4038 Stuff

Sunday, May 17, 2015

The baby bird in the bathroom is getting feistier.  He sits and opens up if he's hungry, but if he's full he runs away and hides.  That's good, I guess.

If your feelings about modern art are anything like mine, you'll like the following video.  Seems like today, art is not about craft, or talent, or uplifting beauty, or leading us to see more than a simple picture, it's all about marketing.  About convincing people that this "creation" is art.  Usta be art was obvious, something extraordinary, something I couldn't do.  Well, I don't have the words.  This guy does:


[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lNI07egoefc]

Would you like to commit a murder and get away with it?  Even if there are witnesses?  Even if you confess?  See http://nowiknow.com/the-perfect-crime-scene/.  That article is very short, and has all the info you need, but it contains a link to an analysis by a law scholar that's quite a bit longer, but well worth reading if you happen to be, like me, a law wonk.

And now a list of my latest peeves:

• It's not free reign.  It's free rein.  Like a horse that's allowed to go where it wants.
• It's a necklace, not a neckless.  Sheesh!  I'm seeing this one more and more lately.
• It's a mock turtleneck, not a mock neck.
• To obey the rules is to toe the line, not to tow the line, unless you happen to be a mule on a canal towpath.
• Wander and wonder are different words.  Even my SIL Hercules screws this one up.
• You don't wreck havoc; you wreak havoc.
• Massive means having great mass.  It is NOT a synonym for huge.  A rock can be massive.  A large balloon is probably not.  And a spat is definitely not massive, no matter how angry anyone got.

It's Mensa election time, and I'm getting emails with candidate campaign statements.  A lot of people have been unhappy with the direction Mensa has been taking, so many of the candidates are promising to change things.  One woman's proposals sounded really good to me, I was ready for go out and campaign for her, and then she screwed it up royally, turned me off completely.  She started a paragraph at the end with the sentence, "If you have a complaint with no potential solution, then stop."  She doesn't mean that if there is no solution, then shut up.  The remaining paragraph made it clear that if you see a problem, don't bother bringing it to her attention unless you already know how, and have the means to know how, to fix it.  Provide a solution, or don't mention it at all.

I HATE that attitude.  Ran into it several times with managers in IBM. 

Sometimes you are in a position to see that a certain course of action is guaranteed to run into disaster, but you are not in a position to do anything about it.  You can see the danger, but you don't have all the pieces to figure it out what to do about it. The solution requires that several disciplines work together to figure it out.  Like engineering, financial, and legal, who each have their own view of the situation, their own goals.  No, you are not allowed to raise a red flag with someone who can take it up the line, pull multiple divisions together.  Nope.  If you can't tell them what to do to fix it, then you are supposed to just sit there and watch the train run off the tracks.  In parts of IBM, bringing up a problem without also supplying the complete ideal solution is known as "Eek-a-mouse".

I really really hate that.

I especially hated it when in the end, the train ran off the tracks, as predicted.
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3743 You could play professionally!

Sunday, June 16, 2013

I don't care who does the electing as long as I get to do the nominating.

--Boss Tweed--

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One day in the late'70s, when I was living near Washington, DC, I went to a Mensa Regional Gathering in DC.  After the usual Saturday evening banquet, I stayed in the banquet hall after most people had left, talking to a few other laggards.  A guy about my age went up on the stage where there was a piano, and started playing.

He was absolutely fantastic!  He was playing classic compositions, but he was adding to it, takeoffs that the composer never wrote.  I was amazed.  I didn't know that a simple piano could make such sounds. The other people didn't seem to notice and gradually drifted out, until it was just the two of us left in the room.

I stood below the stage apron, unnoticed, as he played.  When he finally stopped, I told him that I thought he was wonderful.  I asked if he played professionally, and he said no.  I (and I can't believe now that I actually said it) told him that he should.  He laughed and said that it's hard work, the business end is stressful, and "besides, there's no money in it."  We introduced ourselves, and he became one of my favorite people in Washington Mensa.  He was simple, gentle, and sweet, but in conversation quietly came out with some stunning insights.

Even though I knew his name, an unusual name difficult to forget, even for name-disabled me, it wasn't until much later that I found out who he was.

I just a few minutes ago found out that Tandyn Almer died last January.  He was an amazing person (an obituary).  Even though I haven't seen him in thirty years, I will mourn the fact that he isn't still out there, quietly being him.
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3405 Stupid

Sunday, November 27, 2011

It always amazes me to think that every house on every street is full of so many stories, so many triumphs and tragedies, and all we see are yards and driveways.
-- Glenn Close --

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There are some Mensans who write compile and publish logical puzzle, brain teaser, and riddle books that are published with the Mensa logo and name on them. They're "approved and endorsed by" Mensa. I don't know what that means, whether anyone in authority ever read them, but I think many of them are an embarrassment to the organization.

When Jay was first diagnosed with the brain tumor, he was worried about losing logical function, so we bought some of those books to "test" him. We had planned to work through a bit every so often, and then maybe we'd be able to see or not see any loss of function, and it would be good mental exercise.

We got through maybe five pages in several books, and threw the damn things away. Puzzle after puzzle was poorly posed, so poorly posed that we came up with two or three possible answers that fit. For example, in one puzzle involving family relationships, the "answer" stated that blah blah blah, "because John was only 12 at the time and therefore cannot be the father." Duh? Many 12-year-olds are perfectly capable of fathering a child.

Others assumed without stating a 2-dimensional relationship, completely ignoring that fact that there were several other possible answers in 3-dimensions.

The books made us angry.

A few days ago, I found this: http://www.funny.com/cgi-bin/WebObjects/Funny.woa/wa/funny?fn=C2APC&Funny_Jokes=MENSA_IQ_Test. It bugged me, because it presents itself as a "Mensa test". It isn't. At best, it's a sampling of simple riddles from some of the books above, and repeats the sloppiness of those books. Yeah, it's a joke site, but ... really ....

I got so annoyed I tried to comment, but commenting required registering, and I don't register on any but commercial sites with good reputations (first step in avoiding spam and viruses).

And then today, a woman whom I know personally to be intelligent to the point of social disability posted some of the riddles on a Mensa social site.

My brain exploded.

Examples:

Captain Frank and some of the boys were exchanging old war stories. Art Bragg offered one about how his grandfather led a battalion against a German division during World War I. Through brilliant maneuvers, he defeated them and captured valuable territory. After the battle he was presented with a sword bearing the inscription "To Captain Bragg for Bravery, Daring and Leadership. World War I. From the Men of Battalion 8." Captain Frank looked at Art and said, "You really don't expect anyone to believe that yarn, do you?"
What's wrong with the story?

The official answer: It's a lie. The inscription wouldn't have been "World War I".
My answer: There's nothing wrong with the story. "After" is not defined. The sword could have been presented at the 40th reunion of the battle/battalion.

How many times can you subtract the number 5 from 25?

The Official answer: Once. Thereafter, you are subtracting 5 from 20, 15, 10, etc.
My answer: An infinite number of times, and I get 20 every time.

