Vacation

Yosemite Falls

So, I'm back from my vacation and back at work...

- at least in theory -

... But it was definitely a fun time and much-needed.  Yosemite is actually closer than I thought: it was only 4 hours from my friend's house to the campground (which, granted, was outside the park's southern end, but still pretty close).  Considering the drive to San Francisco from there is about 6 hours, that surprised me.

Camping was actually pretty fun.  I think I'd like a campground that has running water next time, as that was pretty much the only thing that was an inconvenience (the stream was too far away and too shallow to use for any kind of bathing).  Even that wasn't a major issue, though; we were only there four nights, and there were showers at the lake nearby if we really needed them. I just did a sort-of sponge bath most mornings using the melt water from the ice chest: if nothing else, dipping into freezing water is a fast way to wake up.

Mariposa Grove

We hit Mariposa this first day, Sunday, under the impression that it would be slightly less chaotic than the valley itself.  It very well may have been, but there were enough people in the grove to still make it busy.  We took the tram to the top of the hill and hiked down, which ended up being brilliant - not only because it was easier down than up, but because most people didn't bother taking the trail.  So, we had a fair amount of people-less forest to wander through on our way down.

Most evenings we went to town after the park; really, this just involved a 3 mile diversion, since we had to travel the same route to get between the campground and the park anyway.  But it also provided an opportunity to use a flushing toilet and an actual sink.

Chilnualna Falls

On the way back to the campground on Sunday night, we went looking for open areas where we could get some star shots.  Matt hadn't really done that before and, since I had, we figured we'd play around a bit.  We ended up finding this open area, probably 100-150 feet across, just a few miles up the hill from the campground.  It had obviously been used for parties a few times, as there were both remnants of campfires as well as various bits of broken glass and such.  Luckily, no one was there on Sunday, though, so as soon as the sun was down, we took our tripods and headed out.

Night shooting is a little different: the goal is a balance between enough light from the stars to make them really stand out and not leaving the shutter open long enough to get "trails" (unless that's what you want).  There's actual math that goes into figuring out the maximum shutter time: every lens focal length has a "field of view" as an angle measurement, and the earth rotates at a constant speed.

The Milky Way behind trees

So, let's say your FoV is 60 degrees and your sensor is 4000 pixels along the direction of movement; that means each degree is about 67 pixels.  The earth does one rotation in a day and thus 180 degrees in 12 hours, meaning 15 degrees an hour or 1 degree every 4 minutes.  Which means we'll see a shift of  67 pixels in 4 minutes, or about 1 pixel every 4 seconds.  So, to get no trail at all, the longest we can leave the shutter open is 4 second (again, assuming a 60 degree FoV and 4000 pixels along the axis of movement).

The math isn't quite exact, but it's close enough that one can approximate things pretty well.  In reality, a single pixel of movement - or even two - won't be noticed, as most "noticeable" stars will take up a few pixels themselves.  Regardless, you can get some pretty nifty pictures if you do it right.

Matt also wanted to play with illuminating the surrounding trees via flash, so we had some (rather silly) attempts which succeeded mostly in frightening away the local critters.

Yosemite Valley, "tunnel" view

Monday and Tuesday we actually went to the valley floor; even on a weekday, it was still a bit of a madhouse.  Since we were up late on Sunday night, Monday morning we got out late and had to deal with most of the yahoos.  Tuesday, though, we got up extra-early and were at Bridalvail Falls by about 7 am.

We headed to Yosemite Falls after that and - by taking advantage of a dried creek bed - hiked up to an awesome vantage point near the base of the lower falls.  We spent probably a half-hour or more taking photos there - Matt was practicing "glassing" the waterfalls - before heading back to the car and up to Glacier Point.

Halfdome from Sentinal Dome

Glacier Point and Sentinel Dome have some pretty awesome views of the valley.  The hike up Sentinel Dome wasn't bad except for the last 500 feet, which are of course a scramble up the side of the dome itself.  The scene from the top is worth the effort, though, even in the heat.

We've both decided that we want to go back next year, around early May, when the waterfalls are more dramatic.  I'm thinking we might even try some of the longer hikes - out to Halfdome or even longer ones - and get wilderness permits for overnight camping.

