Irrsinn.net: taking joy in human unreason

2003

The DMV and the LotR

Lots of happy jumping and dancing and squeaking and yelling goin’ on ’round herr. I dun got my license this morning. Clear the damn roads. I’m not even going to complain about the five hours I spent at the DMV yesterday only to find out I couldn’t even take my road test. It’s all good, baby.

Got to hang out some with Dulin last night, as we rented the second Lord of the Rings, then drove to the theater to see the third one. I’d be lying my ass off if I said I found the movie all good and cute and fun. It’s been said (link courtesy of Dru Blood): the very obvious black/white/dirty/clean/pretty/ugly dichotomy in Lord of the Rings, which didn’t really sink in with me until the final one, was a bit disturbing. And a bit ugly. Seeing it was worth six bucks (I love being a student), but I will probably be hesitant to fork over the buckaroos to buy the remaining two movies of the trilogy I don’t own.

Viggo Mortensen is still a sexy beast, though. Mrowr. (Way cuter than that Bloom kid.)

I’m a happy, happy camper. I am, however, stuck camping, with nowhere to go in my car with my license with my itty-bitty bit of gas.

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Fondue: melted; or "I have a penis, and it needs rubbin’!"

The above are (thank goodness) much less related than one would think.

I departed the family abode Tuesday afternoon to hang out with Michael in his spiffy new (to him) Astro-something van. Our friend Rackrent was stuck at home baby-sitting her sick brother, so we dropped by to visit and give her my Christmas gift. Somehow, she ended up coming with us on our fun and aimless journey–the more the merrier, I say. Well, to a certain extent. But her presence was welcome.

It was decided, sometime after picking Rackrent up and purchasing a Christmas gift for a family member of Michael’s, that we simply must hit The Melting Pot after dinner. ‘Cuz apparently dessert is the best thing they serve. And it’s priced like they know it. The server was funny, and spoke in a manner much like The Family Guy’s character Quagmire, prompting imitations from Michael, and much giggling from me. So we had our milk chocolate and chocolate s’more fondue, and Michael turned it into his Christmas gift to us. Which is great, because that so would have been my Lord of the Rings money (or my driver’s license money!), so I am mucho, mucho appreciative. I have, however, been put off sweets for at least a month, I swear.

(Quick interjection to tell how North Carolina’s DMV system hates my fucking guts. So Monday I’m driving around, cramming the handbook for my exams, etc., etc., right? Go the DMV Tuesday mid-morning, when the lines are shortest and there aren’t but ten people stuck waiting outside, and a DMV worker/officer (?) comes out to tell us the computer system is down, so they can’t perform any work that would require looking things up on the system, like issuing permits or licenses. Oh, and by the way, it’s a state-wide failure, so no other DMVs can do it either, and they don’t know when it will be fixed. Of course, the DMV was closed the remainder of the week, so the next possible testing day is Monday. Grr.)

Following our Melting Pot fun, we dropped Rackrent off at home and headed to visit Chris in his dorm at UNCC. So began several hours Chris-filled fun. I finally saw that End of the World movie people have been linking to and laughing about. That narrator’s voice just killed me, although I didn’t particularly find the sequence of events funny. Odd, just odd.

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All About Me

Ain’t it always?

I threw up a new About Page yesterday… well, last night while doing the Thorn. The idea of a descriptive alphabet was new to me (and to the tired About page), so I figured I’d try it.

[Listening to "Carnival" [Tori Amos / Mission Impossible 2 [Soundtrack]]]

Want a bagel?

Yesterday morning, someone began to seriously toe the line of friendliness versus sexual harrassment with me. He’s a nice guy–we say hello whenever we see each other and he asks how my day is going. If he seemed to fixate a bit, I chalked it up to the fact that he seemed to be a bit… I don’t even know what the politically correct term is–”developmentally challenged”, perhaps? Slightly retarded, in other words.

Yesterday morning, however, while I was getting breakfast, he came up to me and began to make really odd comments, on repeat. The conversation began innocuously enough: questions about where I was spending break, if I was looking forward to going home, if I was looking forward to coming back. Saying I better come back from break, “‘cuz it would be a shame for such a pretty, pretty girl to leave Rose”. Several similar statements regarding my looks were made, with a definite sexual overtone before I managed to grab my done bagels from the toaster and get the hell away.

Right. So. I was a bit creeped out. Just a bit. Thought about talking to his higher-ups, thought about getting serious with him–he’s apparently one of those who thinks I’m all smiles and giggles, and fuck if I know how he got that idea. Thought about just telling him I was uncomfortable with the way he talked to me. Not sure how that last could go–somehow I suspect there would be pleading me not to tell his higher-ups, like I’m some kind of goddamn blackmailer.

But there is the distinct possiblity that it was just too early in the morning, and I read into his (definitely) effusive praise more than was there. It happens. Well, not usually to me, but I’ve heard it has happened to other people. I’m usually not effusively praised at all.

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Ten thousand, eight hundred. Plus a few.

If I can write that many words in 16 days on this website (not counting this), why can’t I muster the passion to write 1200 measly words on Letters from an American Farmer? I can’t keep betting “the next one” is going to be more interesting, because then I’ll be thoroughly fooked at the end of the term.

