Unintended Patterns.

This blog was not originally meant to be a paradigm for how I write or think. Since its initial posting over one month ago, I have enjoyed marking my day with a brief response over a piece of news or event that struck my fancy that day. Additionally, each Sunday, I remark on a photo interesting to myself and hopefully to others. Considering the Mecca of opinions, blogs, online diaries, My Space pages, BBS systems and their many, varied counterparts, I feel that by not writing on particular stories solely within one idiom is a manner by which I will not draw a large following.

This has, in fact, been my very intention.

However, I have come to find complacency in my writing as of late and suspect this is what regards most blogs as unremarkable. My opinions weigh less without a common theme or purpose. Expertise or specialization has become the rule. Political blogs. Religious blogs. News blogs. The very core of the so-named "blogosphere" is composed of hundreds of dozens of such sites and pages. I feel it is time to work on my particular form of composition and to discover some hidden talent that I suspect resides within the recesses of my literary learning. If this realization is in one field or another, through experimentation here I hope to draw it out and hone it's shape into something appealing to both my readership and self.

It is time to begin a new weekly posting in the form of direct commentary on current political and social issues. I'm a moderate and moderates moderate. So inkeeping with this ideal, I shall post such commentary in the middle of the week: each Wednesday. Perhaps I can hone it enough to make it worthy of publication in op-ed or other formats in the weekend periodicals. Time will tell.

Finally I will offer this idea to those that read my daily postings: I have found that people's intentions change over time in lieu of changing times. Those that remain content with the past, concern themselves with the matters such times encompass. All others explore and create and undo.

I chose to make progress in word and deed. I hope you will join me in doing so as well.

So Long...

This is the 30th day of August, an auspicious one at that. It is on this day that I have had the pleasure of saying good bye to a few friends and a relative. The former I saw this evening with my wife and some other acquaintances. The later has received my farewells for now the twelfth time.


Sara and Todd met us at the restaurant for dinner and drinks with their friends Scott and Tiffany (a couple) and Joann (a couple in her own mind.) Excellent fish and mohitos (I think they ARE rather "gay drinks".) It'll be difficult after having a good friend leave. Todd's been the guy with whom I can pal around, take in Blazer games, freely discuss politics without concern of offense, or just be silly and juvenile. He's been my buddy for a long time and kept me smiling when others couldn't at work. I like to think I've been there for him as well. I hope it's true.

Todd, you'll do well. This is the right move for you and you will make us all proud in Nevada.

Dad... Happy 86th. I love you and miss you too. I think you'd be proud of my friends and I as well.

Sick Day.

Thought I'd hit "post" on this yesterday. Apparently I did not. Sorry folks.

Called my buddy Vahid today to set up a time to get together and talk about kettlebells (see previous post.) Come to find out that the man's cought a bit of a cold. Even better, I am running a temperature of 101.2 °F in the middle of this fine day. So, it's off to the races for me.

Tomato soup, grilled cheese sandwhich, good books and a blog entry of mid amusment will encompass my day's activities. That and an early night's sleep will make the day all the better.

Lisa and I officially send Todd and Sara off to Las Vegas with a night out tomorrow evening. I understand it'll be at McCormmick & Schdmit's on SW 1st and Oak around 2100°. Should be a blast, if I can get over this runny nose.

Nyquil, take me away!

Manhood Checked.

For years I've held to the idea that that television is "soma for the masses." When I was a young boy, I'd taken to using white-out to write around the frame of the television screen quotes from 1984, cautionary statements, and other comments that berated television - as reminders of what we were viewing. It's hard to forget the excitable nature of programming for what it is when you see the phrase "I'M LYING TO YOU!" or “IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH” just to the left of the news-anchor's image.

Recently, I've witnessed quite a few advertisements playing these ideas in less subtle ways. Specifically, ads that wish to "buff" men up and get them in tune with being more masculine. Hardly new, the thought that ads play on base models of what's "cool" or "acceptable"; but didn't this come clear in the late '90s with the Chuck Palahnuik novel and subsequent film Fight Club? Well, it seems that the rest of the media is either slow to catch up, or making amends for thinking that by being showing his “sensitive male side” to the girl in third period English would help him score. To the ad groups: Lame try, morons.

David Sarasohn’s Sunday column in The Oregonian may have beaten me to the punch in print, but this topic has been on my mind for months since seeing Smilin’ Bob popping Enzyte on stations breaks from ESPN. It’s not just this summer, Dave.

Here’s a listing of currently running, MORONIC commercials created by plodding hacks failing to right the wrongs of their wasted male adolescence:

1. Hummer ad targeting the tofu & veggie eating man at the grocery check out “eclipsed” by the Neanderthal that has pounds of meat & ribs next to him. Upon seeing a magazine with a Hummer on it, he jets out and buys one to “restore the balance.” Of what? Lack of gas efficiency to healthy eating? I’ll bet the carnivore’s driving a Honda Insight before he dies of arteriosclerosis.

