Pi Day Ponderings in Self-Isolation

I write this with a strange mixture of feelings and reckonings. Since my last post, and watching the ever more graver state of the news broadcasts, I am thankful that we squeaked under the wire for leaving and returning from our flyaway holiday just in time before the travel advisories and restrictions are starting to come effect for international travel. I’m also feeling utterly hapless with the fact that just because I did international travel, and then soon after started showing symptoms of sinus congestion and sore throat, that I’m relegated to self-isolate for a long while as a precaution. I have indeed been sick, most likely with some form the common cold. I dutifully reported my symptoms, after several attempts to contact the government health line, and I am still waiting for a response about any future action I may need to take. I’m certain that it is just the same old gross, phlegmy/snotty mess of a cold bug that I get almost every year during late February and early March, when the temperatures begin to wildly fluctuate as spring thaw approaches. I’m quite certain that it’s not Covid-19 (no shortness of breath or fever); just other stuff that coincides with all the remaining other Corona virus symptoms. However, given that I’m in a slightly weakened state, and my immune system is now compromised trying to manage this current bunch of junk, I don’t need to go wandering around and being pounced on by the Corona virus as well. If I do put myself in a place of sharing this wretched cold to a person in my circle of friends and work, who may be already even more immune-suppressed than I am, I further increase their chances for the actual acquisition of the Covid-19 thing while they are battling the same cold.

Sure, this virus can be potential fatal, for a select, vulnerable, cross-section of the population; just like the flu always was, is, and most likely continue to be. Last season, influenza killed more people worldwide than Covid-19 currently has now, a disease which is now on the decline according to some reports. However, for the flu, no one went crazy then and cleared out all the shelves in grocery shops. The thing that bothers me most about it is the absurd amount of hype, the fearmongering, and irrational panicking, because it is so novel as a disease; not as well-established historically as the flu is. The same way that terrorist attacks are over-reported when there are a relatively small number of casualties compared to the other types of tragic mortalities happening in the world that are set in a less dramatic framework. I'm grateful that this nation isn't yet so inundated with active cases compared to some others. We may not be much better as a population here in Canada in avoiding a full-blown epidemic, but we at least have a government that is more willing to put aside partisan issues to face this thing, who are more willing to listen to medical science, and are willing to work on the problem more rationally. We at least had a bill passed to secure the first stages of getting universal Pharmacare in place before this before parliament recessed in response to this outbreak. As far as this government's response, I'm at least thankful that we can perhaps respond better to all this because we don't have an Antichrist to science, like the Americans have who is leading their political shit show. I'm proud to say that Canadian researchers have been amongst the first to get successful steps for vaccine development for this thing. I’m not getting fearful or panicky, but I’m not going to be so stupid as to slough off prudence either. Given what I got to deal with, prudence demands that I have to self-isolate for a while as a precaution. I’m over the hump of it now, and I have been getting increasingly better. As much as I feel that that I’m getting touched in the head with some boredom, and feel that this is ultimately may be a squandering of my accumulated sick time, I’ll play the game right, and at least have a clearer conscience for doing so. Decongestants, drinking hot fluids, and some extra sleep have helped the most.

With all the extra time off, the mind tends to wander to far away strange places, in lieu of not allowing my physical self to veer far from home. My self-isolation phases into Pi (π) Day. I slapped down some random thoughts and observations to entertain myself mathematically whilst I’m here alone, doing my part to flatten the curve. In honour of this day, and since I’m stuck inside and have SFA else to do, I decided to apply pi (π) in a practical manner with respect to this latest pandemic.

·      They say now that generally the minimal safe zone for oneself out in public, to avoid contracting this new pestilence, is about a two-metre radius. With π in the equation, that means that there is a personal space circle around you that is about 12.6 m² of circular area around you that is your buffer zone. I have an easier, less abstract, and more convenient and discreet method of measuring to use for keeping people at their distance away from me. It is called a dog on a leash. The full extension of my dog’s leash is two metres long. I’m safer from everyone, as they are them from me, if they are beyond the range of the dog’s nose while I’m walking her.

·        The hoarding behaviour people are resorting to is ridiculous and getting out of hand. Over-supplying for yourself means under-supplying for everyone else of critical needs. You don’t have to be a Game Theory mathematician to figure this out. The real notable idiocy happening now being the hoarding of toilet paper. If you are guilty of doing this, here’s an equation (simplified)¹ with a practical use of π that might help you smarten up a bit:  N (1 – (πR₁^{2 /}πR₀²))/ [Δt] = S. With N being the number of squares in fresh new roll of toilet paper (usually listed on the package, you shouldn’t have to count), R₀ being the initial measured radius before usage, R₁ being the final radius measurement of your TP roll and Δt being the increment of time (let’s just call it a day) between initial and final radius measurement of the roll. That’s it! You’ve just computed your actual toilet paper consumption in squares of toilet paper per day in your household (S). Calculating S/N(14) equals the number of rolls of toilet paper you’ll likely be using for a 14 day quarantine period (Q). Subtract Q from all the surplus rolls of toilet you have bought and have in extra stock: E for excess. Divide that difference by Q: (E-Q)/Q =A. Assuming that you are within the realm of average as everyone else in terms of bathroom usage, that final quotient (A) then is roughly the number of people you’ve basically deprived of toilet paper, screwing them over and pissing them off with your irrational panic-driven stupidity for the 14 day quarantine period. The higher the number, the higher the likelihood that you are indeed a stupid prick with absolutely no sense of practical rationing, nor any concern for your fellow citizens. If you’ve hoarded toilet paper during this time, congratulations! Through π, you now have been assigned an ascending ranking numerical value of how much of an asshole (A) you are by creating more chaos and crisis by doing so. It somehow comforts me to know that there are quantifiable numbers with which to calibrate and apply to people on specific degrees of stupidity they exhibit instead of just using a fuzzy vague judgement or a glib opinion. Please note that if you are using more than one roll of toilet paper per day for yourself, you probably got a more serious problem going on than risking contracting Covid-19. If your number is negative, you do indeed have a shortage problem, and I’d then suggest that you definitely lay off the spicy food for the next while!

