Borderline OCD (self-diagnosed), Part 1

Warning: another frightening look inside my head.

I say borderline OCD, because at heart, I'm a slob. Some areas of life and my living spaces are a nightmare mess of stacked books and papers, and other areas I want clean and orderly.

Yet another dichotomy that is part of being me.

Like everyone else, I hate the high prices of gasoline.

Yes, I hate that it simply takes more money to drive a vehicle now, but that's not the only thing that bothers me about the high price of gas.

Example. Last week, I'm driving the van, Dodge Grand Caravan, 1998 vintage.

I happen to look down, and have one of my patented mini heart attacks. The fuel gauge is BELOW "E". As in, no part of the needle is even touching the thicker red line that indicates "E"; it's below that.

I pull into a Shell station, the first gas station after my miraculous recovery from the mini heart attack.

I get out, do the debit card thingy at the machine, because I'm a dedicated pay-at-the-pump kind of guy, and start gassing the van up.

Well, the van has a pretty huge tank, and after a while I tell myself, "if it hasn't filled up by $40, then I'll stop it there."

It hadn't filled all the way as I approached $40, so I slow down and... "Aargh!" I overshoot to $40.03.

That, dear reader, is just absolutely intolerable.

So I continue and try for $41. Whoops.

Try for $42. "Dangit!"

Here comes $43.

I'm focused like a laser beam. Total master of my eye hand coordination.

I'm praying.

Man, I'm using the force, just like ol' Obi Wan taught Luke...

...and...

Yes! $43.00 exactly!

(If at all possible, it's crucial that the amount be exactly on the dollar. The order of preference is thus: exact dollar, then half dollar, then quarter dollar, and finally tenth of a dollar.)

I carefully flip the handle down to ensure the pump doesn't jump forward a penny or two and throw me off my game again.

I breathe a sigh of relief, press the YES button for a receipt, and I'm back on the road.

And thus is the experience of buying a tank of gasoline with borderline OCD (self-diagnosed).

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Related, But Different Gasoline Buying Stressor In My Life

We have one car out of three that has the gas fill door on the passenger side. Since we bought that car, no matter which car I'm in now, I cannot remember if IT is the one with the fuel door on the passenger side.

So as I pull any vehicle into a gas station, I have a minor panic attack while trying to quickly remember 1.) which side is the fuel door on in this car? 2.) scan the instrumentaion panel in whichever vehicle I'm in, because sometimes car manufacturers anticipate idiots like me getting into just such a panic and have a helpful "<-FUEL DOOR" or "FUEL DOOR->" written there to help us out of our jam by flat-out telling us where the dang fuel door is, and 3.) try to figure out the exact path I need to drive, turn, back up if necessary, to put the fuel door I've finally found nice and close to the gas pump without having a war / road rage with someone else trying to do the same thing.

Come to think of it, getting your car in the proper place for pumping gas at a station is JUST LIKE musical chairs when you were a kid.

And I'm not a very competitive person at heart, so I'm the one usually left waiting.

Note To Self: Ensure that all future automobile purchases also consider which side the fuel door is on. Or, write my Congressman to demand legislative action to have all fuel doors on all cars made on the entire planet be placed on the driver's side of the car.

Just for me.

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Hey everybody. I've had a rather tough week, and haven't been making the rounds of everyone's blog to read and comment. I'm sorry about that, I'm hoping to catch up on my reading and commenting on your blogs this weekend.

Forget Names, Yes: Forget People: No

We all know that each human is different; unique from every other person on this planet.

One of the things that I finally realized as a teen, a true turning point within my own head, was when I realized that people in other parts of the world, other cultures have completely different views than, say, me, on almost any subject I could name.

For me, this realization was like becoming a Christian, being baptized, getting married; a true turning point in my life.

I've always had pretty strong reasoning skills. Yeah, as a boy and a teen, I lived in a fantasy world of "what ifs" and "could I possibly" type scenarios just as everyone else, but I also was one of the few people that I have ever known that like word problems in math for instance. Identify your givens, determine what your answer should be (ie, _____ Km/hr) and then the workings of the problems just seemed to fall into place for me.

I was put to the test on this quite literally and quite a lot in engineering school, but I survived.

All of that background leads me to this question: Why do I stink at remembering names?

