Mozart and Algernon

That's right, I'm a fucking idiot for shelling out five G's so my eye doctor can get richer. I just found out that my world class eye surgeon, who's been shamelessly flirting with me (he called me "Cat Woman" one time when I came in in an all-black outfit and he makes frequent references to the fact that I go clubbing [which, incidentally, I rarely do]) makes a shitload of money.

It was in an old Chronicle article about top-paid academics, and he was #4 for medical professors and #1 for opthamologists, coming in at $2.1M several years ago. I reacted to this information with surprise and my competitive side took over. Three, four, five million a year - Whatever! I could make way more than that if I really wanted to. Chump change!

My right eye, which is 3.5 weeks out of surgery, is actually seeing slightly worse than my left eye, which is only 1.5 weeks out. My left eye is a fucking prodigy! I am therefore naming it Mozart, while my other eye, Algernon, is stuck in special ed.

What's funny is sometimes I forget if I put my drops in or not, so, as my co-worker joked, maybe I'm putting them in like 10 times a day when I should only be doing it 4x. Ha! And you know what else: while I still see blurry, it's a million times better than my previous vision, so I almost don't notice that I am seeing blurry. I was a -7.5 and -7.25. Yeah, I know.

Saturday was gorgeous! Absolutely gorgeous. A welcome respite from the steady downpour we've been having lately (not that I minded; I do truly love the rain). It was a day like the one pictured above, which was taken almost a year ago. Went trail running, shooting, driving around in the hills at warp speed, and played a couple songs at a pizza joint in Fremont with this bluegrass band that's adopted me. To quote a wise saying: When in doubt, be grateful.

Another one from Rounders: If you can't figure out who's the sucker at the poker table after 30 minutes, you're the sucker.

Weak Tot Action

"REJECTED! Don't you Bring that Weak Tot Action! You go Strong to your mouth, or you Don't Go At All!"

God I love that Sonic commercial. I went from being ignorant of whether March Madness was College or Pro to being the leader of the pack in my office pool. I went from "whaaaa?" to screaming at my television thinking that that would help the score. The guys are so pissed at me. I am going to have a heart attack tomorrow when I watch the Final Four duke it out in Indianapolis. All can say is that I knew my LSU boys would do me proud, and no matter what happens tomorrow, I am happy with my respectable showing as a newbie. At the very least, I will finish 4th or 5th out of 20. That's not too shabby.



So a lot has happened. For one, M.K. let me drive his monster truck. Yeeeaahhh!!!! It's a manul but with a really smooth clutch. Even a retard like me was able to swing it around the block a couple times and it was like butta!

I got my second eye done at Stanford Hospital after much apprehension. My right eye had been healing up rather slowly and I thought the prudent thing to do would be to wait it out, one eye at a time. But it got very tiresome to have to take my glasses on and off and squint out of one eye or another, and I took the plunge for the second time yesterday.

I've got my fingers crossed and I'm nursing my eyes best I can. I have to say that doing your eyes is like having kids. With the first one, I was uber careful, super paranoid. This time, I'm like, "Whatever! Piece of cake!" I did have a couple funny close calls - lobbed a glob of heavy lotion into my right eye about a week after it was done. Was very fortunate that it didn't sting much and i was able to wipe it off. Exercise (or lack thereof) became a big deal. I was climbing the walls. I tried walking fo rmiles and miles, hiking, lifting weights, and obsessing about my eyes, with all my spare energy.

Alright. I better get off the computer. Gotta take it easy now, you know?

B-Ball and Eyeballs

This whole B-Ball thing is a marked change from the old sports-eschewing me... I used to be pretty opinionated about being anti-sports, mainly because it was useless big-budget entertainment that was pointedly sexist (womens' sports generates nowhere near as much revenue and publicity as mens'). It is amazing that I have changed into somewhat of a sports fan, from my previous anti-establishment leanings. I guess I'll just chalk it up to learning about new things and not being so hippie-bohemian anymore. And some of those basketball dudes are pretty cute. Freakishly tall, but cute. Yummy younger guys!

