Beans, and lots of them.

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I am terrible about measuring things out.  With some things it doesn't matter all that much.  I made, oh, four pounds (finished) of beans.  Black beans to be exact.  I have canned beans, if that is supposed to be for medium term stock.  Still, that has to be turned over.  Today I went with soaking and cooking.  There are so many things you really can do with beans.  Some of it I will eat just as is.  Most of it will go into a huge batch of chili, some of which will be frozen.  And yet I needed something different.

I got inspiration from one of my reads.  I will just call her bacon girl.  She wrote a post about home cured bacon.  Now, I have no way to do that, with or without a smoker.  But I do have bacon, cured from the hog I purchased and had slaughtered locally.  So, I took that as inspiration.  A half dozen slices of thick cut bacon were fried a bit crispier than I would normal do that.  They were removed, shredded, and put in to a large bowl.  Several scoops of beans where then put in to heat in the same pan, while a handful of mozzarella went over the bacon.  When the beans were heated, on top of the rest it went.  I didn't add a single spice this time.  It was quite good as was.  Tomorrow I will prep the chili.  I do enjoy the chili.  If I freeze half of it I then have an easy week some time in the future to boot.  It's so easy, usually.

I'm not really doing much better.  I am thinking, perhaps, I am taking too low of a dose of ritalin.   I had, minimally, been on 15 mg, if I didn't always take the full dose, or at least every day.  I may look over my supply, then call Monday and see when my next appointment is scheduled.  Then plan to ease up to 15 mg in such a way that I will not run out for a week after the appointment.  Of course, that means... suffering through the insufferable for a while longer, perhaps.  Gah!  I am so close.  I can feel the medicine trying to work, I can feel my body trying to use it.  It's just not enough, on either side, right at this time.  It's like an engine that just won't quite kick over.

If I remember right, it still took a bit for that amount of medicine to work.  A few days anyway, but I think more like a week to get either up to dose or used to it.  I can't swear, but... that's what memory says.  It didn't always work, either.  And yet it was the only thing that really ever helped.  Everything else I take, or have taken, I have had to crawl over.  Even the medicines I am on now, in spite of swimming.  It has merely been that they have allowed a small bit of health to return that has gotten me into the pool.  But I do have to fight the medicine.  Hmm, I may simply see if they will see me earlier.  Tell them what I am doing and see if they might want to check it.  Lame, not the best of posts, but...  Well, I am quite done in, have been for a while.  You get what you get.

Good night.

Blooming? Haiku?

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Jean is hosting Haiku MONDAY.  The theme is bloom.  She has posted the theme more elegantly and the rules at her place.  Go on now, give it a twirl.  She does bite, but... it actually is rather refreshing.  This post was me working up to putting out a haiku poem, then another fell out of the left side of my head.  I need a long run at things.  If you don't have the time or interest, cut to the chase.  The last paragraph and video sums it up.  *shrugs*

Well, yes.  The IQ tests I have seen suggest that I run as low as 120 and as high as 140 perhaps 150.  These tests were as an adult, they hid them when I was a child, if they usually grinned and cooed as if I didn't understand.  Adults!  So excitable.  I couldn't figure out why such a wide range.  It seems that when my heart is acting up, it can directly affect any function, including intellect.  I believe that to be true.  When I try to focus, to think, to grind a problem down, if it is complex, I can simply bog down.  I become, literally, too tired to think something through, or think it through completely.  Actually it reminds me a great deal of weight lifting.  Some days I can lift massive amounts of weight or think through a complex problem.  Often though, oddly, if I can do one I may not be able to do the other.  I used to think this was a mood thing.  I actually believe that, being in rough shape pretty much all the time for the last two and a half decades means that any testing in that time is probably subpar to real potential.  I am not sure that matters much, as the results have probably been functionally accurate.  If that also means my function is highly variable.  I wouldn't mind that so much if I had control over the when of which function level.

Let us see what we shall see.

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Today is the first step in taking back my life.  I can't say how well this will work.  There are limits to my experiment.  I will be monitoring things closely.  Late to bed and late to rise and thinking on the matter caused me some... concern.  I had considered delaying the start until tomorrow for at least one strong reason and some lessor concerns.  I still hadn't decided when I finally went to bed.  I continued to be uncertain when I woke.  I wasn't sure even when it happened.  But it has started.

