Okay, so, time for a fun topic...
Vacation!
It's a new year, and it's time for me to start looking at what I want to do for my birthday. My usual is Maui, of course, but the Sunseeker's had some changes and I'm not sure how it'll end up being. For one, while the sundeck looks a lot better now, they got rid of the hot tub up there, which was one of the highlights to me. The result means everyone's likely going to be a bit more spread out, so the feel's going to change a bit.
My rough plan was to hit up Kauai or the Big Island before/after Maui. I've got enough vacation time for up to a couple weeks out there, now that I'm earning 3 weeks a year, and I could easily spend a week on, say, the big island and then hop over to Maui for a few days. The problem with that is that I'm kind of picky where I stay: one, I prefer gay-owned properties, just as a support-the-community thing (though I'm not adamant about it); and two, I really really prefer clothing-optional places. That leaves me with like 2 options on Kauai and a handful on Hawai'i, none of which look all that appealing to me. This is one I'm considering, though the reviews are a bit hit-and-miss on the facilities themselves (the staff is apparently great).
Perhaps a little oddly, part of why they're not appealing is that they're too private: one thing that's nice about the Sunseeker, as well as the Highlands Resort in Guerneville and a few other places I've gone to, is that while you can be private and alone, there's also the option to socialize a bit in the resort: they're big enough that there's a variety of people there. The fact that I like traveling alone and making my own plans doesn't mean that I also don't occasionally meet cool and fun people when I travel. Hawaii as a whole doesn't have much "centralized" gay culture outside of Honolulu, and I'm not much of a bar person anyway. If the place I stay at doesn't have a socialization factor, I'm probably not going to get much of it at all. While that's likely okay (and even sought-out sometimes) for a little while, after 4 or 5 days I'm liable to want to socialize.
That doesn't mean I've ruled those out as options, but it's just something to consider.
As a result, I'm also looking at a few other possibilities. I've always loved sailing, and I've probably mentioned a desire to go to the south pacific and other places on sailing cruises. So, I came across this - and, specifically, these. The timing's wrong for a birthday trip, but I may keep my birthday down to a week (and just hit Sunseeker or something) and save the time/money to go on another vacation later. I might save that for next spring's St. Martin trip, though Greece sounds interesting.
There's also still one of the more mainstream cruises, though I think the one cruise that I was looking at for Tahiti doesn't sail there any more.
In addition, I've been told I ought to hit up Cairns in Australia at some point, though that's definitely September-March thing.
I could also do something more tame, like heading to Key West or Ft. Lauderdale, or more adventurous, like Paris.
I don't know. Too many options, none of them "perfect" yet.
So, any of you have any ideas? I doubt any of you are also likes-to-get-naked-on-vacation people, but in general?
(Title from Somewhere Beyond the Sea)
... Retry
5 comments
... So, ended up sleeping about 13 hours last night. I certainly feel better, though still not 100%. Tonight, I was going to go home, pack, and just relax before driving up tomorrow.
I say "was" because, as I'm driving into work this morning, I get a call from my mother. "Dad's computer won't start." From the description, it sounds like a bad power supply. Her next statement? "I hate to ask, but can you come by tonight...?"
1) I told her, yesterday, that I was feeling like total crap from doing too much recently. She said she sympathized.
2) My step-brother - who graduated with an engineering degree from CalTech and currently works for a major software company - is, right now, sleeping in my old room down the hall from the broken computer.
3) There are, like, five computers in the house for the two of them - three notebooks and two desktops. Seriously, they have more computers than I do.
This is mild compared to some of the shit she used to pull, but it gives you an idea of what I end up dealing with.
Anyway, I still have my old computer, and the power supply in it should be more than sufficient (assuming it'll fit). So, if that's the actual problem, I can possibly get it fixed tonight. If not, then when I get back, I'm going to get asked to spend a day or two copying Dad's files from the old hard drive onto the new one and getting shit installed, and I'd really rather not have to do that. Even if it means spending a couple of hours elbow-deep in circuit boards tonight.
I think it's a nacho day. I could really use some nachos.
I say "was" because, as I'm driving into work this morning, I get a call from my mother. "Dad's computer won't start." From the description, it sounds like a bad power supply. Her next statement? "I hate to ask, but can you come by tonight...?"
1) I told her, yesterday, that I was feeling like total crap from doing too much recently. She said she sympathized.
2) My step-brother - who graduated with an engineering degree from CalTech and currently works for a major software company - is, right now, sleeping in my old room down the hall from the broken computer.
3) There are, like, five computers in the house for the two of them - three notebooks and two desktops. Seriously, they have more computers than I do.
This is mild compared to some of the shit she used to pull, but it gives you an idea of what I end up dealing with.
