So I haven't updated the blog in some time. This is what has been going on:
1) As most of you know, I moved in with Steve about a week and a half ago. That's been going great. We are having our official house warming party this weekend; looking forward to having everyone check out the new digs.
2) Steve's 30th birthday was this Friday. I got him 30 roses which I placed in a vase in the middle of the living room surrounded by 30 mini-packs of tissues (With a card that said, "you look 25, you feel 25, but there's something in your eyes that somehow says, '30'...tears, I believe they're called")! I also got him a few other things, including tickets to a comedy club in North Beach that night to see Tracy Morgan, a favorite of mine from recent seasons of Saturday Night Live. We laughed pretty hard, all told...it was a great birthday. We'll continue to celebrate it with his friends at the house warming party.
3) I finally ran into Meg, one of my best friends from high school whom I hadn't seen or heard from in 5 years. We arranged to have a drink last Wednesday, and when we did, it was an astonishingly easy night of conversation and nostalgia. After all the things that we went through as teenagers, it was so pleasant to meet up as adults and get complete with everything...
4)...I then took off from the drink and went to a giants game, courtesy of my CEO, with Steve. The Giants romped on the Astros just as we got there at the bottom of the fifth -- they won 5-1. They walked Barry all 4 times he was up to bat, but the garlic fries consoled us.
5) Finally, last night Leslie and I had our final Landmark Seminar. It was great to finish up and I feel pretty complete with the whole Landmark process now.
I think that's about it...sorry for the long lapse in communication. :)
Tuesday, September 28, 2004
Okay guys, the seal is finally broken -- I *just* felt my first earthquake.
My first thought was that I was dizzy -- it's most definitely a gentle rocking sensation, kind of like when you stand up suddenly and your blood throbs so emphatically through your head that your whole body sways a little. Only I was sitting down, and even when I moved a little bit, the rocking didn't change. I looked into the office across from mine where one of the managers has a lovely gold wind chime hanging from the wall, and it was swaying slightly too. And then the CEO called out from her office, "oop -- is everyone okay?"
If I didn't know that that exact sensation can destroy whole cities in a fell swoop, I would say that it was almost pleasant, like cantering on a very small horse with a very smooth gait or having your little fishing boat rocked by a passing ripple.
In doing some research just now, looks like there was a strong 6.0 quake down in Parkfield which we felt up here. Crazy! I hope everyone down there is okay...
http://quake.usgs.gov/research/strongmotion/effects/shake/51147892/intensity.html
And here's the story from yahoo:
http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&u=/ap/20040928/ap_on_re_us/calif_quake
My first thought was that I was dizzy -- it's most definitely a gentle rocking sensation, kind of like when you stand up suddenly and your blood throbs so emphatically through your head that your whole body sways a little. Only I was sitting down, and even when I moved a little bit, the rocking didn't change. I looked into the office across from mine where one of the managers has a lovely gold wind chime hanging from the wall, and it was swaying slightly too. And then the CEO called out from her office, "oop -- is everyone okay?"
If I didn't know that that exact sensation can destroy whole cities in a fell swoop, I would say that it was almost pleasant, like cantering on a very small horse with a very smooth gait or having your little fishing boat rocked by a passing ripple.
In doing some research just now, looks like there was a strong 6.0 quake down in Parkfield which we felt up here. Crazy! I hope everyone down there is okay...
http://quake.usgs.gov/research/strongmotion/effects/shake/51147892/intensity.html
And here's the story from yahoo:
http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&u=/ap/20040928/ap_on_re_us/calif_quake
Friday, September 10, 2004
Thursday, September 09, 2004
This is the most thought-provoking article I have read in a long time:
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2004/09/07/MNGGC8KQNO1.DTL
It's from the Tuesday, September 7th edition of the Chronicle and written by Julian Guthrie. Studies of schizophrenia are not so shocking any more, but it's the nature of the psychotic break that this man experienced that has me reeling and contemplative. Here's the gist, quoted directly from the Chronicle:
Brandon Staglin, national merit scholar and future astronautical engineer, was 18 when he lost half of his self. The right side, to be specific. It went away. In the blink of the eye, beat of the heart.
He spent the next week unable to sleep. He wandered the town of Lafayette, covering his right eye as he walked, fearful another personality would fill the void.[...]
"One minute, my identity was there," he said softly. "The next minute, half of my identity vanished. I walked around the house trying to call up emotions that weren't there. There was a very bright void. I remember sniffing, inhaling deeply to try to get these thoughts back into my head. I thought my soul was leaking from my head or feet. I thought I could spontaneously die."
