are partly Colonial American and partly utilitarian brick and tile. I can't describe it sufficiently. Elf said "ghetto" wasn't too far off the mark to use the word at all, but it was ghetto in an okay way -- the facility was well-designed, albeit back in the 40s or 50s, and made to last. Particularly with the electric fan blowing when I was being massaged, I had this sense of being part of 20th century America -- the sun and the breeze and the tiny amount of interacting with other women was a warmer experience than we could have had in a shiny, modern facility with excellent feng shui that clearly screams, "We are spending lots of money to create an artificially relaxing environment". Maybe that's the real difference: they sold a soak in hot mineral water followed by a massage, using historical precedent as a marketing gimmick, rather than trying to sell total relaxation (to be reached in X hours for $Y), which just seems overhyped. Not that there's anything actually wrong with a pretty salon, of course, but the honesty in this case (it's a massage, not the path to nirvana) was refreshing.
Hmm. I've been diagnosed [tenatively?] with Meniere's disease, which is interesting. It's mild, in that I'm not having the vertigo (though the bouts last fall may have been related) and it seems to be responding to the "lower your sodium intake and take a diuretic" treatment. I did have a horrible afternoon when I first found out -- my hearing was all messed up and I was irritable, and then on top of that I found out that this may re-occur worse and worse and eventually I would go deaf in that ear. That may still happen, I guess, but I'm not as concerned as I was. It's not going to happen suddenly or soon, and in the meantime I'm far more mindful of sounds than I was.
I'm almost done reading The Promise of Sleep by William Dement. The book is nonfiction about sleep, sleep research, and stories about what happens when people sleep (and what happens when they're awake after geting enough sleep). It's much more interesting than I thought it would be. Dement's picture of well-rested and sleep-deprived individuals is rather vivid, and the end result is that I don't feel so bad about needing sleep or being more sensitive to lack of sleep. The research and the case studies (at least the ones he's presenting) lead to the conclusion that the "sleep is for sissies" attitude of society is flawed, rather than me being flawed for needing (and even wanting) sleep. Not that it's any easier to set aside all the things I want (or feel compelled) to do late at night and just get myself into bed on time, but at least don't feel like as much of a wuss. The down side is that, having read the book, I'm even more worried about those of you who I see as likely to fall asleep while driving.
In general, I'm doing a lot better this spring than I was last spring. I've noticed what season it is, and how bright the sky, and how soft the grass. It's a good thing. I still break down and cry with disappointing regularity, but I suppose I should give myself credit: my happiness is also very close to the surface. I wish I had more words to describe happiness: the different kinds, the meta-happiness, the brightness of the world sometimes. I want to hug things until they become part of me, even things that aren't physically huggable in a bear-hug sort of way -- the smell of an apple blossom. The moon. A small animal. A rainy day. There need to be more outlets for these things and more words to express them.