I've said on here before that if were named numbers at birth instead of a word, I'd almost never forget a name. That's not the way it is, so I don't lose sleep over it. But numbers I can deal with much better than words.

Numbers stick. Numbers flow. Numbers "make sense" to me.

I know that not everyone is like this. Even siblings and close relatives have a complete horror of numbers.

To me, numbers are my friends.

On political things. To me, 99% of what I see and hear politician's say and act on, has absolutely zero basis in logic. Watching political machinations in our government, from stupid goings on at the local Palm Bay city, Brevard County, level up to the U.S. Congress and Sentate, Executive Branch, and Supreme Court always has me shaking my head in wonder at the lack of common sense and logic these people operate with.

Of course, this is my opinion. I watch, listen, read, then run it all through the little gray cells in my massive cranium and out come my own thoughts. If those very people read my blog for a while they very possibly would come to the conclusion that I'm as dumb as a box of rocks. That's life.

I seem to be able to make sense of some things while having to ability to make sense of other things that go on in the world.

That's an awfully dreary and heavy lead in to what I want to mention about myself today.

I HATE how I have forgotten people's names over the years.

I think back to the 80s and our time in the Dallas / Ft. Worth area, working for Delta Air Lines, picture people and events that I worked with and knew and considered friends, but when I think of them now, I can remember every thing but their names.

Not everyone. I can remember the names of lots of folks from over the years because I make it a point to, as I look back to calmly not only remember events, but to also dredge up the people's names from the depths of my mind.

Many times I'm successful, but sometimes I'm not, and when I can remember working with a person or people day after day for months and months and now I can't remember their names, it really bothers me.

One of the things I hate most about myself is that I've had a life-long problem of not focusing when I meet someone new. We shake hands, they say their name, I say mine, say glad to meet ya, and if they were to stop right there and say, hey, what did I just tell you my name was? I would not be able to answer them.

If Lovely Wife is with me, as soon as possible, I'll whisper and ask her, "what did he/she say their name was?"

I've done this all my life.

I have what few credit cards we use number's memorized, expiration date, security codes, bills account numbers, Lovely Wife's social security number, all manner of phone numbers from my entire life, including some childhood friends from 35 years ago, but I cannot remember a person's name, ten seconds after being introduced, probably 9 out of 10 times.

Each and every one of us is a total jumble of discontinuities and contradictions.

And it grieves me that I cannot remember men and women's names from years ago, that I worked with, enjoyed working with and considered friends, although we rarely interacted with one another outside of work.

One last thing.

What good is wisdom, learned the hard way, when I tend to ignore her lessons anyway?

I look back at my life and say, boy, if I had only known then what I know now, I could have really made some changes in my life.

But the harder reality is, I'm only 44. I could still make enact those hard-learned lessons today, and change my future, yet I still ignore that wisdom and/or put off acting on it.

What's wrong with me? I know that I have "a lot on the ball" but seriously, why can't I do better yet in areas of my life where I have the knowledge and wisdom to change, yet ignore it at my own peril?

Now that I have y'all good and depressed, I'll quit here.

At least I haven't forgotten the people I talked about. I might not recall their names, but I remember them, even if I probably will never see them again.

Maybe I shouldn't let it bother me to forget names as long as I remember THEM.

Thursday Thirteen #47

13 More Stupid Questions and Answers About Me Still stealing meme questions from other people's blogs to keep up with Thursday Thirteen. 1. Have you ever gotten a truck driver to honk his horn? Oh yeah. When we were kids, way before seat belt laws, Big Brother and I knelt in the rear seat to pump our arms for many miles, hoping to get a trucker to honk his horn. 2. Which would you rather live with: a huge nose or crossed eyes? Hmmm. Jimmy Durante became famous despite having a huge nose. Karan Black became famous despite being cross-eyed. I flipped a coin. It came up "big nose" so I'll just go with that. 3. Would you hang out with someone your best friend didn't like? Yes, I think so. I've always been able to make friends from all over the human spectrum, so it's quite possible some of them might not like one another. 4. Would you hang out with someone your best friend liked, but you didn’t like? Assuming this is all three of us together and not just me and the one I don't like, yes. Otherwise no. I wouldn't hang out with someone I just flat-out couldn't get along with. 5. Have you ever returned a gift? Back to the person who gave it to me? No. At least I don't remember ever doing this. 6. Would you give someone else a gift that had been given to you? Not rewrapped. I might give someone something that was originally a gift to me if another person expressed a desire to have one. But I wouldn't try to pass it off as a new gift. 7. If you could attend an Olympic Event, what would it be? Weight lifting. I once loved to lift weights, although I was never in that class of lifting. 8. How many pairs of shoes do you own? Six, maybe seven, counting slippers and sandals. 9. If your grandmother gave you a gift that you already have, would you tell her? No. 10. Do you sing in the car? Yeah. It's a known fact that if a known bad singer is alone in the car and then sings, at those times, he's every bit as good as Pavaroti. 11. Would you rather jump into a dumpster or into a vat of honey? Honey. It tastes good, and I'm going to have to take a shower right after this anyway, so it might as well be a known substance instead of Lord only knows what from a dumpster. 12. What is your favorite breed of dog? I'd say poodle since we have four of them. They're cute, funny, playful 'til the day they die, and don't shed. 13. Would you donate money to feed starving animals in the winter? Yes. The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