Anyway, I still have my old computer, and the power supply in it should be more than sufficient (assuming it'll fit). So, if that's the actual problem, I can possibly get it fixed tonight. If not, then when I get back, I'm going to get asked to spend a day or two copying Dad's files from the old hard drive onto the new one and getting shit installed, and I'd really rather not have to do that. Even if it means spending a couple of hours elbow-deep in circuit boards tonight.
I think it's a nacho day. I could really use some nachos.
Out Of Cutlery Error - Abort, Retry, Fail?
5 comments
I feel like crap today - not quite bad enough to be "sick", but bad enough that I'm going to go home after work, crank up the heater, crawl into bed and just sleep until tomorrow morning.
I haven't had a "day off" - my lexicon for "a day without forced socialization of some kind" in almost three weeks. Normally, Sundays are my day to just recharge, but the last two Sundays I've had to help my step-dad take apart and put back together all the storage in the garage so they could get the garage doors replaced (long story). Add to it that Christmas was at my parents' house (which is low-key but still OMG-I-have-to-deal-with-people!), that I worked Monday and Wednesday (and today and tomorrow), and that Wednesday was my stepdad's 70th birthday and all his kids (and grandkids, and spouses/girlfriends) were there, and...
Well, let's just say I feel like a polite train wreck. You know, where the train comes to a gentle stop - and then just falls off the track. If you know the spoon theory, I'm not exactly the kind of person who generally runs out of spoons; today, I feel like I've used up all my spares, raided the cabinets for any I could find, and have borrowed a couple from the neighbors.
There were a few moments of interesting things.
A minor issue that's been bouncing around for a while (as in, decades) is that my mother never really accepted that I'm not "normal" - or, rather, she only sees the good parts and none of the complications. As a kid, it was both accepted that I was brilliant and therefore different, but also that any struggles I had with anything had to be because I wasn't trying hard enough since everyone else could do it without issue.
Over the years, I've gradually gotten her to accept that I'm ADHD (I wasn't diagnosed until late teens), largely by pointing out how she reflects a lot of the same symptoms (case in point: to relax for bed, she has a large glass of hot, heavily-caffeinated tea; she never thought about this being contrary to normal until I pointed it out). She's never really fought me on the OCD, but again, she's got the signs of it in herself, so that's also pretty clear. She has fought me about dyslexia, but since I've got a piece of paper for that one too, there's not much she can do about it.
I've never tried pushing the Autism Spectrum Disorder issue much, though, because it always seemed like "a bridge too far" as it were: the common idea of Autism is a stereotype that isn't necessarily representative. I'm not Autistic, but ASD encompasses a wide range if symptoms that stretch from (probably; it's still being debated) ADHD on one end through Aspergers to Autism on the other, with a few different points in the middle. I also don't have a formal diagnosis in ASD - there are other confounding factors, and since I had the ADHD diagnosis anyway, it didn't seem necessary.
Well, during conversations with friends and family the last couple of days, my mom volunteered information that, whether she realizes it or not, is classic ASD. The first was when she was commenting on my tendency to take "escape" vacations. She referred to her desire to do the same thing - especially before she retired - as "taking time to just be", to "escape from people and not have to socialize." The overpowering need for such "recharge" time or escaping is a very common thing in ASD folks, and those with Autism and Aspergers tend to get it very severely. In kids, it's often the cause of stimming or seeking heavy blankets and comfort - in sometimes literal terms, of enclosing one's self in something secure and safe and "blanking out" all the scarey, noisy, troubling stimulation.
The other thing she mentioned, this time in the context of things we did when I was a kid, was: "You always hated loud noises, even when you knew they were coming. You'd cover your ears and, if you could, even curl into a little ball." The "too loud/too bright" reaction is also classic ASD - generally brought on by hypersensitivity to stimulation (which I have in other ways as well). It's often one of the first things that parents of Autistic children notice.
This is all on top of having speech impediments as a kid, being delayed in maturation (I hit puberty a little late and then had a longer and slower developmental period - part of the reason I still look a lot younger than I am), all the troubles I had in school despite being an "A student", etc.
In the larger scheme of things, it doesn't really matter if my mom acknowledges all of this. It's not going to impact my life today, and none of her grandkids (my stepdad's grandchildren, really) seem to have any of these issues. At the same time, though, part of me wants an apology. Part of me wants to hear her admit that she made my life hell growing up, and that all of the pressure and stress she put on me was unfair. I mean, I eventually started pushing back against it, but that was only after years of mental/emotional abuse and eventually trying to kill myself, so one could argue the damage was done.
(I should probably add here that I like my mother, as a person. She's kind and brilliant and supportive, and as a woman, she's kicked some serious butt throughout her life. She's the kind of woman who is a feminist whether or not she calls herself one. She was just a very crappy - and codependent - mother, especially for a kid who needed more than to simply be pushed.)
I'd just like, in general, for the "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" narrative that a certain portion of the (mostly conservative) population seems to love to be blown to hell. It causes far more harm than good, and it's predicated on this notion that everyone is the same and has the same strengths and needs.