The solar charger and battery worked pretty well; it takes pretty much a full day of sun to charge the battery using the panels, but it gives about four full charges on my phone, Matt's iPhone, or either of our tablets.  It also charged them pretty quickly.

I may post about the second part of my vacation, but that was just to Guerneville - which, while relaxing and fun, is something I've done many times before.

One of the after-effects of this vacation, though, is that I seem to have no attention span: I can't sit and do one thing for more than 30-40 minutes without feeling the need to get up and move around.  I'm also back to exercising, including walking a fair bit, which I'd stopped prior to the trip due to my rib injury.

Oh, and I've signed up for a gay outdoors hiking/camping/etc. group out here.  They've got a short hike tomorrow night that I'm going to join them on - just an easy one in Griffith Park - and I'm hoping that this'll be a new way to not only meet people and make friends but also get out more and do more camping and eventually backpacking kinds of things.

For now, though, that's it.  I'll leave you with a shot of my favorite hot tub in the world.

The hot tub at Highlands Resort

Stealth Blog

Wow, so, this kind of fell off the radar.

Not that anything interesting has happened in 3.5 months.

I'll be 37 in just under 3 weeks.  I also got carded at the movies on Saturday.  That used to annoy the hell out of me, but now it's just silly.

[... Actually, let me explain that.  Obviously, I look younger than I am.  I always have.  Part of it is that I have a small torso and long legs, so even though I'm 6'2" I "look short" unless I'm standing right next to something or someone for a height comparison.  The bigger part, though, is that I didn't really physically start maturing until about 18 or 19, so that at 22 I still looked like a 13-year-old.  I didn't "grow into my face" until I was about 25, at which point I started to look like late-teens.  I pretty much haven't changed a lot since then, though being a bit more muscular has helped bump me to the "twenties" category at least.

Now, I'm sure most people have had minor experiences with age discrimination as kids or teens; we often look back and laugh it off as "probably deserved it" or "I really was naive", but it's a real thing.  It's harder to laugh off when you're 25 and still have people telling you things like "when you actually get out of school and have to face the real world".  It's even harder when you're 30 and they're still doing it.  I actually have snapped, thank you very much, at people in the last few years who try to pull that on me professionally.

So, yes, looking young is something everyone thinks is a huge benefit and I shouldn't complain, but please understand why something as innocuous as getting carded bugs me.]

My dad is/was the same way, though if anything I'm "better/worse" (depending on perspective) than he was: smoking and drinking really do age you, physically, so that by the time he was 40 he actually looked early 30s. 

What else - oh, I'm going camping in 2 weeks.  Well, I'm actually taking 2 weeks off to go camping and to the cabins in Guerneville and maybe something else, but the camping is first.  4 days in Yosemite with a friend I haven't hung out with since high school.  He's a pro photog, so we'll be dragging the cameras and tripods everywhere.  Should be fun.

Well, assuming I don't have problems with the hiking, which I guess does bring up something that happened.  I dislocated a rib in late April (gardening can be dangerous), which totally screwed up by fitness schedule leading up to the trip.  Basically, I couldn't do any real exercise, even walking more than a mile or so, for 6 weeks.  To this day, I still feel it a little after my workout, but not to the point of being more than just a slight muscle tension.  I should be okay for the hikes, but there's always the possibility that I'll over-do it.

I'll try to post some pics after the trip.

Marginalia

Shadows of shadows passing...

It's raining here, pretty heavily in general though it had lightened up at lunch.  For most of the world, a rain shower isn't a big deal; to most Los Angeles natives, it is, if anything, something to be glad about.  However, most of the city is populated by transplants who came here fleeing snow and ice and rain and all manner of precipitation; to them, clouds in paradise are the end of the world.

Realistically, there's a legitimate danger from flash floods and such in various places - contrary to popular belief, LA is not a desert but a basin surrounded by hills and mountains; I have streams and a literal waterfall within walking distance of my apartment in non-drought seasons.  The canyons, though, are mostly rock and stone and, thus, become very quick to develop falls and slides with even a slight bit of moisture.

Sitting here, at work, I've actually gotten more than a handful of local-area flash flood warnings on my cell.

