Sleep.

So a couple of weeks ago I remarked about my sleeping habits and how I was going to try something a little different with my sleep patterns. Historical evidence shows that in the past some folks would have “two sleeps” every night with a waking interval in between and my body has been showing signs of wanting to do the same thing so I decided to try that approach.

In the past 10 days I have had three nights where I woke up in the middle of the night for no apparent reason. Instead of having some sort of silent fit, whirling around in my bed to find a new comfortable position and then flipping my pillow around to find the cool side, I would sit up in bed and see if both eyes were functioning. If both eyes were open and functioning, I would get up and walk a lap around the bedroom and then the rest of the house. Ok, I’d pee too, but only in the bathroom. I’d then calm my mind by telling myself that my forefathers could have been doing this very exercise of walking around in the middle of the night and they did it with wood teeth and everything (why I think this I have no idea since it’s a completely unrelated point). I’d then do another walk around the downstairs and then head back up to bed, where I’d put my headphones back on and give the sleeping thing another whirl. I’d end up sleeping right through to the alarm.

I feel better than I did before I started this approach. I haven’t had to spend one moment trying to find a private napping spot in my cubicle during the afternoons at work (don’t tell my boss).

Now this little experiment is completely unscientific and there could be a million and three other contributing factors as to why this is working better for me but I’m not one to complain, as long as I feel well rested and productive during the day.

Yesterday I ended up taking a small nap during my lunch hour and it was enjoyable. I think this was a recharge of Monday more than a need for actual sleep, however, as the nap was more meditative than actual deep sleep. But I think I’m onto something and that can only be a good thing.

Now last night I tried a new soundtrack for the headphones that I wear when I sleep and it helped me have some very vivid and lucid dreams. I love it when I can steer the scenes going on in my head during my dreams. It’s a skill I pretty much mastered when I was a kid and I consider myself quite lucky to still have the ability to do this on a regular basis. Perhaps that’s why I am in such a good mood today.

Pretty.

My mind is churning through the typical Monday mush and I can not find the means to write a coherent blog entry today, so we’ll go with a picture of some pretty clouds. I took this picture on Saturday.

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Rambling.

I have mentioned before that I place a certain amount of credibility in my dreams. While most thing that a dream is nothing more than a brain defrag, the opportunity for our brains to exercise themselves when the rest of the body isn’t doing much, I’m part of the minority that puts a little more stock into the content of our dreams. I remember at least one dream at night, and I have actively maintained a dream journal since my high school days. One of the earliest dreams I recall involved playing BINGO with the Brady Bunch, because they’re showing opening had that grid thing and I figured they must have loved BINGO. I know I was pretty young when I had that dream, because it was when my sister was still in her crib (she’s two years younger than me) and I had my own bed in the back bedroom of our little mobile home we lived in at the time.

Anyways, back in 2002 or so I wrote in my dream journal that I was driving along Route 5S near the Village of Fort Plain (with a question mark next to ‘Plain’ because that didn’t feel quite right). I was in a black car (at the time we owned a maroon Impala) and I was driving home from work (I didn’t work anywhere near Fort Plain, today I do). I encountered a tornado and had to take shelter. It was a thrilling dream for me as I survived the storm just fine and I had always wanted to see a tornado. The black car even survived.

I had the same dream last night, though the black car was a black Jeep and I wasn’t in Fort Plain. I was in Fort Wayne. This is interesting, because I have never been in Fort Wayne in my life but I do suppose that because of their geographical location, they are apt to get a tornado or two during the appropriate season.

Perhaps Earl and I need to visit Fort Wayne.

There wasn’t much else remarkable about the dream. Just a lot of wind and rain and thunder and me crouching in a ditch as I watch the tornado go by a little ways up the road. My work badge, which hangs on a lanyard around my neck, is flopping around a little bit but I didn’t notice much else about me. The terrain was relatively flat in that I could see quite a ways off and I could see sun off in the distance, so I knew the storm would be short-lived. I woke up with a feeling of exhilaration, though, because I had finally experienced a tornado up close and personal.

