30 wonderful days.
30 wonderful days.
Tuesday, September 30, 2003
Monday, September 29, 2003
Another Monday has passed without
Another Monday has passed without serious injury. I just got off the phone with work. They love calling me at home and asking me to do shit. I am so ready for bed. I am still under the weather from the weekend and tomorrow is a big day at the hell hole. I keep thinking that if I just hang on a little longer, things will get better. On a parting note, remember last week when I posted the green heron flying away that was all blurry and shit? Well, I had yet another "blame it on the equipment" moment last week (since then). I was on a nature walk and tracked (by sound) a red headed woodpecker... you know, like Woody? Well, the longest glass I had with me was 135mm and I simply couldn't get close enough for him. I'll post some blurry, nasty, cropped beyond recognition woodpecker shots in the "MORE" section, but first... some of the best wild butter shots to date:
I also experimented a bit with capturing light reflected in particles. A couple of examples are these...
particles in air:
particles on a surface (in this case water causing an iridescent refraction):
There was some token geometry:
and the token macro:
I also posted some new flower photos. I've been lazy. I really hoped to have grabbed some quality shots Sunday with Michael, but it didn't pan out. I need to get some sleep. I'd love to hear your comments on the photos... including the others I just posted at 13th Stone.
Yeah. I know the pics suck, but I could have stood there watching that guy whittle away at the tree all day. The photos don't show how amazingly beautiful he was and he was like a machine going at the trunk. Little wood chips and "sawdust" were flying everywhere. Maybe next time I'm fortunate enough to run across one of these guys, I'll have a longer reach and better light. Goodnight.
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I also experimented a bit with capturing light reflected in particles. A couple of examples are these...
particles in air:
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particles on a surface (in this case water causing an iridescent refraction):
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There was some token geometry:
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and the token macro:
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I also posted some new flower photos. I've been lazy. I really hoped to have grabbed some quality shots Sunday with Michael, but it didn't pan out. I need to get some sleep. I'd love to hear your comments on the photos... including the others I just posted at 13th Stone.
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Yeah. I know the pics suck, but I could have stood there watching that guy whittle away at the tree all day. The photos don't show how amazingly beautiful he was and he was like a machine going at the trunk. Little wood chips and "sawdust" were flying everywhere. Maybe next time I'm fortunate enough to run across one of these guys, I'll have a longer reach and better light. Goodnight.
A curiosity from photo.net: “1.
A curiosity from photo.net:
"1. The Beginner: The photographer is never again as happy and content with so little as in this stage. The beginner will use a cheap instamatic to take a picture of anything of interest, like air. The distance between the beginner and the subject will vary inversely with the size of the subject. The beginner believes that each photo is a masterpiece, oblivious to the flat light, tilted borders, and 17934 irrelevant items in the photo. This stage can also be called the happy idiot, and I envy these people beyond belief.
2. The Rank Amateur: The shift to this stage is usually the result of the acquisition of an economy 35mm camera with manual capabilities. If we were rational and sane, we'd use this camera forever, however "photographer" and "rational and sane" are mutually exclusive terms (see stage 4). The rank amateur suddenly realizes that there are a dozen equipment-oriented photo magazines out there, and occasionally peruses them on the store shelf. The quality of photos has improved slightly: the borders are a bit more straight, but the exposures are now wonky. This is the photographer's first attempt at "art". Relatives and "friends" pound the last nail in the shutterbug coffin of hell with remarks like "you're very talented" and "I love this (dark) photo of tree bark".
3. The Cliche Narcissist Amateur: At this stage, one notices that, in addition to the glorified advertisement magazines that s/he now subscribes to and drools over, there are also textbooks and monographs on photography in every bookstore and library. Ansel Adams and the Zone system become the "new" religion. The cliche narcissist can conquer the world with a spot meter and 1000 rolls of Tri-X, and can do so better than the legion of other photographers who have done so over the past 50 years. With persistent delusional encouragement, and given the absence of a National Park in the vicinity, the cliche narcissist firmly believes that his/her 17 rolls of photos of shadow patterns and buildings are better than all others ever taken by other photographers for the simple fact that s/he pressed the shutter. An "exhibit" at the local donut shop is looming.
4. The Gear-Blaming Amateur: Reality sets in. Those 17 rolls from stage 3 suck and are third-rate hack work. The donut shop exhibit becomes an embarrassment. However, the slimy coating residue from stage 3 leads the photographer to believe that his/her photos would be of professional quality "if only I had an INSERT EXPENSIVE CAMERA SYSTEM HERE". Perhaps a different film? Why don't they make black and white slide film? Buy a case of that pro film then decide mid-way through the first roll that it's not quite right. More time, money, and rationalization is spent on equipment than on food, sleep, exercise, and breathing, combined. Any non-photographic possessions worth more than a quarter of the price of a lens are sold (hopefully this stage is reached in the EBay era, but then again, the photographer will bid more than s/he will sell). Making lunches and ironing shirts becomes an attractive way to save money for photo gear. Verbose opinions on every camera the Gear-Blamer ever owned will appear on epinions.com and photo.net (see stage 7 for follow-up...). Gear changes so quickly that at least 3 cameras are used to expose each single roll of film. In one year, three-times more cameras are bought and sold than rolls of film shot.
5. The Curmudgeon: Reality sets in much deeper: it's not the equipment. "I suck- I'm a rank amateur. If only I just kept shooting with that first camera from Stage 2!" Self-esteem is at an all-time low. "National Geographic Photographer" becomes the ideal profession, but about 15 years too late. After several months of staring at Steve McCurry's photographs, the curmudgeon decides "what the hell. I'm shooting a roll of film and who gives a sh-t how it turns out. It's all BS anyway". When it comes time to shoot, no light is quite right, no angles convey exactly what is seen, and it's all been done before anyway. It takes months to shoot an entire roll, but at least the same camera is ever-present. The Curmudgeon is only happy during the 1/125th second that the film is exposed to light. This stage never truly ends.
6. The Zen Pseudoartist: If there's time to shoot, great. If one frame is decent, fine. Thankfully, income is not dependent upon "getting the shot". "I never really chose to do photography; it chose me". Whatever.
7. The Senile Advanced Amateur: The phrase "Where did I put my camera?" is often heard, but when the camera is found, the photos aren't half-bad. An occasional opinion on photo.net will completely contradict that same photographer's post from Stage 4:"Read my lips: no new Pentaxes" (I am guilty of this on at least 2 counts). Protective filters are a thing of the past. An uncoated seventy-year old Leica lens with cleaning marks is tack sharp with great color rendition, and great bokeh (say it ain't so!). All light meters are useless compared to gut instinct, even (especially) for transparencies. Lee Friedlander's photos begin to make sense. Spend time writing autobiographical, retrospective, unsolicited crap like this list.