It's actually a random coincidence that I've lately been thinking about my next vacation and to where I'd like to go.  At the moment, I have enough frequent flyer miles to go pretty much anywhere in at least business class, round-trip; the question, though, is how much I want to spend on the rest of the adventure.  Like, I do want to go to Kauai at some point, and I've even picked out the hotel where I'd like to stay; it's just that it's $300 a night.  I also still want to go to Europe (mainly Ireland and London to start), the Caribbean, Key West (yes, it's basically the Caribbean, but still), Cairns, and French Polynesia as well.

Decisions, decisions.

I might just stay in-state (it's been ages since I've been to Yosemite or the sequoias, and I didn't get to Guerneville this last winter so I'm kind of missing trees) for my birthday and save up miles and money for something larger or grander later.  I have a couple of months before I really have to make a decision, however.

Hope everyone's doing mostly well.

Ding dong the ridge is dead

For those who don't know (which is probably most of the world), the massive dry spell California has been suffering since December was being caused by a high-pressure ridge off the coast of Alaska.  It was diverting the Jetstream north a bit, which then hooked down almost across the rockies and created the "polar vortex" effect that the Midwest and Eastern US has been enduring (and which seems to be also causing massive flooding in the UK).

This high-pressure ridge was there for so long without moving or dissipating that it became half-jokingly known as "the ridiculously resilient ridge".

Now, blue skies and 80-degree temps in January are nice to a point, but you have to realize that Central California is one of the major food production areas in the country (and in some areas in the world): less than 1% of the nation's land by area creates over 8% of the produce in the country.

This ridge, by forcing the Jetstream to skip California, has been endangering the US food supply in a massive way.

Until last weekend, when it finally broke apart.  SoCal has only gotten a few showers, but there is now flooding in parts of the state north of San Francisco, and hopefully the snow pack on the mountains will begin to build up.

The ironic part is that the driest January in California history is likely about to head into an El Nino wet season.  Bring on the rain!

I'm heading to Tampa for a conference next week.  I'm not necessarily looking forward to it - I'm spending the entire time hanging out in a hall at a booth, mostly by myself - but it'll be something different at least.

During the dry spell, I noticed a few hummingbirds coming up and poking at the little white flowers on my basil plants.  This seemed kind of desperate to me, so I bought a shepherd's hook and a hummingbird feeder and kind of nestled it in the middle of the basil.  Since then, I've had at least three hummingbirds come by regularly - including one who likes to "stand guard" and chase others away except for the one female that I think is his mate.

They're actually pretty comfortable with me.  I was out watering my plants earlier - including the planter where the feeder sits - and they'd buzz up, "zot" at me a bit (this kind actually makes noise, kind of like an electric click), and then start drinking out of the feeder.  I can even move around the patio slowly and they don't get jumpy.  I think I'll call the guard "Henry"; as I was heading outside to water, I just randomly thought, "I hope Henry doesn't get too mad at me," so I guess that's his name now.

Kai moe

The food had been delicious, but she wasn’t really here to eat.  This, though – the shoreline, the late afternoon sun on the waves, the exotic flowers – this was a feast for the eye.  Sure, a lot of it was typical stuff she’d shot dozens of times before, but she never tired of this kind of nature.  That’s why her editor had sent her out here: she had an eye for beauty, and a knack for catching that rare perspective.

                She caught sight of movement along the shore – a slight shadow cast up from the waves: a small crab, crawling between two indentations.  Careful not to move too quickly, she raised her camera – always ready in her right hand – and zoomed in, focusing on the shelled scavenger just as it came to a small crest in the sand.

                Click.  The sound of immortality.  She glanced at the playback on the LCD and nodded to herself, then looked up without standing to see if any other surprises might lie along the shore.  Behind her, the rest of the tour group was still eating, the noise of their conversation and cutlery barely carrying over the waves crashing some ten yards in front of her.  She closed her eyes momentarily, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face compete with the slight spray of mist from the ocean.

                Opening her eyes, something made her scan to the right.  Here, the smooth shoreline was interrupted by a long finger of volcanic rock that reached out into the ocean, a remnant of some eruption long ago.  Waves and time had eroded it, breaking it in places, but as her eye followed along, it still bore up to the crashing of waves along its sides.

                But there, at the end, was something she hadn’t expected.  Someone was standing at the edge of the finger, facing out towards the sunset.  She was maybe a five hundred feet away, but, by build and stance, she suspected it was a man, young or at least young-looking, lean but muscular.  He wore no clothing that she could discern, but his skin was so tanned that a jerkin or thong could easily blend in.  He stood there, right foot slightly behind left, knee bent with right heel off the ground, arms hanging loosely at his sides.