Message: Men, you can eat healthy, but make certain you drive a car that makes your penis seem bigger than it actually is. Screw the environment too.

2. Cialis, Levitra, Enzyte, and Viagra commercials. Nothing like getting a man thinking about his gonads to keep the money flowing into your company.

Message: You must remain capable to have sex at all times until you die. Otherwise you’re not a man.

3. Applebee’s or T.G.I. Friday’s. Those folks do a commercial where four guys call out in utter delight their entrees: “BEEF!” “PORK!” “RIBS!” then “VEGETABLE MEDLEY!”… pause… the last guy then corrects himself with “SAUSAGE!” to the back-slaps and laughter of the others.

Message: You’re not a guy unless you eat meat and like to keep other men happy by eating meat.

Men, be yourself. Pansy. Bold. Brawny. Old. We’re not idiots. So stop falling for gags like these commercials.

Lazy Sunday: Part 5

I was just thinking about my home town today, nostalgic. Then I gave some thought to where my wife and I live currently, the largest city in the state.

Portland really is wonderful.

Characters: Moreland

Around five o'clock this afternoon I drove my Jeep past the Moreland Plaza. The old Moreland Theatre and a favorite Ma & Pa resturant of our's, Fat Albert's, to my side I watched as an elderly man, perhaps as young as 85, make his way with his wife across the street at the crosswalk. He used a four-point cane to asssist himself from hat could have likely been a stroke suffered a long time ago.

Meet Your Meat.

This video is not new, but it should be to most.

If you have difficulty with "acceptable" animal cruelty, are questioning your views on the foods you eat, are leaning toward vegetarianism or veganism, and / or find the thought of creating environmental degradation to create a livestock feeding granges repulsive... this is a video you should see.

WARNING: This video made me sick to my stomach, and I work in surgery.

Viewer discretion is advised.

P.E.T.A. TV presents: Meet Your Meat

Goodbye, Pluto.

Two days ago, I wrote on the potential increase in the number of recognized planets in our solar system. The votes are in and the resolution is anything but what was expected.

Yesterday, the IAU voted and decided on the deifnion of planet versus "dwarf planet" or "small solar system body" (SSSB). The final definition, as passed on 24 August 2006, is as follows:

A "planet" (1) is a celestial body that: (a) is in orbit around the Sun, (b) has sufficient mass for its self-gravity to overcome rigid body forces so that it assumes a hydrostatic equilibrium (nearly round) shape, and (c) has cleared the neighbourhood around its orbit.

A "dwarf planet" is a celestial body that: (a) is in orbit around the Sun, (b) has sufficient mass for its self-gravity to overcome rigid body forces so that it assumes a hydrostatic equilibrium (nearly round) shape (2), (c) has not cleared the neighbourhood around its orbit, and (d) is not a satellite.

All other objects (3) orbiting the Sun shall be referred to collectively as "Small Solar System Bodies".

Pluto is a "dwarf planet" by the above definition and is recognized as the prototype of a new category of Trans-Neptunian objects.

Footnotes state that:

The eight planets are: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune.

An IAU process will be established to assign borderline objects into either dwarf planet and other categories.

These currently include most of the Solar System asteroids, most Trans-Neptunian Objects (TNOs), comets, and other small bodies.

So this means we have no planet named Pluto in our solar system. It is a pariah. Like Chiron, 1 Ceres, and 2003 UB_313, the new definion reclassifies them as "dwarf planets" or "trans-neptunian objects" and such a designation likely assigns them to the lower rankings of interesting research subjects in the cosmos.

More specifically is this: we have EIGHT PLANETS in the solar system, not NINE, and a bunch of large, potentially interesting, "orbiting bodies of solid mass."

Time to change the anagram, kids!

"Many Very Educated Men Just Screwed Up Nature."

Cannonball.

So this may be my new workout program.

My buddy Vahid and his friend Joe workout with this kettlebell and have been getting pretty darn buff because of it. I think it's a good investment. It'll take up little room. It'll last forever. Start small, and grow.

Even more sweet is the idea that Vahid's gonna let me try his kettlebell out before I buy one and he'll get me a discount to boot. Hot damn!

Buffness, here I come.

My Very Energetic Mother Claire...

Today, the IAU held a discussion on whether or not to include three heavenly bodies into the often uncertainclassification of planet. The results? Well, kids are going to have some extra homework in 5th grade science classes to be sure.

The three "potential planets", shown in comparison of size to the Earth, are from Left to Right,
2003 UB_313 monikered as "Xena", Charon the "moon" of Pluto, and Ceres in the Main Asteriod Belt.