·       I can’t help but to notice that the shape and form of the Corona virus itself is a testament to the geometrical intricacies of π. If there were vertices attached to the outer protruding crown ends of the viral body, it would very much take the shape of a geodesic sphere, a structure intensively governed by the ratios of π.  If it weren’t so potentially deadly I’d find it rather beautiful in its unique sort of symmetry.

·      The number π is also used for studying population dynamics in various ways, used in weird and wild esoteric equations which I don’t have all day to study or explain here. It’s a constant in the bell shaped curve in statistics. No doubt it is now being used intensively to track the spread, and to factor in environmental conditions that prevent it from spreading. I would be interested in knowing if it could be useful in predicting any correlation between the likelihood of increased disease presence in a sample population where there are overt instances of hoarding behaviour in a particular sector. I would like to think that there would be a divine justice in store for those who are overly competitive and less cooperative.

I have a few more days to go before I can head back to work, and I’m sure I’ll be having to review and follow newer procedures for hygiene and prevention once I return. Pi might be less relevant in adjusting to the long lapse. I’m having less stress about this stuff with just living day to day, one moment at a time. It helps to avoid the news too; if it ever becomes worse, I’m sure it will find me somehow. As for now, I extend a wish for everyone else to stay well as we go through this course of enduring both of what is the dreamt up hype and what the actual consequential havoc is of this matter together, with hopes that this all transpires as smoothly and peaceful as possible; hoping it passes us all by sooner than later, with minimal troubles, grief, and suffering to my friends and family at risk of being directly and indirectly afflicted and affected. I’m confident that we’ll get through this ok. If I wasn’t my last entry wouldn’t have so much mentioned about toilet paper rolls.

If being penned up inside alone with nothing to do but clean my place, ration my foodstuffs to avoid shopping, binge watch TV, read, play music, catch up on TED talks, tile together jigsaw puzzles, and play with equations involving transcendental numbers for entertainment's sake and writing about it all is the worst it gets for me through this phase of clearing myself of pathogens, I'll consider myself lucky and be thankful for it, and use the time to work on myself for a change.

1 When determining the usable circular area cross-section area of a roll of toilet paper, you have to account for the interior hollow circle of the subtracted from the area of the usable part of the roll, radius dimension for that designated “r”. Thus, πR₀² – πr² is the true cross-section of material area of the initial whole roll, and πR₁² - πr² for the final measurement of the day. Conveniently, in the division, - πr² cancels out for simplicity. The equation is then converted to represent for proportional relation of a unit roll of toilet paper. I recommend measuring in centimetres, decimalized metric is easier to calculate and more precise. A square of toilet paper is roughly 10 cm x 10 cm if you want to test yourself with volume formulas. You’re on your own if you want to figure out your consumption per use by cm². I can’t say that I’m that bloody curious as to know that myself.

Blue Monday/Another Weird Cycle (and trying to break it)

According to researchers, after reviewing and monitoring tweets and other social media postings, today has been determined statistically to be "the most miserable day of the year", or "Blue Monday". It's when the holiday cheer slips behind us, people return to their regular work schedules, and the reality of the aftermath of those expenses comes along with facing winter at its worst. It seems that I couldn't escape this day unscathed either.

I've been rendered flu-stricken. I have been so since Sunday morning. I'm being tormented with a fever, being drenched in cold sweat, headaches, muscle cramps and weakness, and other respiratory issues. It couldn't have happened at a worse time because it sets me up in an approach-avoidance dilemma. I have used my New Year's stat holiday (which now looks like a pretty much wasted deal) for a challenge coming up tomorrow in which I'll need 100% of my brain's capacity to have instantaneous memory recall, mental focus, and a quick reaction time. The critical factor is whether or not to use symptom relief. If I don't use it, I'd continue suffering and weakening from the sleeplessness and appetite loss that follows; a brain made useless through fatigue. If I do use the stuff, I might be more physically settled and able to eat and sleep, but then I risk reducing my brain into a useless fog-filled mush through their side effects that may not subside on time. It's like there's a no win situation. I feel like my chances for any success tomorrow have been sabotaged, no matter what course I take. I hope I'm wrong.

This paragraph comes three hours after the last one. My effort to rest was futile and I caved. I had to get out and find healthful food and remedies. I knew it was getting bad for me, but I didn't realize as to how really rough shape I was in until a stranger approached me and asked if I was alright as I shivered and staggered around the grocery store. I'm frustrated even more about realizing how much this year is starting to unfold as another close-to-identical cycle of the crap I faced last year in terms of illness and weather, as indicated by the entry Cooking with a Head full of  Neo C. However, this time I sure as hell have no mood nor energy to cook. I am going to be practical; pace my doses, closely monitor my states of alertness between them, and adjust the timing appropriately for tomorrow. I'm writing right now more as a means of performance feedback, to see how the process is going for me. It's probably a good moment to be mindful to do something, anything, for the sake of betterment that is radically different to break this cycle.

Firstly, let's try to look on the bright side of things. It's 20 degrees warmer than it was yesterday (it's still -31 C in the wind). . . well, it's a small start. The rest I left to exploring sites on how to escape the mid-winter blues. For all the other fellow Blue Monday sufferers and resolution makers, here's a link on Wikihow .for you to use.

Zombie Season: Dealing with the Undead

I don't know what sparked me to start writing about such morbid and macabre stuff. Perhaps it's due to me noticing that the approaching Hallowe'en season is becoming as bad as Christmas in terms of ridiculously early marketing of related seasonal goods, and people are playing dress-up already. I noticed a poster advertising a 'Zombie Walk' that was scheduled for September 28th, the rallying point was in one of the local parks. There are more horror stories and gory graphic novels on the shelves and tables at the bookshops. Perhaps it's because these darker, damp-chilled, gloomy days seem to be making the sight of the barricade tape-ensconced, fire-damaged building across the street appear even more ominous and creepy; adding an almost apocalyptic atmosphere in the neighbourhood. Perhaps it was from spending a large part of the day messing around in the kitchen; handling and processing bloody raw dead flesh to create something more utile, convenient, and appetizing*. But most likely though, since it has been so damply cold and gloomy for these first three days of October, it's probably because I've been using my down time at home watching more TV than usual instead of doing more invigorating exercise. The show that I've been hooked into and catching up on is The Walking Dead. It's not the zombies, or the clashes with them, that entertain me. Ultimately, it's thinking of the questions of how resourceful would I be to survive through an apocalypse type disaster involving some sort of serious pandemic that becomes intriguing. I wonder what would I need to sacrifice and abandon, and what I would intentionally seek out and do on my part to re-establish order in a chaotic world.

