Kitanzi's Colloquium

I got new glasses over the weekend, and as I predicted, not a single person here at work has noticed. :)

It seems like a drastic change to me, but I had the other pair for... I dunno how long. I'm pretty sure I had the frames (with a change of lenses at least once) for over a decade. My prescription turns out not to have changed much in the past six plus years, but I have. The new frames suit me much better now, but damn they're taking a bit of getting used to!

Edit:

Old glasses: here

New glasses: here

I am currently waiting for the rain to start so I can go run around in it like a mad thing. I used to do that a lot, it used to be fun. I currently look like the losing end of an epic battle with a horde of mad dust bunnies (maybe rabid, definitely pissed off) because I have been packing books. And more books. And moving around the boxes of books already packed.

We are not moving until the end of July. I started out justifying this as the fact that however early you start packing, it's never done in time, so I should really at least pack up the books. I think it's mutated into some sort of coping strategy to deal with months of transition betwee "we live here" and "we live there", when I don't even know yet where there is. (I don't do transitions and change and in between stages very well.) Whatever the reason, we have a wall of boxes of books in the bedroom now which will certainly surprise the cleaning service tomorrow, and many clots of grey dust drifting and sticking and drifting some more. I think some running around in the rain like a ten year old sounds like a really good idea, if only the rain will break.

(Remember, this is Georgia. I would probably not be planning this for the beginning of April if I were still in NH, but here it's actually very reasonable!)

Y'know, that's why I'm a crappy beta reader. I can proof read for spelling and grammar, but the more I like the story, the less I'll see its faults otherwise. If I really like a story, I'll fall into it - if it sucks me in, you can hear the whooosh sound, and I'm gone. I do this with TV too, or really any story in any medium. ACat can vouch, when it's something I really like I admit that it's so good I don't even want to see the flaws because that would pull me back out of it. It's a damn shame, in a way, because I like reading and I like helping friends, but now that I think of it, this is likely why I'm not much use for this particular thing. Still, if you *want* someone who will spot spelling and grammar pretty well... lemme know!

(I can also be slow to climb all the way back out. Five or six episodes of Dexter back to back last night while ACat was out gaming was probably ill advised. My life has a voiceover track this morning. Damn but that show improves as it goes along - addictive.)

I have no idea why I feel like I haven't slept in two days. I did sleep last night, though not much the night before, but I'm chugging tea and walking into walls and dropping crap. Usually sleep deprivation makes me cranky and bitchy, but by some odd mental alchemy today I'm goofy and laughing at myself. No idea why, and too tired to try and figure it out. I hope it lasts. I hope I can do it again next time.
I hope I can walk THROUGH the door with the hot tea next time...
Anyone have good ideas for handling exhaustion, other than massive amounts of caffine or getting *gasp* some sleep?

I've found myself singing The Girl That's Never Been under my breath today at work... or perhaps a bit over it, judging from the looks I got in the cafeteria while assembling my salad. Hell with it, exposure to good music will broaden their horizons. It could have been a lot worse - it could have been, say, Cadhla's charming little ditty about the Black Death. Anyhow, I do have a seed of an idea for a filk as a result, we'll see what comes of that. More disconcerting is the way I seem to see people from the con here at work every time I turn the corner. I swear I saw Trace's doppleganger in a meeting room, and Taunya from Puzzlebox (am I spelling that right?) walking away from me down a corridor. It's rather odd and making me quite wistful. Why *can't* we have a con every day?

EDIT: and a few minutes later, my brain processed a black and tan scarf draped over the edge of a cubicle as Spot the snake. I think I need more sleep. Or maybe just more con, yeah, that's the ticket.

Fridays before long weekends shortcircut my brain and fry my concentration, but it really is rather pleasant.

One symptom (and cause!) is ever since before I woke up, I've had a thread of melody winding through my head assuring me that Sarah Tapper loves Harry Marshall, and that's a lie and that's a fact. autographedcat and I just got our copy of the live CD cadhla just got out with her fanfuckingtastic performance at OVFF in 2005! I could selfishly wish it was a DVD so we'd have the full show, complete with schtick and costume changes and really outrageous vamping, but it's already so addicting, catchy, mindwarping and outright gorgeous that I just can't get this out of my head.

Not that I really want to... but now my shortcircuited brain is trying to somehow intertwine Sycamore Tree (the above mentioned song) with Great Big Sea's Ordinary Day, and assure me that Sarah Tapper loves Harry Marshall, and at the end of the day you just have to say it's alright.