There are multiple reasons for astronomers and astropyhsists to rethink their views on what continues a planet or not. The IAU has held specific criteria as to what constitutes a planet for quite a long time. The proposed resolution on planets would rethink this definition by stating in part that:

"A planet is a celestial body that (a) has sufficient mass for its self-gravity to overcome rigid body forces so that it assumes a hydrostatic equilibrium (nearly round) shape, and (b) is in orbit around a star, and is neither a star nor a satellite of a planet." Member of the Planet Definition Committee, Richard Binzel says: "Our goal was to find a scientific basis for a new definition of planet and we chose gravity as the determining factor. Nature decides whether or not an object is a planet."

In simple terms, if scientists know that an object is able to be considered a planet it has an atmosphere, a specific gravity unto itself, a mass to create its own geosynchronous rotation on an axis which also forms it into a mostly spherical shape, is proximal enough to a star to remain within its gravitational pull ... essentially, a planet has the characteristics needed to have previously supported or could potentially support life in some form. The importance of this definition is that if scientists think something is a planet, then it receives a great deal more attention when it comes to the primary goal of space exploration: to find extraterrestrial life. Whether its in the form of microbiocia or simple hydrocarbon water life, this and an inherent need to understand the make-up of the universe and our place within it make this activity all the more important.

Currently, in our solar system there are nine planets. If the new definition is applied tomorrow we will jump up to twelve planets in total that orbit our sun.

So here's to all that look up from Earth and see more than a vast array of pinpoints. They dream of marvels to discover, and are held back only by their imaginations.

Spike TV.

Mr. Lee's films are not strangers to stirring up a storm. Tonight, a storm will stir his most recent film project.

On HBO East, 40 Acres & A Mule Filmworks will debut Spike Lee's new four hour film "When the Levees Broke: A Requiem in Four Acts" covering the devastation of New Orleans by Hurricane Katrina.

I learned about this project last October, when the director was making his first trips to New Orleans. I had originally thought his travel plans were motivated by the desire to provide humanitarian relief. Shortly after, through reading and research, I realized it was his talents for provocative film-making that became the prominent reasons for his interest in the city.

I myself have been a visitor to the Big Easy. In May of 2003, I left Oregon for a professional conference held at the Hyatt Regency. While there I toured the Water district to see the beautifully restored plantation homes. I visited the French Quarter where I enjoyed my first "Hurricane" drink and discovered a little bar off the beaten path of Bourbon Street where pints of Guinness were poured with perfect heads for the price of a story and two Washingtons. I met a fine friend whom I had been in contact with through the marvels of the internet. We had decided to meet and enjoy the Cafe du Monde for chicory coffee and warm beignets. It was a moment I could have replayed a dozen times and never become bored. The music, food and conversation brought me to love N'awlins. The city seemed to me to have been like a closely-held dance partner. I walked along the streets aware of her rhythmic heartbeat, close to my own, and could have danced all day and night.

Unlike my cohorts, I decided to rent a car a travel in and out of the main city by staying in a suburban city of Kenner to the West. A stark comparison from the city was my reward. In Kenner I was stayed in a large apartment complex. A wretched dwelling offered to me by one of my coworker's niece who was away on vacation. I would run in the humid heat of the town only to witness the near-appalling conditions frequently seen in burbs near major airports. I passed several squalid homes with old cars on blocks in their front yards and was immediately reminded of my hometown.

My skin glistened with sweat in the hazy light of the late day and I stopped my run to ask for someone for directions to a grocery. Upon spotting them, I asked a group of six prepubescent boys where a local store could be found. Three or four of them stretched out their dark arms pointing me in the direction to my right and one asked me where I was from. "I'm from Oregon," I answered the young boy. "Or-ee-gn?" he replied in three syllables, "Well youz the whitest man I ever saws. Everyonez there as white as youz in Or-ee-gn?"

I smiled and thought for a second about that statement. I'd been raised not to think of skin color as a measure of a person's character, much as the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. had long preached; but I wondered then if this boy was curious more if everyone in my home state was a socially segregated as Kenner seemed to be from New Orleans, or if I was simply a template for comparing my pale skin to others in the rain-soaked Pacific Northwest. "No," I replied to the boy, "I'm very light-skinned because we see the sun less there. It rains a lot in Oregon." The boys thought about this and a few seemed to recoil, possibly at the thought of Oregon being wetter than Southern Louisiana. "I don know 'bout that, man. We sees a lota rain in 'ere." Around us, the very green lawns and trees-mixed-with-lampposts validated the boy's opinion. This area could have been the Garden District if it had the moxy of N'awlins. Instead, it was a suburb for the impoverished and segregated from the glamour of the city.

On my dozen or more block run to the store, I passed the reminders that this assessment of poverty was likely correct: five liquor stores; adult shops aplenty; dilapidated car yards; no-tell motels; and a 7-Eleven on every corner. Kenner was indeed a place kept from the view of the city, and its populace kept from going father than they had to. Much like the 9th Ward.