It's odd because I'm not a usually a viewer of the horror genre of entertainment. Generally, I think it's all cheesy and stupid, thus I'm a party pooper when Hallowe'en rolls around. The sub-genre of zombie fiction may be a growing fascination to me because: I have a role in health care, thus I'm more knowledgeable about communicable disease than the general population, I'm exposed daily in seeing how easy it is for a mind and body to get compromised and subjected to impairment, and I can easily speculate what would happen when a system for tending to emergencies gets overloaded even in a minor degree. I don't believe in zombies per se as the rotting re-animated corpses, as they are portrayed in The Walking Dead. However, I do believe in a potential of a disease capable of mutating itself into the form that infects people as something similar in the movie 28 Days Later as being quite plausible. What makes this type of 'zombie' all the more scarier in the collective consciousness is that, unlike ghosts, vampires and walking corpses, it is the one that can be based in scientific reality and the dynamics (and our under-preparedness) of global epidemics. The victims in 28 Days Later were living people that were rendered and reduced to savagely maniacal and violently aggressive, delirious, non compos mentis beings after a pathogen or virus entered their central nervous system through contact with bodily fluids like blood and saliva. You can give credence to it because we already have a virus like rabies out there that operates the same way. You just have to imagine a more amped up form of it: one that specifically targets and destroys neurological regions for reasoning and inhibition control in the brain's neo-cortex, which as well may cause hyper-stimulation/activation of the motor cortex and amygdala (the brain's centre of anger and emotion) in the paleo-cortex. What if the fight or flight mechanism is compromised, and a contagion does the equivalent of switching it over to 'fight' mode and then snapping off the handle? With the resulting symptoms being: indiscriminate thrashing and biting, undirected somatic hyperactivity, heightened aggression, no sense of self-preservation, no self-control or higher levels of brain function left, you then have yourself something that equates to being a zombie**.

It's even more disturbing for me is to realize just how many seemingly rational people of all ages still believe in ghosts, demons, vampires, or anything else supernatural involving the living dead in body or spirit. When you think about it, whether we are conscious believers in such things or not, most people's lives globally are intertwined with some calendar day, celebration, tradition, or observance devoted to some superstitious belief in the rising/living dead. Even if you don't actively follow such nonsense, it still impacts you: at the very least it gives you an excuse to slack off and party like Hallowe'en does. The world's largest religious denomination has two billion people who are followers in some aspect of a faith centered on Jewish carpenter rising from the dead, yet non-churchgoing people happily accept the statutory holidays, or have to deal with the inconvenience of some shops and services being closed on Good Friday and Easter. A few billion more in Africa and Asia have holidays, customs, and practices that honour and appease spirits and ghosts in some form of animistic or ancestor worship. I couldn't even guess what at what level the impact of superstitious belief, time honored observances, or other memes related and devoted to the 'undead' make economically: in terms of entertainment, festivals, advertising, travel/religious pilgrimages, conventions***; but overall it amounts to something that's ridiculously huge exchanges of goods, time and money. I won't waste more time trying to fathom exactly how huge it is. That is the current and real effect of the walking dead. Even if I had just a penny of every dollar spent by the genuine wackos out there who are seriously planning and prepping for a 'real life' zombie apocalypse, I'd still be a very rich man.

I have to end this by adding that is a shame when we are beginning to find more entertainment watching the fictional dead than we are with dealing with the living in our everyday lives.


* - More specifically, I was making sausages: another culinary experiment..
**- Addendum: actually the person rendered this way with these behaviours could be more accurately termed as a something like a ghoul, or a draugr, like in Viking folklore. Documented cases of traditional Zombie-ism in West Africa and Haiti, involve a witch doctor mixing up a special cocktail of plant and animal based psychoactive drugs and toxins that essentially induce effects ranging from a hypnotic trancelike state to irreversible brain damage. The intent isn't to create a uncontrollable terror, but for the opposite reason: to make a passive mindless docile victim, with no will of his or her own, who can be easily subjected to slavery, or rendered less of a human as an act of vengeance. Canadian ethnobotanist, Wade Davies, explains this process better in his book The Serpent and the Rainbow.
***- For the sake of both fun and games and serious religious ceremony

My Two Cents about Currency

I'm cold-stricken again. I feel totally feeble and deflated of energy. Normally, I'd be trying to combat it with an aggressive treatment of Neo-Citron, but the problem is that its side effects* may be an interference for my procedure with my upcoming ophthalmic appointment. It's bad enough that I'm risking bursting blood vessels in my eyes now with all these violent fits of sneezing, which has happened to me in the past. For now, I'm just restricting myself to using patience, common sense, and the old-fashioned way to rid myself of this bug: rest, wholesome doses of vitamin C, and hot, steamy fluids (soup and tea). There was only enough vigor in me to run out briefly to fetch some of these basic remedies and necessities, and to walk the dog.


My last couple of pennies. I'll probably see if there is any
luck in them and use them for rubbing my scratch lotto tickets.

Today was also my first day of having to get used to making hard currency purchases rounded to the nearest nickel at the shops. I'm actually glad that the federal government and the Royal Canadian Mint saw fit to use the sensible measure to eliminate the circulation of the penny, but I confess that I will miss having them around. I don't have a simple explanation as to why. This has forced me to generally think about the psychology involved in exchanging hard currency.

