design porn

I got an iPhone for Christmas. Oh, sweet mother... it is so beautiful. I played with my father-in-law's phone for hours, dicking around with the maps feature, looking at all my rss feeds, all that sweet stuff, and it just made me feel whole again, y'know? Like my life meant something. So we all came up with a plan for Xmas: Andrea would get a new sewing machine (she makes kickass bibs, by the way, and made as much as I did last month selling them at three different locations in town), which her mom, dad, and I would pay for. I would get the iPhone, which she and her parents would all kick in for. Sounded like a good plan, but then December hit, and somehow, December always makes sweet love to my ass financially. Somehow, I always get in the red this time of year, and there is just NO extra money. So I said to Andrea: "Listen... No iPhone. We can't afford it." She said, "Okay." I insisted, however, that she get her sewing machine, since it looked like one hell of a sound investment. She can sell her bibs, and I'll sit out by the pool drinking mojitos.

Of course Christmas came, and after a prolonged stint in the emergency room with her mother who ate some nasty seafood salad, I got my iPhone.

So of course I am, like, almost on the verge of an orgasm. And what happens? Naturally, I don't have the newest operating system on my Mac, and I can't use it. So we wait until I see my next two patients, and then I run right to the store and pick up whatever apple's newest cat-named OS is. Whatever. I waited this long, I can wait another two days.

But Christ the thing is pretty.

Anyway, business is actually pretty good, and I am both reading and writing a lot.

Here are a few books and new writers to check out:

"The Girl Next Door" by Jack Ketchum: Okay, this is NOT for the faint of heart. It is rough. Really rough. I picked it up because Stephan King said to, and I get that that makes me a fanboy, and possibly even a homosexual, but I'm okay with that. I started reading it at seven thirty in the evening. I finished it at two o'clock the next day. Three hours of sleep and the bare minimum of chores in between. It is really unpleasant, that's all I have to say about it. Check it out.

"The Road" by Cormac McCarthy: I hadn't read any of this fella's books, despite (or perhaps because of) him being widely considered the best living author today. I picked up "The Road" and I finished it in about two days. Made me cry, and reminded me of my father. At the same time, it was a badass postapocalyptic adventure. Good stuff, and the writer gets every last bit of acclaim. He is scary good.

"Diary" by Chuck Palahniuk: I didn't like this as much as I liked "Lullaby," but it was entertaining enough. A woman is linked to the fate of an island through only the wierd set of incidents that a sick fuck like this guy can come up with. Typical use of language from him as well: Lots of repeated phrases, and weirdness for the sake of it, but definitely fun to read.

"Anansi Boys" by Neil Gaiman: Definitely better than American Gods. Story is both funny and interesting. Never gets too lost in all the quasi-mythical jargon that makes Gaiman a little inaccessable to me. Even my wife loved it.

"Dune." Yeah, you've all read it. I'm reading it again. Deal with it.

the professional

So, I passed all my boards, got my license, and am practicing in the big, bad city. Now, I just have to find a way to make enough money to support my family, and we're good.

Here are some books, movies, etc.

I read "A Simple Plan" by Scott Smith, and was completely blown away. This prompted a revisit to the movie, which is also first rate. In the book, things go way, way farther. Every choice this guy makes centers around trying to do the best thing for his family, and he becomes nothing short of a serial killer. Hardcore. Good read.

Not quite as good was "The Ruins" by the same author. Bunch of kids get trapped on a hill in the middle of a rainforest. It is worth reading, and certainly speeds right by, but all in all it just wasn't great.

"Better" by Atul Gawande was a great read if you dig on medical stuff. He disects everything from handwashing to trauma in Iraq, and he does it vividly. I really like this author-- he also wrote "complications: a surgeon's notes on an imperfect science," which was fantastic. He reminds me of malcom gladwell.

Right now I am reading "Stranger in a Strange Land" by Robert Heinlein (excellent), Sin City by Frank Miller (Awesome), and "Dui Yao: The art of combining Chinese Medicinals by Phillipe Sonnieau (only great if you dig on Chinese Medicine).

In cinema, all I can talk about right now is "The Lives of Others," A german film that one best foreign language film at the Oscars last year. It is about a socialist playwrite and the secret police who have him under surveillance. Really, really fucking good movie, and it even manages to make you feel good about being alive towards the end, which was nice.

I'm going to try to post more regularly in this again, but I am going to avoid being raunchy, and I am also going to refrain from talking about anything medical. Gotta be a man now, I suppose.

So I guess that's about that.

comings and goings

I am waiting rather impatiently to get a date to sit for my boards-- I am completely unworried about the test itself, it is just taking the goddamned thing that is the trick. In the mean time, I am doing post-grad herbal studies on Thursday nights, and G.A. assistant teaching on Saturdays, which is fairly fun. Definitely looking forward to getting started-- we need at least one income at this point.