Spike, show the country why we mustn't overlook Katrina as the failure of the system that is was and is. Show why the people of the Lower Ninth Ward are no less important than those of Water Street. Show us your style for blending scenery with soul and silence with gravity.

This has been a calmer season in the Gulf for hurricanes, but another storm is forming in the area still devastated from last year.

Lazy Sunday: Part 4

This week's Sunday picture is one taken by my friends at the Dolan Farm.A Harley, two deer, and miles away from the city. That's home to me.

Procession-Recession.

There are times when it's better to simply enjoy a prolonged silence than discuss an event as it unfolds. Today I beheld two of those times.

The first occured at today's Commencement ceremony in the Southern Park Blocks at Portland State University. PSU President Daniel Berstein offered us graduates a choice. We could either sit through his speech, which he admitted we would have just forgotten about after he was done. All the while we would be frying in the 90°F heat while wearing our black, polyester regalia and our families and friends would have to stand through, imaptiently awaiting our names to be called out in monotone. Our second option was to simply give him a roarous ovation, as though the speech had been completed, and we could get on to the matter of distributing the degrees.

It was upon this offering that the man who held up a year's worth of teacher salaries. The executor who recently received a large raise for his position as School President. The international consultant attempting to bring in students from across the globe to help diversify the student body at the school's travel expenses. It was at that moment, that he received a standing ovation, for simply keeping quiet.

To me, this displays the act of a single person in authority becoming keenly aware of his surroundings: the heat; the multitude of family; a graduating class of better than 650; and reliquishing that authority to the masses of people assembled. Ego recessed.

The second event today took place after a day of walking in downtown Portland with my family. My wife had worked the night shift prior to the ceremony and was on her 20th hour of being awake. She, my mother-in-law and her caregiver had seperated off from my mother and I while we toodled around in Powells City of Books. My mother, being of better than 60 years of age, started to feel sightly light-headed and needed to rest some. She is a woman who never travels outside of our hometown on the southwest coast of Oregon. So this trip to Portland, her first in over 50 years, was certainly over-stimulating. I called my wife and told her we would be returning to the hotel so my mother could rest.

On our way to the street car, as I assisted my mother arm-in-arm I noticed the silence. I became very aware that my mother was no longer young. That her age had started to creep upon her like ivy on a lattice. Her mortality became a keen reality to me despite having experienced so many of my family's and patients' deaths in my many years.

Her processing age caused me to pause. I realized that I could lose my mother but be so far away from her that it would be some time before I found out she had died. It has made the day of my graduation one that I will remark on again as the first day that I leave nothing more for granted. That I cherish all of my time in this life with family, friends and loved-ones.

This is the day I remember that silence can be both impulsive and fruitful.

Half Century.

My mother keeps to herself. She's been al over the country, but once she arrived in Oregon, and subsequently met my father back in the late 60s, there was little need to move around a lot. Because of this, she's not left Coos Bay / North Bend except for a trip or two South or North to other small, coastal towns. As a child she had lived in Portland. That was back in the 1950s. She made the five hour trek today, following my mother-in-law to arrive in modern Portland, for my graduation.

Aside from the presence of my wife, her side of the family and our mutual friends, it is the greatest graduation present I could ever have hoped to have received.

Priorities?

When will we learn that the value of what we human beings possess is not even in the same solar system as the value of human life?

Local home-owners are about to lose everything in raging forest fires. The gentleman I heard on the radio stated he was more concerned that people fighting the fires might be hurt or killed than in replacing possessions and finding a new home.

War. Disease. Famine. Despair. Disaster. Hate.

Humans need to rethink what's important.

News Spot.

I decided to do a quick check of the Internet to see if I've been placed on any image searches. No hits for me under Google Image seach, but under my "legal" name, I came across an old news story where I had been interviewed by a local news crew on the raising of the Oregon University System's tuition across the board.

I look like a complete dork without my full beard, but I was a younger, unmarried man then. What time does to a person.

Enjoy the

video feed.

By the way, sorry about the commercial on the hysterectomy services.

Must We Always Have Paris?

Not often do I find a “personality” so vulgar that it deserves mentioning, but there’s something about a current celebrity I simply need to rant about.

Paris Hilton is quite certainly the worst icon to represent American popular culture in history. Those who believe Paris is a role-model, diva, star, or otherwise humane need to look up the term persona non grata.

This is a young girl who needs little in the way of money because of her family’s unbelievable wealth, yet our youth spend money due to her appearances in ad campaigns for which she is grossly compensated. Paris is paid seven-number salaries to attend events across the globe yet hands little of that over to charity (Some time and money has gone from Miss Hilton to Toys for Tots, but the exact amount of both is certainly negligible compared to her considerable wealth.)

She is a person to be despised, but because we allow her to exist in the public eye we have only ourselves to blame. It is the attention she craves and that is what we fed to her in shovel-full loads each time we discuss her life, testify to her “one-line statements”, or consider her in any regard.