I'm a consummate debit/credit card user now with most of my transactions. I walk home from work at night a lot, sometimes through and around a dodgy stretch of the neighbourhood. Perhaps mistakenly, I believe that having little or no cash on my person makes me feel like I'd be less of a victim, or I'd have a less severe violation if, God forbid, I ever was held up and robbed. The only reward someone might get if they ever did try to do it is maybe a free coffee from my Starbucks card: the only transaction card in my wallet that isn't PIN protected.

When I'm put in a spot of handling actual legal tender bills and coinage, it makes the acts of earning and spending, buying and selling a lot more visceral and less abstract**, like some real energy is being exchanged. Whenever I gift myself with buying something special, I weirdly feel even more appreciative of it, and even more thrilled and entertained when I spend actual cash for the sake of including something positive and enjoyable in my life. Being more estranged from that actual presence of physical currency now is undoubtedly changing my perception and attitude of it. Whenever actual cash is exchanged, I sometimes get a twinge of a feeling that there's some freedom to haggle a bit, and perhaps a little bit of a thrill of a delinquent hustle is involved somewhere. I believe more people than just myself have this same attitude. That may sound crazy, but OK, let's really test your own thoughts about a given scenario. What would be more of a thrill for you to do if you walked into a place to buy a big ticket item, let's say a car, that you were able to outright afford and pay for in full? Which of these options would you say would be more wildly fun and interesting to do?

Option A: (electronic transfer of funds from your bank)

1. Go to a dealership, respectably dressed, and refreshingly clean, as if to beg them to treat you with respect and dignity
2. Checking out your preferred model, with a polite, yet ho-hum discussion with a salesman about options,
3. You go back to his office, sitting there afterward flipping through page after page of gobble-de-gook of a sales agreement, getting perhaps further suckered into paying for more options before signing it.
4. You're feeling overwhelmed and confused by all the details in the paperwork you are processing, a.k.a. dazzled/blinded with bullshit
5. Ending the day there with an electronic transfer from your bank account and a handshake to close the deal.
6. If you do get the car, with so many clauses and stipulations in the paperwork and payment authorization, the control, power, and leverage in the negotiations seems to be in their hands, not yours.
7. If you don't end up buying anything, the whole event ends up feeling like a frustrating waste of your time.

Option B: (a whack load of cold, hard cash)

1. Go to a dealership, dressed like a total slob, disheveled, and unshaven, and see just much of a schmuck-loser the salesman is going to treat you like in the beginning. Take notice if and how much he is making it look like you are the incarnation of the biggest waste of time that he has ever had.
2. Check out your preferred model you saw advertised, and respectfully ask questions about the options you want. Be polite, and give him no cause to treat you with any further disrespect, but at the same time notice if he is actually listening to you. If he just disregards what you say, or just rolls his eyes in your presence, it's game on baby! Move to the next phase of the experiment.
3. When finished with this initial bit of the spiel, you then back go to his office with him, and as he starts, automatically, trying to check your credit rating, or assumes to start preparing a file for you for financing, then say: "I think I'll just pay cash for this." Then pull out a greasy looking brown paper bag from under your jacket, and start dumping out of it bundles of hundred dollar bills on his desk. Notice especially the radical and immediate shift into behaviour that reflects and denotes acceptance, approval and respect, despite the fact that you look like you slept in a dumpster. It's time to teach this fickle, shallow bastard a lesson. 
4. Count out an amount that's at least three grand less than the amount advertised (or what he's trying to press you for). Put that money back in the bag, close it and keep it on top of his desk. At this time, after a few moments of bewildered staring, he'll no doubt excuse himself, telling you to wait there while he "talks to his manager".
5. After he leaves the office, in secret, remove a sizable bundle from that bag, put the money bag back under your jacket. Pull out from your jacket another identical looking greasy looking brown paper bag filled with the same size and mass of old newspaper. Put that bundle of cash on top of it and close the bag, placing it on the same spot on his desk.
6. The salesman then returns, either to agree with or decline your offer. In either case, you tell him that you've reconsidered: you open the [newspaper] bag (in such a way that only you can see in it) and remove the wad of money and put it in your pocket, close it up, and then make it plain and clear to him that you'll now pay original offer minus whatever the amount was you just removed from the bag. Hell, make it even more interesting and tell him that you want him to throw in another extra couple of mid-scale additional options as well. If he starts blubbering in declining protest, that's when you get crazy on his ass and interrupt him, and boldly (and honestly) assert: "I don't care if you are willing to accept that as a deal or not! I'm planning to leave here without a bag! Whatever is left in that bag is all you are going to get . . .Work on it!"
7. He may stall a bit to call your bluff, or [pretend to] confab with his manager, but if he agrees, be gracious, well-mannered, and thankful (just switch and put the money bag back surreptitiously if that happens***). You sign your ownership papers, and you drive away in your new car as you watch him waving at you; grinning like a cat with a cream flavoured arsehole.
8. If he declines, you just throw up your hands and say: "Well, like I said, I'm leaving here without a bag, and whatever is left in that bag is yours." You then take (the newspaper filled) bag and place in on the showroom floor, dowse the bag with a vile of lighter fluid, set it on fire, and then say "There you go!", and start walking away; laughing and yelling "DANCE, MONKEY!", as you watch him trying to vigorously and desperately stamp out the flames in front of all his peers and co-workers, trying to rescue this fortune.****

So then, honestly, which car buying experience would you find more thrilling and interesting? I don't think you could even be human, or have a pulse, if you chose Option A. My point is that the critical element for making Option B so much more entertaining, and even conducive to getting a better price yourself with more options, is having actual hard currency at play, and the freedom to use a little creativity that electronic transfers and excessively worded sales contracts don't allow. You either got satisfied with a better car for cheaper, or had the pleasure of watching a greedy shithead walk on fire with Option B; so I bet you'd feel like a winner either way. A large amount of actual physical cash never loses its shock value either. Option B is the experiment that the eccentric and devious side of myself would love to make happen if I were rich enough, and knew I could manage to get away with such a stunt with impunity. Security cameras, and more stringent accounting regulations (to curb money laundering) around large cash transactions will probably keep Option B from ever becoming anything implementable, but it was fun as a thought experiment to pass a low-energy kind of day.

