Dragon Tree

Before I started my last job, I bought a plant for my desk. I decided that if I was going to spend a large amount of my life indoors in an office, it would be nice to have something green and living around me. I selected my plant based on lighting and watering requirements with aesthetics also being a consideration. In the end, I bought a Madagascar Dragon Tree. It looked somewhat tropical and had an interesting red tint to the leaves.

 

In general, I haven't had a great track record with houseplants, except for a pothos that I have had for years, but those things are practically indestructible. Things have been going well with my little dragon tree, so I became a little worried when one of the leaves became brilliantly red and eventually fell off. I was sure that I was killing that plant or not supplying the proper amount of light and water. Since that first leaf turned read and fell, the plant has lost several others, but has also grown quite a bit so my concern faded.

 

The other day, I was taking a close look at the plant and realized the purpose for those leaves falling off. I realized that in the process the plant is forming its trunk. Where the leaves have fallen off, the plant is getting hard and scaly and building the support for its eventual full height (I didn't realize that the plant was going to be at least six feet tall eventually)

 

A process that I once thought was worth mourning turns out to be something that in the end only serves to make the plant stronger.

The Geek Shall Inherit the Earth

Childhood can be very difficult at times. It can be even worse when you are the slightly chubby, unathletic, smart kid who wears glasses. That was me. It is still me to a large degree.

 

The main difference between now and then is that I have begun to embrace my inner geek. Some people have differenent opinions on the exact definitions of nerd, geek, and dork. It really doesn't matter to me anymore.

 

I finally don't really care what people think. Well, that is not entirely true. I will always care about people's opinions of me to one degree or another. At one point in time I would have been apologetic about the fact that I got good grades in school, was a National Merit Scholar, or captain of the Scholastic Bowl team. I would have tried to keep hidden the fact that I really enjoy watching Star Trek in all its various forms. I would have tried to deflect the topic of conversation if someone asked about a book that I was reading when it happened to be by Stephen Hawking.

 

Now, I don't actually go around announcing to everyone I meet that I am like this, although writing it in a blog that the world can see might be interpreted as soing esactly that. Still, I am kind of content with myself and all my geekiness.

City Life

I have lived in the suburbs for most of my life with the exception of the first three years of my life and my time in college, all which were spent in small cities. I grew up in the suburbs of Chicago and then after college I lived in Overland Park, Kansas which is a suburb of Kansas City.

 

I got married between undergraduate and graduate school and my daughter was born shortly before my graduation. Many young people spend those first few years out of school living downtown in some major city, eventually getting married and playing the dual income no kids things until a child does come along, and then it is back to the suburbs where they grew up thus completing the circle of life (cue Elton John and a baboon holding up a lion cub).

 

I could easily look back with regret about not taking advantage of living that life. Living in the city does seem to have some sort of mystique to it, loads of restaurants of all varities, bars, nightclubs, trendy stores, museums, mass transportation, jogging on the lakefront, the Cubs, the Sox, the Bears, and Oak Street Beach to name a few things. Part of me does look at my lack experiences in those areas with a little wistfulness.

 

The thing is with my personality, I probably never would have taken advantage of half the stuff. I am really not the clubbing and drinking type and with the exception of insomnia, I usually can't stay up much past 11 o'clock without being dead tired in the morning.

 

Basically, for all of its generic sameness, I am content being a suburban kind of guy and I don't really fell totally deprived that I missed on the city scene. I kind of like not having to pay an arm and a leg in sales tax, having my car beat to hell, and being able to find a parking space with ease.

 

About the only thing that I regret is that I have not taken advantage of the the museums that Chicago has to offer. There has always been an excuse not to go, usually related to travel times, road congestion, and the cost of parking. When I went to my conference downtown a few weeks ago, I took the train into the city. I didn't feel like leaving my car in the office parking lot for a week so someone kindly dropped me off at the train station. For about $7.00 round trip, I could easily get downtown. I really don't have that excuse anymore. So, maybe I can discover that small part of myself that I neglected in my earlier years when my peers were living the high life in the city and I was more concerned with diapers and when I was going to mow the lawn.

Automotive Quandry

I drive one of the most practical responsible cars in the world. I drive a Toyota Sienna minivan. How suburban is that? It has been a great car. It has been extremely reliable (it is a Toyota afterall), comfortable, and has come in handy many times for those trips to Home Depot.

 

The problem is that it is more car than I really need. When it was bought, I was a married person with two kids and a dog. Now I can scratch off the married part. the three of us don't really need a seven passenger vehicle. In fact, the four of us didn't really need a minivan either.

 

Well, now I am stuck with it. I am back on the market and I drive a minivan. That is going to be a real chick magnet. Imagine going on a date and opening the door for someone, so they can hoist themselves up into your minivan. Woo hoo! Excitement awaits.