I often wonder about the priorities of people, myself especially so. Though we all have family, friends and other such considerations we value much higher than our personal desires, living them vicariously through others can only go so far. Whom we chose to live them through is better considered through our needs, not by the amount of desire the icon wishes us to attend.

Mondays.

Many people that I know of cannot stand the thought of this days of the week, and why not?

You generally have to get up earlier than you had just the day before. Traffic is far worse than just 12 hours previously. People are in a “rush” and tend to be shorter on their temper. All in all, it’s a loser of a day. Try night shift.

My weekend is what the person previously described would say is his week. I work three twelve hour shifts, the same as his overtime (only I get none until the start of the thirteenth hour.) However, my Friday night is actually Monday morning. Think on that a moment.

My drive is constantly facing the sun (before work, sunset; after work, sunrise.) I get off work at 0730°, just as the suburban traffic begins its great emergence toward downtown. Management is at a minimum during the weekend. Working every weekend while others work every other one allows me to meet all of the shifts’ workers. Everyone knows me so I new people are not tough to discern. Not to mention how few people can get on my nerves because there is such a change in the rotation.

My wife and I enjoy weekdays off while others work from 8-5. Shopping’s easy and we hit sales and kitchy places when others are unavailable. It’s the best of all worlds.

Keep your Monday blues, my friends. I’ll keep heading toward the sun.

Lazy Sunday: Part 3

A CBS report back on 31 May, reports that come scientists believe that the Artic was once warm and tropical. Considering what I placed here yesterday, you can start to think for yourself on the matters of global warming. I for one want to take a moment to enjoy a recent photo of the artic.

Gorey Truth.

Just found this for my readers to enjoy. If you've not seen the movie, read the book.

A Terrifying Message from Al Gore:

FUN-dimental Reading.

I received an email today from a friend of mine who'd been reading my blog. I had no idea she was actually going to do so. but have to say I thanked her for compliments.

Anyway, she mentioned that my "Currently Reading" and "Last Read" portions on the sideline are unique to the blogging community. I figured that placing this on here would be of value to anyone looking to further their own libraries. I'm such an avid reader that it seemed quite natural of me to take the few moments to place a link to Powell's City of Books and a small picture of the books I read/complete so others could check them out as well. She told me it's not something most people do on their blogs and that I should consider a booklist that compiles those that I've read. I think I'll take her up on that and work on it next week. Keep an eye peeled.

Also, I've been told to add the idea of writing book reviews to my recent listing of ideas as to what I should be blogging about. Too bad my friend isn't getting paid for such thinking because those ideas are worth a lot more than the penny I usually give out.

So, booklisting and book reviews to come. I've just finished Londonstani so I'll make my first review on that by the end of the weekend. Thank for the ideas!

Directions Aplenty.

Writing in general, whether it is in a journal, on a typewriter or in this form (a blog) can be a most powerful tool. In the past few weeks that I've been creating posts here I've watched my sentences become increasingly heavy worded. Thinking about this I have begun to question the direction I wish to take this blog. Should I be writing about specific events in today's global news? Lebanon & Israel. Iraq. Darfur. Should I speak out on politics in the United States? Perhaps I could work on writing a novel online, with installments every other week. Or should I focus on my enjoyments in learning about space exploration, with links to recent findings? Finally, I could work on op-ed pieces for local issues and write commentary articles with the potential of getting a column. All are possible, but to diligently consider them all in a short span is only a way to create confusion.

Perhaps the most confusing, or time consuming idea of a blog, is that there are so many of them now. No one can read them all. Just establishing links to those news-worthy items (pictures, articles and the like) that the author sees fit to point out, can take time to research before posting. I think if I were to find a particular niche for my blog, then I would have the makings of something that I, and those whom I share this blog with, could enjoy.

One thing is for certain, I do not wish to become a writer that relies on diatribe. Too often these days, do I read blog authors who rely on "over-the-top" piquant commentary to arouse their readers' attentions. They cannot depend on maintaining their following over the long run with such hyperanaylsis. I equate suchoverbaring types with the repugnant tactics of Howard Stern & Rush Limbaugh: their "shock-jock" personalities. No, this will be a matter I need to ponder for a while. Until then, I'll continue to explore how my writing can improve and keep adding an idea every day.

Ten More Days.

Perhaps it is because I'm not required to take courses this term. If so, because of my long absence, the excitement of heading to campus in just over a week is starting to build a true sense of accomplishment in me. Next Saturday I'll be attending my undergraduate commencement at Portland State University after beginning my studies there in the winter of 2003. I wear my class ring both out of reminder for the accomplishment graduating with my degree holds, but out of memoriam for my late father. He graduated from Oklahoma University in 1948 with a Bachelors Degree in Pharmacy. That was all a person needed before getting a job in the field and a long time past since the advent of the PharmD. My family and some of my close friends will also attend and watch my ten seconds of joy when my name is called out and I accept my degree.