Wordy Wednesday (with Photos!) #1

Lots of folks do a thing called Wordless Wednesday, it's a meme thingy like the Thursday Thirteen I participate in. Most people put up one or two photos and no words, and go visit each other and comment.

The reason that I've never joined and started participating in Wordless Wednesday is that I can't seem to post a photograph without just a little bit of context, which requires words.

I've stopped putting very many photos on this blog, or at least not nearly as many as I once did because I started my second blog which is a photography one. But I thought I would try to start putting up a few pics in the middle of the week to kind of balance out the Sunday Picture Posts I've been doing on this blog every week for over a year now.

Plus, the Thursday Thirteen thing is by far the hardest post day of the week for me, trying to visit as many of my blog friend's blogs as I can during Thursdays. I don't need the added pressure of trying to visit a whole bunch of folks on Wednesdays too, so I'll keep mine informal. Words AND pictures.

Without further ado:

Sebastian Inlet and the Atlantic Ocean.

Another view of Sebastian Inlet and the Atlantic Ocean.

Two photos of a really nifty, custom painted VW Beetle. Not exactly my personal style, but stylish nonetheless.


These were all taken within the confines of Sebastian Inlet State Park. It's about a 35-45 minute drive from my home, because half the distance is driving either north or south from where I live to get to one causeway or another across the Indian River Lagoon, and then backtracking either north or south to the Inlet Park, depending on which way I feel like driving on any given day.

This is my favorite place to go to the beach even though it's a bit of a drive compared to the closer beaches. This is one place where you can have the beauty of both the Indian River Lagoon or the Atlantic Ocean in one, easy to walk, safe location.

Little Heart Attacks / Myelogram Update

(Post inspired by Hammer, when he mentioned his life-long paranoia of losing his keys and/or wallet.)

I have no idea how it started.
I don't remember ever losing my wallet or my keys, but I have definitely forgotten one or the other when I needed them.

So when I was a teen, I developed the habit of touching my front right pocket as I walk and my arm swings. Every so many swings, I'll intentionally touch that pocket to confirm that my keys are there.

Likewise, I developed the habit with my left hand that as I walked and my arms would swing, I would let the side of my left hand touch my back left pocket to confirm that my wallet was there.

The result is that I might walk toward the front door without one or the other, but I won't make it to the car without feeling the empty pocket and going back inside to get whichever one I've forgotten.

I might forget things like my lanyard with my work IDs that I'm not in the habit of touching every thirty seconds, and I might misplace my wallet or keys at the house like everybody else, but I guarantee that I don’t get 15 steps without figuring out they're not in my pockets.

With the back problems and blown disks in my lower back, I have permanent nerve damage in a set of nerves that runs down my left leg.

A strange result of this is that my life-long habit of keeping my wallet in my left rear pocket began to aggravate the problem. Especially sitting in a car, and also especially when I had a truck with standard transmission.

I've long ago sold the truck, and will never buy a standard transmission vehicle again, because working a clutch pedal also aggravates my lower back and my gimpy left leg.

One of the most difficult things I've ever done was switching the habit of keeping my wallet from my left rear pocket to my right rear pocket to help with the leg pain.

For about three months, my years long habit of touching my wallet as I walked with my left hand would result in a half-second long heart attack. It was no longer there.