Anyway, Saturday I drive off to relax for a few days. I looked into a lot of options, including Tahoe and Yosemite and King's Canyon, but as I really don't want to spend $400 a night in hotels, I'm just going back to Guerneville - they didn't end up getting flooded out, and the hot tub is always nice. For now, I just need to make it that far. No meetings, comfort food for lunch, and wrapping myself in my heavy coat to keep warm.
And, maybe, stealing some spoons from the cafeteria. They're plastic, but hey.
I haven't had a "day off" - my lexicon for "a day without forced socialization of some kind" in almost three weeks. Normally, Sundays are my day to just recharge, but the last two Sundays I've had to help my step-dad take apart and put back together all the storage in the garage so they could get the garage doors replaced (long story). Add to it that Christmas was at my parents' house (which is low-key but still OMG-I-have-to-deal-with-people!), that I worked Monday and Wednesday (and today and tomorrow), and that Wednesday was my stepdad's 70th birthday and all his kids (and grandkids, and spouses/girlfriends) were there, and...
Well, let's just say I feel like a polite train wreck. You know, where the train comes to a gentle stop - and then just falls off the track. If you know the spoon theory, I'm not exactly the kind of person who generally runs out of spoons; today, I feel like I've used up all my spares, raided the cabinets for any I could find, and have borrowed a couple from the neighbors.
There were a few moments of interesting things.
A minor issue that's been bouncing around for a while (as in, decades) is that my mother never really accepted that I'm not "normal" - or, rather, she only sees the good parts and none of the complications. As a kid, it was both accepted that I was brilliant and therefore different, but also that any struggles I had with anything had to be because I wasn't trying hard enough since everyone else could do it without issue.
Over the years, I've gradually gotten her to accept that I'm ADHD (I wasn't diagnosed until late teens), largely by pointing out how she reflects a lot of the same symptoms (case in point: to relax for bed, she has a large glass of hot, heavily-caffeinated tea; she never thought about this being contrary to normal until I pointed it out). She's never really fought me on the OCD, but again, she's got the signs of it in herself, so that's also pretty clear. She has fought me about dyslexia, but since I've got a piece of paper for that one too, there's not much she can do about it.
I've never tried pushing the Autism Spectrum Disorder issue much, though, because it always seemed like "a bridge too far" as it were: the common idea of Autism is a stereotype that isn't necessarily representative. I'm not Autistic, but ASD encompasses a wide range if symptoms that stretch from (probably; it's still being debated) ADHD on one end through Aspergers to Autism on the other, with a few different points in the middle. I also don't have a formal diagnosis in ASD - there are other confounding factors, and since I had the ADHD diagnosis anyway, it didn't seem necessary.
Well, during conversations with friends and family the last couple of days, my mom volunteered information that, whether she realizes it or not, is classic ASD. The first was when she was commenting on my tendency to take "escape" vacations. She referred to her desire to do the same thing - especially before she retired - as "taking time to just be", to "escape from people and not have to socialize." The overpowering need for such "recharge" time or escaping is a very common thing in ASD folks, and those with Autism and Aspergers tend to get it very severely. In kids, it's often the cause of stimming or seeking heavy blankets and comfort - in sometimes literal terms, of enclosing one's self in something secure and safe and "blanking out" all the scarey, noisy, troubling stimulation.
The other thing she mentioned, this time in the context of things we did when I was a kid, was: "You always hated loud noises, even when you knew they were coming. You'd cover your ears and, if you could, even curl into a little ball." The "too loud/too bright" reaction is also classic ASD - generally brought on by hypersensitivity to stimulation (which I have in other ways as well). It's often one of the first things that parents of Autistic children notice.
This is all on top of having speech impediments as a kid, being delayed in maturation (I hit puberty a little late and then had a longer and slower developmental period - part of the reason I still look a lot younger than I am), all the troubles I had in school despite being an "A student", etc.
In the larger scheme of things, it doesn't really matter if my mom acknowledges all of this. It's not going to impact my life today, and none of her grandkids (my stepdad's grandchildren, really) seem to have any of these issues. At the same time, though, part of me wants an apology. Part of me wants to hear her admit that she made my life hell growing up, and that all of the pressure and stress she put on me was unfair. I mean, I eventually started pushing back against it, but that was only after years of mental/emotional abuse and eventually trying to kill myself, so one could argue the damage was done.
(I should probably add here that I like my mother, as a person. She's kind and brilliant and supportive, and as a woman, she's kicked some serious butt throughout her life. She's the kind of woman who is a feminist whether or not she calls herself one. She was just a very crappy - and codependent - mother, especially for a kid who needed more than to simply be pushed.)
I'd just like, in general, for the "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" narrative that a certain portion of the (mostly conservative) population seems to love to be blown to hell. It causes far more harm than good, and it's predicated on this notion that everyone is the same and has the same strengths and needs.