8. En-light-enment (I hope): It's all about the light. Everything else is secondary. Less talk, more shooting.
9. ???"
What's in your wallet? Can you hear me now? Good.
"1. The Beginner: The photographer is never again as happy and content with so little as in this stage. The beginner will use a cheap instamatic to take a picture of anything of interest, like air. The distance between the beginner and the subject will vary inversely with the size of the subject. The beginner believes that each photo is a masterpiece, oblivious to the flat light, tilted borders, and 17934 irrelevant items in the photo. This stage can also be called the happy idiot, and I envy these people beyond belief.
2. The Rank Amateur: The shift to this stage is usually the result of the acquisition of an economy 35mm camera with manual capabilities. If we were rational and sane, we'd use this camera forever, however "photographer" and "rational and sane" are mutually exclusive terms (see stage 4). The rank amateur suddenly realizes that there are a dozen equipment-oriented photo magazines out there, and occasionally peruses them on the store shelf. The quality of photos has improved slightly: the borders are a bit more straight, but the exposures are now wonky. This is the photographer's first attempt at "art". Relatives and "friends" pound the last nail in the shutterbug coffin of hell with remarks like "you're very talented" and "I love this (dark) photo of tree bark".
3. The Cliche Narcissist Amateur: At this stage, one notices that, in addition to the glorified advertisement magazines that s/he now subscribes to and drools over, there are also textbooks and monographs on photography in every bookstore and library. Ansel Adams and the Zone system become the "new" religion. The cliche narcissist can conquer the world with a spot meter and 1000 rolls of Tri-X, and can do so better than the legion of other photographers who have done so over the past 50 years. With persistent delusional encouragement, and given the absence of a National Park in the vicinity, the cliche narcissist firmly believes that his/her 17 rolls of photos of shadow patterns and buildings are better than all others ever taken by other photographers for the simple fact that s/he pressed the shutter. An "exhibit" at the local donut shop is looming.
4. The Gear-Blaming Amateur: Reality sets in. Those 17 rolls from stage 3 suck and are third-rate hack work. The donut shop exhibit becomes an embarrassment. However, the slimy coating residue from stage 3 leads the photographer to believe that his/her photos would be of professional quality "if only I had an INSERT EXPENSIVE CAMERA SYSTEM HERE". Perhaps a different film? Why don't they make black and white slide film? Buy a case of that pro film then decide mid-way through the first roll that it's not quite right. More time, money, and rationalization is spent on equipment than on food, sleep, exercise, and breathing, combined. Any non-photographic possessions worth more than a quarter of the price of a lens are sold (hopefully this stage is reached in the EBay era, but then again, the photographer will bid more than s/he will sell). Making lunches and ironing shirts becomes an attractive way to save money for photo gear. Verbose opinions on every camera the Gear-Blamer ever owned will appear on epinions.com and photo.net (see stage 7 for follow-up...). Gear changes so quickly that at least 3 cameras are used to expose each single roll of film. In one year, three-times more cameras are bought and sold than rolls of film shot.
5. The Curmudgeon: Reality sets in much deeper: it's not the equipment. "I suck- I'm a rank amateur. If only I just kept shooting with that first camera from Stage 2!" Self-esteem is at an all-time low. "National Geographic Photographer" becomes the ideal profession, but about 15 years too late. After several months of staring at Steve McCurry's photographs, the curmudgeon decides "what the hell. I'm shooting a roll of film and who gives a sh-t how it turns out. It's all BS anyway". When it comes time to shoot, no light is quite right, no angles convey exactly what is seen, and it's all been done before anyway. It takes months to shoot an entire roll, but at least the same camera is ever-present. The Curmudgeon is only happy during the 1/125th second that the film is exposed to light. This stage never truly ends.
6. The Zen Pseudoartist: If there's time to shoot, great. If one frame is decent, fine. Thankfully, income is not dependent upon "getting the shot". "I never really chose to do photography; it chose me". Whatever.
7. The Senile Advanced Amateur: The phrase "Where did I put my camera?" is often heard, but when the camera is found, the photos aren't half-bad. An occasional opinion on photo.net will completely contradict that same photographer's post from Stage 4:"Read my lips: no new Pentaxes" (I am guilty of this on at least 2 counts). Protective filters are a thing of the past. An uncoated seventy-year old Leica lens with cleaning marks is tack sharp with great color rendition, and great bokeh (say it ain't so!). All light meters are useless compared to gut instinct, even (especially) for transparencies. Lee Friedlander's photos begin to make sense. Spend time writing autobiographical, retrospective, unsolicited crap like this list.
8. En-light-enment (I hope): It's all about the light. Everything else is secondary. Less talk, more shooting.
9. ???"
What's in your wallet? Can you hear me now? Good.
I heard on the radio
I heard on the radio this morning that 2400 of Houston's estimated 12,000 homeless are children under age 13. I struggled to convince myself to come to work today. I am still feeling miserable, but can't afford to take a vacation day to recuperate. I've been eating vitamin C like mad. My chest is tight and I can't seem to relax... on top of being sick with some sort of flu-like symptoms. Sometime between now and tomorrow I have to finish a boatload of paperwork. I have decided to have my resume online again by the end of the week. The weather is fabulous this morning. The air is cool and crisp... the humidity is down. It is the type of fall morning I miss from from living up north. Tick tock. The day continues.
Sunday, September 28, 2003
100mm f/2.8 macro (1:1)
 100mm f/2.8 macro (1:1) @ f/32 + 500D close-up diopter + 68mm of extension tubes |
 100mm f/2.8 macro (1:1) @ f/32 + 500D close-up diopter + 68mm of extension tubes |
I'm sick. I didn't go on my planned photo op with Michael this morning and I have nothing new that is cool to post. I have these from last week that I didn't post because they were soft. This spider is the smallest thing I've ever tried to photograph. The stem he rests on is that of the toad lily flora I published last week. The flowers I posted were not eve one inch in diameter. The stems are tiny... this guy is tiny. Anyhoo, did I mention I'm sick?
 100mm f/2.8 macro (1:1) @ f/32 + 500D close-up diopter + 68mm of extension tubes |
Saturday, September 27, 2003
EL’s gone to CO. I’m
EL's gone to CO. I'm so tired. I miss her.
Friday, September 26, 2003
Kurt got Lasik. Here’s his
Kurt got Lasik. Here's his hijacked account of the whole shibang:
"OK.. Here's what I remember about doing this procedure, the Intralase Lasik eye surgery to correct my vision. I just returned from the Eye Center for my post-op and everything's clear and I tested at 20/20 at the reading chart already. For those of you who asked, and there were many, here's what to expect in as much detail as I can remember.