I am not sure what to expect.  I wasn't sure if I had any on hand, so might have had to go through my medical staff.  After finally looking this morning, I found the ritalin.  I had been prescribed 15 mg a day.  No, that isn't the dose they offer people supposedly with add, adhd, or whatever they are calling it today.  Mainly because neither do I have that nor was that it's intended or functional purpose with me.  It was merely to offer a boost so that I could take the other medications.  At that time, the best blood pressure reading we saw was 149/101?  Something.  That was the best blood pressure reading we had seen in years at that time.  It had otherwise been in the 180/110's.  With my blood pressure is running in the 110/70's currently.  I actually am hoping to maintain that and take this.  I'm starting on 5mgs, and will probably only take that amount save an occasional afternoon dose of similar amount if I must do something and find myself struggling.  At least until I can get this sanctioned, or until I run out.

I had no difficulty taking it, as per blood pressure, back when.  My blood pressure didn't increase.  It was a bit heavy though.  I also had no mood distortions.  I did become a cleaning bunny and workout master though, given where I started.  The hope is, if I can maintain my blood pressure, which means strict logging of that, that I can convince my doctors to prescribe the medicine again here.  They have been avoiding doing so, out of a proper fear.  What is good for some is... not so good for others.  Then again, with progress coming but not quite to the point it finally is, I didn't want to take the risk myself.  I was hoping getting to the pool would fix things all by itself.  That hasn't happened.  Taking the lead on the risk, keeping their hands clean of it, may lead them to offering this.  Of course, the stuff is rather difficult to keep in stock, as it has to be resubmitted as a prescription on a monthly basis.  Ugh, but I hated that part.  Still, if it works as it did last time, and I keep my blood pressure under control, it is worth the hassle.

The goal?  Up to two years of this regimen, along with working out, to see if I can repair my body.  If, after two years, give or take, there is no real improvement?  Then I back off these and just understand that I am what I am.  Then I learn how to live with that until I die.  The experiment begins anew.

It ain't always pretty.

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The world.  Life.  Not pretty.  What we are, what I am, what you are.  How we were created.  How we were developed.  What it takes to live regardless of how rosy some try to delude themselves into believing any of it.  Some had pretty little lives, with bad little things from time to time, done to them or by them.  Some have known a loss or three.  Some of us were, seemingly, created for the sole purpose of... winning?  living?  At what cost?  Any.  Some of us have lived, at great cost.  Some of us are possibly too stupid to even die properly.  *grins*

Psycho can mean a bad thing.  If you have ever faced extinction, it can mean the difference between that and living.  I learned this.  I employed this.  Obviously, I learned control.  I went further, and learned precision, even professionalism regarding it.  I hated it, at times.  But what doctor didn't hate his education and the choices left to him, what mother doesn't hate what is demanded of her, what priest doesn't hate the incessant seemingly needless chatter about the inane micro stuff that seems to pull away from his personal reasons to be what he is, if that is a big part of his purpose?  Like they, I am what I was made if I don't always like it.  It lives in me, hard, so long as I have breath.

April Fools Day.

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No, I already did my gig there.  Accidental, perhaps.  But... sometimes, it seems, that works too?  No, this is about a radio station program.  The two co-conspirators decided to tell people the truth and ended up in, well, hot water.  The truth?  That dihydrogen monoxide is leaking out of their local taps.  It is in the ground, rivers, and is used by many companies.  It is so prevalent that is falls from clouds!  It is unregulated in many ways.  In high enough doses, it can lead to death, through a number of means.  All of that is absolutely true.  So, why did they get in trouble for telling the truth, and what is the rest of the truth?  A lot of people became frightened, and called in to the radio station and the city, to track down this potentially lethal product... which is...

What are the odds?

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I have written that I have the oddest luck.  It doesn't seem to be good and bad, unless it is both.  What luck, good, bad, or a mix, really means is a very different notion, and according to whom would be a whole other conversation.  What is Doom blathering about now you ask?  Hush and I might tell you.

While preparing the water to make more spaghetti, I always make plenty of sauce but cut the noodles to just what I might need.  Never mind.  Not knowing what to do with my time, I decided to just click on the television, something I do quite rarely.  I found nothing of interest.  Shep is a putz, and the rest was typical trash or kids stuff, if that is usually the same thing.  Flicking through channels I rarely look at, there was little there, either.  Finally, I hit on a channel I didn't know I got.  Happy Days?  I didn't know that was still being played anywhere.