 

I have never really gotten much of an ego boost from the type of car I drive. It is not really a reflection of my self worth. Sure I wouldn't mind driving something flashier, but for the most part a vehicle is a means to get from point A to point B in reasonable comfort. Even if you were to ask me to name my dream car, I wouldn't come up with an Aston Martin or Maserati. A BMW 325ci is probably about as exciting as I would get. Still a car is a physical manifestation of some part of your personality. While I would like my car to have a little bit of style, the part of my personality that is reflected in my vehicle is more the pragmatic, responsible part of me.

 

I should be driving something smaller like a Toyota Corolla, Honda Civic, Nissan Versa, or Scion Xa. All those cars are fuel efficient little things that would serve my needs 99% of the time. They are also a reflection of that dependable, responsible part of myself.

 

Even though practicality is reigning, a small part of me is screaming Noooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!! That part of me wants to be driving down the street in a Ford Mustang or a Dodge Charger. I can rule out SUV's because I detest the gas guzzling monstrosities and call them surburban assault vehicles. No one and I mean no one in this country needs a Hummer or a Land Rover to drive to the grocery store. I guess that if you are a Hinsdale housewife, you might need the cargo space after you have spent a taxing day complaining about the new granite countertops to your contractor while shopping at Nordstrom

 

The thing is though that these cars are so commonplace an really don't reflect any individuality. When you look at the cars around you during rush hour you see a lot of them. I am also beginning to believe that Dodge only manufacturers that car in silver, because that is all that seems to be out there. I have a slightly rebellious, artistic streak and I just can't bring myself to drive something that everyone else is driving. I almost feel like I have to reject it because it is popular. Heck, even the Illinois State Police are using Dodge Chargers for their squad cars.

 

So that leaves me back to the responsible part of myself and my minivan. If I can't express my individuality by purchase a mass manufactured vehicle (some custom Italian sports car is out of my range) I might as well save my money and buy something practical instead of fun. Even though I only get 20 mpg, I might as well save my money some more because no matter how much I spend extra on gas, it is still less than a monthly car payment.

 

 

Happiness is a Warm Puppy

I am the proud owner of a beautiful red bi Australian Shepherd named Hamilton. Not only is Hamilton a beautiful dog, he is very loving and the smartest dog I have ever owned. He is also the only dog I have ever met who willingly gets in the bathtub for a bath and will even jump in there just for the heck of it. It can be quite a surprise when you are taking care of business in the bathroom and all of a sudden a dog comes bounding out from behind the shower curtain.

 

Now for the downside. He sheds like crazy leaving puffy red tumbleweeds of fur all over the carpet, enjoys sticking his head is the trashcan and pulling out the Kleenex, and does not tire of dropping a slimy ball in your lap for you to throw. It is hours of family fun for him. Depsite being a herding dog, he doesn't seem to like the outdoors and pretty much ignores all forms of suburban animal life from birds to squirrels. Even the next door neighbor's dogs don't phase him. I don't know if he would even know what to do with a sheep should one be in front of him.

 

Still despite those drawbacks, I wouldn't trade him. Although people tend to anthropomorphize their animals, they are still capable of great emotion and have a sense as to when they are needed. Lately, I have been having some insomnia issues and being up at 2:00 in the morning when you desperately need to sleep is disheartening.  It does make it easier to calm down when you suddenly feel the furry weight of his head rest on your knee and you look down to see those amber eyes staring back at you. Of course it makes it more difficult to type two handed when you are constanly being urged to pet that head.

 

That night, I finally abandoned surfing the internet and went to bed. Normally, Hamilton sleeps in a crate to keep hime from wandering the house and eating Kleenex or one of my children's prized stuffed animals. That night, I closed my bedroom door and let him crawl in bed with me. Now 50 pounds of fur lying right next to you is reassuring. I fell right to sleep. However 50 pounds of fur lying right next to you also eventually feels like you are sleeping in a blast furnace and being woken up a few hours later by him trying to get into a position where you will scratch his butt for him is annoying. Still, when you feel lonely like that, it is not hard to understand why some 15,000 years ago our ancestors let these furry creatures into their caves for the first time.

City Lights

This photo of the Sombrero Galaxy has always reminded of the glow of  lights of a major city seen on the horizon. When you are approaching a city, those lights seem to hold the tantalyzing prospect of people, activity, life, and excitment. I get some of the same feelings when looking at this photo. Does this galaxy hold the same promise of life? I blows one's mind to think of all the possibilities of life in our own galaxy with its multitude of stars, but then to start throwning the multitude of galaxies with their own stars into mix, the possibilities are huge.

 

Personally, I think that in all likelihood the universe is filled with life. To think that we, a civilization that can't seem to get its act together, is all there is is depressing to me. I can't remember who said it, but they referred to that type of universe as a terrible waste of space.

