Health

Drink to it.

A Plague Upon My House

Ugh! I am now into day two of some horrid plague that has me trapped on a sofa during the day, and not sleeping at night due to fever, chills, and sweats. Yes, I know the details are gross, and probably too much information, but it is the truth and the current state of your beloved Xavier.

I actually tried going into the office today. That was probably a big mistake. Sitting upright made me queasy and extremely dizzy. Fortunately, I was able to sneak away and lay down for a few minutes. Unfortunately, I lost my treasured 8-Ball Zippo somehow. Add depression to feeling ill. The depression was alleviated thanks to a special friend who found said Zippo, and promptly let me know that it had been found and secured.

I have been in the process of composing a lovely telling of my adventure in “camping” from last week. I shall have to delay this entry once more as sitting up and using my laptop is no fun at all. I could try to finish the tale using my wondeful iPhone, but that is not going to work thanks to my having pictures to go with the blog, and OCD dictating that the entry must have a proper format.

C’est la vie…

So, now I shall return to that place somewhere between sleep and awake that I have been hovering for what seems like forever, and hopefully, be back to my abnormal self on the morrow.

Toodles!

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Tomorrow is a Day of Dread

I just viewed my pending comment page and noticed that I have four spam comments that have nothing at all to do with the posts with which they were left. I guess if they were relevant, then they would not be spam.

However, I am avoiding the subject. I have a toothache. I went to the doctor over the weekend and was told that I needed to see a dentist and get a tooth pulled. Oy gevalt…

You see, dear people, your beloved Xavier is afraid of dentists. Terribly afraid. I have had a problem with this tooth for two years now, and it always ends the same. I get the ache, I finally get a sedative and go to the dentist, he gives me a temporary fix until I go and see an oral surgeon, and I feel better and ignore the surgeon. This has gone on for years.

I understand that I really should go and see the dentist and should have long ago. Yet, the nagging fear of having my tooth stolen and then facing oral rape at the hands of a fiend in a white lab coat with scary tools is what keeps me from going.

This time, this time, this time I am going to the dentist. My appointment is for ten forty-five tomorrow morning. I am terrified.

Perhaps I would not be as phobic had the doctor I saw last weekend had not made the following comment to me:

“If I had a tooth-grabby thing, then I would pull it out myself.”

Really? Tooth-grabby thing?! Where did this fellow get his medical degree? From an online medical school hosted in the Cayman Islands? Who knows. I realize the good doctor was not a dentist, but surely he could have come up with something other than tooth-grabby thing.

Okay, I am starting to get a headache and my pulse has started racing from these dental thoughts. If I make it through the ordeal tomorrow, I shall tell you how it went.

Is It Friday, Already?

This has been one long and short week. By long, it has been filled with much activity. Running here, walking there; funeral here, kick boxing there. And so on…

With all that has been happening in the last week, I finally took notice that I had gotten far behind on many things:

  1. I have not touched the motorcycle this week. I need to get that going or else I will not be using it before the end of this month.
  2. I have not been writing…AT ALL. And that is not good, not good at all. I am supposed to write a couple of articles for a martial arts newsletter. I was supposed to be keeping up on this blog.
  3. I have not begun a steady regimen of resistance training (however, this is not so bad…wait and read further).
  4. And I am sure there are a few things that I intended to accomplish or keep up with that I have put from mind at the moment so that I can focus on other things at the moment.

One positive thing: apparently, my endurance has increased. My cardio-respiratory endurance, that is. It all started with my new Chief of Security/Personal Body Guard. M started out as a student of mine in jujitsu and rapidly became proficient. So proficient that I found it necessary to make her my own personal protection system. She has one fatal flaw, however. She is a runner, and I am not a runner. I would rather punch one thousand sides of frozen beef than run.

Please, do not mistake my attitude for aversion to exercise, Not only do I still train in jujitsu regularly, I have recently started kick boxing (this is what I mentioned that you should wait and read further for…), and since the class is more aerobic fitness oriented, I have been getting plenty of exercise.

And I started running.