Anyway, Saturday I drive off to relax for a few days. I looked into a lot of options, including Tahoe and Yosemite and King's Canyon, but as I really don't want to spend $400 a night in hotels, I'm just going back to Guerneville - they didn't end up getting flooded out, and the hot tub is always nice. For now, I just need to make it that far. No meetings, comfort food for lunch, and wrapping myself in my heavy coat to keep warm.
And, maybe, stealing some spoons from the cafeteria. They're plastic, but hey.
The ceremony of innocence is drowned
2 comments
... It's probably a bad thing when you score more than 20 points (self-diagnosed, so probably suspect) on the PCL-R.
Hey, there. Been a while, though it's been fairly boring here. Not so in the news lately, of course, but in the interest of not triggering people, we'll stay out of that.
Trying to decide what to do for New Years. I've got the 31st and 1st off, and kind of want to go somewhere there's snow, but since I won't know that until a few days before, I haven't made any plans yet. That being said, I haven't even started Christmas shopping yet. I should probably get to that.
Speaking of shopping, I finally decided to try and sell some of my photography as posters and such. I'm testing out a few different sites; no purchases yet, though there's a bit of interest in some of them. My totally-arbitrary-mental-abacus says I need to get about 100 viewings of any one image before I'll sell something, and I'm getting close. Not bad, considering I'm not advertising at all.
I also uploaded a bunch of photos to a stock house, so maybe that'll end up selling some as well. You never know. At least they're all non-exclusive licenses, so I can do it all at once and still retain the original rights.
I got a new phone, finally. My contract was up last December, but I hadn't seen anything since then that I liked until recently. Picked up a Nokia Lumina 920. Seems pretty decent so that, though it's a bit large. I love the voice-to-text options: I can have it read me incoming text messages and reply to them by voice while I'm driving. Cool feature.
Dating, not so cool. Pretty cold, actually. I've had a few messages back and forth, but only two tangible dates out of it in a year or so. I'm not terribly bothered by this, but it does raise the question as to whether or not I want to keep putting any effort into the idea. I may try a different site, just for kicks. It'd be nice if there was someplace local I could just go and hang out, but seeing as I don't drink and don't get along with alcohol well, the bars seem a wee bit contraindicated.
Finally getting some definition in my upper body. The rowing machine seems to be doing the trick, and I finally figured out now not to get callouses on my hands doing it. Still not losing the bit of excess just under my belly button that I've had for like 10 years now. I may have to actually need to try changing my eating habits, which I've been hoping to avoid as I don't know how sustainable that is psychologically. That being said, my weight's been stable, so maybe all it would take is losing that bit and I could keep it off with my normal habits. We'll see.
Anyway, there's that. It probably won't take me 3 months to post again :) Maybe something exciting will happen. Well, assuming we don't all die in a horrible fiery explosion on Friday (and no, I don't think that's going to happen; even the Mayans didn't think that was going to happen, and it's their damned calendar).
Hey, there. Been a while, though it's been fairly boring here. Not so in the news lately, of course, but in the interest of not triggering people, we'll stay out of that.
Trying to decide what to do for New Years. I've got the 31st and 1st off, and kind of want to go somewhere there's snow, but since I won't know that until a few days before, I haven't made any plans yet. That being said, I haven't even started Christmas shopping yet. I should probably get to that.
Speaking of shopping, I finally decided to try and sell some of my photography as posters and such. I'm testing out a few different sites; no purchases yet, though there's a bit of interest in some of them. My totally-arbitrary-mental-abacus says I need to get about 100 viewings of any one image before I'll sell something, and I'm getting close. Not bad, considering I'm not advertising at all.
I also uploaded a bunch of photos to a stock house, so maybe that'll end up selling some as well. You never know. At least they're all non-exclusive licenses, so I can do it all at once and still retain the original rights.
I got a new phone, finally. My contract was up last December, but I hadn't seen anything since then that I liked until recently. Picked up a Nokia Lumina 920. Seems pretty decent so that, though it's a bit large. I love the voice-to-text options: I can have it read me incoming text messages and reply to them by voice while I'm driving. Cool feature.
Dating, not so cool. Pretty cold, actually. I've had a few messages back and forth, but only two tangible dates out of it in a year or so. I'm not terribly bothered by this, but it does raise the question as to whether or not I want to keep putting any effort into the idea. I may try a different site, just for kicks. It'd be nice if there was someplace local I could just go and hang out, but seeing as I don't drink and don't get along with alcohol well, the bars seem a wee bit contraindicated.
Finally getting some definition in my upper body. The rowing machine seems to be doing the trick, and I finally figured out now not to get callouses on my hands doing it. Still not losing the bit of excess just under my belly button that I've had for like 10 years now. I may have to actually need to try changing my eating habits, which I've been hoping to avoid as I don't know how sustainable that is psychologically. That being said, my weight's been stable, so maybe all it would take is losing that bit and I could keep it off with my normal habits. We'll see.