 

I am not sure that we would ever meet our intra or intergalactic neighbors. Despite my enjoyment of Star Trek, I have my doubts as to whether greater than light speed travel is even possible. I'd like to think that it could happen someday, but probably not. Until that day, we will have to be content with the lights and prospects of our own cities.

Annoying Myself

The other night I was talking to my daughter on the phone while she was at her mother's house. Just in the general course of the conversation I asked about what she had eaten for dinner.

 

"Stuff." she replied 

"Can you be more specific?" I asked.

"Food." she answered back.

 

At first, I got frustrated with the non-answers she was giving me. It was irritating and annoying and then it hit, oh my god, she is just doing what I do to her sometimes.

 

When my daughter asks what we are having for dinner, I quite often answer back "Food." Sometimes I am being silly or flip. Sometimes, I don't have an answer. Sometimes I just don't want to admit that I don't have the energy to cook and I plan on going through the drive-through or have some delivered.

 

Well, I realized that if I am half as annoying to her as she was to me when answering like that, then I am really annoying. A straightforward answer or at least an honest "I don't know." would be far preferable and respectful than my smart-ass answer.

 

Now that reality has slapped me in the face and I realize how annoying that particular trait is I have to wonder in what other ways am I annoying. Are there other aspects of my personality that would make me find myself annoying? Is talking about being annoying, annoying?

 

Regardless, I have vowed now to be more careful with my words and to stop answering questions in that way. Although I didn't much care for the reflection, I am grateful to my daughter for holding up that particular mirror.

International Radio

Since I can't sleep and I am typing away on the computer I am listening to live, streaming radio on the internet. Rather than listen to some local station, I am listening to the morning drive radio show on KFM 94.5 in Cape Town. All the stations I listen to are from English speaking countries; England, Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa, although South Africa in general and the Cape Town station specifically are multilingual. It is interesting hearing a news and traffic report in Afrikaans. Listening to Afrikaans is almost like listening to the radio itself. Being based on Dutch which is a Germanic language like English there are some similarities. When listening to Afrikaans, it is almost like you are fine tuning to bring the station in clearer. What they are saying feels like it should make sense and you get the impression that in second you will have a clear signal and understand Afrikaans perfectly.

 

Listening to international radio seems to serve two purposes. One it reminds us how similar we really are. These stations have news breaks, traffic reports, dj's joking around, ads for the latest Ford model, movie, or cellphone. Sometimes the prices are given in rands, pounds, or dollars, but it all feels similar. While you hear a lot of the same music listen to here, occasionally you get an artist that is local and you have never heard before.

 

I think that the similarities are very important to realize, but there are definite differences in approach and opinion. This happened while listening to a news report from Johannesburg. The news anchor referred to our current administration as the Bush Regine. I about spit out my soda when I heard that. Regime brings to mind some third world military dictator who has illegally taken over a country. Some that happens in Africa or South America or Thailand (as happened recently). The U.S.? Regine? Surely you jest? You don't really see us that way? Do you? Unfortunately, I think that there is a bit of truth there.

Seize the Fish

I have never really liked the phrase carpe diem. First of all, I think that my inner rebel dislikes the fact that in 1989, everyone and their uncle jumped on the carpe diem bandwagon when Robin Williams uttered those words on the silver screen. The sheer popularity of it annoyed me.

 

It didn't help that I didn't like Dead Poet's Society. That is probably sacrilegious, but I honestly say that I can't stand the movie. For most of the film, Robin William's character is teaching his students to make the most of the day. So what happens? Some spoiled rich kid decides to off himself because daddy won't let him be in the play. Please! Have you not been listening to your teacher for the entire year?

 

Second of all, the phrase sounds like some ancient Roman guy is telling me to grab onto a fish. Unless one is a fisherman, why on Earth would you want to grab ahold of some stinky, slimy fish that is either flopping around in your hands or has been nestled in a bed of ice in the seafood department at Dominick's? Why not seize a trout or perhaps some nice wild salmon on a bed of basil risotto with a side of grilled asparagus?

 

Finally, the phrase is just a bit too aggressive for me. It is telling you to go out and seize something. To me the world seize sounds like something that you don't want to happen to you, like a search and seizure. With all the stresses of daily life, I would much rather play catch and release with my carpe and release the day. Now if I only knew how to say release the day in Latin, I might have myself a good mantra.

Malevolent Red Eyes

There is a monster in my bedroom with malevolent red eyes. Like Grendel, it has crept into my sanctuary at night. It taunts me and mocks me so that I can not sleep. In the darkened room, I can see it staring at me. In time, it will begin screaming at me. Its ever changing gaze is a set of evil slashes against the blackened backdrop. I can read the meaning of its gaze. Those eyes are saying 11:38. It is my alarm clock.