Here is good stuff to read, watch, etc.:

"A Fighter's Heart" by Sam Sheridan. This book chronicles a twenty something guy's journey through various pro fighting training, including muay thai in Thailand, MMA fighting with some famous trainer in Iowa, boxing training, taiji with one of the great masters, and finally, bare knuckle boxing in Burma. The whole time, he remains sort of on the outside of everything, a writer tagging along with great fighters who let him play their game a little. This is a good book, if you like fighting. If you don't, it will bore you.

"Complications: A Surgeon's Notes on an Imperfect Science" by Atul Gawande. This book was completely and utterly readable, filled with interesting and occasionally fucked up situations in the operating room. I dig on medical stuff (House and Grey's Anatomy are the only two shows on TV that I watch) but I think virtually anyone could find this book fascinating.

As far as movies go...

I saw Spiderman 3, which was both fun to watch and completely gay at the same time. The special effects were cool, but over all, I hate Tobey Maguire, the pretty boy who plays his best friend, and Kirsten Dunst wins the hot body/busted face award, but that isn't enough to win me over.

"300" was also simultaneously badass and gay. If you like watching crazy shredded, half naked guys ripping each other to pieces (put your dick back in your pants, Mike, this isn't a J-Crew catolog), then you might get off on this.

"Notes on a Scandal," with Judi Dench and Kate Blanchet was really, really good. You think it is one kind of movie, and it turns out to be way more. Check it out.

"Dreamgirls" bored me enough that I turned it off before it was finished, and I had been drinking and everything, so that says a lot. I get the impression that like "Beloved," this would have been a really good film if I identified with black women in any way, shape, or form.

"Infection" was a Japanese horror film that I caught on cable. It has a bunch of doctors in a hospital dealing with some nasty green stuff. Interesting and creepy until the last 15 minutes, when I got so confused that it pretty much negated all the creepiness before it. I can't say I understood it, I wouldn't pay money for it, but it beat out re-runs of south park for my attention.

The Definition of Irony

So, one of the things that I am aware of as having some need for improvement is my ability to consistently answer my phone. As I look at my business model, it occurs to me that this is going to be a fairly necessary skill, right? So I called one of the three answering services in Ithaca to see what their rates were like, and if they did booking, etc.

Okay, here is where it gets funny: This is a business whose sole function is to answer the phone and take messages for you, right? I call, and get a garden variety voice mail, like, with a robot. So I leave my name, number, questions, etc. It has been three days since I called, and they still haven't gotten back to me.

Speaks well of their service, no?

In other news, we have given the horse people their thirty day notice, and I wrote a fairly harsh email to them, which is pretty damn out of character for me. I am officially graduated from acupuncture school, with a Master of Science Degree, and I am waiting to take my boards. Sophie is adorable. Gotta go.

Noreaster

So, today is the day that I finally go back to Rachel's house and pick up the last of my shit.

What? It's only been a year and three quarters since I left...

Honestly, I think that I have been dreading it because I have a real aversion to talking to her about having a baby. It isn't because I am ashamed, or that I feel like I owed her a better explanation, or anything like that; it is merely weird and uncomfortable, and I have built a whole lifestyle out of avoiding weird and uncomfortable situations.

That said, I am totally amped to pick up my bowflex, my digital video camera, my books, my DVD's, and my stereo. I am not as psyched to pick up the enormous mountain of crap that neither of us wants, but my procrastination in this matter leaves me with no choice but to accept and haul out. I am sure that any crappy old furniture, gloves without mates, and boxes of musty paper are going to be coming home with me today. I just hope it takes less than three hours, because the moving van people close early on Sundays.

Yesterday was the last day of the Acupuncture portion of the program, and save a couple of make-up clinic shifts, I am done with my M.S. in acupuncture, and can procede to getting my license to practice. It would have been more sad to finish if I wasn't going to be on campus eight hours a week next tri. Nonetheless, it is weird to actually finish something. I never finish things. I didn't finish my B.A. Maybe this can usher in a new chapter in my life. Probably not, but maybe.

Anyway, right now I am reading a few good things:

"Drawing From the Right Side of Your Brain," which utilizes drawing exercises to induce a kind of meditative state. As gay as this sounds, it is actually amazing to do, and you almost instantaneously can produce reproductions of drawings that are jaw-droppingly good. By the end of it, you learn to "see" in right brain mode, which enables you to process visual information in a much different way. This is good for me, because I am one of the most verbal people I know, talking myself through the most menial tasks.

I am also working out of the book "250 Essential Chinese Characters" which teaches you exactly what it says it is going to teach you. Making Chinese characters is another right brain mode of operating, at least for me, and it turns words into pictures, which are whole units of thought. I like doing it, and it will give me a jump when I start taking the Chinese class at Cornell so I can finally finish that elusive undergrad degree.

"A Qin Bowei Anthology" is a collection of essays from one of the modern master physicians in China, and he was clearly a brilliant guy. This is another reason that I want to learn Chinese... everything I have learned so far has been translations of basic texts, and translations of the classics. All advanced clinical books are either by English speakers, or they are by Chinese who learned English. There are literally thousands of journal articles, essays, and books from the last 100 years that really bring Chinese medicine into the modern world, and right now, I can't read a whole hell of a lot of them.