There were an electrician and a plumber waiting in line for admission to the International Home Show," One of them was the father of the other's son. How could this be possible?

The Official answer: They were husband and wife.
My answer: If this confused you at all, you are very naive. They could still both be men. In any other joke, one of them would be a milkman. (Or, these days, they could be a gay couple who have adopted.)

Yeah, I understand that these examples are poor choices because they're "Ha! Gotcha!" riddles, whereas the brain teasers in the published books are much more serious - but I don't happen to have any of the serious ones at my fingertips. My objections, however, are the same. They don't consider other views or out-of-the-box thinking.
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3353 Flood?

Thursday, September 8, 2011

“Some people make your life better by walking into it,
other people will make your life better by walking out of it.”

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I'm north, at the old house. I plan to head back south this evening, with a stop in Goshen, NY, in Orange County, only slightly out of the way, to attend a Mensa dinner. I haven't seen those people in six months. I keep trying to go to dinners and events, but the weather, health, and schedules haven't cooperated.

So I really thought I'd make it this evening.

But TV news reports flash flooding all over Ulster and Orange counties (west of the Throughway) , and the NYS Throughway southbound is CLOSED between exits 18 and 17. I'd be getting on at exit 19 and off at 16 to go to the dinner. The detour would be through local roads in Ulster county, which is not good, since there is a good chance of flooding, and a guarantee of being full of Throughway traffic.

I put out a call for information and route advice from locals on the Mensa Yahoo group, but have not had a response yet. I'm not sure what to do.

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11:00 am - Just got a response to my group note for advice, from Roman (long-time readers, remember Roman?). He says the Throughway is now open except for the shoulders, and that 9W south to 84 is open and clear if I still want to detour, and that I can call 511 to get road condition info.

That's one good thing you can say about Roman. He always has good info about everything.

4:00 pm - Went to visit Piper and ran into The Angel, my CPA. He says I don't really want to go to Goshen. Even if the roads are open and the bridges are up, Goshen itself is flooded and they have no power, so the restaurant probably won't be open.

11:30 pm - I went anyway. I'd be headed south, which is where I want to eventually end up anyway, so I may as well try. All roads were open, there was no sign of flooding anywhere along the way, and Goshen was fine. I got to see several of the people I'd been missing, and it was a good evening.

You know, I think there's simply a lot of exaggeration in the reports of conditions. Kind of like when it's windy, and a roof blows off a building, and everybody yells "Tornado!", when it's really just strong wind. It's tiresome.
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3286 How it all began

Sunday, June 19, 2011

In Mexican Spanish slang, "Mensa" means "stupid/crazy woman".

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I have erased the original content of this post because it's just taking up room, and there are versions of it all over the internet. Just search for "bay of ezekiel" (you must include the quotes, or you get football stuff), and you'll find it. (Some versions are longer and more filled out than others.)

The topic is how the internet began.
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3213 Daughter Takes Charge

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Caring isn’t what you feel, it’s what you do. If you don’t do, you don’t care.

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Friday night at the hotel I fell asleep with pillows piled all around me, while reading a book. I woke Saturday morning all twisted over to the side. My back hurt. This is normal. I have four areas of my back with delicate disks. It usually works itself out in an hour or three with a little stretching and some aspirin to take down the inflammation and swelling around the nerve. Once every four or five years it goes out so badly that I can't straighten up or walk. Then I find a comfortable position and stay in it for a few days until the inflammation settles down.

A pinched nerve in the back can cause other problems, depending on what that set of nerves does - like shutting down peristalsis and the "bladder-is-full" nerves, or exactly the opposite, causing a sense of urgency in those areas, or as with Ex#2 causing incontinence. My right foot and ankle still have some residual numbness from a back attack in 1983, when the nerve was pinched so badly it died, and shooting pain down my left hip is common.

So naturally, I thought that's what this was. I washed and dressed to go downstairs because there was a presentation I wanted to attend. I didn't put any makeup on because I felt pretty rocky.

A half hour into the presentation I was back in my room, panting from the pain. If you put your hand around that large muscle on your hip bone with the fingers pointing toward your spine, the pain would be right under the tips of your fingers. Too low for kidney, right? Has to be spine, right?

The urgency hit, both. Over and over, until bowels and bladder were absolutely empty, but I still felt like I had to go. The pain was so bad I was unable to stop moaning and panting - deep deep fast breaths - and I knew the panting could cause nausea, and sure enough - after five trips to the bowl I was throwing up only foamy yellow water.

This was bad. Real bad. I'm too far from home to hurt this bad. Today is Saturday. I have to get home, now.

I thought of a dozen ways to get both me and my car home. I knew I couldn't drive myself (even though I did drive myself to the ER in 2002 with the gall bladder attack with almost the same degree of pain and throwing up, but that was a 10-minute drive, and this is two hours). I could ask some Mensans for help, but that would be complicated, because I couldn't accept leaving Hal all alone here - at $12 per day for parking, and the possibility of towing once I left the hotel.

I called Daughter and asked if she had any plans for the day, and if not, could she and Hercules come get me, and yeah, I need both of you because someone will have to drive Hal home for me too, I can't leave him in the hotel garage. She said she'd come, but that I should call 911 and go to the hospital. I said I didn't want to do that. She said ok, and she'd be there in a little over two hours.

I guess I sounded pretty bad to her, because within minutes hotel security was at my door, followed by a hotel manager, and I could hear the ambulance siren coming down the street. Yeah, Daughter had made some calls.

I gave up to the pain and the experts and let it all proceed. ER, CT scan, xrays, grateful for pain meds, grateful for the urologist willing to come in. Immensely grateful that within minutes of my saying I was freezing, I was wrapped in the most wonderful hot blanket, that held its heat for the longest time.

The anesthesiologist planned to use that "twilight" stuff, but I told him either we went with a simple sedative, or completely out, because the last time I got that other halfway crap, I had no short term memory for literally years. I do handle full anesthesia well. I rebound from the deep stuff quickly.

The kids arrived before I went to the OR. They stayed in my hotel room Saturday night, and actually went to some of the activities and programs Saturday night and Sunday morning, with Daughter wearing my id badge. Hercules returned home Sunday evening, and fed Jasper. The hotel was willing to extend the room through Monday at the Mensa group rate for Daughter (on my credit card). Daughter drove Hal back Monday evening. She said that after the first few miles, she enjoyed driving him, but once she got home she chickened out and didn't attempt to put him in the garage.

[At one point, a doctor asked me if I would be sure to do something-or-other. I said, "You met my daughter. Do you think there's any chance I won't?" He laughed.]

We didn't know when I'd be discharged until it actually happened late morning on Tuesday. I considered renting a car one-way if possible, or finding a bus/train combination, or a limousine, since I didn't have to worry about Hal. I called Daughter, and she said she'd come get me, but I wouldn't be until later because she had some appointments.

She picked me up around five-thirtyish, I think. Or six-thirtyish, maybe. I forget.

What she didn't tell me was that one of the appointments was with her OB. She's 80% effaced and 2 centimeters dilated. The doctor said "See you in two weeks." I was shocked. If she'd told me that during the phone call, I might have faked an aide coming in with the news that they'd found a limousine service for me!