I wonder just how much wilder the scene could have been if I actually used Neo-Citron . . .


*- Increased fluid pressure in the eyeball, and blurred vision.
**- The lack of handling actual currency notes and coins, I think, is a big part of why many people are so oblivious about their spending habits, and becoming more prone to getting into serious debt.
***- I bring to your attention that this is strictly mind games, and putting up defense strategy against people who are already trying to dry-hole ream you the minute you walk through their door. . . I am not endorsing theft.
****- Not all car salesmen are pricks, I'd only save and use these tactics for one who evidently is. You aren't even being deceitful. You stated clearly that you are leaving without a bag (you either either leave without a bag of money, or you leave behind a bag of burning newspaper). It could be a useful technicality that could get you off the hook if you ever went to court after this ordeal.  

Cooking with a Head Full of Neo-C

Current scenario: beginning of the first stretch of days off since the New Year began.

Conditions: Blizzard warnings for the South, -30 º C wind chill factor outside. I woke up friggin’ sick; the fates, it seems, are conspiring against me again to make any time off I get uncomfortable and miserable. Too damn cold outside to ski; I’m too damn sore and lacking in energy for it even if it wasn’t. There is nowhere else to go because I definitely should not be driving while in the state I'm currently in.

Solutions: Use Neo Citron, and consume easy to digest food with lots of vitamins and aromatics to hammer down this dirty old bastard of a cold.

How I know that the old Neo-C is already screwing with my mind:

·         My autocorrect/spell/grammar checker is working overtime as I write this

·        My memory and perception of time is so warped that I need to use visuals, write lists, and program alarms to guide me from task to task

·         The strange looks I’m getting from the dog as she watches me trying to operate around here

·         Holy crap! I’m actually experimenting with vegetarian* cooking . . . AAARRGH!!!

 

Lemons to Lemonade Event: I figured that I might as well capitalize on these list making/time keeping moments to compile and share an actual recipe I created out of my cold-medication addled head.

Butternut Squash and Carrot Soup

Step 1: Make Stock

This time I use a meaty turkey carcass/bones from Christmas, acquired from my well-wishing mother, that was saved in my freezer. Place in large-ish (6 litre capacity) pot with these other ingredients:

·         2 – peeled, coarsely chopped, large onions

·         2 – peeled, coarsely chopped carrots

·         2 – chopped stalks celery

·         3  cloves - peeled crushed garlic

·         1 cup - chopped fresh parsley

·         1 pinch - each of marjoram, thyme

·         2 teaspoons - peppercorns

·         2 - bay leaves

Fill up the pot with water until it's about a centimeter from the edge. Bring to a boil, and then lower heat to let simmer, and then cover.

Prep time: Used 7 extra minutes to peel and chop vegetables (I did this as I was making breakfast). Three hours of time for simmering the stock. During that time, I cracked open and prepared another cup of Neo Citron, and used the medication high to ponder the various other vicissitudes of life that randomly enter the mind. Add salt to taste. Strain, reserve what is needed, separate the rest of the liquid into smaller containers and freeze it. Or, if time-pressed or lazy, just get a 1 litre carton of inferior quality chicken (or vegetable*) stock from the store. Proceed to step two.

Step 2: Make Soup

Ingredients:

·         ½ - small butternut squash, gutted (seeds removed)

·         2 – medium sized stalks of celery, chopped

·         1 – large carrot, peeled and chopped

·         30 grams – fresh ginger root, peeled, chopped, crushed

·         3 Tbsp – ghee** (or butter)

·         2 cups – prepared stock* (not in picture)

·         Salt and pepper to taste

·         Chopped parsley or green onions for garnish and taste (optional)

Procedure:

Place the butternut squash, cut side up, in a heat-proof baking dish, put two tablespoons of ghee and the crushed ginger in the hollowed cavity. Put the carrots and celery, and remaining tablespoon of ghee in another baking dish. Sprinkle ground black pepper on top of the squash and other veggies.

Preheat oven at 350 ºF (176 ºC), cover baking vessels with aluminum foil. Bake the carrot/celery mixture until soft (about 40 minutes). Bake squash for an extra 25-30 minutes.

Scoop out the ginger and squash flesh away from the rind, and add them, with the baked carrots and celery into a smaller pot. Add the stock in with the vegetables and heat on the range until it begins to boil.

Use an immersion blender to purée the mixture into a smooth and even consistency. Add salt to taste.

Pour in a bowl and serve topped with chopped parsley, or minced green onion (which is used here).

Yield: Two large bowls (500 mL, each)

Nutrition/Calories: I really just don’t give a shit today.

Verdict: It’s OK. I'm saving other bowl for when my tongue isn’t coated with whatever crud that seems to be a side-effect of this medication. Also considering using grated frozen lemon to top the soup to experiment with flavour (thanks for the turkey bits and the tip Mom).

*- I know a stock made with turkey bones isn't technically vegetarian, but in my little world, if I see no actual bits of meat in the final outcome of preparation, it qualifies as vegetarian to me. The sanctimonious fools who call themselves true vegetarians, or who wish to affiliate themselves with, as Anthony Bourdain calls them, the Hez b’ullah splinter group known as the vegans, could probably use vegetable stock instead, but I’d doubt if it would taste as good. If we weren’t supposed to eat animals, then the Lord Almighty shouldn’t have made them taste so much like meat.

**- What the <bleep> is ghee? Ghee is a type of clarified butter, used chiefly in Indian cuisine. Unlike regular butter, it can be used to cook stuff at higher temperatures because it doesn’t burn as easily. You can find it in an East Indian specialty grocery shop, but it’s also easy to make it home. Put a couple of pounds (1 kg) of butter (salted or unsalted, it’s up to you) in a slow-cooker set on high for about two hours. Skim off the floating solids with a paper towel, and then slowly and carefully pour off the clear liquified butter into a heat-proof storage container, off of the remaining heavier dairy solids/residues sticking to the bottom of the crock pot. This stuff will last a long time in the fridge, whereas aging regular butter will eventually turn rancid because of the extra dairy solids.