Guess who was in the episode?  Suzi Quatro.  What, I ask you, are the odds?

Hmm, how would you paint a 'rough period'?

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Getting going is very difficult.  I've been trying to push through on some things, to limited success.  I've finished most of the dishes and laundry, save for folding and storing the latter.  However, dishes are piling up again, or more the bigger pots, so another load will go into the big tub again today.  There is improvement in the man-cave.  However that simply stopped.  No, it wasn't the drinking the other night.  That actually gave me a bit of a second wind.  Gah!  This life is frustrating.  Every time one problem is solved, three more pop up, and while I chase down one, the original may crop up again.  Rubic's cube roulette?  I am looking forward to a little heat now.  Pushing through the cool and moody spring weather is proving to be part of the problem I think.  Well, now that I have an air conditioner, heat is something to anticipate.

I am supposed to be planting seeds.  I actually only have one type of seed that, time wise, should be going in right now, the habanero seed.  The problem is, the package suggests the seeds need to be kept between 80-85 F.  Huh?  There is no way I can do that, even when there is direct sunlight (which they also suggest against, initially).  I was thinking this would be an easy task, straight forward, just moisten the seed receptacles, drop three seeds per, then keep watered.  It seems like a little thing, but... I don't want to kill the seeds, either.  I'll... do some internet digging to see if others have been able to successfully ignore, or easily mitigate, this notification.  I really don't want to buy seedling heaters.  While I haven't priced them, it sounds expensive.  Bleh.

Swimming is off.  I just haven't had it to give.  Not that I am tired or worn, as can be the case, it is simply that there isn't anything to put into getting going.  I can run my days just fine.  I can do little bits.  I have even showered and readied on swim days.  It simply stops there.  I'll... keep digging.  I wish I had some... tool, device whether it be physical or psychic, something, to accelerate my nearly 300 pound carcass.  It's ready.  It wants to work.  It's not in horrible shape, either, now, if still a bit rusty.  That disconnect is a bear.  Hmm... actually...  Never mind, just thinking here.  There may be... something.

Risks...  It's not about if to take them, more about when and how to take them?  For optimal output, strike while the iron is hot.  Yes indeed.  Perhaps.  Thinking... thinking...

Later.

Dreaming.

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A dream, of great length, breadth, depth, summed quickly as if by a thief in a hurry, as most of it was lost shooting through the waking hole.  There were a thousand voices, faces, bodies, crowding me, imposing on me, demanding, each saying a various heretical thing!  Harrowing, hard, unbending.  I would not yield, they would not relent.

She says there is no such thing as sin.  He says there is sin but it does not matter, God does not really care, or even that God may not exist.  I say God is real, sin is serious, even the little sin.

She says do as you please, so long as it doesn't concern her.  Huh?  He says you can fix anything you do wrong, if caught, so reap your harvest and whatever else you can get away with, of grain, gold, love, and whatever other desserts of the flesh you desire.  I say no.  Take what you earn, even then split out what you really don't need.  But only to those truly in need, not those who could do likewise but choose not to do so.  Drive the lazy from your midst, feed them only sorrow.

She says there is no sin.  He says there is sin, but regardless of intent, sin happens.  Enjoy.  I say while I will sin, I will face away from it.  While I will sin, I will choose against it.  While I sin, I do regret it.  I say direction, with or against God's will, is all I have, and so I choose to face God's path and follow as well as a man can.  Even though to do so means that I know my every sin and the pain of it.  There is joy, too, and it is the greater.  No joy is true without suffering to balance, highlight, contrast.

In this world, I am considered little, weak, a fool.  And to this world I am those things.  And to this world I am dead.  I know, too, through the distortions of time, the world is already dead.  Being wedded to it is akin to sleeping with a corpse.  How others cannot smell the foul nature of it I cannot say.  I will say these things, and again again, until none can hear or I can no longer speak.  And while I will turn the other cheek, to the slight, I will not gladly or easily go into the long goodnight so as to be silenced.

Rough.  It was a brutal dream.  They so wanted me to join with one side or the other.  Hours, days, interrogation, secular inquisition.  No.  Never.  Excommunicated from the world.  So be it.

Slow but rather good.