Yeah, moving down here was a good idea.

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When I was young, I had extremely low blood pressure, like low 70s over mid to high 30s. It climbed slowly, and lately it's been like 123-128 over the low 80s. I've been very unhappy with that.

In the hospital, it was consistently mid-70s to low 80s over low to mid 40s.

Shocking!

It wasn't just from lying in bed. I was up and roaming the halls (speed walking, actually) when I wasn't hooked up to an IV, right out of the OR, and I wasn't on any meds other than the antibiotic. Actually, I now recall that I used one of those machines in a drug store a few weeks ago, and it registered so low I thought it was broken.

I'm anxious to check it now. My own cuff and stethoscope are in the Suzuki at the old house, so I can't do it myself. I need to find one of those machines again.

I wonder what caused that, why it has fallen so much in the past year or so? The new diet, maybe? I hope it's a good thing, not another ominous sign we're ignoring.
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3209 Interesting weekend in White Plains

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Sometimes when I'm angry I have the right to be angry,
but that doesn't give me the right to be cruel.

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I went to a weekend Mensa gathering last Friday, at the Crowne Plaza in White Plains. I had volunteered to work at the registration desk, handing out the id badges and the programs, so I arrived early. I like working the registration desk because you get to meet almost everyone who comes in.

After my shift I hung out in the hospitality room until about midnight.

The next morning, I got visited in my room by hotel staff and security, and then got a ride to the White Plains Hospital Center (strange name...Hospital Center?) in an ambulance with sirens and lights and everything, followed by a CT scan and a bunch of stuff, and then into the OR.

My left kidney finally got thoroughly pissed (that's a pun) at being ignored for the past year and a half at least, and attacked me. It was very nasty about it. It should have obeyed that green quote above.

The short story is that there was a large stone firmly wedged in a tube (and a smaller stone further down) but they couldn't remove the larger stone because the kidney was very infected, lots of edema and general nastiness, and they didn't want to touch the stone until the infection was gone. So they put in a stent (they went in through the bladder, no cutting) so the kidney could drain, put me on four days of IV antibiotics, and kept me captive until my temperature stayed below 99 and the cultures told them what oral antibiotic would work. (It turns out all of them.)

So now I'm home. Pills four times a day for 21 days. I have to find a urologist here, and once the kidney is no longer infected, the stent and stone need to be, uh, addressed. Exactly what and how remain to be determined.

In the hospital, I walked. Round and round the halls of my section, over and over, whenever I wasn't actually attached to the IV (the IV was for 1/2 hour every six hours), until they gave me permission to widen my route, and I walked the whole fifth floor. But today I still feel wrung out. (Snork. Probably from blood loss! They drew blood like every four hours. Or sleep deprivation. You're not allowed two consecutive hours of sleep. When I left the hospital I noticed a sign in the lobby that they were having a blood drive. Hmmmmm.)

That's the me part, but I figure I should get this out now so folks don't think I disappeared.

Later, the rest of the story.
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3182 Metaphor

Monday, March 7, 2011

Plants are living things too - they're just easier to catch and you can’t hear them scream.

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Back in post 3178 Why I disliked poetry professors, I said I hated the way they made us analyze the meaning of a poem, as if anyone could really know what the author was thinking. Not only that, but the profs seemed to think that even though there could be many interpretations, theirs was the correct one.

Well, last weekend I went to a Mensa gathering, and was reminded of one I attended in Washington, I think, in the late '70s. One of the speakers was a semi-famous British poet, and one of the things he said was that he is pleased when people see one of his works as a metaphor for something that has meaning to them, but he hates when someone states that this is obviously what he meant. He gave an example. (I don't remember his name, and I don't remember the poem he used as his example, so I'll make one up that comes pretty close to his example.)

He was going through a period of depression, sort of writer's block. One morning he was sitting in the breakfast room, glanced out the window, and saw a patch of bright summer morning sun shining on the rose bushes, dark maroon bushes backed by white climbing roses trellised up the garden wall. The roses glowed, and he'd never seen them so beautiful. The sight made him feel so good, he wanted to capture the effect so that when he felt down, he could revisit it. So he wrote the poem, right there at the breakfast table.

Later he realized that the poem contained a lot of possible meanings, that it could be interpreted many ways. That's often what makes a good poem great. There was one interpretation that he didn't consider. Others saw the sky as representing Heaven, and the sun as God, the maroon roses as sinners and the white roses climbing up the wall toward Heaven as the virtuous, but that God's light and love shone on both alike. Very Victorian.

That interpretation didn't bother him - if people wanted to see it that way, that's ok, although he didn't because he is atheist. What really pissed him off was when people decided that he saw himself as one of the maroon roses, a sinner, and the poem represented his repudiation of atheism, that it was an epiphany for him. That became the accepted interpretation in academia no matter how much he denied it.

He almost whined, "I just wanted to remember the sun on the roses. That's all."

I think anyone other than the author who says, "This is what it means" without adding the "to me" is being incredibly arrogant.
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3180 Gathering, Image, Id card

Sunday, March 6, 2011

There can’t be sin without knowledge.

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Friday I went 13 minutes up the road to the Central NJ regional gathering. It started at 4 pm on Friday, and went 'til about noonish today, with conversation and food in the hospitality room, a slate of speakers, and people from all over the north east in attendance. I heard one of the organizers say they had about 200 people registered, but I don't know where they were all hiding, because it didn't seem like that many to me.

The Man and I had met at this gathering four years ago, so this is sorta like an anniversary for us. It was a fluke that he was there that year. He just doesn't enjoy the gatherings.

I got a room at the host hotel for Friday night, but not for Saturday, because not much happens on Sunday anyway, so I figured I'd leave late Saturday night.

I sent The Man a note mid-week to tell him I'd be there and would love to see him. He's been working in Delaware, so I was a bit shocked (and very happy) when he said yes. He arrived Friday evening, bearing sushi, and we had dinner in the room. He'd said he had to leave on Saturday for a 4 pm dinner with his son, but what I didn't realize was that he'd be meeting his son in Maryland. So he left a little before noon Saturday. That means he drove from Delaware to central NJ to see me, then drove back through Delaware to Maryland - I was way out of his way. I am gratified. It feels good.

Back in the Hospitality room, many people were commenting (not exactly complaining) that they were disappointed in the speakers. Seems like nobody was up to par. There were no topics that interested me until a 4 pm talk on "Humor", by a guy who was the 2006 Time magazine "Man of the Year". I thought that would be good. Like what makes something funny? What are the differences in regional or national humor? What effect does laughter have on one's attitude and health? On brain chemistry? Why do some people find some things funny (like slapstick, the Three Stooges, the Marx Brothers, Seinfeld, Two and a Half Men) that others (like me) find offensive? What is the anatomy of a joke? There were so many approaches that would have been interesting.

A series of ancient jokes wasn't it.

I actually left the room before it ended, and I rarely walk out on a speaker. Sorry. I was tired (a night with The Man does that...) and I was falling asleep sitting there, which I suspect is worse than quietly creeping out.