This is my first dispatch from a post-laser eye surgery day. After having visited countless doctors and read millions of scholarly abstracts about the procedure, and after conducted a research program with the meticulousness of a crime detective, I went in for the surgery yesterday and was treated to a spellbinding, hypnotic laser show in one eye. It was meditative and required an immense amount of concentration to focus on the laser's red light. I am happy to report that I am doing OK and have not tapped into my Vicodin/Valium stores yet, although I know that they are a portent of pain to come.

Allright, b-ball and post-surgery are a great combo. Cheers!

Brackets

Announcement to all: my tool-ish iPod is no longer nekkid. I scored a pink silicone case yesterday at the mall from a guy in a kiosk selling them at less than half price what you'd normally pay for them. He was Israeli and since I've spent a little time there, we reminisced about the Old Country with tears in our eyes. And he gave me a little discount. I will miss my gleaming white pebble but the jelly case sure is fun to hold ... and it's bright pink!

So I filled out my brackets yesterday, knowing nothing about basketball. The guys at the office were all talking about theirs and I figured I ought to participate since I've been inducted as an "honorary member" of the guys' club. There wasn't enough time to research team mascots, colors, or hottest players, so I just went with the teams in states where I've resided or have some spiritual connection to. This meant that Southern beat Duke in first round, Monmouth beat Villanova, and Davidson beat Ohio State.

Since I didn't have access to the shared U:\ drive in which we are storing our March Madness database (yes, someone programmed a database to keep track of our bets) I walked over to Ben's side of the office, sheepishly clutching my brackets sheet. Ben intercepted me and called me out on my picks. Although I was embarrassed, it was a stroke of fortune that he disabused me of the notion that Southern might actually stand a chance at beating Duke, etc. etc. "I hate Duke too, but ... it's your money, you know?" True, true. I changed my bets accordingly, but stuck with my final pick: LSU beats UConn in the champeenship.

Hey, why not???

Manhattan Beach

I can't believe that my old employer, Knight Ridder, has just been sold to media lightweight the McClatchy Company. Wow. Now they're thinking of combining some of the dailies in close-lying metropolitan areas. I should've seen it coming. During my time there, they were lowering our per-mile mileage reimbursements and telling us to turn off office lights whenever possible to save energy. Still, it comes as a shock to me, but I can kind of understand why they wanted to keep their business "in the business" and out of corporatemongering hands, so to speak.

In other news, I saw my dear old friend S. in Manhattan Beach this weekend, where, by random coincidence, her fiance was both celebrating her birthday and proposing to her. N. and I also got to see her adorable 5-month-old A., who is a very, very, very big baby boy. He let me hold him for quite a while, but as soon as he was transferred back to his dad's hands, some white milky fluid dribbled out of his mouth. It was similar to the white fluid that came out of the mouth of those people who got impregnated by aliens in Aliens. S. and her now-fiance J. are such warm, caring and fun people. It is truly good for high-strung people like me to get some perspective on how life can sometimes turn out well even when you don't intend for it to do so. *wink*

We also checked out LACMA's 40th anniversary exhibit. It was my first time at the LACMA. I had no idea there were active excavations and "ancient" tar pits in downtown L.A.! The artwork was nothing to write home about, with the usual suspects of Motherwell, Picasso, Calder, Renoir, etc. etc., but the Ettore Sottsass retrospective was particularly arresting. This guy created the most fucked-up furniture, clearly from decades of mainlining crack. It's worth looking at for a good laugh. Also the weather in L.A. was absolutely icelandic. I was wearing my Thinsulate 3/4-length wool coat and just barely squeaking by.