Demon, Get Out of My Spine!

I’m writing this while I’m in the foulest of moods. I’m stricken with stabbing pains in my lower back, so much so that I’ve been rendered mostly immobile since yesterday afternoon. The occurrence of this was so freakish and ironic. Despite all the chances to acquire this by walking and slipping on ice within the past few days, it didn’t happen that way. Instead, it happened in the gym. Between the track and treadmill, I did 7.7 km of running activity, and then decided to do some core training: with special focus and intent to ‘strengthen my back’. The stupid bench that I sat on wasn’t secured properly. The wild scene that resulted was me losing balance, twisting sharply, and abruptly flipping backwards onto the floor. I think that the effort in trying to correct myself in “mid-flight” did more harm to me than the actual damned fall itself. So now, I’m stuck at home, using ice compresses, and gobbling up Ibuprofin and anti-inflammatory pills like they were Halloween candy. I went to the office at work today to attend to a duty there briefly; even that brief visit there became too excruciating, and it feels like I’m drained from anymore activity for the rest of today. So, I’m retreating into writing: to do something that forces me to sit still, and to drain myself of this negativity, which hopefully will result in also easing some tension in my strained back muscles.

Speaking of Halloween candy, if I’m getting trick-or-treaters coming by tomorrow knocking periodically, I’ll definitely be in no comfortable shape even to get up and off the chesterfield to answer the door if the pain keeps on persisting, like the way it is now, on through to tomorrow. If I did dress up, the only option I feel like I have now is to be Quasimodo.

Before my lucidity becomes too compromised by pain, or by the junk I’m using to stop it, I thought it would be fitting to share what is really scary to me about this Halloween. It’s the realization about how aged I’m feeling, and how old I’m probably starting to appear. It started when I peered through the TV listings this weekend, and noticed that The Exorcist was playing on one of the movie channels, along with the other scary movies for this season. I remember that this was the first horror movie that I ever saw as a kid, and because I was a kid, and perhaps because all this crazy possession business was happening in a kid, this movies was the one that freaked me out the most for a long time, so I researched it a bit. I looked back at the casting through IMDb, and noted the stats in the biography of Max Von Sydow, the actor who played the character of the frail, old priest, Father Merrin. It turns out that Von Sydow was only in his mid-forties when he was cast as the old priest . . . around to the same friggin’ age I am now. Jesus Christ! When did this bullshit start happening? I know that life expectancy was a bit shorter in the early seventies (when this film was made), but regarding people in their forties as old is ridiculous. Maybe I’m over-reacting, and this is just a revelation of either the brilliant acting skill of Von Sydow to play a character who looked thirty years older than he actually was, or a glimpse of just how badly Von Sydow was a victim to pre-mature aging (even worse than I am), if he didn’t use that much make-up for the role. Whether it's the one case or the other, it's still disheartening to know that I'm at that age where I could probably appear as, or play, the role of an aged senior so convincingly as well.

I’m trying hard not to be a victim of my age number. In fact, I must admit that the reason I went back to the gym (before this miserable outcome happened) was that I was (re)inspired by another guy, around my age, who’s a movie star. Daniel Craig is at it again, playing James Bond, Agent 007, in the upcoming movie Skyfall. It is coming to cinemas here soon, and I can’t wait to see it on big screen. Daniel Craig was the guy who served as a fitness model for me, and got me directing myself into getting into fitness mode, at a time when I thought I was doing more decaying than thriving health-wise. If Daniel Craig played the old priest in The Exorcist, he would have made that demon his bitch within a minute. Once I recover though, I have to make it a point to not be so zealous in trying to get back into Bond-form.

I feel like I need yet another role model, this time for the sake of my learning objectives and personal standards of productivity and efficiency. The meds and muscle relaxants are kicking in now; maybe I’ll have a vision as to who that might be, in a dream as I drift. . .off to . . .sleee. . .zzzzzzzz.

To Strain to Train through Pain Again

“It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then victory is yours. It cannot be taken away from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell.” - Buddha

The pain I’ve had is gradually fading away, but I’m still not anywhere near the condition I wanted to be in for contending with the race this coming Sunday. I took a trial run yesterday. I only did about three kilometers to gauge the pace at which was tolerable for me to take on a 21.1 kilometer run, and to check and see the degree at which I’ve recovered. I managed to get a pace around 5’ 30” /km within the first 700 meters, which was the target average pace I wanted to have for the whole race before this injury occurred. My performance worsened, getting to 6’ 15”/km, a dramatic drop after one and a half kilometers once the stiffening and inflation started to set in. I don’t expect to break any personal records if this keeps up. My goal now has been reduced to just being able to start and finish this whole  ordeal. 

This tapering off process and session of injury treatment before my race day is driving me crazy as well. Tapering off is very necessary to avoid excessive stress and wearing of connective tissues, and to allow the body to rebuild and strengthen the muscles needed for the day of competitive racing. However, after all these months of effort, sitting still to rest has become totally counter-intuitive. It’s tiresome and boring to be stranded at home using ice-packs, a foam roller, and stretching. With this amount of personal downtime, I usually retreat into my kitchen to cook and eat; and now I can’t just eat whatever and whenever I want*. I’m really aching to be back outside on the trails, to be in the sunshine and fresh air. I miss greeting, and being greeted by the fellow runners (especially the lovely Lululemon clad athletic women) on the trails. Doing cross-training on my bike and upper body strength training is tolerable, but not the same. They don’t invigorate me like running does.

It has occurred to me that I never set a reward for myself for accomplishing this next race. I know what I’d really want, but it’s nothing I can simply buy. It’s a wish that’s too personal to express here.

*- I purposely emptied my fridge for camping and left it that way when I came back home, to avoid mindless eating. I’ll grocery shop when I get back into the swing of work and re-training once sufficiently healed.

[TV Commercials] + [Neo-Citron] = WTF???