ONE WEEK BEFORE SURGERY:
You say you want Lasik surgery, do you ? Well, not everyone's a candidate, so you must begin by seeing a Lasik specialist so that they can then determine if you're a good candidate. If you have myopia, you must be between 2.0 and 20.0 on your prescription to be a candidate. I measured a 2.2, just barely within range, and my vision was measured at 20/50 in my right eye and 20/60 in my left. I had a 3.3 astigmatism, which unfortunately made me a bad candidate for the new Ultra Lasik experience with a program called WaveFront technology. To get considered for WaveFront, which is the newest, badass, all-in-one super "fix-all-eye-imperfections" laser surgery, you must have your astigmatism below the 3.0 threshold. Damn. Oh, well, they said the conventional Lasik with Intralase was still an option for me and would get me to 20/20 vision, and quite possibly 20/15. No biggie.
They then explain how the system works. You get OK'd for the surgery once all measurements are agreed to be within the limitations of what would be deemed successfully corrected. Now to decide what TYPE of surgery you want to do to get the maximum benefit. The doctors will decide which is the safest, and best option. There are several types to choose from today:
1. Conventional Lasik
2. Conventional Lasik w/ Intralase
3. WaveFront Lasik w/ Intralase
Conventional Lasik - You have a computer-controlled device fit over your face, that moves a blade directly over your deadened eye ( from numbing drops applied beforehand ) to make the "flap", a portion of the outer eye covering that's pulled back to allow the laser to then make the corrections to your vision. The doctor uses his keen eye and hand coordination to make this flap.
Conventional Lasik w/ IntraLase - a primary laser used in the procedure from a totally separate machine you lay under, that creates the flap by creating a horseshoe shaped cut at the precise depth measured from your previous visit. This is computer controlled. Then the Eximer laser is used to make the corrections to your vision.
Wavefront Lasik w/ Intralase - Same Intralase cutting technique, but the correction laser uses a different mapping technique to laze away the corneal matter to a more precise and custom fit to your eye's specifications. It allows for more faults to be corrected than traditional or conventional Lasik.
One you've determined which method you are the best candidate for, you schedule your surgery date. You must have a pre-op visit 48 hours before surgery for preparation and mapping.
TWO DAYS BEFORE PROCEDURE:
Initial exam: Your first appointment, they need to check your eyes, glasses or contacts prescription, and test various elements of your cornea's topography and lens thickness. They do this using a variety of machines that create colorful topographical charts of several angled views of your eye. You pretty much just stare into the eyepieces of several machines and a variety of lights in color and magnitude flash in front of your vision. Nothing painful or uncomfortable and they don't blow air into them. What they find here is how deep your lens is how deep your corneas are. They need to program into the IntraLase laser the exact and precise depth in order to create the "flap". The flap is a circular of outer eye covering that is cut using either a blade ( normal laser surgery ) or laser ( IntraLase surgery - what I had ) that must then be pulled back to then allow the Eximer laser to "laze" away the corneal matter instantaneously to reduce the depth of material light must refract through before the light is then reflected onto your retinas. If you are far or nearsighted, your object reflections are missing hitting the retina right on, thus creating the blurriness. The light is being reflected either too close or too far behind from the real retinal wall. Optimally, you want the reflections to focus directly onto the retinal wall for a clear image to be then transferred to the brain for correct vision. To correct this, the laser blasts away a prescribed amount of material around the eye in front of the iris to bring the focus directly to the retina. But to blast away that material, you must "open" the eye by pulling back this flap. Every person’s flap will be different, so they must make these custom measurements using the machines. This appointment to "map" the eye takes the most time; about two hours. During this, they also tell you how to prepare for surgery, and to make sure you know how to take care of your eyes after surgery, as well. They take you through the procedure step by step so that you know what to expect. After all the measurements have been taken, your laser's program is written and put into the machine for your surgery two days later. They then tell you that when you show up for surgery, you will be grouped with four others, have some preliminary blood pressure tests done, be given a Valium to calm your nerves, and then have your procedure done. You also are to make payment before you leave, in full ( about 3,685 clams ), for the procedure. ( I think that's just a way to ensure you don't chicken out! )
You are then sent home with instructions to use special eye drops the next day 4 times a day to prepare the eye for surgery. Now the waiting, and in my case, the anxiety begins.
DAY/NIGHT BEFORE SURGERY
Today is just a day where you begin using 2 different types of eye drops 4 times a day prepping your eyes for the surgery. It is also the day that you realize what you've committed to, and the stomach churning begins. Regardless of how simple they make it all sound in the office yesterday, and all of the descriptions from others who have had it that "you won't feel a thing". "It’s easy, nothing to it". You still feel a bit queasy. You know you won't sleep the night before. I know I didn't. I have a feeling I'm going to be on the table, move one of my hands from under the blanket, reach over and grab my doctor's "attention" just below the belt... firmly squeeze and say to him. "Now we're not going to hurt each other... ARE WE?” At that moment, I think that maybe that's not such a good idea. It worked in the movie, but then the dude who did it didn't have a thermonuclear laser aimed at his face, either. I think my best bet is to just do what he says.
2am - time to finally go to sleep. Resigning to this.
3am - day of surgery. Still up. Surgery is at 7:15am
4am - day of surgery. Same.
5am - ditto. Ceiling looking AWFUL boring right about now.
6am - I'm up. Stomach in knots. Sis drives up to take me to the clinic. You have to have a driver to take you there and back. Something about them not liking the fact that patients with eyes lazed out of their sockets driving on the same streets as their kids. < shrugs > Go figure. Pansies.
SURGERY DAY
Scared shitless. More nervous than anything else. You know it's going to be fast and you will be sitting in front of the tube resting in no time. BUT THEY'RE CUTTING YOUR EYES, MAN !!!!!!!!!!! That's just not natural to feel right about. You can't imagine what you're about to go through and it's just KILLIN ya...
You drive to the clinic..... slowly. Each passing street sign you read as if it's the last thing you're going to see again in your natural-born life. I WANT to know the price of gasoline at the corner Texaco. I LIKE to know that taco's are now only .39 cents at the Bell. It's good to see your boss leaving the Pink Flamingo Gentleman's Club at 6am with what looks to be a coked-out blonde. ( I'll have to stash that little bit o- information for later on ) Man, to go to the border right about now would be great, but it's only six o'clock in the freakin morning... they're not even open yet - AND YOU'RE DRIVING TO THE MAN WHO'S GOING TO BE JAMMING LASERS INTO YOUR EYES !!!!!!!!