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I was a little surprised about today.  Not that I went extremely long in my drink last night, if it was a bit deeper in the cup than usual.  I did expect a little bit of a rough day, maybe a headache, perhaps a little nausea, some cloudy mental function.  Nope.  Not a problem.  I have to suspect that a decent whiskey (or probably any decent liquor), ounce for ounce, is less problematic than an equal alcohol content of beer.  I did sleep later, but that was to be expected, especially since I went to bed so very late.  I had zero physical problems though.  I did some more cleaning, made spaghetti and meat sauce and just tinkered.  Tomorrow I am hoping to make it to the pool.  I thought about just taking the week off to clean but I don't really see how that will help all that much, not at this pace.  Tonight, in spite of the oddity last night, I should be able to get to bed easily, shortly. 

I'm not getting to cleaning as quickly as I had hoped.  Then again, I am going through a lot of drawers, stacks of paper, and miscellaneous items.  That always takes longer, and jobs always take longer than I suppose on top of it.  Of course, if you run into this, you must then understand why bosses can be a bit put out when a job takes longer than expected.  Or if you are a boss, perhaps it helps you understand that jobs really do take longer than expected.  The frustration remains though.

The girls have been being really nice lately.  I think as the season rolls over, even animals are more active and more social?  Maybe not though.  They may just be responding to my increased activity.  To be honest, I don't think the girls (my two cats) really get grumpy.  Like children, if they are hungry, tired, just waking up, thirsty, or unhappy with something specific, sure, they can be grumpy.  But I don't really see them as being moody over long periods of time, or seasonally... save when it begins to chill to the point where my older cat can no longer go outside.  There is about a month of grumpy readjustment then, more like cabin fever.  In warmer weather she often will stay gone for most of the day, and even takes her food and water on the patio.  My other girl is a total house-cat, minus a few hours a week and then only at night and in the summer.  She's a papa's girl all the way, and a homebody.  Me?  I need some sunlight.  Other than that I don't really care.  I enjoy the cold more but I get a lot more done when it is hot, so long as I have a way to cool off.  It's when it is cloudy and or humid that I hit the skids.


Good night.

I meant to relax.

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On a blue moon, about every six months to once a year anymore, when I have a sip I end up slipping into the bottle.  No harm, no foul, I hope?  I had thought the process finished, so...  That was probably the most active weekend I have had in... a very long time.  I have some understanding what a hen sitting her eggs feels like now.  Although my guess is hens don't worry about it?  And then I messed it up a bit too.  Well, that is bound to happen.  I've almost perfected time distortions, being late, and being early.  I was probably born early, but merely so I could take a nap and end up late somehow.  :p

Life is, mostly, back on track.  I have been cleaning.  From dishes to laundry to this front room.  Sweeping, sorting my utility drawers, next my desk top, and then when I finish in here, on to the next room.  I have to begin planting seeds for spring planting later, and after I finish with the living room, then the kitchen, begin taking wallpaper off the walls to mud and paper in there when my mother visits.  Swimming is taking a bit of a back seat as I finally get my legs under me to begin on my home.  I wish I had the ability, strength, stamina, or whatever is missing to do it all at once.  I simply don't, not yet.  I may never have it?

I had hoped that three months of swimming would see me to... a much greater level of function by now.  While I have literally become much stronger I have gained almost no extra stamina.  That mean ol' mr. heart is a bear of a problem.  It is like a six hundred pound gorilla climbed on my back.  I simply haven't been able to shake him. 

I'm trying to monitor my blood pressure and blood sugar so as to ask a favor from my docs.  At one time, and quite inappropriately, they had me taking ritalin as a minor booster.  When blood pressure is uncontrolled, that is exceedingly dangerous.  As it was.  However, with blood pressure under control, they have suggested it might be in the cards.  For my own part, I had hoped to avoid that.  It is a bit of a rough ride all by itself.  However, at this point, it looks like I have just about tapped out any potential growth on my current medications and putting in all my 'spare change'.  A little boost might see me to working out more often, more strongly, and for longer periods.  If I can maintain blood pressure stats as well on it, a year or two on the stuff might see me to repairing my heart through further exercise.  I personally believe that becoming fit is the only real way to repair the damage.

Some people would love being able to just sit around, taking it easy, not having to worry about work.  I have hated that.  Then again, I do believe I am or could be made competitive in almost any market I would choose to endeavor, given health.  And, really, I like to work.  Physical work is better than nothing, but engineering would be my real call.  I had, initially, thought about electrical engineering.  I did most of the non-engineering work for the degree, including the math.  While I would have to heavy up on that to pass some hurdles getting back to school, I think I could do that.  If, at this point, I would probably choose mechanical engineering so as to work with firearm development.  After seeing what is out there, and contrasting that with my interests?  As well, mechanical engineering is a lot more applicable to a grid-down event.