There was nothing else on the roster that interested me, so after wandering around a bit and talking to a few people, I left. I was home by 6:30 pm, and in bed by 10.

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When a perfectly presentable person looks in the mirror, and sees a fat slob, or an ugly face, or is generally unhappy with their appearance, we have names for that. It's seen as a psychological problem. A disconnect between reality and perception.

I wonder if there's a name for my problem. When I look in the mirror, I'm happy with what I see. I think I look not only fine, but downright sexy, verging on pretty. Everything about my mirror image pleases me, and I think I'm being critical and realistic.

But when I see a photo of me, I'm shocked. Look at the wrinkles! The scars! The sags! The belly sticking out! The thunder thighs! The thin shapeless hair! The droopy neck! The yellow crooked teeth! Where did all those chins come from! My God, that nose is HUGE! Who IS that person!

And then I'm embarrassed. I wonder, when people look at me, do they see my mirror image or the photo image? I guess I have a disconnect between reality and perception, too. But is it good or bad? Healthy or unhealthy?

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I keep hearing that the Conservatives, Republicans, Tea Party folks, most, anyway, want less government messing in our lives. But read this: http://www.switched.com/2011/03/03/real-id-act-republicans-push-to-enact/.

It seems to me that what they really mean is less regulation of corporations and big business (campaign contributors), but more messing in and control of the lives of the "little people".

I don't see where a national id card would be any safer than the existing ids. The terrorists used faked driver's licenses. Would faking a national card be any more difficult? Especially when much of the info comes from state DMVs anyway? Seems to me it's more like an excuse to gather information on me, and you, and everyone else. That's all. An extension of the Patriot Act that has already destroyed our privacy, gone a major step farther.
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3174 Now I'm getting scared.

Saturday, February 26, 2011

“The most ineffective workers are systematically moved
to the place where they can do the least damage: management.”
-- Scott Adams --

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FW is heating up, and I don't understand why. I wouldn't be surprised to find her coming at me with a jar of acid. I'm not kidding. I almost never lock my front door during daylight, but I'm locking it now. She's flat-out crazy.

I have found that I can usually let go of things by writing them out, so here goes. The history. This is pretty long, as is every study in madness.

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She's a member of Mid-Hudson Mensa. At a group dinner in late 2006, I mentioned that I couldn't remember ever going out for New Year's Eve. She mentioned a dinner and a good retro band, but she couldn't afford it, so we decided to go together, and I paid for the evening for both of us.

We enjoyed it. We started going to parties, dances, dinners, movies, and so on together. She and I are very different (she's a nudist, heavy marijuana user, politically involved, artistic, and she has described herself as bi in the past "but is no longer"), so I found her views fascinating. She's on disability, so I usually footed the bill. I didn't mind, because I have it and at least I was getting out.

This was also the period when Roman was jerking me around, and I needed someone to talk with. She was madly in love with a guy who was living with another woman, with whom he had two or three small children. They used to get together at a place back in the woods near Mohonk where nudists hung out all summer. (She tried many times to talk me into going there with her, but I'm absolutely not a nudist, not even close, and from the stories, it wasn't a place for people just to be free of clothing restrictions - it was more a place for gays to cruise and straights to roll around together in the poison ivy - very sexually charged.) Or he'd show up at her house and they'd roll around there, then he'd leave. He kept promising her he was going to leave the other woman, but it showed no signs of happening.

Anyway, within a few months, she was chewing me out for not being attentive enough. She informed me that she expected chatty phone calls, a minimum of once a week. I'd told her many times that I hate the telephone, when I make a call to anyone, it's brief, to conduct some kind of business or ask a question, I just don't EVER call anyone just to chat. I hate the telephone! Even my cell phone was turned on only in emergencies. She continued to castigate me for not calling. She said some nasty things to me over my not calling. (Note - she rarely called me because it was a toll call.) She said hurtful things that left me feeling bad.

Things bumped on that way through most of 2007. I, by early summer, had started turning down invitations, because it seemed that no matter what I did, how I was, it wasn't what she thought I should do/say/be, it just wasn't enough for her. She was very demanding, and vicious when things didn't go as she wanted.

In September of 2007, she decided she wanted to go to the Mensa Hallowe'en gathering in Chicago, but she didn't want to go alone. I wasn't particularly interested, but she talked me into it. What the heck, this is supposed to be one of the largest and best of the regional gatherings, so ok, at least I'd have someone to go with. (I absolutely wouldn't have gone alone, so this was an opportunity.) I said yes, and paid for my gathering registration and four nights at the hotel, and made the flight reservation.

A week later, she informed me that she couldn't afford both the gathering registration and the plane ticket. I shrugged and paid her gathering registration. A few days after that, she asked if she could share my room, since she couldn't afford a room of her own. By now, I'm already into this for two registrations, four days' room for me, and my plane ticket, almost $1,000. Either I find her a place to sleep, or cancel everything and take the loss, or I end up going alone. I don't share a room, ever, except with a man I'm sleeping with, it just doesn't work for me, so I shrugged and reserved another room for four nights for her.

Yeah, you feel what's coming next? A few days later she says she can't afford the plane ticket. I somewhere acquired some balls and wished her luck finding a courier ticket or something. No, I couldn't afford to fly her out. Sorry.

I guess she found some money somewhere, because she made it to the gathering. I arrived Thursday afternoon, she arrived in the evening, and we had dinner at the hotel. She was having new troubles with that guy, and talked steadily about him during dinner. I knew she wouldn't want to hear what I had to say about him, so I listened, I really was attentive, "uh huh"ed at the appropriate moments, didn't say anything against him, and refrained from changing the topic.

She didn't sleep in her room Thursday night. She spent the whole night in the hospitality suite, drinking and talking, and then slept most of Friday.

Friday night was the Hallowe'en party. She decided she was going to go '60s and had asked me if I knew how to do a beehive. I said yes, so she decided I was going to do her hair early that evening. At a time of her choosing, of course. It took 1.5 hours. There were two presentations I wanted to see that I blew off to do her hair. She slept in her room that night, BUT, and I'm sorry, but I found this unbelievable, she informed me that night that she was leaving the gathering in the morning to meet a blind date in Chicago, and would be going clubbing with him Saturday and Sunday nights, and would be staying with him until her return home Monday. I asked if she had canceled the hotel room for those nights, and she acted surprised.

So Saturday morning I frogmarched her down to the desk and made sure she canceled the room, and wished her luck with the rest of the weekend. So, except for dinner Thursday, doing her hair Friday, and checking her out on Saturday morning, I was there alone for the gathering. Exactly what I didn't want to do. I felt royally used. She just wanted a trip to Chicago.

Well the next week, she called me and chewed me out up one side and down the other for not being sympathetic enough at dinner Thursday! I, like a guilty puppy, just took her abuse. I said nothing. In fact, I think I may even have apologized. It was only later that I realized that I had done nothing wrong. No thank you for the registration and room, no thank you for blowing off my plans and doing her hair instead, nothing. I felt royally used.