After about three months, I was finally in the habit of using my right hand to check for both my wallet and my keys as I walked. And even after years of doing this, I still sometimes have a mini heart attack because without thinking, I touch my back left pocket and there's no wallet there.

(How's that for most boring blog post since they were called web logs?

But hey, it's my blog, and it's all about ME, right? Right?)

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Myelogram Update

Had I known exactly what I was in for yesterday, I might not have gone.

Due to four past surgeries, the radiologist had a tough time finding an opening through scar tissue to my spinal cord.

What normally would have been one set of shots to deaden the area, and one really tough one as he pressed the needle through the muscles to the spine for the tap, turned into 4 sets of shots and spinal taps. He couldn't get the dye to "flow" as he wanted it to until the fourth try.

The half hour procedure took one and a half hours because he had to do four complete procedures until he had the dye in my spinal column, with the dye flowing far enough up and down the column to see what they wanted to see.

After that was a CAT scan and then 4 hours of observation, which amounted to me laying there and the nursed coming in every 15 minutes for blood pressure and to ask if I was getting a headache.

He said I have a big bone spur pressing the nerve that gives feeling and strength in the outside half of my left leg, which is exactly where I hurt. Now it's up to the surgeon to decide what, if anything, he can do. I see the surgeon again in a couple of weeks.

It turns out that they want me (and anyone having this procedure) to be at rest for a minimum of 48 hours.

I'm doing ok, once the procedure was over and they left me alone, I've done pretty good. Just lots of muscle pain from the four places he put that honkin' big needle through my back muscles.

I should be back to work on Thursday, barring the headache they are hoping for me to avoid. The Dr. removes a bit of spinal fluid and then puts the dye in there, trying to avoid a drastic change in the pressure. If the dyes reaches and passes through the blood/brain barrier, one may get the grandaddy of all migraines, if he misjudged a bit, and the spinal column/fluid pressure changes the headache could come then as well. I'm hoping to avoid that more than they do.

Anyway, that's my sad story.

Myelogram Monday, and Joe Satriani Plays A Favorite

I'd appreciate your prayers today.

When I got home from work Friday, I had a message from University Center Imaging, reminding me that I have a myelogram Monday morning at 9am.

The procedure is basically like a spinal tap, but instead of withdrawing spinal fluid to check for viruses and whatnot, while they have the spinal cavity tapped, they inject dye into it and as the dye spreads, they look at the area on a fluoroscope. The fluoroscope is like an x-ray, but shows things real time on a monitor instead of having to develop film.

Once the radiologist does the tap, and looks to see what damage he can see on the fluoroscope, they then will put me on a CAT scan for the best imaging they can get.

Then I have to stay there under their observation for four hours to ensure the spinal tap area stops bleeding and that I don’t get a dye induced migraine.

I'm not so much worried about the procedure, but it IS a bit difficult going in knowing that it's gonna hurt. I hurt enough already, but if they can find a problem, then it will give me options to ease the daily pain.

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So, I'm linking a You Tube video of Joe Satriani. It's a live video of him playing my all-time favorite song by him, Until We Say Goodbye. The song is incredibly beautiful, but at times it rocks too. The perfect combination of melody and power. It's instrumental.

If you don't know who Joe Satriani is, he's one of the greatest guitarists alive. He's a true student of the instrument as well as a gifted songwriter.

Hope y'all enjoy it. (You probably need broadband for this. It's about a 4 minute song.)

Picture Post, Sunday July 15, 2007

All of these were taken at Sebastian Inlet State Park, a favorite place of mine to wander around with a camera.

Lots of surfing, fishing, sunbathing, and swimming going on here on a decently sunny day.



In this next photo, if you look at the water off the end of the jetty, you'll notice that it's kind of rough, a bit churned up where the waters of the Indian River Lagoon meet the Atlantic Ocean when the tide is going out as it is when I took these photos. That means there's lots of fish right there, to the folks on the jetty are trying to take advantage of this, as are folks out in boats (that aren't in the picture), and also sharks know this. Lots of people surf right there on good surfing days and times, and people on jet skis can get some serious air when the waves are rougher than what you see here. One thing you can be sure of folks, ol' John ain't gonna be surfing, swimming, or jet skiing out there anytime in this lifetime.

Sea grape leaves.

A young boy fishing in the waters of the inlet, but way over on the lagoon side, away from the Atlantic.