It's true that this is seen by many as the start of their education. That an advanced, graduate degree is the real accomplishment; and in many ways I can agree that this is true. However, until I achieve such a level of education, I will wear my ring, smile to my family and friends, and know that I did this, not just for myself, but because they believed I could accomplish it.

Characters: Safeway

I'm going to start writing some short paragraphs as character sketches. These will be my interpretations on people that I happen to notice in places I visit. Nothing concrete, mind you. I could be completely wrong about who these people actually are, how they live, what they think, or why they may do as they will. However, as I recalled from the recent watching of the film V for Vendetta "Artists use lies to tell the truth while politicians use them to cover it up." Well, the story may or may not be true; but impressions of the characters get to be as I so feel they should, so long as they move along the story and it's message.

Time is a funny thing. How we weigh its value as so much greater when we have less of it than when it seems abundant. It makes me regret not spending my youth more fruitfully. It was easier to walk down the streets even just a year ago. That was before my hip surgery. The months of rehabilitation I edured to, even now, still have a twinge of pain everytime I step down with that leg. My stroller's rubber wheels show the wear from being pressed down into the concrete. The wire basket on its front dips ever forward from the groceries I load into it day after day. This short walk to the supermarket has been one of my favorite, daily activities for the last 13 years; and now I see them as such an effort just to get ready for them. It's funny to think that I thought so little of this trip and just enjoyed baking cupcakes for my grandchildren from the ingredients I'd get. Now, my daily walk is time that I spend wondering how they will spend their time, ample as it is now, before having to grow old and weary like I have. That, more than the prescriptions and practiced standing techniques makes this trip less of a chore and more of a means toward enjoying the time I have left.

Un-cool-cola.

My wife drinks a soda once in a while. I personally gave them up quite a few years ago becuase I don't want that much sugar in my diet. I'll occasionally have a Virgil's Root Beer, but prefer the real thing. Upon reading the 7UP can's ingredients, I found that, despite the front of the label claiming that 7UP contains "100% Natural ingredients", the listing shows it's NOT entirely natural (shocking, I know.) I mean, claiming that in first place made little sense to me. This is soda, after all. It's a crappy, sugary drink.

So this is what I'm lead to believe: 7UP, the soda I remember drinking with a few saltines to relieve bouts of indigestion, and a go-to cure a lot of mothers use when their children are flubound, have removed the artifical flavorings and additives from their long running line of soda except for the one that is currently under fire as being a likely contributor to poor nutrition and a wide range of health maladies. I wanted to know more so here's what I found.

High fructose corn syrup (HFCS) is found in a majority of food products around the globe and apparently seemed "natural" enough to remain in 7UP according to Kelli Freeman, marketing vice president for Cadbury-Schweppes. Their current line of television advertisements show farmers plucking 7UP cans from tree branches, washing dirt from the sides of them, and a "natural"-looking woman holding out a handful of cans dangling from their stems in a fashion similar to a bunch of carrots. Please. Who's believing this malarky?

According to a recent ABC News article, by lacking a specific definition by the FDA on what is considered "natural" or not is likely the loophole that allows many food product companies to use the term so liberally. Because of this, the extensive misleading of consumers into believing that so-labeled "natural" products are "more nutritional" than others' is a staggering thought. I'm reminded of the sugary-sweet cereals targeted toward kids in the 1980s which claimed they were "a part of this nutritional breakfast" where the O.J., toast, milk and other parts of the food pyramid surrounded a bowlfull of the product. Just because it's among nutritional items does not make it so as well. 7UP is going to learn this fact as well.

Let's get even simpler on this matter. We all know that soda pop is not a nutritional drink. Hell, fill 7UP with vitamins, minerals, essential fatty acids and remove all of the artifical additives for all anyone cares... there's simply A LOT OF SUGAR IN 7UP! So, upset with this potential manipulation, the nonprofit Center for Science in the Public Interest (CSPI) has filed a law suit over the 7up claim that HFCS is a natural ingredient.

What we know for facts concerning HFCS remains controversial. Here's some specific points widely accepted by both sides of the issue:

1. The amount of sugar consumed by people in the United States has increased steadily over the past three decades.

2. Diagnosis of obesity, diabetes melities, and chronic hypertension (high blood presssure) have been increasing steadily across the age groups for the past 25 years.

3. Nutritional labels list their ingredients in percentages to total 100% of all ingredients, and in order of most previlant ingredient to least.

In summary, by starting a new marketing strategy -- likely based on the growing trend to make money on higher-priced, more "natural," "organic", or other terms inferring "wholesome" foods -- 7UP choose to remove artifical flavoring of lemon and lime, ditch the artificial preservative it contained, keep HFCS (considering it from natural sources) and for their trouble and (likely) obfuscation is being sued for misrepresenting itself as truly natural.