I did nothing, said nothing. But the next time she called, wanting to go to dinner or something, I told her that I didn't think I could be around her any more, that she made me feel bad too often, that I had worked very hard to learn to like myself and I couldn't allow her to keep tearing me down, so no, I don't think our getting together is a good idea.

That was 2007.

Now, she was the president of the local Mensa group, and I had volunteered to rewrite the Bylaws. The sessions were to be held at her home, as central to the three of us on the committee. That worked out ok. We were civil. And then something terrifying happened in April of 2008. It's amusingly described here: http://thesilkentouch.blogspot.com/2008/04/1752-psycho-ex-girlfriend.html.

I had to "break up with her" all over again.

In June, another group member, John, was having a cookout and invited all the active members. When he called her to invite her, he asked for other members' phone numbers. She wouldn't give him my number. She told him not to bother calling me, she'd call me and tell me about it. She never did. When I heard about the cookout, I was a little hurt that everyone but me (I?) had been invited. Of course, no one knew that FW had told John she'd take care of it, John didn't know she hadn't, and of course no one was going to ask John why I hadn't been invited.

That was all in 2008.

In 2009, other people in the group starting having run-ins with her. There was a public incident in a restaurant which resulted in the group treasurer resigning on the spot. Other members of the governing board were accused of undermining her control when they simply did what they thought were their duties. She was getting increasingly paranoid and irrational. A possible contributing factor was that the guy she'd been involved with married the other woman and moved to the Carolinas.

In August of 2009, she had to go to the hospital for surgery, and, amazingly, called me to ask me to take her to the hospital and to help her. I did. Somehow, that's an "of course". I was still thinking we could be civil. That story is here: http://thesilkentouch.blogspot.com/2009/08/2464-day-in-hospital.html.

That was 2009.

In March of 2010, we had the public "F**k you" screaming incident, described at http://thesilkentouch.blogspot.com/2010/03/2803-buck-you-fuddy.html, in case you skipped it in the previous post.

2010 was a group election year. I was on the nominating committee, and I worked hard to get a full slate. Several of the people nominated were people she'd had problems with. She announced that she wasn't going to run for reelection, and I didn't push her to change her mind. She started skipping governing board meetings, and then suddenly resigned her position. She dropped out of the Yahoo group. She withdrew from chapter activities, which was a relief for a lot of people, because they had gone beyond finding her merely difficult to work with, and were beginning to actively fear her.

Several people told me that she had decided to no longer take her medications. She thought she could function without them. That scared ME! Not for me, for her.

Our last direct contact had been the "F**k you" thing. The next time I saw her was at the holiday dinner in December, when we ignored each other, and I got the distinct impression that she expected me to approach her first. Then there was the dinner last week, when I again did not approach her.

And now there's the Yahoo group exchanges detailed in the previous post. All I was trying to do was help her, and she attacked me and anyone who attempted to defend me.

It has gotten worse since.

Yesterday I found something amusing and posted it to the group. This is the complete text of my post:

Subject: Accepting your Oscar: A Guide

From Shoebox.com (http://www.shoeboxblog.com/?p=23859):

Thank the little people, but don't call them "little people" because they HATE that.
Thank the spiritual being of your choice. Point up/over/ wherever (probably not down).
Thank the producer, even if he's just some rich jerk who knows nothing about movie making.
Definitely act surprised. Practice this one in the mirror beforehand.
Thank significant other, then blow a kiss to him/her. Have significant other
practice "in love" face.
Use the exit music to dance your way off stage. "The Worm" would be preferable.

I thought it amusing. If you watch people accepting Oscars, that's exactly how they do it. Except for the last sentence, maybe.

Well, today I got this personal email from another member:

FYI and confidential - [the group moderator] has placed [FW] in a "Moderator must approve posts" category on our Yahoo group. One of her two most recent posts is pending moderator approval. It claims your "Accepting Your Oscar" post is actually a slew of double entendres, and the tone of her note implies paranoia.

Regardless of whether there is anything going on (which I seriously doubt), I don't think anyone else would see that and would simply assume it is "[FW] being [FW]."

[FW] will be at [the regional gathering next weekend].

(I admit I am wrong to post that note when the author has marked it confidential, but if I turn up dead or seriously injured this weekend, show this post to the cops.)

By the way, the other of her "two most recent posts" was "Subject: The excitement is Growing", and contained only this link: http://mediumlarge.wordpress.com/2011/02/24/cats-quote-charlie-sheen/. Now, how does "the excitement is growing" apply as the subject? Do you find it ominous that it's hate-filled ranting?

So. I'm seriously scared. It will be impossible to avoid her at the gathering, and if nobody shows up at her Oscar party tomorrow night she WILL blame me. That's just the way she thinks. And she WILL retaliate. I'm serious. But I can't allow her to keep me from going to the gathering. I won't hide from her. I think I'm going to have to ask some of the other friends there to act as bodyguard. Never leave me alone.
.

3173 Foiled again

Friday, February 25, 2011

Next time you’re stuck in traffic, remember - you ARE the traffic.

---------------------------------------

I had told the world I would be heading to the old house today, with the van, and I intended to bring back loads and loads of stuff Saturday or Sunday morning. I've GOT to get moving on this.

The forecast is rain rain rain here and all the way up the road, where it becomes snow at the old house. Worse, they predict wind, with gusts up to 60 mph.

Are you kidding me?!

I guess there's no point in trying.

--------------------------------

FW is getting vicious again.

In December, I went to a Mensa holiday dinner with about 30 people, and she was there. She was sitting at a different table, and neither she nor I said hello. At one point in the evening she walked past my table (where she was headed I don't know) with her face averted, but her eyes were slid over at me. I think she expected me to make the first move.

It was one year ago next weekend that she screamed "F**k you!" over and over at me in public (story here: http://thesilkentouch.blogspot.com/2010/03/2803-buck-you-fuddy.html) at the annual Central NJ Mensa Gathering, embarrassing herself so badly that within a few months she resigned as president of the group. Many other people had experienced her wrath on other occasions, and nobody wants to work with her any more. She also withdrew from the Yahoo group where events are posted, topics are discussed, and people RSVP for events.

Well, she's sorta back.

She attended the dinner I went to last week. At least three people had made a point of warning me that she'd be there. I said, "Thanks for the heads-up, but I don't expect any problem. I'll be civil, but I don't intend to give her any openings."

So, as we met at the restaurant, when we were ready to order, she had not yet arrived. Peter mentioned to the waitress that we were expecting one more, and the waitress rolled her eyes and said, "She's probably lost." Turns out FW had called for directions, and the waitress told her blah blah and then turn right at blah blah intersection, and FW said, "No, I turn left there", and argued with the waitress as to where the restaurant was. According to the waitress, it was very unpleasant.

The others at the table decided that the annual Central NJ Gathering was a forbidden topic, because most of us were going, and if it were mentioned, she'd likely ask for a ride and for someone to share a hotel room with her. (To her, "share a room" means you pay for it and she sleeps in it.)