I have spent a lot of time thinking about this since I read it. So amazing, that he could construct that -- that terror, that bizarre half-emptiness -- out of of something insubstantial, something which is immeasurable except in concept -- Identity. The idea of tangible identity, of the physicality of identity is not an altogether alien one, although most people I know don't split it into left and right. I'm sure that Mr. Staglin did not necessarily think of his personality in terms of left and right before the break; but his mind somehow grasped the concept enough to discard one half of it moments later. On a more common note, I got into a conversation with one of my friends wherein she inadvertantly pointed out a concept that I believe a lot of people share: that we have "outer layers" of identity that people have to get through, and a "core me" that most people don't get to see (with the normal exception being intimate, long-time friends and lovers). I have definitely felt myself being my "outer layers" and protecting my "core" at times -- but what IS that? Were I to experience a break in which I lost the outer layers of my identity, what would ensue -- would I be 100% candid? Would I feel paranoia towards everyone around me due to the experience of showing my naked "self"? Would I feel my body was a shell underneath which there was a hollow lining of air where my layers used to be? Would it feel cold? Conversely, who would I be if I lost my "core?" Would I be a walking fraud, an automaton? And how would I perceive these as escaping? Would I plug up my nose and ears, cover my eyes, fear the bathroom? Would I try to seal my fingernails and toenails? Would I coat my head in teflon? Would I suffocate by my own hand?
That's the funny thing -- the insistence that if I lost my "outer layers" of identity, that I could sensorily experience its loss. Perhaps the intangible mind seeks to replicate its concepts through the only tangible means it's truly familiar with -- the body, which has its outer layers (skin and muscles) and its core (the organs and bones). Thus a man can sensorily experience the physical loss of a mental construct. So strongly does he feel it, in fact, that when he experiences a (phantom) gaping emptiness with an entry way behind his right eye, he fears it being "filled" by another (now tangible, though external) personality!
So incredibly interesting. I welcome comments and further discussion.
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2004/09/07/MNGGC8KQNO1.DTL
It's from the Tuesday, September 7th edition of the Chronicle and written by Julian Guthrie. Studies of schizophrenia are not so shocking any more, but it's the nature of the psychotic break that this man experienced that has me reeling and contemplative. Here's the gist, quoted directly from the Chronicle:
Brandon Staglin, national merit scholar and future astronautical engineer, was 18 when he lost half of his self. The right side, to be specific. It went away. In the blink of the eye, beat of the heart.
He spent the next week unable to sleep. He wandered the town of Lafayette, covering his right eye as he walked, fearful another personality would fill the void.[...]
"One minute, my identity was there," he said softly. "The next minute, half of my identity vanished. I walked around the house trying to call up emotions that weren't there. There was a very bright void. I remember sniffing, inhaling deeply to try to get these thoughts back into my head. I thought my soul was leaking from my head or feet. I thought I could spontaneously die."
I have spent a lot of time thinking about this since I read it. So amazing, that he could construct that -- that terror, that bizarre half-emptiness -- out of of something insubstantial, something which is immeasurable except in concept -- Identity. The idea of tangible identity, of the physicality of identity is not an altogether alien one, although most people I know don't split it into left and right. I'm sure that Mr. Staglin did not necessarily think of his personality in terms of left and right before the break; but his mind somehow grasped the concept enough to discard one half of it moments later. On a more common note, I got into a conversation with one of my friends wherein she inadvertantly pointed out a concept that I believe a lot of people share: that we have "outer layers" of identity that people have to get through, and a "core me" that most people don't get to see (with the normal exception being intimate, long-time friends and lovers). I have definitely felt myself being my "outer layers" and protecting my "core" at times -- but what IS that? Were I to experience a break in which I lost the outer layers of my identity, what would ensue -- would I be 100% candid? Would I feel paranoia towards everyone around me due to the experience of showing my naked "self"? Would I feel my body was a shell underneath which there was a hollow lining of air where my layers used to be? Would it feel cold? Conversely, who would I be if I lost my "core?" Would I be a walking fraud, an automaton? And how would I perceive these as escaping? Would I plug up my nose and ears, cover my eyes, fear the bathroom? Would I try to seal my fingernails and toenails? Would I coat my head in teflon? Would I suffocate by my own hand?
That's the funny thing -- the insistence that if I lost my "outer layers" of identity, that I could sensorily experience its loss. Perhaps the intangible mind seeks to replicate its concepts through the only tangible means it's truly familiar with -- the body, which has its outer layers (skin and muscles) and its core (the organs and bones). Thus a man can sensorily experience the physical loss of a mental construct. So strongly does he feel it, in fact, that when he experiences a (phantom) gaping emptiness with an entry way behind his right eye, he fears it being "filled" by another (now tangible, though external) personality!
So incredibly interesting. I welcome comments and further discussion.