I will definitely be writing on Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself”, though. I’m going to change my position on Whitman a bit, as “Song of Myself” redeemed him in my eyes. Some parts I really liked: the areas describing war, one particular way he described a slave that was beautiful, and, most of all, the… completion… that existed once the poem was done. When I finished, I stopped to think about the poem, and it was like, “Wow. It really is a portrait of a man. In some places in was full-frontal nudity as well, but most of time he kept it to a portrait…” I now have Ideas for an Essay. Bruhaha!

[Listening to "Turn Around" [Enigma / LSD: Love, Sensuality and Devotion]]

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Recent Posts

Moar PT

My cat Jackie, looking regal and calm.

Jackie, listening patiently to my explanation of why she can’t head-butt my arm when I’m lying on the floor stretching.

Halp. They keep adding exercises, but not taking any away. O_O

My current routine takes about 45 minutes, and I do it three times a day. Forty-five minutes.

  1. Pendulums (I like front/back and side-to-side better than circular, but I do them all)
  2. Table slides (1×10 at two angles)
  3. Pulleys (1×10 at two angles)
  4. Single-side shoulder blade pinch
  5. External rotation stretch (1×15; done lying down with a cane)
  6. Lying cane raises (1×15)
  7. Isometric flexion (1×10)
  8. Isometric extension (1×10)
  9. More pendulums

Each of those (sans the pendulums) has a 5-10 second hold on it. If not for audiobooks and kick-ass music, I’d probably be tempted to shortcut some of this. Which would be sad, because holy shit, my arm is feeling better. Just today, in fact, I was able to reach the knobs on both my kitchen and bathroom sinks. Took concentration and effort, but I did it.

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First PT Appointment!

Jackie, asleep on my physical therapy papers.

Jackie was exhausted after physical therapy, and so took a nap on my–I mean our–page of exercises.

I’m a little late starting PT, as I mentioned before, but this morning’s session went well. The therapist had me lie down and relax as she gently wiggled my arm away from my body in different directions. I was impressed that my arm could get as high as it did after being in one position for seven weeks.

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A New Granny Squares Design Incoming

So… not to put too much pressure on my designer, but I’ve actually hired someone to do a design for Granny Squares!

A screenshot of Granny Square Colors as of July 2014.

The site as of July 2014.

Its current look was always intended to be revamped down the road — I just needed something simple and clean to get the site rolling. With a few thousand visitors a month now, and with 56% of my users on some form of mobile device, it’s time for a facelift. I’ve gotten a few donations from running the site over the last 3 years, and that’s enough to cover the design costs.

I should have ready-to-implement designs by mid-August. I won’t promise an implementation date yet, but I’ll wrap up whatever version of the site I’m on at that point and make getting the new look in place the priority.

The PT Appointment Is Made

My cat Jackie, curled up and looking lazy.

Your dose of cat for this post.

Had my 5-ish week checkup this morning with the shoulder surgeon (strange person — I’d describe them as “brusquely kind”), and based on my pain levels, the prognosis is good!

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Feeling Better… With Holes in My Shoulder

Shoulder surgery happened on June 13 (a little over five weeks ago). This whole process has been… fascinating.

The surgical morning itself had that weird fast-slow sensation to it: it felt like the waiting was forever, and then suddenly I was getting wheeled back and drawn on and poked and suddenly I was waking up and couldn’t breathe and coughing and then waiting… again.

My two cats curled up together, sleeping In one of the waiting phases, I did an awesomely helpful meditation with PUUC‘s Rev Robin. I went into surgery nice and calm, and everyone was pleased and surprised at my cheery demeanor afterwards. Aside from occasional whining, my mood remains pretty cheerful, despite some miscommunications that have occurred.

During one of the wait periods that morning, a random person came by and dropped off the sling I’d be wearing for at least 6 weeks. Hi, random person. I don’t know you, but you were pretty nice.

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Shoulder Diagnosis and (Pending) Fix

I got an MRI with contrast last Friday afternoon. That process was quite unpleasant–I’d thought the contrast might be issued intravenously, but, alas, it was not. I had a shot into my shoulder socket.

Friday night was rough, because the contrast caused serious swelling in the socket. It took until Saturday afternoon for me to get the swelling back under control with my measly, widely-spaced ibuprofen doses.

I saw Dr. H for the results Monday morning, and there’s evidence of shoulder impingement from the shape of my acromial bone, plus some fraying (and possible tear) in the anterior area of my labrum. I got referred to Dr. H’s favorite shoulder surgeon, Dr. B.

I met Dr. B yesterday afternoon, and although we talked about the possibility of doing a couple months of rehab to see if that heals things up, he agreed that (given levels of pain, the duration of pain, etc.) surgery was certainly a reasonable option.

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A Light at the End of the Tunnel

Almost three weeks ago, I attended a beginner’s yoga class. I’d attended that one a couple times before, along with some more advanced classes.

As always, I only did a few chatarangas and planks, backing off before shoulder pain set in. I took full wheel, which went smoothly (as usual).

Later that evening, my shoulder was in agony. The agony persisted to the next day. And the next. For almost two weeks.

The standard muscular soreness lasted a couple of days, as I’d expect. It was a workout for my shoulder, so I expected the tightness.

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