No problem. I can take it. A million folks have done it and you don't see them walking around in the malls bumping into shit, moaning about the fact that they can't ever see a playoff game again on ESPN. You never hear of news where the victim of Lasik surgery is suing because the procedure took away their beautiful blue eyes and made them plaid, or crossed, or accidentally lased the retina through the back of his freakin head. Just doesn't happen. This is safe. It's really safe.. IT'S SAFE, DUMMY, JUST SHUT UP AND GET THIS OVER WITH SO YOU CAN GO TO THE SATURDAY NIGHT FOOTBALL GAME AND SEE THE CHEERLEADERS CLEAVAGE WITH GREATER CLARITY. That helped for about two minutes as I meandered through that scenario. Come to think of it, they better give me two Valium.
Even better, I should have had two this morning at home before taking their offering at the clinic. Groooovy man..
It's 7am.. You now come to the full conclusion that about an hour from now, you're going to be retracing your steps to the parking lot, getting back into the car, and going home. It sure doesn't seem like it's going to be that quick. You walk into the clinic and the nurses look at you with loving eyes as they know what you're going through, and they just want to make you feel safe.. more in control.. "Walk this way, please.” she says. You follow her into a patient room where a doc then comes in who's going to do your procedure. I asked him what time he came home last night and put my face right up to his to see if I could smell the telltale effects of alcohol. Nothing.
"Vodka man, aren't ya, Doc?" I tell him bluntly. He stops short of saying something, looks at his watch and says, "You ready?"
He puts on his silly blue surgical mask, hat, booties, and something that goes around the waist.. not exactly sure what that is for, but I'm now at the point where inquisitiveness has given way to utter submissiveness. I didn't care if he put on a David Lee Roth black leather jacket, I was going to do this and I felt it best to try not to figure out what was going to happen, but rather to allow everything to take place without my mind's creating obscure and needless thoughts aimed at driving me insane.
A similarly dressed nurse led me away and into a hallway with chairs where the other three patients that we're having the same process done were sitting. We nodded slightly to one another acknowledging ourselves as those befitting the same fate-to-be. Sitting there with them, you kind of felt a kinship, as if you always knew them. I could just see that conversation had we introduced ourselves. "Hi, my name's Stupid 1. She's Stupid 2. Oh, nice to meet you, Stupid 3." However, it was unnecessary. I guess this is what veal cows feel like in those pens, knowing their fate. Just lining up and waiting for the slaughter. No attempts to escape or complain about what they were up against. Giving up.
The nurse led an older gentleman out, and asked the young lady and myself to move one chair over closer to the LASER ROOM, and wait. She returned in a few minutes, took my blood pressure and asked if I wanted a Valium. I looked around as if she was asking the girl next to me. Certainly, she wasn't asking ME if I wanted one. I didn't think I had a choice other than YES. I was also trying to find where she kept them hidden so that when she led the young lady out to the LASER ROOM, that I could then open the bottle and empty the entire contents into my awaiting empty stomach for protection from what I was expecting to be a rather uncomfortable situation in.. in THERE. I think she was onto me. She put the bottle into one of those pockets that line the lower end of her scrubs and brought the young lady in for her turn.
I was now alone. Now I had to take the seat next to the.. LASER ROOM. Christ. I could HEAR it working on that poor bastard. It made an electronic buzzing noise, very quick start and stop almost like a helicopter blade swishing through the air over Da Nang. Remember Da Nang? We lost some good men over Da Nang.. wait a minute.. hmmm
Valium must be kicking in.. That was quick. Looks like the ol' "Don't eat anything the night before to ensure an empty stomach and hopefully maximum the absorption effect of the Valium" strategy was paying off in spades. I just shut my eyes, stopped moving, crossed my hands over my lap and tried to feel what it was like to have Valium in my system. What was really cool was that I could actually concentrate. No recurring fleeting images of something-going-wrong in the operation room. None of that. I noticed that I was calming down. Awesome. I'm going to get through this without making a scene. Then the door opened and you can just screw all that I just said.
You ever watch National Geographic about the Serengeti ? You know.. the cheetahs running at 60 mph, the hippos wading in the water.. the lions stalking the gazelles.
Well, I remember in my childhood watching these movies in grade school when the teacher was too hung over to actually teach arithmetic or something. He really just wanted to put on a movie, turn out the lights and silently bleed to death in the corner. We, the class of students, would be too interested in the sudden death chases of the animal kingdom to notice that he/she was leaving the classroom to attend to one of nature's cruelest jokes. Anyway, the one scene that always drew my most interest was the one where the predators eventually caught their intended victims and dragged them to the ground. Yeah, when the gazelles were running scared trying to elude capture, and even up to the point where they were finally caught from behind and brought down to Mother Earth for the last time, they were kicking and screaming and trying to stay alive.
But there comes that POINT. You know what I'm talking about. That point in time where it just doesn't matter anymore. They knew they were dead and just waiting for that fatal bite to end the pain and suffering. They stopped fighting, stopped kicking, and succumbed to nature's way. Eyes wide open, yet calm. Maybe only a simple wet licking of the lips in fear and anticipation of the unthinkable fate before them.
I walked into that LASER room as a man and sat down a gazelle. Lips dry and eyes half shut. They asked me to lie down on the surgical-prep table. They glossed over my eye areas with a wet cloth and applied the first of what seemed to be about 40 eye drops to begin the numbing process. Pretty easy.. quick.. felt kinda gunky after about ten minutes, but I knew that I was no longer feeling from up there. Cool. Now the Valium was really kicking in and I just let everything happen. They asked me to rise and walk over to the IntraLase machine. I did. I lay down, and the doc hovered then above me and said those things you expect from a doc.
"How ya doin?"
"Swell", I said. "Just swell".