"The Dead Zone" by you-know-who. At this point, I am a little ashamed to admit that if I am going to read fiction, it is most likely going to be graphic, or Stephen King.

"V for Vendetta:" After reading Watchmen, and From Hell, I have decided that Allen Moore is an unbelievable genius, and that his graphic novels are better than almost any other medium. V for Vendetta is definitely more comic book style, but still completely fuckin' fantastic.

We have seen a handful of movies that are worth checking out:

"Blood Diamond" had lots of child soldiers killing each other, and was good. "The Departed" was easily the best movie of the year. "Children of Men" was really interesting, mostly because of the shots you see through windows of moving cars, which is an unusual way to show stuff, but highly effective. "My Super Ex Girlfriend" was supposed to be a chick flick, but I think that I was stoned enough that it actually was very funny.

Alright, this is enough.

Angry Blogging

I am sure that this isn't a good idea; that there are some internet rules about this. I am sure that it is the kind of thing that I will only regret later.

That's right. I am going to write an angry rant about my wife. Here. For public consumption. And you know what? The only person who is going to read it is Mike White. So this is kind of like calling him and bitching to him, which would be something a normal friend would do. Anyway, back to the matter at hand.

My wife is pissing me off. Here's why:

She tries to get peace and quiet by being rude to me. At least, that is what it feels like. But seriously, let me ask you something: If the person who you care for the most is being short, bitchy, physically guarded, and generally unpleasant, what is your stock response?

For some, it might be to give that person space, room to breath. Maybe it would be compassion; some kind of open-ness, some kind of sympathy.

For me, I become a prick. I start by asking her what's wrong, over and over and over again, not accepting any short, bitchy, or generally unpleasant answers. Then, I tell her, "fine," and I pretend to leave for about forty five seconds or so, before I come back in the room, ready to pop off. Generally, I am full angry at this point, and I tell her all kinds of things about herself, most of it fairly unconstructive.

She responds with more general unpleasantness, the worst of all being eye-rolling, which pisses me off to absolutely no end. Anyone who thinks that rolling their eyes is a good way to get someone to leave them alone and stop pressing their point is sorely mistaken. In fact, the second I see those pupils disappear, I am officially going to continue arguing, if only to piss her off just a little more.

I think I should digress here: Andrea doesn't like to talk about stuff, I do. In general. That's not entirely true, of course. In an odd, slightly cruel gender reversal, all Andrea ever really wants to discuss at great lengths is pragmatics: we'll be here until then, when we will do this, at this time, and then this will happen, and then we will do that. I, on the other hand, am a wishy washy talk it out kind of a guy, and I always want to talk about my feelings. So sometimes this doesn't compute, obviously. In any case, our most deleterious pattern in our relationship is that I get pissed and talk talk talk, and she just sits there rolling her eyes at me.

But I don't understand why all you moody people out there don't get this: If you really want to be left alone, then DON'T ACT LIKE YOU WANT ATTENTION. People who really want to be left alone go off and are alone. They don't sit there making faces and generally acting like a two year old with a thunder cloud over their heads. Being rude is a good way to pick a fight, but it is an awful way to get space for yourself. Or, here's a thought: How's about you grow the fuck up? The world is a shitty, imperfect place, and maybe there isn't a whole lot of room for your bad mood; maybe you need to learn to suck it up, be an optimist. Maybe when shit turns really bad, that's the only choice you have: Suck it up, or don't. And if you choose "don't" then you start drinking, or you go on anti-depressants.

But whatever, I just can't let stuff go because I feel like my mom's body crapped out before I had a chance to resolve stuff with her. And, I have a broken relationship with the archetypal feminine because she was sick. Beyond that, my creative and growing identity was stifled by my stepmother's controlling tendancies, which caused me to rebel in a passive aggressive form of procrastination towards all things that I don't want to do.

My Dad is cool, though.

God, I miss drinking.

Seacrest, out.

Good things

So I have nailed down a space to practice acupuncture for after I graduate. I will be an "associate" at Xin Xing Acupuncture with Dr. Xinmin Zhao. This rocks. For starters, I only have to pay a small percentage of my per-patient fee to the business, and I get use of a crazy nice medical office space. Further, I get to learn from one of the best practitioners of Chinese medicine that I know. It's a relief, I tell you.

I'll tell you what else-- it was sweaty work walking in to someone else's clinic and asking if I could set up shop there. By the end of it, she was pumped. So was I. And my wife may think I am a big pussy (shut up, Mike), but it took some balls to sell my self to that woman, and I am proud.

I just read "Understanding Comics," by Scott McCloud, and it rocked my world. It is a treatise on life through the lens of, well comics. Again, shut up, Mike. This will definitely change the way that you look at any kind of cartoon/comix. It blew my friggin' mind.

I am also on page 249 of the novel, and it is just starting to make my hands sweat a little. I have given myself an April 20th deadline to finish the goddamned thing. I'm shooting for around 100 more pages, which will bring it in at just around eighty thousand words. Incidently, I hit the fifty thousand work mark a while ago, completing the national novel writing month in just four months.

Good stuff, all around.