People... it's soda. We know it's bad for us. Just don't drink so much of it, so often. Also, 7UP, shame on you for maketing so poorly, espescially when everyone knows that Sprite's been handing you your fannies in marketing and sales for the last few years. Next time, try cane sugar instead of corn-based HFCS, like they do in Europe. Globalization at its best.

Lazy Sunday: Part 2

Time for another Lazy Sunday photo opprotunity.

This week I was thinking of someone whose work I enjoy reading when I get the chance. Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.'s been a writer for a long time and I found a quote by him particularly fitting as I start back into my writing. So, I'm sharing it with you today along with a good photo of him.

"A creative writing course provides experienced editors for inspired amateurs."

Apathy's Antidote.

I found a quote that had been lodged into the byline of a October 2003 Deccan Herald article by Elizabeth Cherian that spoke on the role of Mumbai, India's schools toward graduating great students like Fareed Zacharia, Salman Rushdie and Kumarmangalam Birla who have become great, globally-minded intellectuals. The quote reads:

“When men are pure, laws are useless;
when men are corrupt, laws are broken.”
-Disraeli

I remembered reading this quote during a history course I'd taken a few years ago at "lowly" Portland State University. This memory brought up a thought that was just as poignant. My professors in history and English imprinted upon me that what matters most is that a student wants to seek an education. Where the student receives it matters less and less in current times. This is mostly because of the many advantages that have come from using advancing technology and the many, widely available resources for gaining and researching information. This capability, to educate oneself, is constantly overlooked by those who believe it's beyond their potential to strive. Reading this quote led me to recognize not just the words within the quote itself, but the context in which Disraeli spoke.

Without education, a person is limited only by their apathy. Without education, the base instincts for survival rule man or woman. With the embracing of "rule by instinctual behavior" comes disorder, corruption and hysteria. These are not new ideas or thoughts and they are not meant to be. Disraeli's words struck me now, having finished my rudimentary education, that where lawlessness, immorality and turmoil are the rule -- as we are made well aware of in recent times -- learning why such ignorance reigns, offering information and presenting the venues for open discourse, are the likely methods for presenting resolutions toward order and understanding.

The first move: reading. Next: thinking. Afterward: questioning. Following this: discussing. Then: answering. Finally: learning.

Wash.
Rinse.
Repeat.

The cost of this is usually the same thing in all countries, all palces, and in all monetary units: Time.

Not Seen On TV.

I offer to cover an extra shift every once in a while at work. I'll have to keep that to a minimum from here on out. The night started off well. I did a surgery right off the bat and got the monthly checks off the board. Therefore, the busywork was done for my stretch of four shifts. The rest of the evening was thankfully dull. You see, unlike most drama television shows for the medical enthusiast, shows like ER, Grey's Anatomy, and even Scrubs,hospital care is both more exciting and far more tedious than those shows display.

First off, not every case is a train wreck, biological attack, social intervention, miracle cure/save, or tragic event. People generally come in to the E.D. (it's a department not one, big room!) beacuse they have no primary care physician (PCP) and have had a cough and green snot for several days, so they're looking for a prescription for antibiotics (which won't stop the infection) and a trip home. Real cases that come in to hospitals' E.D.s involve overdoses of over-the-counter (OTC) medications, alcohol or street drugs, fractures of bones by simple or quasi-humorous means (Fell while walking to car, stopped lamppost from hitting head, had a momentary lapse of reasoning while riding mechanical bull after eight shots of tequila, etc.) or your garden variety medication-seekers, attention-hounds, or unwashed transient needing a bath.

Fortunately, those days are behind me. I now work in surgery where the patients are truly in need of service or they wouldn't show up at all. Think that's more exciting than the "who's-sleeping-with-whom-this-week" episodic drivel on television? Not a chance. Ge

At The Blue Hour.

We had agreed to meet for the three Ds of drinks, dinner and desert for an enevning of enjoyment last night. Our start off would be at Blue Hour (their website rocks!) Gathering in celebration, we intended to toast one another over the completion of our various forms of undergraduate education. Sara had finished her biology degree three years ago, but continued to complete coursework to improve her GPA. She would be joining Todd, who had opted to simply finish the requirements for acceptance rather than complete an actual degree. This decision came about after he had been informed in June that he would be given a full scholarship by the U.S. Army to attend UNLV's Dental School for the next four years. Afterward, his primary mission would be pulling the molars of our fighting men and women for four more years. Combat posting is highly doubtful. Lisa had finally completed her BSN having been an Associates Degree Nurse for the last eight years. Her new title promised to remove a lot of the questioning eyes by other nurses in management and start them looking at her in a new light - one of potential understudy to use the theatrical term. The subject of college algebra had kept her at bay for the past five years, but fortunately she had a husband who was quite aware of higher mathematical concepts and was willing to "tutor" her. With A+ in hand, she left OHSU's School of Nursing in the dust pluming behind her. My degree, being the definition of "well-round education" came from the same institution as the learning gleaned by Sara and Todd: Portland State University. Where this B.S. of Liberal Studies and Minor in English will lead had yet to be fully determined. Tonight was about drinks, opinions and chocolate.