He then proceeds to inform me that he's going to open my eyes wide, apply the devices that will hold my eyes open during the procedure, and then begin to use the IntraLase to cut the flap. Now here's the funny part. This is, by far, the hardest part of the entire procedure. After this step, it's gravy from here on out. He begins by asking me to open wide. No shit, Sherlock. I do so and he holds the upper lid and lower lid apart with his fingers, then applies these very small metallic clips to fit underneath them, with a spring that pulls them up and down and apart. That was no problem. I was more interested, at this juncture, how the automatic reaction to wanting to blink was going to come to me.. It never did. Good. After this has been completed, he had to put this plastic tube, about the width of your eyeball and about 1" deep over my eye, press down and allow the eye to become fastened inside it as if you were trying to roll marbles through it. This was a son-of-a-bitch and quite uncomfortable. I felt my eye was going to squeeze through and shoot through it like a paper wad does in a peashooter. It didn't HURT, per se, just very unnaturally to have this done to you. He had trouble getting it to fit, because my lids were too small, so it took 4 attempts. Once he feels it is fitting right, he gets confirmation from a nurse to begin "suction". She agrees or disagrees. If disagrees, they lift it and start over again. Once she agrees, she turns something on and you see your peripheral vision begin to go away to gray, not black, but gray until it comes towards the center of your vision.. you then quickly go blind... this is normal. Now, you can't see shit. My left eye was given a black covering while my right eye was prepped for the flap to be made by the IntraLase laser. Once everything was prepped, they moved the table under the laser.. At this point, I can't see, but I can tell what's happening. The laser is brought down mechanically to my right eye and placed on the edge of the plastic cylinder that contains my eyeball.
"OK, Kurt, we're going to begin cutting the flap. It should only take about 60 seconds." The gazelle just lies there.
The first laser begins and I can hear a faint noise, but I feel absolutely nothing. Nothing at all. All I see in front of me in gray color, but I DO see motion. It looks like a liquid image with swirling going around. Like mixing gray paint with olive oil. It was so cool, that my fear was replaced with intrigue about the process. I knew I was going to be ok, so I set myself into enjoying the moment. It worked. With 40 seconds left, they actually began counting down. Reassuring voices that everything was going ok.. Don't move. Again, no shit Sherlock. When finished, they took off the apparatus, removed the tube, and I could see again. Now it looked like I was in San Francisco. Foggy. That was normal.
The IntraLase process created a horseshoe-shaped cut on my outer eye. During that process, the material underneath emits millions of tiny bubbles under and around the flap. That creates the foggy perception. When I blink, I can quickly see a dark brown image of a ring of what seems to me to be fat bubbles in a circular shape in front of me. You know when an 8mm movie film begins to burn on the lamp of old-style projectors ? That's what it looks like. But it's very brief. I began to blink my eyes again and again to see this phenomenon. But it was time for me to do the next eye, so they put the black covering over my right. They repeated the process and before I knew it, the first half of my procedure was over and I was walking to the waiting room to let my eyes bubble out. This takes about 20-30 minutes. I now have to flaps ready to go.
I'm sitting now with the poor bastard and the young lady in the waiting room. We know each other are there because we can hear the silent breathing of relief coming from each other and the nurses continuously applying more numbing drops in each of our eyes. They are also frequently opening our lids and peering at them with small flashlights to check the tiny bubbles. At one time we were alone, I decided to strike up some conversation and it went a little something like this:
Tiny bubbles (tiny bubbles)
In the wine (in the wine)
Make me happy (make me happy)
Make me feel fine (make me feel fine)
Don Ho, where were you when we needed you.
Before long, it was time for me to go under the real Eximer Laser to have my eyes adjusted in accordance to my NEW vision. They wheeled me into and under the next machine and this time, it was without blinders or coverings or anything. I looked up the scope to see a blinking red light and was told to concentrate on it. I did. At this time, the doc then looks into his microscope, finds the leading edge of the flap, and with tweezers, gently LIFTS it up and crosses it over - thusly exposing my inner cornea. This was not painful, not even really uncomfortable, but WEIRD to see. Naturally, the images got distorted as if you had a wet, plastic or glass warp the image in front of you and it caused the red light to move all over the place from my point of view. When it was firmly placed along the outside wall of my eye, they said to again, stare at this blinking light.. your peripheral vision was still good enough to see the whole machine, so I was looking at this large, vented, light blue light emitting gargantuan metallic beast then lower towards me.. It was like something out of Close Encounters. Then the laser started. I was told to remain still. The chopper-sound began and I saw some light flashing, almost like machine-gun fire. Felt nothing. But noticed that the flash came FROM the machine and ended at the edge of my eye. Fascinating.
Then you smelled it. It wasn't totally alarming, but you won't find it in any fragrance store at your local department store, either.
Ten seconds. Done. It's over. They gently put the flap back, and quickly moved the machine over to do my left eye. Twelve seconds. Done. Put flap back, now stand up and walk this way. Incredible.
They immediately put me into a patient’s waiting room where I was then testing my new vision. It was about 5 minutes when I began noticing that I could see again very sharply. I used the reading chart on the wall and noticed now that the small print was no longer small. It worked THAT FAST.
A nurse came in, looked at my eyes one last time, and gave me a sack of stuff to take home. A care pack of eye drops w/ instructions to come back tomorrow morning for a checkup. They also gave me some plastic shields to tape onto my face to make sure nothing touches my eyes.. I had to wear them the first 24 hours and removed them this morning. I'm using the drops now and having no problems.
I can see very clearly. In my office visit, I tested at 20/20 already this morning, just 24 hours after the procedure was completed. They said improvement continues for about 4-5 days and that if I'm seeing 20/20 now, I can expect 20/15 by the middle of next week.
When I look at trees now, I see each individual LEAF..
It's truly amazing.
The hardest part is the anticipation, bar none. This was about as painless and simple as it's advertised. Walking out, I also experienced the "I can't believe I got so worked up over that" that I heard everyone whose had it try to explain to me. It's true.
I can safely say that this is the best money I've ever spent on myself.
Hope you enjoyed it.
Kurt"
It still freaks me out.
"OK.. Here's what I remember about doing this procedure, the Intralase Lasik eye surgery to correct my vision. I just returned from the Eye Center for my post-op and everything's clear and I tested at 20/20 at the reading chart already. For those of you who asked, and there were many, here's what to expect in as much detail as I can remember.
ONE WEEK BEFORE SURGERY:
You say you want Lasik surgery, do you ? Well, not everyone's a candidate, so you must begin by seeing a Lasik specialist so that they can then determine if you're a good candidate. If you have myopia, you must be between 2.0 and 20.0 on your prescription to be a candidate. I measured a 2.2, just barely within range, and my vision was measured at 20/50 in my right eye and 20/60 in my left. I had a 3.3 astigmatism, which unfortunately made me a bad candidate for the new Ultra Lasik experience with a program called WaveFront technology. To get considered for WaveFront, which is the newest, badass, all-in-one super "fix-all-eye-imperfections" laser surgery, you must have your astigmatism below the 3.0 threshold. Damn. Oh, well, they said the conventional Lasik with Intralase was still an option for me and would get me to 20/20 vision, and quite possibly 20/15. No biggie.