She arrived. She sat on the same side of the table as me, with Roman between us, so we couldn't really see each other unless we leaned forward. At one point she did lean forward and said she liked my haircut. I said thank you, and a guy across the table asked why I had cut it, and I launched into an explanation involving wind and hats, directed to him, and then the conversation moved on. FW laughed a lot at things that were said, she tried to be pleasant, but I was a little worried because her laugh was a bit too loud and a bit too high pitched. It seemed to me that she was wound pretty tight. All the more reason not to engage her.

Then a notice was posted on the Yahoo group. She was hosting a Oscars night party at her home. I got a little worried, because everyone who might attend had either been seriously offended by her, or was flat-out afraid of her. When a few days went by with no positive RSVPs, I got worried for her. If no one came, it could kick her over the edge.

I knew that there was one thing that always draws Mensans, and that's free food. Her notice had said that there would be "light refreshments." She has always set a good table. Everything is always a little unusual, and always delectable. So I posted a general note that they "[FW]'s refreshments may be light, but they are always delicious".

The shit hit the fan.

First she posted something she'd found on the internet - a list of "backhanded compliments".

Then she posted a public note addressed to me, that she "didn't need any backhanded compliments from" me.

I responded, "That wasn't meant as backhanded. You yourself described them as 'light'. I salivated when I read 'refreshments'. You've always laid a delicious table. Please don't read into it just because it came from me, and you perhaps feel some guilt and perhaps expect retaliation. I don't do that."

(Yeah, a subtle reminder that SHE had attacked ME over and over, and had never apologized. OK, I'm not perfect.)

Her response: "We all know that Silk. You're pure as a newborn babe."

A newish member who has never met either of us posted that she didn't know what was going on between us, but exchanges like that don't exactly encourage inactive members to become active: "Well, this is really going to encourage inactive members to come. Unless there is some existing enmity between the two of you, I can't see how Silk's original remark was anything but completely logical and innocuous. Actually it's the sort of thing I would say myself."

From there others jumped in and it went west, as they say.

Sheesh. All I wanted to do was encourage members to attend her Oscar night party, tempting them with good munchies, to save her from a total rejection, and she attacks me for that. If she commits suicide during the Oscars, I'll feel guilty.

Maybe.

By the way, the suicide reference above sounds snide, but it isn't. She has seriously attempted suicide before, and was committed for an extended period, and she is fragile. And that's why I wanted to save her the pain of Oscar night no-shows. It might not get that bad, but it could tip her into ... into ... wherever that dark place is that she goes when she feels dissed. I just wanted to help.

If she shows up at the annual central NJ gathering next weekend, I don't know what I'll do. It will be impossible to talk with her, it won't be easy to avoid her, and I refuse to leave a room just because she's in it. But I know damn well that if she has any opportunity, she'll attack. She'll blame me for nobody showing up for her Oscars party.

So, anybody have any opinions, suggestions?
.

3168 Life is what happens when you're not looking

Saturday, February 19, 2011

The philosophy of the school room in one generation
will be the philosophy of government in the next.
-- Abraham Lincoln --

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Got this one from my sister - Homemade Implants:


--------------------------------

I haven't been here in a few days. Haven't really been keeping up with others' blogs, either. I guess I've been busy.

Thursday evening I drove northwest to have dinner with the Southern Orange Mensa sub-group. It was supposed to be a 1.5 hour drive, but it took two because I followed the GPS, and he took me down tiny roads, through areas with traffic lights every quarter mile, during rush hour, finishing up with a narrow winding road through the mountains, in the dark. It took two harrowing hours, which, given the route and time of day, was pretty good time. I don't think I'll use the GPS for that trip any more. I'll go north on the highways, then ask his opinion just for the cut over to the west.

After leaving there, I drove northeast another 1.25 hours to the old house.

On Friday I filled more bags and boxes to throw out, recycle, sell, and bring back here. It's still pretty overwhelming. I visited Piper and his daughter at their office before heading back here. Piper was pretty low. His favorite sister had gone into the hospital for surgery in early January, and picked up a MRSA infection that rapidly shut down organs, starting with her kidneys. It's been touch and go since then.

He'd gotten the call Thursday afternoon that she had maybe 48 hours, so he and his niece were wait-listed on a flight to Florida early Saturday morning. Holiday weekend. Bad for travel. Piper's elderly mother is in poor health, and the family had not told her that her daughter was so ill, hoping for a miracle to make it unnecessary, so now Piper is worried about what this will do to his mother.

And, as if all that isn't enough, it looks like his housemate may be having a recurrence of breast cancer.

Not a good week for Piper.

We went to the diner for coffee, and ended up eating an early dinner.

--------------------------------

Just before meeting with Piper, as I was putting the last things into the car, The Hunk came barreling up the driveway. (It's funny, but whenever I see him driving up, he looks like a Mountie.) We talked for a while. It might have been longer, but I had to head down to Peter's office.

Anyway, the Suzy the Suzuki is still there, and he suggested that I start her. I haven't started her on the last few visits because she's been pretty much buried in snow. So, we stomped down the snow on the passenger side so we could get the door open, and I crawled across and started her. Good Girl! She started right up!

Then she started blowing smoke into the passenger cabin. Nothing coming out from under the hood, but definite smoke inside. Turned her off, checked under the hood, nothing burning. Gave it up for now. Next trip north we'll have to figure it out. Maybe a mouse nest in the heater? A belt rubbing? Whatever....

--------------------------------

Today I've been sorting and laundering and distributing what I brought back last night. Went out for lunch with Daughter. Trying to catch up with email, news, and blogs. The online Mensa groups have been buzzing all week with the Watson/Jeopardy thing. And having missed the first of this season's Survivor I had to watch it online.

Life goes on. I play catch up.
.

3249 I've been reading.

Friday, February 4, 2011

Good health is merely the slowest possible rate at which one can die.

------------------------------------------------

Pardon my wandering away this week. Yesterday I accompanied Daughter for a three-hour glucose tolerance test, and then drove a hour and forty-five minutes north to join the old Mensa group for dinner at Gasho.

In between other stuff, I've been reading a lot and listening to the radio, all about Egypt.

If you want the REAL skinny, follow The Sandmonkey.

An excerpt:

... In the meantime, State-owned and affiliated TV channels were showing coverage of Peaceful Mubarak Protests all over Egypt and showing recorded footage of Tahrir Square protest from the night before and claiming it's the situation there at the moment. Hundreds of calls by public figures and actors started calling the channels saying that they are with Mubarak, and that he is our Father and we should support him on the road to democracy. A veiled girl with a blurred face went on Mehwer TV claiming to have received funding by Americans to go to the US and took courses on how to bring down the Egyptian government through protests which were taught by Jews. She claimed that AlJazeera is lying, and that the only people in Tahrir square now were Muslim Brotherhood and Hamas. State TV started issuing statements on how the people arrested Israelis all over Cairo engaged in creating mayhem and causing chaos. For those of you who are counting this is an American-Israeli-Qatari-Muslim Brotherhood-Iranian-Hamas conspiracy. Imagine that. And MANY PEOPLE BOUGHT IT. I recall telling a friend of mine that the only good thing about what happened today was that it made clear to us who were the idiots amongst our friends. Now we know.