 

I can not sleep, hence I am on the computer. All I can do is stare at the ceiling wondering when blissful sleep is going to come. Even the dog is asleep. Ah to sleep the innocent sleep of children and dogs. I should be falling asleep. There is a cool breeze coming through the window and the background white noise of a thunderstorm. Normally, this would be conducive conditions for sleep. I find that as long as they are not dawn of time thunderstorms, they put me to sleep. For whatever reason tonight, the rain is annoying me. It doesn't help that it has be unrelenting since about 7:00 this evening.

 

To make matters worse, I find that I have Shakira in my head singing over and over again how her hips are a very truthful body part. Man, I need some sleep and maybe a new alarm clock. One with green eyes.

My Headboard

I never realized that I could take a piece of furniture for granted. When I redid my bedroom after my ex-wife moved out, I had to use some borrowed furniture to fill the space. Although the chest and dresser were not quite my style, the are good quality  pieces of furniture. I decided to make the best of it, hoping that I could make the retro look work. One of the drawbacks of this arrangement was that there was not a matching headboard.

 

Given that the furniture was made probably 30 years ago, there was little hope of me ever finding a matching headboard. Fortunately for me, my Dad has the convenient hobby of woodworking. So Dad went to work and came up with a headboard that does a great job of matching the original furniture.

 

Sleeping without a headboard was a pain in the but. Pillows were constantly falling down behind the bed and I constantly wondered if I was going to muck up the freshly painted walls behind my head. Besides these practical aspects, not having a headboard made me feel like I was back in college. There is something about not having a headboard that makes you feel like you aren't a grown-up. Now, thanks to my Dad, the problem is solved.

My Achy Breaky Heart: Part II

From the point of being told I had to have surgery on is a bit blurry. In the rush, chaos, and madness of being prepped for surgery I don't really remember too much. In part I think it is due to medications kicking in and the non-stop barrage of questions and explanations coming from the medical staff. I half think that they do that so that you don't really have time to think about what is happening to you. Most of my energy was focused on trying to remain calm and not freak out. I don't know how many times a nurse asked, "How are you doing?" or  "How are you feeling?" The answer was always the same, "Scared shitless!"

 

To a large degree the whole process of getting ready for surgery is not as bad as I anticipated. Your don't really have time to think, there is so much activity happening, and medications make the whole thing a blur. Thankfully, I only remember bits and pieces of the process. I wonder if our concious mind has a way of editing those things that are too traumatic out so that we don't have to remember them, much in the way someone in a disaster or car wreck doesn't remember anything. Much like sleep, you aren't even aware of that moments you slip into unconcious. If the process of death is anything like going to surgery, then it isn't as scary as I thought, not that I am in any hurry to try it.

 

So, while I was in surgery with a machine doing my breathing and circulating my blood for me, my family spent several intense hours in the waiting room. I can't imagine what it was like for them and to be totally truthful, I don't really want to know. I have enough of my own stuff with which to deal. I can't handle any more.

 

At some point, after the surgery They let me regain conciousness for a little bit. I couldn't speak because I was intubated, but I had to communicate to everyone that I was fine. I was surprised that I was coherent enough to think that I needed to do more than some generic thumbs up hand gesture. I had to do something more specific to me, to truly let them know that I was fine. Quickly, I formed the palm out, split finger gesture made famous by Mr. Spock. Live long and prosper.

 

The rest of my recovery went pretty smoothly. I made steady progress without any setbacks. The best day was the day that I was finally allowed to take a shower. Getting sponged off or using one of those shampoo caps is fine as a stopgap measure, but there is nothing compared to the feeling of hot water and soap cascading down your body. The only thing that I was concerned about with the shower was that the force of water hitting the foot long incision down the center of my chest would cause some pain. It did not. On Saturday, I was released from the hospital and spent the next month recuperating at home before returning to work.

 

For the most part, life is back to normal. There are still days where I experience some pain or fatigue. There are days where I have fears and worries that the surgery failed or that another section of my aorta will tear. I hate those days.

 

I haven't quite decided how to view one aspect of the surgery of which I am reminded ever single day. Everyday when I get into the shower or get dressed, I have a visual reminder of that surgery, the scar. Fortunately, the surgeon did a great job and I don't have a jagged keloided zig zag running down my chest. It is just a smooth gently curving line. I just wish that it would fade already and not be so visible to me. I am not sure whether it is a reminder of the ordeal I went through and that in this case I was "someone else" (you know, the bad things always happen to "someone else") or if it is a reminder that despite something really bad happening, I am still around. I wonder how I will feel next summer. I have never been very comfortable baring my chest and now that I have a scar on top of it, I don't know how self-concious I am going to feel the next time I go swimming.
http://www.aorticdissection.com - An informative website