                The sun was almost touching the horizon now, and the warm orange glow it cast bounced off of him.  She could only see him in partial profile from the left and rear, but even at this angle, he seemed to radiate with the sun.  Even his hair, whatever color it was naturally, appeared as almost a liquid gold in the reflected sunset.

                This was a moment that couldn’t be missed.  She braced herself again, legs slightly cramping from the long-held crouch, and raised her camera.  Through the telephoto lens, she could make out more details – he indeed wore nothing but some kind of white necklace.  His left eye seemed closed, and his breathing a slow, regular movement.  The stance was almost meditative, and she framed the shot – his body, the camera slightly below and shooting up even at this great distance, the barest top of the black rock, and the crashing waves – and pressed the release.

                Click.  She glanced down at the preview and saw she’d timed it perfectly – the merest traces of a crashing wave seemed to frame the body.   Out of some curiosity, she used the preview’s zoom function to enhance a portion of the shot, narrowing down on his face: high cheekbones, defined jaw, and the barest hint of a smile.  She smiled at that smile.  What it must be like, to be out on that rock.

                Her legs started to protest, and she slowly stood, still facing the man out on the finger.  She turned towards the sun to find other subjects when she heard someone behind her say, “There’s some naked dude on the rocks out there.”

                She smiled to herself, and said over her shoulder, “He’s not entirely naked.”  She did not say, “He’s wearing a necklace,” because while that made her first statement technically true, she knew it wouldn’t satisfy.  But, from this distance, no one else was likely to be able to tell anyway.

                “Oh,” came the young male voice, “cool.”  She thought that was all and started to position for a shot of the last bit of the setting sun reflected off the waves when the voice said, “I wonder what he’s doing.”

                She remembered the closed eyes, and the smile, and the relaxed stance.  As she framed a couple standing in the tide with the sun behind them, she said only one word.  “Listening.” …

                … Sensation was total.

                Through closed eyes, he saw the heat of the sun.  On bare skin, he felt the cool of the pacific, the warmth of rays, the breath of wind.  Through his feet, he felt the pounding of the waves against the rock.  From his nose came the smell of the ocean, salty and sweet.

                But the sound… that was what he sensed the most.  Standing here, a hundred feet offshore, the roar of the wind and waves engulfed him.  A reef just beyond his perch and stretching north broke the waves early in this cove, the remnants crashing into the rocks that seemed to amplify the sound and echo it back at him.  The closest he’d ever come to this sensation was standing in front of a speaker at a club in Milan and feeling the music radiate through him.  He almost felt like part of the waves, like he shattered and reformed with every roar.

                He always missed this, and he always came back to it.

                The light on the back of his eyelids changed slightly, and he opened them to see the sun crossing the horizon.  Clouds in the sky looked like streaks of fire and smoke.  He watched as it slowly sank until there was barely a sliver left.  Just as the last bit settled behind the sea, he dove head-first, timing his jump so that he entered the water in a trough between waves.  If he missed his timing, the ocean would smash him back into the rocks, but he never missed.  Almost in defiance, the next wave turned out to be a rogue, and the crash and surge shot water over the rock taller than his head had been.

                When it passed, there was no sign he’d ever been there…

                … As soon as the sun had set, she glanced back over at the finger of rock, but the man wasn’t there.  She quickly looked down the length, then down what she could see of the shoreline, but there was no sign of him.  He’d simply vanished.

                Oh well, she had her shots, including of him.  She’d combine these with some from earlier in the day and make a spread for her editor.  She capped her lens as she turned and walked back up the sand to the dining area, the rest of the guests generally heading in the same direction.

                “Get anything good?” asked one of the guides.  She looked at him and smiled.

                “Maybe.  I’ll have to see when I get back to the room.”

                He grinned slightly.  “Get a shot of guy on the rock?”

                She blushed at this, though she didn’t know why.  “Yeah, actually, and I think that one came out well.”  Then she shrugged, saying, “I couldn’t pass it up.  He looked so…”

                When she lagged, he offered, “Peaceful?”

                “Yeah.”