I think I’m ready for some spring storms.

I can’t decide if there is a meaning behind the dream, other than me living out my desire to chase storms. Perhaps the flapping badge indicated that work interferes with chasing that dream.

What’s most important about the whole thing is that I felt relatively rested when I woke up this morning, despite my chasing tornadoes.

Privacy.

So to ready myself for Google’s new privacy terms of service and search methods, I deleted my Gmail account last night. If you’re still sending email to my old imachias-at-gmail.com account it won’t go anywhere anymore. I also deleted my Google+ account because no one seemed to be saying anything over there anyways, so I didn’t want any data left hanging around where I would ultimately forget about it.

I’m obviously not paranoid about online privacy since I write in a personal blog and share good chunks of my life right there through words and photos. But there is something that creeps me out about the fact that starting today, if I were to search for some random phrase on Google, it’ll present me with a list of search results that contains what Google thinks I’ll want to see, based on the content of my email, calendar, Google+, previous searches, YouTube views, etc. I find that creepy. I don’t want predictive search results and I don’t want someone randomly labeling me as eccentric until they have met me in person and realized it for themselves first hand. I am not comfortable with a scenario where I search for a news article, for example, and am presented with results from MSNBC, based on what I’ve said about politics in the past, whereas the same person is presented with results from Fox News based on their leanings. That’s taking the autonomy away from the individual. It should be up to me to decide whether I want to look at MSNBC or Fox News as the source of the information I am seeking, without being encouraged by my search engine based on what I’ve done in the past. I feel creeped out and I feel pigeon-holed, and if there is one thing that really gets on my nerves, it’s being pigeon-holed.

“Well, you’ve always wanted to look at MSNBC News before.”

Well what if I am trying to expand my horizons by trying to seek out all points of view?

I am working on ridding myself of my Google account completely. The only thing that remains is Google Reader account, and I use that because it keeps my RSS feeds in sync between multiple devices. I wish there was a generic way of doing that, but I haven’t found a solution to that yet.

My search engine of choice has become duckduckgo.com and I highly recommend it. No tracking, no suggestions, no telling my Facebook friends, no hollering at the empty caverns of Google+ telling my former circles what I am looking for. I type in a search phrase and it gives me results. Once upon a time that could easily be accomplished by AltaVista and it was a beautiful thing. Today it’s DuckDuckGo and I am sticking to this for as long as I can.

I think part of my privacy concerns is fueled by the fact that all this data is designed to improve advertising metrics so that ads are targeted specifically to me based on my life history on the web. I hate ads on the internet. I hate sites that squeeze a bunch of mediocre content between flashing, bare-chested advertising panels in an effort to generate revenue. The more ads, the more mediocre the content, because the site owner is just throwing crap at the web trying to generate as much traffic as possible to their site. I find this approach offensive to my sensibilities.

And now I’ll probably get twice as many ads in my email because I’ve written about them.

Purpose.

The purpose of this blog entry is not to entertain, nor is it intended to improve my writing skills in anyway (something that I strive to do on most blog entries, though it probably doesn’t show). No, the purpose of this blog entry is purely mechanical, as I am using this blog entry to document something that I am feeling right now.

First of all, before I document this bit of documentation, I must say that I am hoping that Apple just forgot to mail my invitation to the announcement they’re having next week, because I’d really like to get one of those invitations someday and I was hoping that it would be this occasion. I must be on a mailing list, somewhere.

Now, onto the documentation.

I am not going to buy an iPad3 or whatever it is called when it is announced at the event I won’t be at next week. Now some may counter that I said the exact same thing about the original iPad when it was announced and I was horrified by the name of the nifty little device that I am currently typing my blog entry on. I said last night that I wanted an iPad3, but I got ‘the look’ that only a spouse can get from his husband, and he knew that I was really joking.

Heh heh. Such a card.