Anyway, there's that. It probably won't take me 3 months to post again :) Maybe something exciting will happen. Well, assuming we don't all die in a horrible fiery explosion on Friday (and no, I don't think that's going to happen; even the Mayans didn't think that was going to happen, and it's their damned calendar).
Remembrance of things past
0 comments
A lot of people on Facebook are posting about 9/11. A military friend even said it should be a national holiday.
To me, it looks like a huge portion of the nation is just... stuck.
Part of grieving is moving on. At some point, you accept what happened and turn back to the rest of your life. You never forget, obviously, but you also don't dwell on the incident. You enshrine the memory by moving forward, growing and improving - not by locking yourself in amber and keeping frozen at one moment of time.
I have a friend who was a first responder. He was helping people out of the buildings and only by luck was outside when the first one collapsed. Today, for his sake, I hope he's off camping somewhere, with no t.v., no internet, no phone, no journalism, no well-intentioned bystanders wearing pins or waving flags. He remembers, alright - usually at 2 am in a cold sweat. For him, the trouble isn't remembering - it's forgetting, or if not forgetting then at least being able to accept the memory without it overwhelming him.
I wonder how many others out there in our nation have something of the same problem. I think the number is dropping as people learn to cope and move on, but there are still thousands or tens of thousands who likely have a kind of distanced-but-real PTSD.
I think remembering may be necessary but insufficient. I think we're on the right track, but it takes time. So, I won't post a 9/11 statement on Facebook, but I won't argue with those who show signs of not moving in.
And I'll sit here and think about a man out there in the woods somewhere, and hope he's not remembering.
To me, it looks like a huge portion of the nation is just... stuck.
Part of grieving is moving on. At some point, you accept what happened and turn back to the rest of your life. You never forget, obviously, but you also don't dwell on the incident. You enshrine the memory by moving forward, growing and improving - not by locking yourself in amber and keeping frozen at one moment of time.
I have a friend who was a first responder. He was helping people out of the buildings and only by luck was outside when the first one collapsed. Today, for his sake, I hope he's off camping somewhere, with no t.v., no internet, no phone, no journalism, no well-intentioned bystanders wearing pins or waving flags. He remembers, alright - usually at 2 am in a cold sweat. For him, the trouble isn't remembering - it's forgetting, or if not forgetting then at least being able to accept the memory without it overwhelming him.
I wonder how many others out there in our nation have something of the same problem. I think the number is dropping as people learn to cope and move on, but there are still thousands or tens of thousands who likely have a kind of distanced-but-real PTSD.
I think remembering may be necessary but insufficient. I think we're on the right track, but it takes time. So, I won't post a 9/11 statement on Facebook, but I won't argue with those who show signs of not moving in.
And I'll sit here and think about a man out there in the woods somewhere, and hope he's not remembering.
... skies are blue...
1 comments
8 nights in paradise and, since I have yet to win the lottery, tonight will be the 9th and the last - for a while, at least.
I bite my nails. It's a "nervous habit", something I do when I don't even realize I'm doing it. After a few days in Maui, I notice that my nails are growing. They'll remain intact for a few days after I get back, but not much longer after that. This probably implies something.
The suite I'm in is almost the size of my apartment, though one less bedroom. That's okay, because the kitchen is probably the size of my spare room. The bedroom it does have is in the back, and yet I can still hear the waves crashing on the shore across the street as I lay in bed.
I'm thoroughly tanned, and even more blond than when I left. I'm probably going to get comments on both back at the office. I may have to plan a few things to keep the tan up, though I won't exactly have the luxury for relaxing nude in the sun (yes, with sunscreen) for a couple hours a day.
I've taken pictures and video. None of them have been processed yet; this computer's not really set up for it. It'll all have to wait until I'm at home.
No romantic interludes, nothing too exciting or impressive. Just a quiet, relaxing week in the sun (and shade, and ocean, and hot tubs...).
I don't know that I could live here; I've entertained the thought a few times. I'd probably end up a recluse if I tried. But it's certainly somewhere that I love to visit, and hate to leave.
Aloha.
I bite my nails. It's a "nervous habit", something I do when I don't even realize I'm doing it. After a few days in Maui, I notice that my nails are growing. They'll remain intact for a few days after I get back, but not much longer after that. This probably implies something.
The suite I'm in is almost the size of my apartment, though one less bedroom. That's okay, because the kitchen is probably the size of my spare room. The bedroom it does have is in the back, and yet I can still hear the waves crashing on the shore across the street as I lay in bed.
I'm thoroughly tanned, and even more blond than when I left. I'm probably going to get comments on both back at the office. I may have to plan a few things to keep the tan up, though I won't exactly have the luxury for relaxing nude in the sun (yes, with sunscreen) for a couple hours a day.
I've taken pictures and video. None of them have been processed yet; this computer's not really set up for it. It'll all have to wait until I'm at home.