In that post, he mentions delivering medical supplies. This is what happened to him (Mahmoud) and his friends on that mission.

---------------------------

Here in the US, we know about Wikileaks, but we don't know (or care?) a whole lot about what was leaked. The rest of the world is going crazy with it. In fact, Wikileaks may have had a lot to do with energizing the recent revolts throughout the golden crescent. Read Sandmonkey's Nov. 29 posts.
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3222 Expectations

Friday, January 7, 2011

"Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence."
-- HL Mencken --

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks ago I went to the holiday dinner with the old Mensa group, and First Woman was there. [Link to a description of our last previous encounter: http://thesilkentouch.blogspot.com/2010/03/2803-buck-you-fuddy.html]

I'm still a little bit disturbed by what happened at the dinner.

What happened? Nothing. And that's what's bothering me.

When I arrived, FW was seated at a table with five other people. When I walked past her table, she kept her face turned away from me, but she slid her eyes sideways to look at me (reminding me of a ticked-off cat who will sit in front of you with her back to you, pointedly ignoring you, but with her ears turned back toward you).

I knew instantly what I was supposed to do. I was supposed to walk over to her, enter her space, and request her attention with a little fawning.

Being the rebellious contrarian that I am, I didn't, just because I knew it was expected.

From the table I sat at, every time I looked past my table companions, I was looking directly at her, and every time I glanced her way, she was staring at me. And every time, she quickly averted her eyes.

At one point, she walked past our table, I don't know why - there was nothing of interest past our corner - and again she averted her face, but her eyes slid sideways toward me. Again, I had the impression I was being given a chance to request her attention. Again, I didn't.

[If you haven't read or don't remember the "F**k You!" post linked above, go read it now. And while you're at it, visit this one, too: http://thesilkentouch.blogspot.com/2008/03/1734-i-dont-understand-people.html - insight into how she operates.]

So, it's been bothering me. I know her. I know what she's like, and I know she has some emotional problems. I don't resent her for the incident at the gathering, I hold no resentment. I consider myself a forgiving person, easy to get along with.

So why didn't I give in and give her what she wanted, reach out to her, be the bigger person? That question has been bothering me ever since that evening. I know I hurt her feelings by not making the move. It bothers me that I hurt her feelings, knowing full well that's what I was doing.

So I've been thinking about it.

I didn't make the first move because she expected it.

She assigned that role to me.

And that was the basic problem back when I tried to be friends with her.

She's certifiably nuts, on a variety of medications the dosages of which she messes around with resulting in some strange effects, but that's part of what makes her an interesting person. She's bohemian. I'm easy to get along with. I know that once I figure out what a person is like, what weird things they might be or do, I can decide whether I can accept and/or work around that, or not. I don't mind a little crazy. Once I know there's mood swings, I can work around them, let them roll off. I'm easy. I try to understand, not judge or condemn.

And it wasn't her craziness that drove me away, that necessitated my telling her that I refuse to put myself in her path any more, that she was poisoning me. (The Man refers to her as my "Psycho Ex-Girlfriend". Read that post, too. It's funny.)

It wasn't craziness that drove me away. It wasn't all the times she used me. It wasn't all the times she was very verbally nasty.

It was her expectations of me.

Instead of getting to know me, learning what I am like, what is natural to me, how I relate, how I respond, instead of accepting me for what and how I am, she decided that I should be a certain way, should do certain things and react in certain ways. And when I didn't, she castigated me in exceedingly harsh terms.

I hate the telephone. But she expected me to call her a minimum of once a week. If I didn't, she would finally call me and pour a load of vitriol on me for not caring about her or her problems. Note that I was to call her. Her calling me was apparently a breech of protocol, for which I was to be punished.

She expected me to listen for hours at a time to her problems with her boyfriend - a married man with several small children who would turn up at her house once a month, roll around in her bed with her for an hour, and then go home for dinner. I know she was unreasonably in love with him, and I really didn't want to hear about him and how uncaring he was, but I let her talk because she needed to - I'd give her the "uh huh, uh huh, wow, that's sad" - but I didn't sympathize enough, and that pissed her off, and she'd tear me a new one because I didn't say the right things, didn't give her the advice she wanted and expected.

There was so much like that. So many expectations that I didn't meet, and she'd get nasty every time I "failed her".

Sheesh. I don't feel I failed anyone. I am what I am, I am who I am, and a lot of people find that to be good enough, including me!

And that's why I had to cut her off three years ago, and that's why I didn't make the first move, or any move, at the dinner. Precisely because she acted like it was expected of me.

I'm not giving anyone anything just because they expect it of me. If she'd bothered to learn anything about me back when, she'd have known that.

-------------------------------------

This isn't just me. You can't define how other people should relate or react. Other people are what they are, and you are free to accept or reject them. But you should never expect anything, or you're guaranteed disappointment. I couldn't get along with FW because she decided I should be a certain way, even if she had to push and shove and punish me into being that way. It took me a long time to find myself, and she, in making me feel inadequate, was destroying the me that it took so long to find.

By feeling that I had done something wrong at the dinner, by fussing over it, I demonstrated again the power she has to make me doubt myself. I'm glad now that I didn't give her the satisfaction.
.

3195 Weekend, Wilderstein

Saturday, December 12, 2010

Any couples therapist will tell you
that the minute the initial contract of the relationship is breached,
all bets are off.

----------------------------------------------------------

I believe the green quote above to be absolutely true, but often you don't know what that initial contract is. You think you know, and then find out it wasn't what you thought it was. The real contract was deeply hidden.

From the therapist's viewpoint, the expression of the contract is and always was as it is now, known to be now broken, but back at the beginning of the relationship, the couple may have expressed their understanding differently. We change, and our expectations change, and we think our current expectations are the same as ever. If you know what I mean.

Maintaining a relationship is often like trying to hit a moving target.

--------------------------------

Yesterday a friend and I drove up to Wilderstein mansion in Rhinecliff, to see the Victorian Christmas decorations. First we had lunch at the Rhinecliff Hotel, and visited a chocolate shop outside Rhinebeck.

The Wilderstein decorations were ok, but I was excited just to see the interior of the mansion again. I hadn't been inside in several years, and I'm impressed with how well the restoration is going. It's just sad that the work could not have been done while Daisy was alive. I love love love the wood and the gorgeous detail in that house.

It's odd, but there are very few photographs of the interior of Wilderstein online or anywhere else, and as much as I love it, I have never taken any pictures inside the house, either.

The friend had two questions she wanted to ask in research for a book, the first question having to do with electric service at the turn of the century, and the second with train service.

I was amazed that the docent was knowledgeable about electricity, and then as we were leaving, we met a guy who was an actual train buff, filled to the brim with old train lore.

I mean, what are the chances?

After leaving Wilderstein, we headed south of Newburgh to a Mensa dinner/party. There were a lot of people there, and I was happy to see many people I haven't seen in months. What felt especially good was that they seemed happy to see me, too.