I wasted almost an entire weekend watching TV, since I was pretty much too useless to do anything else as I sat around here all loaded up on Neo-Citron; I sure had a wildly different viewing experience when I was in this state though. Typically, I watch pre-recorded TV from my computer hard drive after I come home from work, and I generally skip through all the commercials.While the TV is on at work, my mind is usually somewhere else, or I'm too distracted by other tasks to give them any analysis for criticism. Here is just a bunch of random questions and observations that burbled up into my cold remedy addled mind, mostly inspired by the commercials I glimpsed.

I noticed that there were lots of repetitive advisories on one channel about Depression Awareness. Should I find it amusingly ironic, or fittingly appropriate that Valentine’s Day occurs right in the middle of the month of the year that generally has the highest number of diagnosed cases and medical treatment of depression in Canada? With love (or lack of it) and depression mixed together, it makes me think that this month should be renamed Emo-bruary. Of course, there was a preponderance of pharmaceutical ads for anti-depressants amidst that lot. If our society was indeed more optimistic; given the occasion coming, you’d think there would be more Cialis, Viagra, and K-Y lube commercials.

I don’t know if it’s just the medication affecting me, or if it’s more subliminal suggestion, or something else going on to create some better memetic device to accord with the coming of Valentine’s Day, but I’ve noticed that the phrase “hot and juicy” has been especially salient in fast food commercials.

When the hell did advertisers, or I guess the media in general, think that it was a great idea to make it a general characteristic for beavers to be speaking with British accents? I noticed that on a Netflix commercial, and also I remember seeing a beaver speaking that way when I saw one bit of The Chronicles of Narnia movie in passing as well. This is highly improper because, a.) beavers are native to North America and, b.) the beavers are often steadily engaged in what can be construed as doing physical labour, quite unlike the British who do speak with the upper class, intellectual, Queen’s English accent. Yes, how very unbecoming. The beavers should rightfully be feeling insulted. I suppose the key thing to making a product or service seem more reliable in the world of North American television advertising, is to anthropomorphize animals such that they speak like Jeeves the butler, or something. The Geicko gecko is another example. I wonder if that trend is somehow reversed for some of the TV adverts in the UK. Maybe their version of the Geicko gecko sounds like Billy Joe Bubba the septic tank cleaner.

If it only takes a few cents a day to feed a child in Africa, wouldn’t you think that more there would be more parents from here sending their kids over there?

“. . . the best tasting dog food your pet will ever eat.”Who were the people who went out of their way to determine this? Are these results from some kind of testing that they performed on prisoners, or thehomeless?

I discovered the hard way that I can’t watch Canada’s Worst Handyman on the DiscoveryChannel while I have a respiratory affliction. Laughing at that kind of idiocy sends me into uncontrollable and painful coughing fits.

When I see hip-hop gangster hamsters, squaring off with break-dancing robot soldiers, and a KIA Soul automobile all within the same commercial space, and knowing that there is some producer of this commercial out there thinking, “Yes, so it’s obvious that the general public will see the correlation!”, I can only conclude that the crack babies are all grown up now, and have taken careers in television advertising. Maybe they should try out Neo-Citron.

Thinking of Running. . . Stuck at Home Coughing

Earlier this week, I received a very early birthday present. A friend registered my name in for a half-marathon race coming up sometime in August of this year. I’m sure other people would question the status of their friendship with someone if such a friend’s ‘gift’ was an entry fee/registration for doing a 13.1 kilometre long run in the middle of the hottest days of summer. However, racing in a half-marathon competitively was something that I was going to dare myself to do anyway sometime this year. This friend just provided that extra push to make me commit to that goal. All I have to do is the training for a few months, and then show up for the race and do it. I’m thankful. I have six months to train for it; I could feasibly do it in three. My training research link.

However, my plans and ambitions to do some preliminary training for long stretch running this weekend have been dashed by lousy weather and goop-filled lungs.  The bronchitis seems even more worse today than yesterday , and even just thinking of the effort I’ll need to get out of here just to get some groceries is tiring enough for me, never mind thinking of the discipline I’ll need in the future for this race. Right now, breathing in the below -25°C air outside instantly makes me double over, putting me into a furious fit of coughing, as I found out the hard way when I tried to walk the dog outside yesterday.

So, I’m sick again, irritable, bored at home, having no bodily energy and stiffness throughout; a restless, yet headache-clouded mind.  A situation like this usually never works out well for me. I’ve given thought about relieving myself with symptom suppressing sedation, but I favour lucidity, and really have no desire to ride into Looneyville on the crazy train that is Neo Citron. Not when I look around and see all the desk work, bills, and other correspondence I have to catch up on now that I have a fully functioning computer. That will only take an hour and a half to do at most, I’m almost half finished that stuff now as I drift between that and writing paragraphs here. I’ve re-considered heading out for groceries now: it’s pointless to waste energy to shop for food, or to cook, when I have no appetite anyway.

I thought I’d try and cure myself by using some thermotherapy in the sauna downstairs in the recreation room, but then I saw a notice that the rec room has been booked for the day for someone’s private function.  I suppose I’ll continue reading the last of Stieg Larsson’s novel of the Millennium trilogy, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets’ Nest. If I can’t use a Scandinavian spa utility to sweat this bug out of me, then I’ll try sweating it out using Scandinavian suspense literature. With the suspension of my television service coming soon for spring and summer, it’s probably a good time to figure out some more options to put on my reading list as well.

A Lousy Friday the 13th

I have to confess that yesterday, Friday the 13^th, was a portent for some really bad luck. I took Ella to the vet to get her checked out. There’s a newly forming bump on her nose that I initially just passed off as a silly wart or something. However, the way and rate it has been forming made it too hard for me to believe that any longer, plus it has begun to make her noticeably uncomfortable. After a rudimentary biopsy, the vet told me that she has cancer. This unsightly, rapidly growing tumour on her muzzle started appearing around Christmas. It needs to be removed immediately, or else if it continues to grow at its current rate for much longer, she won’t have enough remaining skin tissue left on her muzzle after the excision to permit her to properly heal without some facial deformity. Such a thing might in turn cause some future impairment of her eating, drinking, or even breathing. This was news that I wasn’t prepared for at all. I booked the date for the surgery for this coming Monday. It was the soonest time that was available for her.  She will need a general anaesthetic, always a risky thing for smaller dogs. It will be costly. Also, her having this proceedure doesn’t necessarily guarantee that it will completely cure her of this either if it has already started to get malignant and metastasize. I’m hoping the blood tests she had will prove something contrary to that. It’s a subject that has really been depressing me.