They then explain how the system works. You get OK'd for the surgery once all measurements are agreed to be within the limitations of what would be deemed successfully corrected. Now to decide what TYPE of surgery you want to do to get the maximum benefit. The doctors will decide which is the safest, and best option. There are several types to choose from today:
1. Conventional Lasik
2. Conventional Lasik w/ Intralase
3. WaveFront Lasik w/ Intralase
Conventional Lasik - You have a computer-controlled device fit over your face, that moves a blade directly over your deadened eye ( from numbing drops applied beforehand ) to make the "flap", a portion of the outer eye covering that's pulled back to allow the laser to then make the corrections to your vision. The doctor uses his keen eye and hand coordination to make this flap.
Conventional Lasik w/ IntraLase - a primary laser used in the procedure from a totally separate machine you lay under, that creates the flap by creating a horseshoe shaped cut at the precise depth measured from your previous visit. This is computer controlled. Then the Eximer laser is used to make the corrections to your vision.
Wavefront Lasik w/ Intralase - Same Intralase cutting technique, but the correction laser uses a different mapping technique to laze away the corneal matter to a more precise and custom fit to your eye's specifications. It allows for more faults to be corrected than traditional or conventional Lasik.
One you've determined which method you are the best candidate for, you schedule your surgery date. You must have a pre-op visit 48 hours before surgery for preparation and mapping.
TWO DAYS BEFORE PROCEDURE:
Initial exam: Your first appointment, they need to check your eyes, glasses or contacts prescription, and test various elements of your cornea's topography and lens thickness. They do this using a variety of machines that create colorful topographical charts of several angled views of your eye. You pretty much just stare into the eyepieces of several machines and a variety of lights in color and magnitude flash in front of your vision. Nothing painful or uncomfortable and they don't blow air into them. What they find here is how deep your lens is how deep your corneas are. They need to program into the IntraLase laser the exact and precise depth in order to create the "flap". The flap is a circular of outer eye covering that is cut using either a blade ( normal laser surgery ) or laser ( IntraLase surgery - what I had ) that must then be pulled back to then allow the Eximer laser to "laze" away the corneal matter instantaneously to reduce the depth of material light must refract through before the light is then reflected onto your retinas. If you are far or nearsighted, your object reflections are missing hitting the retina right on, thus creating the blurriness. The light is being reflected either too close or too far behind from the real retinal wall. Optimally, you want the reflections to focus directly onto the retinal wall for a clear image to be then transferred to the brain for correct vision. To correct this, the laser blasts away a prescribed amount of material around the eye in front of the iris to bring the focus directly to the retina. But to blast away that material, you must "open" the eye by pulling back this flap. Every person’s flap will be different, so they must make these custom measurements using the machines. This appointment to "map" the eye takes the most time; about two hours. During this, they also tell you how to prepare for surgery, and to make sure you know how to take care of your eyes after surgery, as well. They take you through the procedure step by step so that you know what to expect. After all the measurements have been taken, your laser's program is written and put into the machine for your surgery two days later. They then tell you that when you show up for surgery, you will be grouped with four others, have some preliminary blood pressure tests done, be given a Valium to calm your nerves, and then have your procedure done. You also are to make payment before you leave, in full ( about 3,685 clams ), for the procedure. ( I think that's just a way to ensure you don't chicken out! )
You are then sent home with instructions to use special eye drops the next day 4 times a day to prepare the eye for surgery. Now the waiting, and in my case, the anxiety begins.
DAY/NIGHT BEFORE SURGERY
Today is just a day where you begin using 2 different types of eye drops 4 times a day prepping your eyes for the surgery. It is also the day that you realize what you've committed to, and the stomach churning begins. Regardless of how simple they make it all sound in the office yesterday, and all of the descriptions from others who have had it that "you won't feel a thing". "It’s easy, nothing to it". You still feel a bit queasy. You know you won't sleep the night before. I know I didn't. I have a feeling I'm going to be on the table, move one of my hands from under the blanket, reach over and grab my doctor's "attention" just below the belt... firmly squeeze and say to him. "Now we're not going to hurt each other... ARE WE?” At that moment, I think that maybe that's not such a good idea. It worked in the movie, but then the dude who did it didn't have a thermonuclear laser aimed at his face, either. I think my best bet is to just do what he says.
2am - time to finally go to sleep. Resigning to this.
3am - day of surgery. Still up. Surgery is at 7:15am
4am - day of surgery. Same.
5am - ditto. Ceiling looking AWFUL boring right about now.
6am - I'm up. Stomach in knots. Sis drives up to take me to the clinic. You have to have a driver to take you there and back. Something about them not liking the fact that patients with eyes lazed out of their sockets driving on the same streets as their kids. < shrugs > Go figure. Pansies.
SURGERY DAY
Scared shitless. More nervous than anything else. You know it's going to be fast and you will be sitting in front of the tube resting in no time. BUT THEY'RE CUTTING YOUR EYES, MAN !!!!!!!!!!! That's just not natural to feel right about. You can't imagine what you're about to go through and it's just KILLIN ya...
You drive to the clinic..... slowly. Each passing street sign you read as if it's the last thing you're going to see again in your natural-born life. I WANT to know the price of gasoline at the corner Texaco. I LIKE to know that taco's are now only .39 cents at the Bell. It's good to see your boss leaving the Pink Flamingo Gentleman's Club at 6am with what looks to be a coked-out blonde. ( I'll have to stash that little bit o- information for later on ) Man, to go to the border right about now would be great, but it's only six o'clock in the freakin morning... they're not even open yet - AND YOU'RE DRIVING TO THE MAN WHO'S GOING TO BE JAMMING LASERS INTO YOUR EYES !!!!!!!!
No problem. I can take it. A million folks have done it and you don't see them walking around in the malls bumping into shit, moaning about the fact that they can't ever see a playoff game again on ESPN. You never hear of news where the victim of Lasik surgery is suing because the procedure took away their beautiful blue eyes and made them plaid, or crossed, or accidentally lased the retina through the back of his freakin head. Just doesn't happen. This is safe. It's really safe.. IT'S SAFE, DUMMY, JUST SHUT UP AND GET THIS OVER WITH SO YOU CAN GO TO THE SATURDAY NIGHT FOOTBALL GAME AND SEE THE CHEERLEADERS CLEAVAGE WITH GREATER CLARITY. That helped for about two minutes as I meandered through that scenario. Come to think of it, they better give me two Valium.
Even better, I should have had two this morning at home before taking their offering at the clinic. Groooovy man..
It's 7am.. You now come to the full conclusion that about an hour from now, you're going to be retracing your steps to the parking lot, getting back into the car, and going home. It sure doesn't seem like it's going to be that quick. You walk into the clinic and the nurses look at you with loving eyes as they know what you're going through, and they just want to make you feel safe.. more in control.. "Walk this way, please.” she says. You follow her into a patient room where a doc then comes in who's going to do your procedure. I asked him what time he came home last night and put my face right up to his to see if I could smell the telltale effects of alcohol. Nothing.