Blue hour's a little, high-class bar with reasonable drink prices and a nice little menu of everyday snacks most can be bought for under $5.00. We sat on the small deck under large green umbrellas thankfully unblemished by alcohol sponsorship logos. Few things are as annoying as sitting in a nice place with the words Corona, Guinness or BUD LIGHT over your head. Inside is a posch room filled with high-rise white chairs and over-stuffed loungers. Buisness-types sat at the bar, discussing matters of the day, sipping a Belgean lauger from gold-rimmed, tulip-shaped pint glasses. As over-the-top as this place would appear to be after entering it, the bathroom confirmed all preconceptions. One entire wall was mirror, directly across from the low-water, concentrated-flush toilet. Everything was new or high-class (including the thick, paper hand-towels that you actually onyl needed one for to dry your hands!) There was, however, one exception to the newness. In the corner adjacent to the commode sat a small, wooden rocking chair, clearly too small for someone to actually sit in unless they were five-years-old. The whole place is a full place to enjoy after work or just to get together downtown.

After drinks and fondue (lots of beer in that cheese!) we headed toward dinner. We had chosen to eat at Oba!, but the hostess out front informed us that the establishment was closed for a private event. It was something having to do with animal rights. Her fake smile, maculate skin and excessive makeup did little to hide the lack of interest in our protestations or her displeasure in having to tell several, paying customers (that normally would have given her tons of great tips) to take a hike. We decided to hit the Peruvian place Andina which we had all enjoyed in the past. Last night was no exception.

We all chose a tapa and a drink. Todd and I split a pitcher of sangria while the ladies enjoyed single drinks of their own chosing. We ate and laughed and chatted it up for a few hours. Our waiter was a dapper, kind young man whom I suspected as having had a stroke or head injury in the past. Lisa pointed out that his natural charisma detracted from the limp he showed. Amazing touches on the evening. We parted after talking of potential plans for future travel abroad and to Vegas once they are settled in. A marvelous night!

Lammas.

My true home is near the ocean. The southwest coast of Oregon is where I consider my closest ties to be. Many of my friends and family there have kept me motivated to do better, achieve more and take advantage of the benefits of living in the state's largest city. Still, I miss home.

Reading from my friends' journals (online or not) reminds me of how important it is to remain true to myself and to strive for better things. Part of that understanding goes into nearly everything I do. My writing, job, exercise, family care, everything. Some say I put too much on myself. That I would be better off not feeling like the weight of the world rested solely on my shoulders. Well, it does and it does not. If I wish to achieve all that I can, then motivation like this should help me focus on its importance. However, knowing that it will have a limited effect on a global scale allows me to look more kindheartedly upon my actions.

I'm not out to change the entire world for the better, just the small corner of it to which I feel the closest. My family, friends and acquaintances are fine reminders of what I'm really on the Earth to do: live well and do well.

Sue Bee typified this sentiment today with a poem that I'd like to share:

The chill morning air returns
this Lammas morning.
Grasses yellow to golden
in the blanket of early sun.
Wild rosehips plump and
blackberries ooze with sweet syrups.
The wild birds sing songs
of the approaching fall
and all the smells entwined
make a cornacopia of delights.
The deer frolic and the fish start to grow
and the apples are so abundant
that a visualization
of brown crusted baked pies
dances in my mind with the
sweet scents of cinnamon and spice.

S.B., 1 August 2006.

Happy harvests and Lammas blessings to all.

To us all, indeed.

Almost Missed.

After working many extra shifts, it's difficult for me to return to a daytime schedule of activities. We humans have a gland located in the back of our brain stems called a pineal body which releases melatonin. Well, to make a long story short ("Too late"), I slept for twleve or more hours yesterday and feel a lot better today. Working extra shifts is a lot easier at age 22 than at 32. I can only imagine what they'll be like at 42. Yuck!

Hopefully the day tomrrow will be a calm one, but there is one activity that I know will be particularly somber. I say good bye to a good friend tomorrow. Todd's off to UNLV for dental school. I'll have to work on my poker face more before Lisa and I visit him. He's done well. Received a full Army scholarship, has a beautiful friend Sara, the puppy Gumboo and his two cats, plus he has a lot of well-wishers bidding him to do well. He's a good man to know and I'm going to miss seeing him at work. Writing him once a month will be my intention and if I can make the duty of writing here once a day, then I can acomplish staying in touch with my good friend "smelly-Tood" as well.