Anyone out there can tell me where my model brain's reset button is? This is quite entertaining, but I'm not getting aaaaany work done!

EDIT: ACat took it and ran, and has posted his actual filk of Sycamore Tree to the tune of Ordinary Day - Ordinary Tree, of course. Squeeeeee! (AND, extra bonus, Cadhla loves it! DOUBLE squee!)

Not link sausage so much as Kitanzi gumbo, but ( but if you really want to know... )

I had my first post surgery physical therapy last night. The good news is things are basically healing. The bad news is apparently they are doing so in spite of me.

I had post surgery instructions for the first 48-72 hours, but was apparently unclear on what I should be doing after. I (being a stubborn and impatient type, fancy that) have been pretty much pushing myself as I can tell I'm getting better. In fact, I was quite pleased with my progress. Well, the therapist apparently isn't. I should have been cautious where I was impatient, and resting where I was stretching, and generally trying to make the muscles relax more than they are rather than testing my limits. Her description was that the muscles were extremely guarded, and I didn't have nearly the range of motion she apparently expected. Dammit.

So ACat is back on pretty much the full range of housework, and I'm taking advantage of the 4 day weekend I have (a company that gives Fri AND Mon off for Xmas on Sun??) and hopefully I'll be doing better soon.

I have to admit, it's immensely less painful this way, but somehow I seem to have been raised with the idea that coping with pain is more admirable than whining about it - I am able to see past that for other people, but it's hard to get around it for myself. Having doctor's orders to rest it and avoid the pain somehow doesn't make it feel any less like malingering. I know, I'm much, much better. I want to be well, though. The really depressing part is the thought that I've sabotagued myself.

(Another disconcerting bit - I've been fairly regularly waking up between one and two, in enough pain to want a Percocet pill. No pain last night following PT and the new instructions (and a session of electrostimulus, which is the WEIRDEST damn thing I've ever felt but effective for pain relief like whoa!), but I still woke up about one thirty, very twitchy and tense, unable to sleep and REALLY wanting to go take a pill. I don't like this, I don't like this at all. Fortunately, I don't work today, so I just stayed up until I could go back to sleep without one. My goal today is no painkillers stronger than ibruprophen. So far, not even that - I am warily pleased.)

Edit: Note this doesn't mean I'm going to try and be stupid and stubborn in a different direction and NOT take painkillers when there IS pain. I just don't like the feeling that I have a habit of taking them that's there even when the pain goes away.

the tube for the pain ball out of my shoulder, dressings off (replaced by three Cat In The Hat bandaids!), sling on the outside of the shirt, and a really truly SHOWER so the whole mess stops itching!

I may still be sleeping on the order of 12+ hours a day and loopy as a dingbat, but I am CLEAN and I am ecstatic!

It's a very short work week, only three days long, and you just know no one's getting much done if they can help it. Well, a couple of my coworkers were trading amusing stories from childhood, and I stopped to listen when one mentioned that she was/is hyperactive. It caught my attention, since my ex F's kids were all diagnosed ADHD or ADD long before I ever met any of them. It was an interesting conversation, with her stories from the kid's perspective and mine from the (stepish) parent's perspective. We agreed that the condition tended to go along with high intelligence, and was often overdiagnosed but still a genuine problem. Then she casually mentioned she was pretty sure that I was ADD or ADHD as well, and the other coworker nodded vigorously, both of them listing what made them think so.

It's something I've considered before. I do have some of the indicators, but then I have some indicators for other things as well, and in my opinion, in *my* case, it doesn't matter. Sure, I twitch a lot and I get bored easily, am easily frustrated, and I multitask like hell, etc etc etc. In the end, though, these are things that I cope pretty well with and mostly turn to my own good advantage, so I'm not concerned with whether a diagnosis fits me, because I'm not looking to be treated for it, if it even is so.

It was an interesting conversation, not in the least because it highlighted to me how not-new an idea this is to me, and how little I'm actualy concerned about it. From what I gather, there's a spectrum of behavior which is part of what makes diagnosis of ADD and ADHD difficult *as a condition*. I'm curious (in a hopefully flame resistant fashion) what experiences you all have had with this, in whatever context? Please do keep in mind that I'm not even vaguely interested in arguing whether ADD and ADHD exist, valid and invalid courses of treatment in general, possible abuses of the diagnosis, or any of the hot trigger issues that abound with this. I just find this kind of interesting, especially since two rather casual acquaintances apparently think they see this in me as well.