In all actuality, I don’t want an iPad3 or whatever it is called. I haven’t worn out my original generation iPad yet and quite frankly an iPad3 is not really in the budget. We have much more pressing things to do with our millions, like change the world, tighten up the house plumbing and install a hot tub. Oh, and hire mostly naked men with beards and mustaches (or both!) to be our “house staff”.

In reality, I should put my money where my mouth is and make do with what I have until I can make do no more. There’s nothing wrong with my original iPad and I wouldn’t really gain anything by buying the latest and greatest at this point. Plus, I believe in my heart of hearts that something beautiful is going to come out in the Linux world someday and I need to hold on to that hope and put my money where my mouth is.

So, you have read it here. I am not interested in purchasing an iPad3 or whatever it is called. Please remind me of that the next time you see me in the Apple store.

Donuts.

The jet black hair betrayed the age shown by the rest of her outward appearance. She had leaped out of the passenger side of an old Mercury that was parked right next to the front door of my favorite Dunkin Donuts. In fairness, the Mercury sagged more than she did, but I think they both wore garments of wood grain.

The Mercury was parked in a spot that was traditionally reserved for foot traffic, but in a snowstorm such as this, anything goes. She was just getting to the counter as I came up behind her to wait in line for my turn to place an order. I could already see my iced tea being assembled by the very capable counter people.

“I’ll have six dozen donuts, mixed”, the woman with the jet black hair barked out. I realize that I say “barked out” a lot on my blog, but she didn’t have a quiet voice nor did she have a pleasant voice. Barking something out is how I hear a lot of people place orders in establishments such as Dunkin’ Donuts. To me it sounds something like the canine variety of sounds typically heard when dogs are gossiping with one another. Barking is not a condemnation, it just appropriately describes how I hear this woman in wood grain.

“SIX dozen?” the girl at the register asked.

“Yes, six.”

“Oh, having a party tonight?” Pleasant conversation is always a good path to take when trying to have a pleasant retail experience.

“No”, she said. “My husband and I are worried about the snow storm tonight and we want to make sure that we’re stocked up.”

Apparently someone had already purchased all the loaves of bread and gallons of milk at the nearby Mini-Mart.

“They say this storm could last through tomorrow.”

I stifled a knowing laugh. People think I’m critical of the folks that live in these parts. I’ve been accused of being downright ridiculous. But this blog entry was just writing itself.

“Make one of the dozen all jelly!” Ok, the bark was replaced by a bit of a squeal with that one. Delight should always be recognized.

“Is today a cookie day?” My iced tea was ready and I was being herded over to another register while the six dozen donuts were being assembled.

“Not today”, I replied. “I have cookies at home.”

We’re ready for the storm.

Danger.

I am hoping that one or more of my gentle readers can please help me restore my sanity and eliminate some of my road rage at the same time by indulging me for a moment.

Please take a look at the rudimentary sketch I have included below.


This was drawn on my iPad using my finger, so I apologize for the fact that my artistic skills are severely lacking. I’m not looking for a critique, I’m looking for an answer.

If you can’t tell, this sketch includes two, two-lane road intersections. The little red Smart car, as denoted by the little red X, wants to make a left hand turn into the road that leads them to greener pastures. If they turn right, they go nowhere.

Looking at my two scenarios, as separated by an orange line, could someone please tell me which of the two drivers is making a correct left-hand turn in the side road? Is the person on the left, who is cutting the corner so short that they’re crossing over the yellow line and clipping the front of the vehicle waiting their turn to make their turn, or is it the person on the right, who is staying in their lane and not crossing into any oncoming traffic nor taking off the bumper of the car that is waiting but not pictured. (If you need a visual, it’s a brown 1974 Chevy Vega held together with duct tape).

I just drove 500 feet across the parking lot from Dunkin’ Donuts to my favorite parking space in the sun. Anyone want to venture a guess which scenario pictured above I encountered not once, not twice, but three times (though I’m not in a Vega and no vehicle parts bumped up against any others though several drivers did try)?