"Vodka man, aren't ya, Doc?" I tell him bluntly. He stops short of saying something, looks at his watch and says, "You ready?"
He puts on his silly blue surgical mask, hat, booties, and something that goes around the waist.. not exactly sure what that is for, but I'm now at the point where inquisitiveness has given way to utter submissiveness. I didn't care if he put on a David Lee Roth black leather jacket, I was going to do this and I felt it best to try not to figure out what was going to happen, but rather to allow everything to take place without my mind's creating obscure and needless thoughts aimed at driving me insane.
A similarly dressed nurse led me away and into a hallway with chairs where the other three patients that we're having the same process done were sitting. We nodded slightly to one another acknowledging ourselves as those befitting the same fate-to-be. Sitting there with them, you kind of felt a kinship, as if you always knew them. I could just see that conversation had we introduced ourselves. "Hi, my name's Stupid 1. She's Stupid 2. Oh, nice to meet you, Stupid 3." However, it was unnecessary. I guess this is what veal cows feel like in those pens, knowing their fate. Just lining up and waiting for the slaughter. No attempts to escape or complain about what they were up against. Giving up.
The nurse led an older gentleman out, and asked the young lady and myself to move one chair over closer to the LASER ROOM, and wait. She returned in a few minutes, took my blood pressure and asked if I wanted a Valium. I looked around as if she was asking the girl next to me. Certainly, she wasn't asking ME if I wanted one. I didn't think I had a choice other than YES. I was also trying to find where she kept them hidden so that when she led the young lady out to the LASER ROOM, that I could then open the bottle and empty the entire contents into my awaiting empty stomach for protection from what I was expecting to be a rather uncomfortable situation in.. in THERE. I think she was onto me. She put the bottle into one of those pockets that line the lower end of her scrubs and brought the young lady in for her turn.
I was now alone. Now I had to take the seat next to the.. LASER ROOM. Christ. I could HEAR it working on that poor bastard. It made an electronic buzzing noise, very quick start and stop almost like a helicopter blade swishing through the air over Da Nang. Remember Da Nang? We lost some good men over Da Nang.. wait a minute.. hmmm
Valium must be kicking in.. That was quick. Looks like the ol' "Don't eat anything the night before to ensure an empty stomach and hopefully maximum the absorption effect of the Valium" strategy was paying off in spades. I just shut my eyes, stopped moving, crossed my hands over my lap and tried to feel what it was like to have Valium in my system. What was really cool was that I could actually concentrate. No recurring fleeting images of something-going-wrong in the operation room. None of that. I noticed that I was calming down. Awesome. I'm going to get through this without making a scene. Then the door opened and you can just screw all that I just said.
You ever watch National Geographic about the Serengeti ? You know.. the cheetahs running at 60 mph, the hippos wading in the water.. the lions stalking the gazelles.
Well, I remember in my childhood watching these movies in grade school when the teacher was too hung over to actually teach arithmetic or something. He really just wanted to put on a movie, turn out the lights and silently bleed to death in the corner. We, the class of students, would be too interested in the sudden death chases of the animal kingdom to notice that he/she was leaving the classroom to attend to one of nature's cruelest jokes. Anyway, the one scene that always drew my most interest was the one where the predators eventually caught their intended victims and dragged them to the ground. Yeah, when the gazelles were running scared trying to elude capture, and even up to the point where they were finally caught from behind and brought down to Mother Earth for the last time, they were kicking and screaming and trying to stay alive.
But there comes that POINT. You know what I'm talking about. That point in time where it just doesn't matter anymore. They knew they were dead and just waiting for that fatal bite to end the pain and suffering. They stopped fighting, stopped kicking, and succumbed to nature's way. Eyes wide open, yet calm. Maybe only a simple wet licking of the lips in fear and anticipation of the unthinkable fate before them.
I walked into that LASER room as a man and sat down a gazelle. Lips dry and eyes half shut. They asked me to lie down on the surgical-prep table. They glossed over my eye areas with a wet cloth and applied the first of what seemed to be about 40 eye drops to begin the numbing process. Pretty easy.. quick.. felt kinda gunky after about ten minutes, but I knew that I was no longer feeling from up there. Cool. Now the Valium was really kicking in and I just let everything happen. They asked me to rise and walk over to the IntraLase machine. I did. I lay down, and the doc hovered then above me and said those things you expect from a doc.
"How ya doin?"
"Swell", I said. "Just swell".
He then proceeds to inform me that he's going to open my eyes wide, apply the devices that will hold my eyes open during the procedure, and then begin to use the IntraLase to cut the flap. Now here's the funny part. This is, by far, the hardest part of the entire procedure. After this step, it's gravy from here on out. He begins by asking me to open wide. No shit, Sherlock. I do so and he holds the upper lid and lower lid apart with his fingers, then applies these very small metallic clips to fit underneath them, with a spring that pulls them up and down and apart. That was no problem. I was more interested, at this juncture, how the automatic reaction to wanting to blink was going to come to me.. It never did. Good. After this has been completed, he had to put this plastic tube, about the width of your eyeball and about 1" deep over my eye, press down and allow the eye to become fastened inside it as if you were trying to roll marbles through it. This was a son-of-a-bitch and quite uncomfortable. I felt my eye was going to squeeze through and shoot through it like a paper wad does in a peashooter. It didn't HURT, per se, just very unnaturally to have this done to you. He had trouble getting it to fit, because my lids were too small, so it took 4 attempts. Once he feels it is fitting right, he gets confirmation from a nurse to begin "suction". She agrees or disagrees. If disagrees, they lift it and start over again. Once she agrees, she turns something on and you see your peripheral vision begin to go away to gray, not black, but gray until it comes towards the center of your vision.. you then quickly go blind... this is normal. Now, you can't see shit. My left eye was given a black covering while my right eye was prepped for the flap to be made by the IntraLase laser. Once everything was prepped, they moved the table under the laser.. At this point, I can't see, but I can tell what's happening. The laser is brought down mechanically to my right eye and placed on the edge of the plastic cylinder that contains my eyeball.
"OK, Kurt, we're going to begin cutting the flap. It should only take about 60 seconds." The gazelle just lies there.