                He nodded and started walking towards one of the vans.  “Yeah, he always looks like that.”

                “You…” she started, then moved to catch up.  “You’ve seen him before?”

                Nodding again as he opened the sliding door on the van, he said, “Yep.  Not often; I think the last time was 6 months or so ago.  But when I do, it’s always at sunset, and always on that rock.”  He motioned his head towards the other guides.  “They’ve seen him too, same story.  It’s a bit of a ‘thing’, you know?”

                She opened the front passenger door to the van and hopped up into the seat.  She turned to him as she buckled her seat belt and asked, “Does anyone know who he is?”

                He closed her door and leaned against it, talking quietly through the open window.  “I think the staff here know.  I’ve heard them refer to someone as ‘ka mea nāna nā moe’, which means ‘the dreamer’ or ‘the visionary’.  They call the beach by those rocks ‘kai moe’, the sleeping shore.  They’ll never answer a direct question, though.”

                “Are they afraid?” she asked quietly; people were getting into the van now, and she had a sense that this was a private conversation not for their ears.

                “Not afraid, no,” he said, shaking his head.  “More like, respectful, or even proud of a secret.  I don’t know that I blame them.”  He backed away and went to shut the sliding door now that the last tourist was in.

                She leaned out and asked, “Why not?” as he passed by to walk around the front of the van to the driver’s side.

                He climbed in, put on his seat belt, and put the key in the ignition.  She figured he wouldn’t answer, but at the last minute before starting the engine, he paused, leaned towards her, and said, “Just looking at him out there makes me feel at peace.  If you knew someone who could do that, would you risk telling anyone?”

                And then he turned the key, called back to the group to hold on, and put the van in gear.  And as the wheels kicked up dust and rocks behind them, she looked in the side-view mirror and glanced the end of the finger of rock – kai moe – once more and had to admit that, no, she wouldn’t. …

[I'm not sure where this is going to go - if anywhere - but I like how it's come out so far.]

So this is Christmas

... or near enough to it, anyway.  Finished shopping last night (yes, I always wait until the last few days).  Still haven't wrapped anything, but that will be tonight.  Tomorrow, I'm going to my parents' house early to open presents, then staying all day for dinner.  Then back again on the 26th for my step-dad's birthday.  It's the same routine, every year.  I think my mom's likely to be a little more weepy this year, since my step-dad almost didn't make it to this one.  She mostly won't let it show, of course, but it'll be there just under the surface.

"... and what have you done?"

Not much, really.  There was my step-dad's accident, and trying to keep my mother sane throughout it.  I planted a garden on my patio (much of which is still growing).  I went to the Big Island for the first (and possibly last) time.  I did some minor stuff at work.  All in all, a year without much to say for it.

I still haven't gone to the South Pacific, or to the Caribbean like I wanted.  I still haven't really figured out how to balance everything out financially yet (I swing a fair bit).  I tried dating a bit, but haven't had a second date with pretty much anyone (and pretty few first dates).  Still not in the shape I want to be in (though improving).

"Another year over..."

Typically, this time of year, I head off to Guerneville to get away for a few days.  I'm not this year; I'm not going anywhere, actually.  I'm also not telling a certain friend this, because he'll insist on going out for NYE to some restaurant or something and I really don't want to.  No, I'm saving money and vacation time and just staying in.  I'll probably wander over to the Rose Parade, since it's a couple blocks from my apartment and I've never seen it live. 

"... And a new one just begun."

I don't really do resolutions.  I don't really try to plan things out for the new year.  It just seems like so much can happen that anything more than a vague direction is setting yourself up for failure.

All that being said, I'll have slightly more vacation time (I've got basically three weeks of time-off right now), so I may try taking a longer trip or a couple of trips (I'd like to hit the caribbean, but that needs to be in spring before hurricane season starts).  I'd like to keep improving my physical condition.  I'd also like to pick up more consulting work, but that's hard to come by for a DBA and sysadmin.

Not sure if I'll go to Hawaii for my birthday this year.  I told my coworker (who actually has the same birthday, though he's a few years older) that he could take it off this year if he wants (we're actually on a Saturday).  So, we'll see what he plans, if anything.  Some of it may depend on how much I can afford.

I might need to buy a new car this year, too.  Mine's finally starting to show some signs of age, though I don't think it's going to collapse any time soon.  But it's something I need to start planning for in general.