Apparently, M had been training under another cat I trained with many moons ago, and he and I started training again. At first, I thought this would be just like the days of yore. It was not. M had converted him to running and now we started training sessions with what he claimed was a one and one-half mile run. I still insist it is ten miles, maybe a light year, but that is of no consequence. The point is that we were starting out by running. And it was not good.

Well, knowing that I need to up my cardio game, I stopped dreading running, and even started running a bit on my own outside of jujitsu training sessions and kick boxing. The path I was taking was supposed to be exactly one mile long. I pushed and gradually made the full circuit finally, and I rejoiced. As it turns out, I have even more to celebrate as the distance, I recently learned, is not one mile, but it is one and one-half miles long! That run before jujitsu should be a piece of cake now (which I deserve to chow on since I have upped my game!).

Now that the weekend has arrived, hopefully things will calm down a bit and life will settle to the normal craze-fest that I have grown to love and appreciate. Manthony has been trying to get me out to one of his clubs for a night for some time now. Perhaps tonight will be the night for me to go out and have a drink or seven.

Coyotes Attack Chino: A Recreation

A few years ago, I read a story on the Internet about children in Chino Hills, Ca getting attacked by coyotes in these suburban settings. Apparently, the coyotes come down from the hills, out of the woods, motor from Macy’s, etc, and proceed onto playgrounds and bite small kids. After stifling a chuckle about the situation, I appreciated that the issue was indeed serious. I mean, while the whole story has a sort of Warner Bros. flavor to it, it is distressing in that the coyotes were attacking small people. And I decided that I wanted to repost that blog. In case you had not heard about these attacks, here is some background from the Los Angeles Times.

Apparently, the sprawl of Urbanity has led the coyote to roam about the suburban landscape looking for tasty morsels of kiddie flesh. In fact, the Chino Hills website even has a question regarding the relative usual or unusual-ness of coyotes being spotted in the area:

 4.Is it unusual to see a coyote roaming around the neighborhood?

NO, it is not. Drought conditions in Chino Hills have resulted in an increase in the number of wildlife sightings and incidents in residential neighborhoods and parks. Coyotes are being seen in neighborhoods and parks as they seek food and water in the lush landscaping found in parks and residential neighborhoods.

What prompted me to return to this issue was a discussion I had with a pit bull owner yesterday. Apparently, the state of Michigan is discussing the issue of banning pit bulls from ownership. She was distressed and she went on to state that the problem with vicious pit bulls is poor ownership. I agreed with her and added that that was only a part of the problem. The other part is that a pit bull is an animal and will do what it instinctively needs/wants to do when it comes down to it. People need to respect critters for what they are. For example, I share my habitat with a Burmese Python. One day, he will be huge. I know that I need to respect that he will be a huge snake with sharp teeth and keep him fed and happy, lest he react like a snake is going to react. A pit bull is a big, inherently aggressive dog. It has to be. It was bred to deal with wrangling bulls. However, they can be wonderful if raised, reared, and properly kept.

However, she was not hearing that noise. She believed that no matter what, proper raising will subvert any instinct the dog may possess. I politely restated my position and began to think about the coyote and decided that instead of discussing the issue of pit bulls, I would repost my coyote blog as a commentary of the human encroachment into more space, leaving less space for the wild; the conflicts between the two escalating as our worlds come closer and closer and closer…

I searched for the blog I wrote on the subject and could not find it anywhere. I was particularly disappointed because in addition to a social commentary on the subject of rapid human sprawl, I wrote what I believed to be a clever song (to the tune of “Folsom Prison Blues”) from the coyotes perspective. But why hear from the vicious, toddler-chomping coyote? He ran out and bit a poor, unsuspecting little one on the ass and ran off after having a taste of what kids were all about: cookies, dirt, and nose-pickings. While unappealing to some, apparently the coyote shared the experience with his friends and more coyotes began to come out for nibbles on kids. Now, the kids were not getting eaten, just a little nip, and then coyote would flee. Maybe, they were not attacks to eat the children, but were part of some hazing rite for entry into some coyote fraternity, gang, or the Coyote Liberation Front. No matter the case, can we really blame the coyote?