The first laser begins and I can hear a faint noise, but I feel absolutely nothing. Nothing at all. All I see in front of me in gray color, but I DO see motion. It looks like a liquid image with swirling going around. Like mixing gray paint with olive oil. It was so cool, that my fear was replaced with intrigue about the process. I knew I was going to be ok, so I set myself into enjoying the moment. It worked. With 40 seconds left, they actually began counting down. Reassuring voices that everything was going ok.. Don't move. Again, no shit Sherlock. When finished, they took off the apparatus, removed the tube, and I could see again. Now it looked like I was in San Francisco. Foggy. That was normal.
The IntraLase process created a horseshoe-shaped cut on my outer eye. During that process, the material underneath emits millions of tiny bubbles under and around the flap. That creates the foggy perception. When I blink, I can quickly see a dark brown image of a ring of what seems to me to be fat bubbles in a circular shape in front of me. You know when an 8mm movie film begins to burn on the lamp of old-style projectors ? That's what it looks like. But it's very brief. I began to blink my eyes again and again to see this phenomenon. But it was time for me to do the next eye, so they put the black covering over my right. They repeated the process and before I knew it, the first half of my procedure was over and I was walking to the waiting room to let my eyes bubble out. This takes about 20-30 minutes. I now have to flaps ready to go.
I'm sitting now with the poor bastard and the young lady in the waiting room. We know each other are there because we can hear the silent breathing of relief coming from each other and the nurses continuously applying more numbing drops in each of our eyes. They are also frequently opening our lids and peering at them with small flashlights to check the tiny bubbles. At one time we were alone, I decided to strike up some conversation and it went a little something like this:
Tiny bubbles (tiny bubbles)
In the wine (in the wine)
Make me happy (make me happy)
Make me feel fine (make me feel fine)
Don Ho, where were you when we needed you.
Before long, it was time for me to go under the real Eximer Laser to have my eyes adjusted in accordance to my NEW vision. They wheeled me into and under the next machine and this time, it was without blinders or coverings or anything. I looked up the scope to see a blinking red light and was told to concentrate on it. I did. At this time, the doc then looks into his microscope, finds the leading edge of the flap, and with tweezers, gently LIFTS it up and crosses it over - thusly exposing my inner cornea. This was not painful, not even really uncomfortable, but WEIRD to see. Naturally, the images got distorted as if you had a wet, plastic or glass warp the image in front of you and it caused the red light to move all over the place from my point of view. When it was firmly placed along the outside wall of my eye, they said to again, stare at this blinking light.. your peripheral vision was still good enough to see the whole machine, so I was looking at this large, vented, light blue light emitting gargantuan metallic beast then lower towards me.. It was like something out of Close Encounters. Then the laser started. I was told to remain still. The chopper-sound began and I saw some light flashing, almost like machine-gun fire. Felt nothing. But noticed that the flash came FROM the machine and ended at the edge of my eye. Fascinating.
Then you smelled it. It wasn't totally alarming, but you won't find it in any fragrance store at your local department store, either.
Ten seconds. Done. It's over. They gently put the flap back, and quickly moved the machine over to do my left eye. Twelve seconds. Done. Put flap back, now stand up and walk this way. Incredible.
They immediately put me into a patient’s waiting room where I was then testing my new vision. It was about 5 minutes when I began noticing that I could see again very sharply. I used the reading chart on the wall and noticed now that the small print was no longer small. It worked THAT FAST.
A nurse came in, looked at my eyes one last time, and gave me a sack of stuff to take home. A care pack of eye drops w/ instructions to come back tomorrow morning for a checkup. They also gave me some plastic shields to tape onto my face to make sure nothing touches my eyes.. I had to wear them the first 24 hours and removed them this morning. I'm using the drops now and having no problems.
I can see very clearly. In my office visit, I tested at 20/20 already this morning, just 24 hours after the procedure was completed. They said improvement continues for about 4-5 days and that if I'm seeing 20/20 now, I can expect 20/15 by the middle of next week.
When I look at trees now, I see each individual LEAF..
It's truly amazing.
The hardest part is the anticipation, bar none. This was about as painless and simple as it's advertised. Walking out, I also experienced the "I can't believe I got so worked up over that" that I heard everyone whose had it try to explain to me. It's true.
I can safely say that this is the best money I've ever spent on myself.
Hope you enjoyed it.
Kurt"
It still freaks me out.
Thursday, September 25, 2003
EL and I went for
EL and I went for a walk tonight before the season premier of CSI... a show which we both dig. We found some nifty flowers and released the little buggers than Dan brought to work and gave me. Photos below...
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Shiznit. Will this day
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Shiznit. Will this day ever end? EL came downtown to have lunch with me and ever since she left, time has slowed to a creep. I've saturated my afternoon with work yet, to my amazement, the clock never changes. I think it's time for an ergo break!
Alright. I think it’s time
Alright. I think it's time I go on the record. I am not an aspiring entomologist. I do not have an insect fetish. I simply love the technical challenges of macro photography and insects are great subjects because they are physiologically complex and the mechanics of their construction are complex. You can see things that are difficult if not impossible to see with the naked eye and that, to me, is pretty cool. That being said, I have to tell you... a guy actually captured "bugs" and brought them to work for me as a gift. They are some sort of larvae for a moth or caterpillar that are brown and white... very earthy as if to blend with tree bark or dead leaves. When touched, these really long, bright red "horns" come out of their head. After they have satisfied their inspection of what's going on, the "horns" retract. Very neat. Anyhoo, I'll try to photograph them when I get home. Right now, they are in a little pill jar on my desk chewing on bits of leaves in the bottom of the jar and making caterpillar shit. Yes, tiny shitballs. Proof that I'm easily amused.
Daily wrecks and congestion plague
Daily wrecks and congestion plague the Houston metro roadways. It's continually so bad that the HOV lanes are infected. Get some H-Town commute! I'm typing this on the bus because I'm all jammed up this morning at work and probably won't have time to consider recreational Internet usage. EL is flying to Colorado this weekend to visit a friend. I was considering visiting my grandmother, but I think I have on-call duty for work... which would tie me to the city. I've been in a rut recently. I have nothing much to say. I have a robot routine from day to day that is only made palatable by my wonderful wife who is like an antivenom for the poison I take in all day. I've been listening to a lot of Toadies this week. It's unhealthy for me because it fires me up and I feel like being rebellious. Forget work... let's get drunk and play guitar. Speaking of music, tomorrow night (Friday) is Stan's last gig with the Asylum Street Spankers in Houston... and unfortunately, it may as well be ever. I think he's playing an Austin show on Saturday, but he's retiring afterward for health reasons. Corey left the band a month or so ago to pursue an acting career. I tried like hell to get up early this morning so I could drive in to work, but it was futile. I overslept... a lot. I have a whoppin' $4.00 left on my METRO shared value card. Nifty. One more day to the last day of the week. Can I get an amen?