No romantic interludes, nothing too exciting or impressive. Just a quiet, relaxing week in the sun (and shade, and ocean, and hot tubs...).
I don't know that I could live here; I've entertained the thought a few times. I'd probably end up a recluse if I tried. But it's certainly somewhere that I love to visit, and hate to leave.
Aloha.
Once more 'round the park
4 comments
It's 11:30 pm. I have to be up in a little over 6 hours to catch my plane to Maui.
It'll be Tau day in a few minutes - tau being twice pi, or ~6.28. 6/28/2012 is also the 43rd anniversary of the Stonewall riots. It's the 93rd anniversary of the signing of the Treaty of Versailles ending World War I - and, ironically, the 98th anniversary of the assassination that started it.
And, 35 years ago, the 28th of June was a Tuesday. My mom hadn't gone into labor over the weekend and was now 24 days late, so her doctor made the decision to induce labor. Tuesday was chosen because Mondays at the hospital were typically busy. A couple hours after being induced, she had a 9 lb 8 oz baby boy, whose first act upon being placed on the gurney was to pick his head up and look around the room.
"Should he be able to do that?" my mom asked.
"You cooked him an extra month," the doctor replied, "What did you expect?"
... The silly part is that the only thing being "35" brings to mind is that I'm only 2 years away from being a prime number again.
Oh well. See y'all when I'm in Maui.
It'll be Tau day in a few minutes - tau being twice pi, or ~6.28. 6/28/2012 is also the 43rd anniversary of the Stonewall riots. It's the 93rd anniversary of the signing of the Treaty of Versailles ending World War I - and, ironically, the 98th anniversary of the assassination that started it.
And, 35 years ago, the 28th of June was a Tuesday. My mom hadn't gone into labor over the weekend and was now 24 days late, so her doctor made the decision to induce labor. Tuesday was chosen because Mondays at the hospital were typically busy. A couple hours after being induced, she had a 9 lb 8 oz baby boy, whose first act upon being placed on the gurney was to pick his head up and look around the room.
"Should he be able to do that?" my mom asked.
"You cooked him an extra month," the doctor replied, "What did you expect?"
... The silly part is that the only thing being "35" brings to mind is that I'm only 2 years away from being a prime number again.
Oh well. See y'all when I'm in Maui.
Two words, sounds like...
3 comments
Work's been hell this week.
During a normal week, Thursdays tend to be "meeting day" with a few on Tuesdays. This week, I was in meetings most of the week; the only day I really had much contiguous time to work on anything was Monday.
Add to that the fact that my manager told me Monday morning that she wanted a user manual for the software we've developed by Friday. We had a crappy, half-a-dozen page one for the last version, but since we've changed pretty much everything, it needed to be rewritten from scratch.
So, this whole week has been me going back and forth to meetings and dragging my laptop with me so that I can half-ignore the meeting I'm in and work on the manual. I've also worked at home, after hours, more this week than I have since I started the company (I'll be doing more tonight, and likely this weekend - no, I'm not done, but I got a significant amount of what she wanted done so she could review it, so she's happy).
Next week, I need to get officially stabbed (for my annual TB test) and, again, meetings half of Monday and all of Tuesday. Wednesday looks to be mostly open at this point, but we'll see how it works out. However, by Wednesday afternoon, I'm not going to care.
Because, Thursday, June 28th, I'm flying back to Maui for 9 nights in a penthouse on the beach.
Fuck. Yeah.
During a normal week, Thursdays tend to be "meeting day" with a few on Tuesdays. This week, I was in meetings most of the week; the only day I really had much contiguous time to work on anything was Monday.
Add to that the fact that my manager told me Monday morning that she wanted a user manual for the software we've developed by Friday. We had a crappy, half-a-dozen page one for the last version, but since we've changed pretty much everything, it needed to be rewritten from scratch.
So, this whole week has been me going back and forth to meetings and dragging my laptop with me so that I can half-ignore the meeting I'm in and work on the manual. I've also worked at home, after hours, more this week than I have since I started the company (I'll be doing more tonight, and likely this weekend - no, I'm not done, but I got a significant amount of what she wanted done so she could review it, so she's happy).
Next week, I need to get officially stabbed (for my annual TB test) and, again, meetings half of Monday and all of Tuesday. Wednesday looks to be mostly open at this point, but we'll see how it works out. However, by Wednesday afternoon, I'm not going to care.
Because, Thursday, June 28th, I'm flying back to Maui for 9 nights in a penthouse on the beach.
Fuck. Yeah.
Homeward Bound - Day Three
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(All these shots and more, except the map, available at flickr. Map courtesy of Google.)
This last post is shorter, but so was the journey. After spending the night in Garberville, we needed to get to a train station in Martinez by 3 pm or so. The fastest way was 200 miles down the 101, which was a regular freeway or at least a major highway for most of the trip. However, since we had some time and my wandering companion expressed a desire, we cut off the 101 just north of the bay and headed east.