You Snooze, You Use

Wow, I'm on my way to sleeping pill addiction ... but I haven't felt this good in years! Getting about 6-8 solid hours of sleep a night, every night, waking up a little groggy but refreshed within 15 minutes. I've been missing out! My normally bitchy and morose temperament has improved drastically (now I'm just contemptuous) and I feel so good. Never knew (but definitely guessed at) how much sleep can improve one's state of mind. Now I've just gotta figure out how to get sleep without becoming a user.

By the way, Rachel, you'll love Herman, the giant bunny. He was featured on the BBC. I love his feetsies and toesies!

Of course some people would look at him and see several nice dinners and stews.

Here's a random list of crap that I found in my car as I was cleaning it out:

(1) An Army MRE (meal-ready-to-eat) from the Red Cross volunteer effort I joined in New Orleans. Chicken with Salsa Flavor #7, it has a chemical heating pad. Miniature tabasco sauce and hot chocolate mix. Cool!!! It's for if my engine breaks down and I'm at the side of the road needing to eat something. That's also why I have my big-ass Mag-Lite in the glovie.
(2) A Business Week magazine with a big picture of a new apple-green Paul Reed Smith hollow-body electric guitar on the cover.
(3) Gun shooting goggles
(4) Old boxing gloves from the hole-in-the-wall G&S store on Delancey Street in New York.
(5) A baby toy in the shape of a fish rattle for my cousin's baby that I haven't delivered yet.
(6) A bunch of water bottles, some empty and some full.
(7) Old beaten up football
(8) Altoids sour apple gum
(9) Switchblade and non-switchblade knives
(10) Enough shoes and sandals to outfit a family of Asian people.
(11) Swimsuit, goggles, paddles, and gym card.
(12) Some old tools and an old jumper cable that no longer works.
(13) Anti-bacterial hand sanitizer
(14) Two blankets for emergencies and hiding valuables.
(15) A bra (mine) and clean socks.
(16) Last year’s Burning Man tickets and dead glowy bracelets from that event.
(17) A block of Mrs. Palmers Cool Water surf wax from Australia and a 2005 Tide Book for Santa Cruz.

And no, I have a small, baby-size Civic Coupe.

Banana Slug turns 2000!

I finally broke down and took the Banana Slug out for a spin yesterday and did some drills in the West Valley College parking lot. I tried making the tightest figure 8's possible, and had limited luck, but I did succeed in scaring off families walking their dogs and some kid riding his bike around the parking lot. (see still shot below)


I passed the 2000-mile mark on the odometer as I was riding up Highway 9. How befitting! The road was damp and the weather was chilly, but the biggest surprise was seeing snow peppering the steep banks of the road, then collecting by the side in dirty slushy clumps! People had brought their kids up there to play in the snow, and were making snowpeople. I did the requisite pullover at the lookout that I like with the glorious pine-trees-valley view, and kicked at some of the slush with my Doc Martens. I'll miss riding the Banana Slug over the next couple weeks, as I will be otherwise indisposed.

So I watched Prozac Nation last night and joined the tens of millions of Americans who put this DVD on, watched ten minutes of it, and raised their hands in the air, shouting, "Oh My God, This Is My Life, Down To The Littlest Details!!!"

Oh, I'm sorry, I thought everyone grew up this way! Anyway, it was amazing how closely Christinia Ricci's screen life matched mine, from the fact that her parents divorced when she was two, and her mom and dad were always fighting, and guilt-tripping her over who loved her more and who paid for more ... and how her mom was depressed at the time of the divorce and Christina's presence served to "save her," and as a result she lived vicariously through her daughter and her daughter was her "everything" ... something that Christina didn't quite like. It was amazing how Christina turned out to be demanding, angry, insecure, eager to please, perfectionistic and crazy during her first year at school. She had an anti-boys, fear-of-rejection phase, then when she finally decided to trust guys, she became a clingy, jealous, "nightmare girlfriend" and scared away her boyfriend.

Eerie. It was as though someone unscrewed my head, poked through the contents, fished out the good stuff, mixed it up and poured it across a movie screen.