Is this lack of ability to make a safe left hand turn only rampant in this cozy little area of Jesusikistan or is this something that can be seen anywhere in the lower 48 states? (Hawaii is too relaxed to bother with left hand turns and Alaska apparently uses helicopters for their travel needs). Do our folks in Europe have the same issues? Does the UK and Ireland and Australia and wherever else they drive on the more sensible side of the road have the same issues with right hand turns?

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Phone.

I have never been one to enjoy talking on the phone. I don’t like calling people. I always feel awkward when I’m on a phone call. It’s ironic, because I work for a telephone company and I spend a good share of my week on conference calls, but I really don’t enjoy the sport.

Because I work for a telephone company, there’s motivational marketing messages hung around the building showing teenagers all giddy because they’re talking on a phone in their bedroom. The ads remind me of those ads from the 60s and 70s when Mom and Dad were rich enough to spring for a second line and a princess phone for the daughter, where she could talk from her bedroom. The kids of poor parents resorted to stretching the telephone cord across the kitchen and into the broom closet, where they could enjoy privacy. I have never had the urge to sit in a broom closet and the only excitement I feel about having a phone in the bedroom is that nowadays it’s usually a gadget phone so laden with extraneous features that it could double as a bidet.

My sister and her family are currently living in Italy. We have relatively affordable international calling plans on our phone but I’d rather just exchange email messages. In fact, I’m most comfortable exchanging email messages on most occasions. Sometimes a chat on an Instant Messenger or a video chat on Skype is nice, but in reality I’d just like to sit down and type what I’m thinking and then wait for a response at the leisure of the other party. I prefer email over Twitter direct messages and I really prefer email over Facebook messenger or whatever the hell that annoying thing that pops up everywhere is called. Email is starting to become the written letter of the 21st century; it takes time to sit down and write a coherent email that is worthy of attention. I write a couple of emails to Earl everyday. I usually sign them “Fondly”. He can feel the warmth and that gets us through until we can see each other.

I’ve never figured out why I don’t like talking on the telephone, by the way. I don’t know if it’s because of too many screwed up Chinese take-out orders or if it’s because I was called “ma’am” on one too many occasions prior to puberty or what because phone calls in general feel intrusive to me, but it’s something that I do because I must, not something that I enjoy.

Don’t tell the telephone company I work for that I don’t have a princess phone in our bedroom. I’ll have to hide in the broom closet or something.

Diner.

One of the things that Earl and I don’t really care for about this area is the lack of diners. Now I’m not talking about the wannabe chain diners like “Denny’s Diner” or other locations of that ilk, I’m talking about real, hometown diners where the food is made and cooked locally and the locals come in and pretty much know each other.

There’s a diner (as in an old diner-car type place) not too far from here and while the food is good and the staff is very friendly, there is just something about it that doesn’t feel overly comfortable. I don’t know if it’s because it’s somewhat run down or what, but Earl and I never feel overly compelled to go there even though we’ve never had a bad experience there. The other option is called Boulevard Diner and it’s in a regular building instead of looking like a diner. They recently remodeled that location and while it’s quite nice, it has more of a family restaurant feel instead of diner feel to it. Like the formerly mentioned, we’ve never had a bad experience but it doesn’t feel quite right to us. Earl doesn’t care for it as much as I do, so I usually end up going there when he is out of town.

A week or so ago, we noticed that what had been a closed down diner was open again. Since we rarely go by this location, we don’t know how long it has been open, but this morning we decided to go and take a peek. Like the “family restaurant” feeling diner, this one looked to be in a regular building instead of a diner car.

Walking into the diner this morning proved my suspicions wrong, because the building is built AROUND this old diner car that has been restored to an impressive state. Earl and I enjoyed our Sunday morning breakfast at Bev’s Place today and it felt like a diner, it smelled like a diner and the atmosphere showed us that it is very much a diner. Unfortunately, like everything that call itself a diner but isn’t attached to a chain in this area, Bev’s Place is not open 24 hours (sometimes you just want diner food at 3 a.m.) but I was able to order lunch during the breakfast hours today so I am content.

I snapped a photo this morning because I really liked the feel of the place. We look forward to going back again soon.