Anyway, happy holidays to everyone out there who cares about them.

Unless we go to the stars

A bunch of friends of mine started re-watching Babylon 5 recently, so I picked up the seasons to run through it a fifth (or 10th, or whatever; I stopped counting) time.  It's probably been 5 or 6 years since the last time I watched it.

And I got to the end of fourth episode of Season 1 - "Infection" - and had to stop for a moment.

Sinclair's being interviewed by a reporter.  Here's the exchange:

Mary Ann Cramer: Is it worth it? Should we just pull back? Forget the whole thing as a bad idea, and take care of our own problems, at home.

Sinclair: No. We have to stay here. And there's a simple reason why. Ask ten different scientists about the environment, population control, genetics, and you'll get ten different answers, but there's one thing every scientist on the planet agrees on. Whether it happens in a hundred years or a thousand years or a million years, eventually our Sun will grow cold and go out. When that happens, it won't just take us. It'll take Marilyn Monroe, and Lao-Tzu, and Einstein, and Morobuto, and Buddy Holly, and Aristophanes… and all of this… all of this… was for nothing. Unless we go to the stars.

That was first broadcast on television in 1994.  I was 16 at the time (I turned 17 a couple months later).  I had, by then, figured out that I was capable of really terrible things - and, in a way, was searching for reasons why I should or shouldn't do them.  I had a basic formulation of an idea, the initial shape of it in my mind - a kind of virtual lump of marble within which was still hidden the statue that I could only reveal by chipping away at the stone.  It took me probably 10 years to realize it - the first time I went back and re-watched the series - but this speech was, and is, a big part of what shaped that eventual reason.

It probably seems pretty grandiose to say so, but if you ever want to know my motivation for anything - literally, anything - start with this notion: that, in a few million years, our sun will die and with it everything in the solar system.  And that's only if we last that long - there's the "cosmic bullet" notion as well, some comet or x-ray beam coming our way that will wipe out all life on the planet.  If we're still here - and only here - then we'll be wiped out, and everything we've done will have been for naught.

I often use the phrase "to teach the world to save itself"; while I'm sure most people think I'm being poetic, I'm really not.  Every little step - every dollar for the homeless, every shoulder offered to cry on, every pleasant smile for a stranger, every encouragement given, every dream fulfilled - is a little step on the path towards the goal of getting us off this planet and out there into space.  On, literally, the path towards saving all known life in the universe.

Progress isn't constant; for every step forward, there's a half step back.  We only progress by averages, but we still progress.  Most of us only ever get a chance to do small things, but the small things add up: to either hold us, as a species, back or help nudge us forward if only a little.  But if "small things" are all I ever get a chance to do, I'll make them as positive as I can.

Stuff and Junk

Major revelation time: I like guys.

Okay, so, maybe not.  But it's a problem I face a lot: I like just regular, average guys.  Not really hyper-masculine, not really feminine, not body builders or models, not even necessarily "good looking" by Hollywood standards.  Just, guys.

Like, the kind of guy everyone knows who doesn't really stand out for any reason.  Our friends in high school, our coworkers, the people we pass driving down the freeway.

It's a problem because it feels discriminatory, even if it isn't.  It's a problem because the vast majority of guys are straight (or mostly straight) and give little if any indication when they're not.  It's a problem because (apparently) not many guys are attracted to me.  It's a problem because it's really hard to find people who don't stand out, especially when your life has been pretty atypical and you're not really that type yourself.

(This revelation brought to you by the realization that most of the people I've encountered on dating sites aren't guys, which is probably why I date very rarely.  I need a new dating site.  Or to try actually going out and meeting people - horror of horrors.)

Separately, I watched a new gay movie called "Geography Club" last night; very "Get Real" in a lot of ways.  [encoded in ROT13 for spoilers]V jbhyq unir zhpu cersreerq n unccl raqvat/obl-trgf-obl guvat; V zrna, vg'f tbrf sbe gur fgnaqvat-hc-sbe-lbhefrys raqvat, juvpu vf bxnl, ohg V'q engure whfg unir n cynva byq ebznagvp raqvat.  [/encoded] Stylistically, it was okay.