I may have to sacrifice my vacation funds, my remaining savings, or maybe eat beans and rice for a year, if that’s what it will take to help her. I don’t really care about that right now. What I know I can’t do is to watch her suffer. If she survives this surgery and it works out well, I’ll be grateful for at least that. If it turns out to be an exercise in futility, either by some complication in surgery, or the cancer re-occurring or spreading, I may have to brace myself for the unavoidable heartache of doing what’s ultimately best to not make her suffer anymore. I’m hoping so badly that I won’t have to deal with making the call for euthanasia.

Five Questions, Five Answers: New Year’s Day of 2012

1.       Q: How did the last waking hour of 2011 end for you?

 

A: With a remote online chat with a friend, the finishing of Chapter Four of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, a couple of muscle relaxants/pain relievers, and a belly scratch for my doggy, instead of a New Year’s kiss for someone else. That’s all. No parties, no booze, no games, no other social entertainment. It seems to be a disturbing trend: with past few years ending for me with some kind of sickness or pain. For the end of 2009, an eye infection; the end of 2010 was acute abdominal pain; now it’s seized up back muscles for the end of the year 2011.

2.       Q: How is the book?

 

A: It’s an eerie coincidence that I chose to start reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo now, since the setting is in phase with this actual time of the year, in the gloomy darkness around the winter solstice. With southern Sweden (the book’s setting) and my location being generally on the same latitude, I can really get a vivid feel for the atmosphere. I don’t usually or intentionally read stuff with this degree of political/legal intrigue, so I’m surprised that I’m getting so wrapped up in this story. The focal male character in the story, Mikael Blomkvist, a guy close to my own age, is ending his year off being quite down on his luck; perhaps I can just empathize and relate with him all too well. I’m resisting the urge to run out and see the movie before I finish the book.

 

3.       Q: How was the first waking hour of 2012 for you?

A: Thankfully, less painful. I got mindful to start the year with a good long look in the mirror, and to read and meditate on something inspirational. At least when I looked in the mirror, I saw a thinner fitter person than the one I saw staring back at me at the beginning of 2011. To opt to open myself to inspiration will hopefully help to drive me forward and keep a momentum for the ways I want to use this year to make some changes. 

4.       Q: Changes?  . . . What kind?

A: Course corrections . . . on a lot of levels, most being too personal to mention here. I do know that the whiteboard in my office will be my best friend throughout this day. I mentioned deploying a scorched earth policy a while back; that was rash to say.  More accurately, I have to do some selective burning, to clear away what is bad and useless, and to keep and further enhance that which is good and functional. There still has to be a plan as to where one has to light the fires. I only know for certain that 2012 will be the year of language(s) and finances, and forcing myself to learn stuff even more abstract than those things, as well as maintaining my health and fitness.

5.       Q: Besides planning stuff, what else are you going to actually do for today?

A: In keeping with accordance to a resolution to implement more measures of frugality and having fun doing it, I believe I shall be making some beer today, or at least get myself set up for it (converting my kitchen space into a lab), depending on what kind of time I have before work. I know I can’t stand having another day of being idle and reclined most of the day like yesterday. It would also be a good time to inspect my pantry, and make use of what I have; creating abundance with my essentials instead of absent-mindedly running out and shopping for food impulsively.

Five Questions, Five Answers: Entry 3 – Sick Day

1.       Q: It’s a sick day for you. You look and feel horrible. Are you sure you want to do this?

A: I have not much energy for anything else, and nothing else better to do. My mind is totally draped in a fog from both boredom and the side effects of Neo-Citron. It might be well worth a laugh to read it later after I recover; then see and study the specimens of pulp that got coughed up from my conscience.

2.       Q: What have you been doing with the rare moments of lucidity you’ve had during this day?

A: Reading a book called The Power of Less, by Leo Babauta. It contains material and suggestions that suit my objectives I mentioned before in the last entry. It seems ironic that I’m dwelling on a chapter called Simple Focus, since it’s something I’ve been finding almost impossible to do all day.

3.       Q: Were there at least any kaizen moments happening today?

A: I added some more categories to a research database I’ve been constructing. That’s all I had in me. Trying to have the vision of how this thing is ultimately supposed to look like and function, and taking the steps backwards to fill in its innards is a really hard process to think about now in the current state I’m in. A chimp banging a ball-peen hammer on my keyboard would have a better chance at making the thing work than I would if I were trying to create formulas with this brain full of cold medication. I really hate the bloody after effects of lingering sedation.

4.       Q: Back to last entry’s content . . . a nerve was struck when you were confronted with the question about planning for creative expression. What happened since then?  

A: I came face to face with the shocking realization of just how long it has been since I really engaged in any hobbies or pastimes that cultivate any meaningful form of self-expression or self-actualization. I did running during the summer for the sake of getting healthier, and that consumed a lot of my personal time, but it’s not what I would consider a form of self-expression, or a passion, or even a fancy. Psychologically, at best, it was just a method of teaching me how the process of setting higher goals for oneself can be really satisfying, and that there was a beneficial result after. I have very few things around here in my living space that I would deem as trophies of achievement, or proof of having some ability to fashion something of some substantial quality from one any particular talent. Once I took a reckoning of that fact, I began to feel somewhat disappointed, and I feel kind of angry that I’ve been robbing myself of so much quality time.

5.       Q: Now that you know that, what’s going to happen next?

A: As I’m still feeling crappy enough with this cold, I’ll have to call in sick for tomorrow. The only advantage of being sick at home is that I won’t have enough energy to waste in plying myself to busywork trying to distract myself and avoiding that question anymore. I may have to force myself to explore it further between coughs, sneezes, and periods of being goofed up on Neo-Citron.