Today during one of my forays into the kitchen to get still another glass of water (it's hot out here and I'm recently obsessed with hydration -- more on that in a sec) I discovered that someone had brought in all kinds of containers of chocolate and left them out for people to enjoy. While we get birthday cakes and bagels quite frequently, and while many of us host candy bowls at our desks (I am the reigning jolly rancher queen these days), it's a bit odd to have so much chocolate lying around. The explanation came later, in the form of a conversation I overheard in another part of the office: one of the admins asked the manager who brought it in where it came from. She said she'd gone to a local supermarket chain renowned for its cheap, healthy offerings of organic and quality products and asked if they would donate a basket for an upcoming health fair.
Turns out they donated a basket full of chocolate for the health fair!! People are hysterically funny sometimes. Or maybe it's yet another commentary on America's morbid obesity. But I had to laugh as I stuffed still another chocolate covered orange slice in my mouth.
The hydration thing: I recently realized that I am just not hydrating my body properly. The heat is a great catalyst for recognizing how much water the body needs, but in general my body was breaking down a bit. I was tired, my skin was getting itchy, my hair seems more brittle -- instead of being a hypochondriac, I made two decisions: one, give up regular consumption of coffee, and two, drink water like my life depends on it...since it mostly does.
As I experience the process of giving up the habit of coffee, it gives me insight into internal drives I had not previously recognized. For example, when I wake up, shower, and ride the BART to work, I am usually craving the coffee, wondering if I can go without for still another day. When I get to my desk at work, I pick up my water glass and think to myself, well, I'll start with a glass of water first. In no time, the craving is gone.
This tells me two things: that I turn to coffee when I'm sleepy and when I'm experiencing some level of stress, even the mild stress of my commute -- so it's an "awareness" aid and a comfort food. I was only a cup-a-dayer -- never upped the ante to two, especially since the java we drink here is pretty darn strong -- so it amazes me that I can experience withdrawal from such little abuse. Physically, it seems akin to being an alcoholic though you only drink a glass of wine a day.
I am allowing myself the option of a cup of coffee should I ever actually have sustained drowsiness. I'm also allowing it as a sedentary pleasure -- there's nothing like a good latte and a slice of cheesecake after a light meal, especially if it's after a walk through the pleasant night air to my favorite desserterie, for example. But beyond fatigue and treats, it's H2O for me these days.
Turns out they donated a basket full of chocolate for the health fair!! People are hysterically funny sometimes. Or maybe it's yet another commentary on America's morbid obesity. But I had to laugh as I stuffed still another chocolate covered orange slice in my mouth.
The hydration thing: I recently realized that I am just not hydrating my body properly. The heat is a great catalyst for recognizing how much water the body needs, but in general my body was breaking down a bit. I was tired, my skin was getting itchy, my hair seems more brittle -- instead of being a hypochondriac, I made two decisions: one, give up regular consumption of coffee, and two, drink water like my life depends on it...since it mostly does.
As I experience the process of giving up the habit of coffee, it gives me insight into internal drives I had not previously recognized. For example, when I wake up, shower, and ride the BART to work, I am usually craving the coffee, wondering if I can go without for still another day. When I get to my desk at work, I pick up my water glass and think to myself, well, I'll start with a glass of water first. In no time, the craving is gone.
This tells me two things: that I turn to coffee when I'm sleepy and when I'm experiencing some level of stress, even the mild stress of my commute -- so it's an "awareness" aid and a comfort food. I was only a cup-a-dayer -- never upped the ante to two, especially since the java we drink here is pretty darn strong -- so it amazes me that I can experience withdrawal from such little abuse. Physically, it seems akin to being an alcoholic though you only drink a glass of wine a day.
I am allowing myself the option of a cup of coffee should I ever actually have sustained drowsiness. I'm also allowing it as a sedentary pleasure -- there's nothing like a good latte and a slice of cheesecake after a light meal, especially if it's after a walk through the pleasant night air to my favorite desserterie, for example. But beyond fatigue and treats, it's H2O for me these days.
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
This labor day weekend was quite warranted, and I'd hazard to say I spent it well -- I have no hang over, no sunburn, and no misanthropy, so I must have done something right...well maybe that's arguable. :) Perhaps one of the more interesting parts was on Saturday, when Leslie and I revisited Union Street, which involved not just window-shopping but a walk down memory lane. Nearly two years ago I helped Leslie move out to SF, and when we first went to explore, we found this part of Union Street. Hadn't been back since. It was fun to go the place where I got my first SF manicure (a mere $9!!), shops where Leslie and Lexi first bought accessories for their house, and where I was impressed with the quirky urban clothing stores.
What's that saying? You've come a long way, baby? Or is it, Wow, you've learned to take a lot of stuff for granted, baby? ;)
In either case, it was fun. And otherwise, I had a gloriously restful weekend.
What's that saying? You've come a long way, baby? Or is it, Wow, you've learned to take a lot of stuff for granted, baby? ;)
In either case, it was fun. And otherwise, I had a gloriously restful weekend.
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