I have, finally, started to be able to be up pretty much every day, and for roughly whole days.  My sleep cycle still occasionally shifts.  And I still go through periods where I can do little.  But the improvements since finding, and beginning to treat, my real health problems, have been profound.  The big question, of course, remains.  Is it possible, after 25 years of misdiagnosis and mistreatment, to improve the heart enough to get an education and then work?  If it was, as they suggest, a viral infection, I have heard that in any case that damage is difficult to improve upon.  This, truly, might be as good as it gets.  There is only one way to be sure.  So... I do it.

Later.

Confidence.

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Not to brag, and given the situation, Doom is a confident cat. 

The battle is over, now to clear the field.

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Time isn't what it seems.  Believe what you wish, but this contest has lasted a very long time here.  While what follows could be deemed a melodramatic response it does match my sentiments.  Time isn't what it seems.  I have said that a thousand times, if I have said it once, though it matters not which if what I perceive of time is true.  And so I... unwind, in the only way I know.

To judge?

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What is meant by the term to judge?  Of course, there is the legal notion.  Before that, I would argue adjudication was based on the moral, ethical, aesthetic senses, among other things, of whomever was placed in a position to render a decision.  But that had to come from somewhere itself.  Of all of the bases of wisdom and percipience I have ventured, none are so complete as to be all encompassing.  While law has been codified, some areas of discernment remain quite immune to blind algorithms, if even law is debatable, thus courts, judges, and lawyers.  No, some things are a matter of taste, preference, and other personal tics which simply cannot be measured, often they can't even be known.  And yet, the contest set forth here not but a few days ago has lead to a position where a decision must be rendered.  And it has fallen to me to do such a intricate task.  It is a terrifyingly enjoyable task in it's own way.

The rules, while not the simplest perhaps, were clear.  But that didn't make choosing easier.  There are many fine submissions.  I know some of you.  But, don't worry, that doesn't gain you any points.  I almost wish it were that easy.  I had thought choosing would be the most difficult task.  It is not.  The most difficult task is... well... just spitting it out!

For you who won, know that your piece fit what I was looking to find.  I had no idea what that would be.  For the runners-up, very similar.  And for those not named?  Do realize I truly enjoyed your pieces too.  I was amazed, watching the submissions appear.  The extra work some of you did on your pages was simply a bonus.  I enjoyed the questions and commenting, as well.  Enough though.  On to it.

There is one that I liked very much.  I thought that it missed by the bonus, though arguably.  I enjoyed the notion.  Forgive me if you feel this is in error.  But it is a good solid poem.  One I very much enjoy.

 becca,

shame regret heartache
tangled web of darkness caught
monster in the mirror

There are three I put in second place.  Yeah, yeah, only one can be second place!  Tell it to the judge, I say.  And who is the judge?  That's right.  As a sage man once told me... neener.  And here they are, in the order submitted, I think.

foam,

Amidst the mind fog
Dusty memories grapple..

Senescence triumphs.

D.C.,

Tang of sweat at night
Dread and pride in toxic brew
Iron, or poison, yields

serendipitouswildmoments,

A beast of fang and claw….
the hunting cat lies within me.
I must draw blood to live.

The winner is:

Jean,

the beast
is self,
denied.

This one surprised me.  When I first saw it, before reading it, it seemed far too frugal.  Upon reading it, it was annoying, in a bittersweet way.  There are several ways to take it.  Like a idealogical palindrome, only logically juxtaposed when viewed in reverse.  It was, in the end, the answer, and question, I was seeking.  I didn't even know I was looking for (another) question.  Then again, when does that ever stop?

Congratulations Jean!  I almost wanted to... check... before giving you this.  But... urhm...  Nope!  :p  If you are too busy, you may choose another.  I would like you to pick my picks, but I won't hold you too that.  You, in essence, will become the judge.  *scoot over Doom!*  I hope you can host next Friday, but I would understand.

This isn't about winning or losing.  This was about the challenge.  I was pleased with folks choosing to spend time sorting what is stored and presenting that in a rather unique form.  I have... much to consider.  As much as some of this has pained me, I welcome pain when it provides the opportunity to grow.  Thank you all.  Your humble host.

*bow*