Trying to decide what, if anything, to do for NYE.  As always.  Could go back to Guerneville, but I've also thought about taking Amtrak to the snow somewhere.  I suppose I could drive, too.  Maybe Kings Canyon.

Oh well.  Happy turkey day to you all.  Remember, it's the carbs that allow the tryptophan to cross the blood/brain barrier and make you sleepy, so eat all the turkey you want but keep the stuffing and mashed potatoes light.

Bartender, make it a double

There are days when I wish I could drink.

Today is one of those days.

A friend's numerous question life decisions seem like they're finally catching up with him.  Friend is rapidly running out of options, mostly financially, and this is starting to have emergency-room-level consequences on his health.  Friend is looking at losing quite literally everything he owns in 30-60 days (happy new year).

Friend sees me as the only person who can stop this.  I've done this before, in other instances of the same situation - at least, from his perspective.  From mine, it's been totally different.  Still, I can tell he believes I can do it and that it's my duty to do it.

I can't do it.  I've damn near destroyed myself doing it before, and I had far less going on then.  I can't go through this again.  But he's also right, because if I don't, there isn't any other person who will.  If I don't do it, and he doesn't get really lucky really fast (which isn't likely), he's SOL.

This is complicated by a lot of factors.  I've had a lot go right in my life - and some decently horrendous wrong, to be fair, but by and large most people would be envious.  A lot of that "going right" can be tied back to various levels of privilege and some simple luck.  Friend has had a lot go wrong in his life, especially since I've known him, and that places a social burden on me to try and even the score, as it were.

At the same time, though, friend has had a whole lot of opportunities and has generally botched most of them - at least a few times because he was trying to game the system and get even more.  Friend has a sense of entitlement that rivals any political aristocracy: he feels, quite literally, that the world owes him success and comfort simply because he's "brilliant".  He's never had a "real" job, so he has no unemployment or social security coming - he flat-out refuses to acknowledge that "self-employment taxes" (the SDI and SSI you pay when self-employed) exist and so has never paid anything towards them.  I'm not even sure if he could qualify for state supplemental, because he's been getting paid under the table for years and they might discover that (anyone who can do a little math would discover it).

So I'm caught between several feelings: angry that he's in this situation, frustrated with him for trying to put it all on me, duty-bound to help him, really annoyed for feeling like I'm duty-bound to risk everything to help him...

And now, the stress from all this has resulted in him ending up in the emergency room.

Like I said, I need a drink.  Because tomorrow he's going to ask, and I'm going to say no, and it's going to be ugly, but that's the only answer I can give.

He reminds me of Guildenstern: "We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered."  But I will not play Rosencrantz.  I know better this time.

Through a glass darkly

I had my eyes dilated as part of an eye exam a few days ago.  After using the "bar light" to examine my retina, the doctor pulled back and immediately said, "Alright, you're ready to go."

As I tried to blink away the massive green blobs that now obscured my vision, I muttered, "Says you..."

She laughed.

It's been probably 6 or 7 years since I've had my eyes checked; as I've got vision coverage at my current job, I've been thinking about getting new glasses for a while.  I finally scheduled the appointment and went in last week.

I don't really need glasses - a fact that was reinforced by this exam.  I'm technically nearsighted, but my correction in both eyes is -0.25 diopters - quite literally the smallest prescription that can be done.  I've also got a very slight astigmatism in my left eye - again, -0.25 at 13 degrees.  In fact, my new prescription is weaker than my last one.

My reading vision is awesome: 20/16 unaided (that's 16 point font at 20 feet, whereas 20/20 is 20 point font at 20 feet).

However, I'm really sensitive to light.  As soon as I sat down in the chair, she looked at me, said, "You're really sensitive to light, aren't you?" and flipped off the overhead lights.

"Yes, actually," I replied.  "What's wrong with my eyes that you can tell that so easily?"

"Oh, nothing's wrong.  You just have really light irises.  Well, they're dark on the outside, but they get very pale as they move inward."

As such, sunglasses are really important to me.  In fact, even the "night-time glasses" I got for driving will be photochromatic and react to headlights and such.  I'll also use them for computer use: most of the time, I sit far enough away from my monitor that reading the screen no longer counts as "reading distance" (at home, I'm about 2.5 feet from the screen) and the anti-glare and tinting can help reduce strain.

I should have them in a week or two.  I might take pictures of both and post 'em.