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| The last of the western frontier. |
It was the 49ers who brought grapes to California - a few enterprising individuals decided that it was easier to grown their gold than pan for it. The first wines were produced for sale in the late 1850s, and it's been going ever since. This part of California is roughly the same latitude as most of France and of similar climate. Most kinds of wines are produced here, even sparkling wines that are champagne in everything but name (a thorny legal issue).
In fact, in an interesting bit of history: France uses Californian vines - to a point, anyway. In the 1800s, speedy transportation across the Atlantic meant more travel, and when California started growing its own varieties of grapes, some of those vines made it back to France. Unfortunately, along with those vines likely came an aphid that carried a blight. While it didn't affect the California vines much, it wiped out almost all French vines - until a solution was found, whereby French vines could be grafted onto Californian ones and survive. To this day, I think there's only one native European vine that, ungrafted, can survive the blight, and it only grows in Greece.
Regardless, the California wine industry is extremely successful, and Napa is its cultural (if not literal) center.
It's also only a short hop from there to Martinez, and the end of this part of the journey. We arrived at about 2 pm, plenty of time for Mark to catch his train and wander on as well as for me to start the drive home - a pretty bland 400-mile drive down the 5 back to L.A., one that normally takes about 5 or 6 hours but ended up taking over 7 because of construction (ironically at a place called the Grapevine, though that's because of how it winds up the Tehachapis rather than anything to do with actual grapes).
All in all, I think it was a fun trip. I've been on many parts of these roads before, though in some cases it has literally been almost three decades.
My ulterior motive, though, and even my reason for writing up these "travelogues" as they've been called, is to get across some of the diversity of California. I love this state - I've lived here all my life - and while I acknowledge the importance of Hollywood and the Silicon Valley to the culture and commerce of both the state and the nation as a whole, there's so much more here that most people - even most Californians - never experience.
In the 80's, there was an old show called "California's Gold" starring Huell Howser, where he wandered around the state finding small, interesting, out-of-the-way spots or sights that most people would never know about. Part of me would like to reproduce - in a more modern way - some of that on this blog.
I still want to get out to the deserts. I want to camp in Yosemite and spend a week at Tahoe. I want to go back to Big Bear and Shasta and really get into the sequoias. I want to head over to Catalina and the rest of the Channel Islands, to wander down to San Juan Capistrano and walk around the San Diego zoo and wild animal park.
And, yes, I want to go to Europe, and South America, and Africa, and Australia, and scores of other places, but those all take far more planning and longer time than a weekend. That doesn't mean they won't happen, but it means they'll happen less often. I hope to do a trip around my state once every month or two - perhaps not to this extent (1400 miles in 3 days is a lot), but maybe.
Anyway, I hope this gives any of you who plan on visiting - or who have been living here for years but never really looked around - some ideas of what's out there.
Pacific Coast Highway - Day Two
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(All these shots and more, except the map, available at flickr. Map courtesy of Google.)
I mentioned in my last post that most of that day's drive took place on the Pacific plate. If you look at this fault map, you can see what I mean:
From the upper left, there's a dark line - the San Andreas Fault - that cuts off just south of San Franciso itself then cuts inland slightly but still roughly follows the contour of the state. That fault separates the Pacific plate - everything left of it - from the North American plate - everything to the right. Also, if you notice the green area just to the right of the San Andreas in Northern California, that's mesozoic-era rocks that are part of the plate.
What this means is that the actual soil and ground are extremely different along the coast north of the bay area than they are south of it. For example, because of the addition of volcanic elements from the Cascades, you often find black sand beaches in northern California that don't exist in Southern California.
And yes, this is where we make the joke that, while California has many faults, lack of diversity isn't one of them. Anyway, for the record, the plate action is such that Los Angeles (and the parts of California on the Pacific plate) is actually moving northward slightly towards San Francisco. This is also increasing the size of the Sea of Cortez as the action creates a "gap" that will, in millions of years, probably reach up to Lake Tahoe.
Back to the trip...
Sunday started later than Saturday - we weren't rushing to get to the aquarium this time, but it was going to be a long slow slog. Saturday's drive time was around 9 hours for 400 miles; Sunday was about the same distance but with nearly zero freeway(1) miles, so much slower (ended up taking us almost 13 hours). Anyway, we slept in until 7ish and were on the road by 8.
The college I mentioned is University of California (UC) Santa Cruz (SC), one of California's public universities. It's nestled in the hills and trees just north of town. UCSC's major focus is on marine biology - logical, since Monterey Bay is part of a large protected area for marine reserves that stretches from San Francisco south almost to Morro Bay. The fun fact about UCSC is its mascot: the banana slug.
Leaving Santa Cruz, we headed along the coast up to Half Moon Bay, a fairly famous golf course and resort getaway for bay area types. However, just north of the bay is more famous for surfing: surfers generally acknowledge three amazing spots in the world for the best waves year-round, one in Maui (Jaws) and two in California - and Mavericks is by Half Moon Bay. Waves average - and yes, I said average - 50 feet, with crests over 80 feet.