What do we expect? We move our asses into their environment and restrict their space so that they have to return the encroachment by learning to survive with us. Unfortunately, that means that small folk may start to look a bit like children McNuggets. To top it off, we stuff the little people with savory, fattening fast foods and sit them inside in front of gaming systems all day; the kids get all chubby and tender from the underuse of their little muscles. We are turning children in the United States into a type of free-range human veal, who can blame the coyote for wanting a little bite?

So, that was the gist of the blog. I even found an article on the subject and was able to include a link for your perusal. However, I lost my original song re-write and so, I attempted to re-write it from memory. I think I did a decent job with the attempt:

San Bernadino Animal Control Shelter Blues (Sung ala “Folsom Prison Blues”)

I heard them voices making,
Noises over that thar hill;
They didn’t sound like normal
Food-type Critters I would kill.
Now, I’m stuck in San Bernadino,
And time keeps draggin’ on,
I was trapped by a dog catcher,
He lured me with fake bones.

When I was just a puppy,
My Mama told me, “Son,
Always be a good whelp,
Don’t ever bite kids’ buns,”
But I bit a child in Chino,
Just to watch him cry,
Since he was so damn yummy,
I had to bite his thigh.

I know there’s pit bulls eatin’,
In them fancy urban scenes,
They’re probably chewin’ children,
From the ass right to the knee,
But I know I had it comin’,
I know I can’t be free,
But dem toddlers look delicious,
And that’s what tortures me.

I wish they’d let me move to Michigan,
Where kids get bitten all the time,
I swear I’ve learned my lesson,
I’ll chew other kids’ behinds,
Far away from Chino,
That’s where I want to stay,
I’d move out East to Detroit,
And bite my blues away.

A Time for Bravery

The dream is always the same. It is vile and hideous and a usurper of all that is wonderful in the delicate machinery that drives my sanity. Before this dream, all of my nighttime visions were preceded by a lovely little dancer. She has no face save for her eyes. To begin my dreams, she would dance with that tune from Erika Eigen: “I Want to Marry a Lighthouse Keeper.” After a time, she would lead me to any one of several doors, open the door, and set me to dreaming.

Now, she has disappeared it seems. My dreams start out black, and then the horror starts. The terror is simple and plain and I can never wake from the dream. I have awaken a few times and spoken to people only to immediately fall back aso not leep into the hideous churning of my subconscious. All that that the dream consists of is me standing or sitting somewhere and suddenly, my teeth begin to fall out. I panic and cry and plead for help, and no one can really do anything for me. It is always the same, it is always painless when the teeth fall out, it is always terrifying and sends chills to my soul that actually take a day and a few shots of absinthe to recover from afterwards.

This nightmare is one that comes directly from a true phobia: dentists. I have to go to one. Even still, I have to go to an oral surgeon and have teeth removed. Since one of these teeth has now broken, it is even more imperative that I go; in fact, my OCD demands it. However, that scathing dread that once that fellow has me unconscious in his chair, he will begin to worse than befoul my mouth with his tools. Maybe he will steal all of my teeth. Maybe he will implant a cyanide capsule that I will accidentally bite down upon one day, thus killing myself and fulfilling his evil plan. Maybe he will wax nostalgic for the medieval days and decide that in addition to a dentist, he is also, surgeon and barber. I could wake up with a my dreads mangled and my tonsils removed and covered in leeches and mustard plaster!

I am probably exaggerating this a great bit. But I cannnot shake the fear. My panic of the dentist is such that I need a sedative just to go to the damn place. However, now I know this is beyond necessary. My dental dread dream has begun to give me panic attacks. I wake from the dream ready to run and hide. I wake from the dream with my heart racing, pounding painfully against my chest like it is being kicked out by Chun Li using her multiple-leg kick technique-y thing. I wake with my temperature at a fever level and sweating bullets. After being awake the images stick in my craw and torment me randomly throughout the rest of the time I am awake following the dream.

It is time for me to face this fear; I am filled with dread, apprehension, and the desire to beg my doctor for St. George the Valium so that I can have the tools necessary to fight this dental-dragon. Goddess have mercy on my soul.