We didn't go surfing. Instead, we headed up PCH and joined up with the 101 as we got to San Francisco. Mark had little actual interest in the city itself - he's coming back at a later juncture - so we just drove through town, but I did want to make sure we stopped and got pictures of the Golden Gate Bridge if the weather cooperated.
Well, the weather was great, but something else made it a bit more difficult than it should have been: apparently, May 27th, 2012, was the 75th anniversary of the bridge, and so most of the viewing areas were closed off for press events. Eventually we wound down a road to a little marina. I've put in some of the shots, as well as one of SF from across the bay and Alcatraz through the haze.
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| Alcatraz |
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| San Francisco looking south |
That bottom left shot is there to give you an idea of the size of the bridge: navy ships regularly go under it. That one passing under it is the SS Jeremiah O'Brien, stationed in SF and one of the few surviving ships (there are only two confirmed from what I can tell) from the Normandy armada of D-Day 1944.
In the San Francisco shot, you can make out the pointy TransAmerica building almost dead center as well as the Bay Bridge on the left.
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| Bolinas |
Leaving the bridge and getting back onto the highway was a little tricky, but we did. North of SF, PCH follows the coast briefly to a "day trip" spot for beachgoers, Bolinas Bay. The bay itself actually looked more like a salt-water marsh, but I think we were passing at low tide. This shot is approaching, with the opening of the bay beyond that promontory.
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| Tomales Bay looking north at the mouth |
At the end of Tomales Bay, after PCH curves inland a bit and then heads almost due west, you come to Bodega Bay.
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| Bodega Bay |
The town of Bodega Bay is a little fishing village with a very small population that, while picturesque, probably wouldn't be noticed by most people if it weren't for Hollywood. This is where Hitchcock - who seemed to love the small little coastal town that reminded him of England - filmed his movie "The Birds", often touted as the first "fantasy/horror" movie.
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| ... no idea why he was up there... |
The coastline is rather beautiful, though, and weaving in and out of shores lines with trees (often redwoods) is fairly relaxing.
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| The Russian River |
There are plenty of shots along the coastline; I'll just put some of the more interesting ones here.
About 30 miles past Fort Bragg, PCH leaves the coast for the last time(2) and joins back up with the 101, now the Redwood highway, in - you guessed it - the middle of the redwoods. Robert Frost's statement definitely sprang to mind as we drove the winding road in the late afternoon:
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
We reached the 101 just before 7 pm - still daylight at this time of year - and had to take a touristy detour. You see, we had to drive through a tree.
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| Think thin |
The Chandelier Tree is a pretty famous attraction here. There's a similar one, if I recall correctly, up by Yosemite, but this one's near enough to the Avenue of the Giants that it gets a fair bit of traffic. Yes, you drive your car through the base of the tree. Yes, the tree is still alive. It was a tight fit for my Eclipse - I certainly wouldn't try it with a full sized van - but we made it.
We then hit the 101 and drove north to the Avenue of the Giants. Now, to be clear, parts of the 101 here are less "freeway" and more "twisty windy road", but since we'd spend almost 800 miles on twisty windy highway, this wasn't much of an issue. The fading light was, however, and I wanted to make sure we had time to see at least a few of the giants. Even impossible-to-find markers along the self-guided tour didn't dissuade us: eventually, we found them.
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| These are smallish sequoias. |
When people talk about "big trees", there are three distinct varieties in California. The Douglas Firs are more common, a pine tree that's still been known to reach over 350 feet tall. However, the biggest are the other two: the coastal redwood, which have been confirmed to grow up to 380 feet (and stories tell of much taller) but are relatively skinny (only 26 feet across). The other is the giant sequoia, which only grow to 200-250 feet or so tall but can have diameters in excess of 50 feet.
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| The canopy above |
Redwoods - all types, including sequoias - have natural pest repellants in their bark. Also, because the canopies are so high and light so dim at the base, not much grows between them other than other redwoods and low ferns or mosses. The effect is that of a natural cathedral, with almost dead silence and a distinct earthy smell.
I always joke with people that California is known for excess: we have the largest animal that ever lived - the blue whale - living off our coast year-round, and we've got the largest organism that ever lived - the giant sequoias - living in our hills. But, really, there is something otherworldly and ancient when you wander through a redwood forest - I often half-expect a Tyrannosaur to come stomping through. The main response, though is best summed up by this last shot.
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| If you've never been, you don't know. |
(1) Okay, so, nomenclature. "Freeway" is just to distinguish from a "tollway". There are very few toll roads in California. Most of our major highways are freeways - in fact, I can only think of two tollways in SoCal, and both are optional routes that parallel freeways.
(2) Technically, the 101 goes back to the coast, but PCH as an independent road ends here.
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