We had two, count 'em, two, GPS devices to get us south to the Thruway and back home, and somehow I managed to get lost anyway. Route 9w kicked off to the left near Suffern and I missed the turn, but I kept going thinking the GPS would simply reroute us. He did, and we somehow ended up on the Thruway alright, but headed north. Duh?

After dropping the friend off at her home, it was supposed to be another 25 minutes to my home. Yeah, sure, this is New Jersey. It took me almost an hour because the state police had a sobriety roadblock set up on route 35. I didn't get home until after midnight.

When I got home, I found a bunch of packages on my doorstep. One from Amazon was four seasons of "My Name Is Earl". I LOVE that show! So this morning after breakfast I set myself up with the DVDs in Bedroom #2, planning to lie on the bed and watch the first season. Uh, I woke up at 2 pm. Windy and raining today (prefect bubble-blowing day), so no loss.

And this is/was my weekend.
.

2985 Mid-June Doldrums

Sunday, June 13, 2010

"People are more violently opposed to fur than leather
because it's safer to harass rich women
than motorcycle gangs."

-------------------------------------------------------------

I haven't been very bloggy lately. I don't know why. I guess because there's not a lot happening in my life right now that I want to save for later reference (the REAL purpose of this journal), and nothing I have to let off steam about.

There are a few troubling things. First Woman has, I think, been self-adjusting her meds, and I think she is headed for a major crash. She's been taking violent offense at the most innocent things and attacking people left and right, to the point where people are very angry with her. She's the president of the local Mensa chapter, and people would like to remove her or have her censured. I'm worried that attacking back will push her into something drastic, like suicide. That's not excessive. I understand she has attempted it before.

I would feel very guilty if I saw it coming and did nothing, but a) I don't know what I could do, since off her meds she would see nothing wrong with her, it's everyone else who's wrong, and b) I am frankly very afraid of her. I know that's my problem, that I'm afraid to say anything to arouse her anger, but there it is. Do they make courage pills? Usually it's the family who sees what's happening and steps in or contacts the doctor, but she has no family, and at this point, no friends. Last night I sent an email to that effect to several active Mensa members, particularly those whom she has attacked, asking if anyone has any experience with interventions, and have not yet had any response.

A little compassion is in order, but I suspect her outrageous attacks have killed it before it could start.

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In other news, still no closing date on the new house. The sale of stock is going to pay for it, to be replaced when this house sells, but the stock market has been especially volatile ever since I signed the contract, so I hesitate to sell until I absolutely have to. Worse, the sale of my BP stock was going to be a large portion of the payment. Ick. BP, by the way, is listed as a "buy" by most market analysts right now, because the price is low, they have oodles of assets, and they won't be allowed to die. That "too big to fail" theory. Uh huh.

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Some cool things from Google maps:

The first find is a natural surface formation in Alberta, Canada. See http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&geocode=&q=50%C2%B0+0%2738.20%22N+110%C2%B0+6%2748.32%22W&sll=45.504618,-73.568459&sspn=0.007986,0.021136&ie=UTF8&t=h&ll=50.009739,-110.114443&spn=0.008233,0.022724&z=16.

The second is in Australia. Some people have said they're buildings, but I don't think so. I think they may be something like mine entrances. Anyway, they look like USB cords and plugs. See http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&source=embed&hl=en&q=Waubra+Victoria+3352,+Australia&sll=-37.571029,143.851835&sspn=0.013912,0.01929&ie=UTF8&cd=1&geocode=FUPuxf0dV8aPCA&split=0&hq=&hnear=Waubra+Victoria,+Australia&t=h&ll=-37.329065,143.610352&spn=0.003839,0.006448&z=17

Of course, you can use the controls on the left of the map to zoom in or out for a better view.
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A not-so-cool-thing.

This is downright scary! I don't understand how something like this is legal, unlicensed. Is it real? Switched.com thinks it is.

It's a laser pointer, portable, and powerful. The cautionary note from the company's own literature:

Warning: Extremely dangerous is an understatement to the power of 1W of laser power. It will blind permanently and instantly and set fire quickly to skin and other body parts, use with extreme caution and only when using the included eye protection. Customers will be required to completely read and agree to our Class IV Laser Hazard Acknowledgment Form.

I don't know how big or heavy it is, although the pictures make it look like a Star Wars light saber, and I understand that it's meant for wonks who want to build their own home theaters and stuff, but hey! The darn thing is dangerous! And if it's as "portable" as it looks, it is a weapon. Blinds instantly and permanently? Sets fire to skin? Not just burns - sets fire to! And unlike a gun, you don't have to aim for it to have effect. Just wave it around.

The kicker - it costs $197.97. Less than a handgun.

The company ships it with a CD about the dangers, and a lengthy instruction sheet, but you know darn well wonks and miscreants who buy this thing will take it out of the box, turn it on, and aim it at the nearest wall, or randomly out the window, without reading or watching anything. Or at poor kitty. Oops - dangerous moth there, kitty! Fwooooomph! Moth caught you!

Info here:
http://dvice.com/archives/2010/06/spyder-iii-the.php
http://www.wickedlasers.com/lasers/Spyder_III_Pro_Arctic_Series-96-37.html
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2632 Donna in AL's Question Answered

Saturday, October 24, 2009 (1:30 am)

Leave the stage while the audience is still clapping.

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A post or two back I offered to answer any question asked. I'm taking the easiest one first. Donna in AL asks, "As a member of mensa (you that is, not me), what is your IQ? If you have posted it before, I did not see it."

No, it hasn't been posted before.

What a lot of people don't know about Mensans is that they don't sit around comparing scores. In fact, it's a taboo topic. I know a few hundred past and current Mensans, and except for my late husband and my daughter, I have no idea whatsoever what anyone else's score is.

One reason comparing scores isn't done is that scores can't be compared. I'll explain that in a minute. Also, many Mensans don't even know what their own IQ score is.

Mensa accepts several tests for entrance (see http://www.us.mensa.org/Content/AML/NavigationMenu/Join/SubmitTestScores/QualifyingTestScores/QualifyingScores.htm for a list of acceptable tests and the qualifying scores. Note that many are not even IQ tests.) You can also take a battery of tests administered by Mensa. I'm not sure what it is now, but when I took the Mensa-administered tests in 1978 it was the California Test of Mental Maturity and the Stanford Binet.

If you took those tests through Mensa, they used to give you your score, so I know what my numbers are, but somewhere along the line, psychologists were complaining because Mensa was giving the same tests the pros gave, for hundreds of dollars less --- so Mensa agreed to NOT divulge the actual score. Now they just let you know whether you made it past the 98th %ile, qualifying for membership. Most current members of Mensa have no idea what they scored, except that it was high enough to join. It's only us old folks, or people who took a different test, who know our actual scores.

Note that Mensa does not require a particular IQ score. They actually require that you score in the top 2%ile (that's "percentile") of whatever test you take. Average scores are in the 50%ile range. A score in the 2%ile range means it's higher than 98% of all scores for that test.

What complicates matters is that around the 48-52%ile range (half the scores were above and half below the 50%ile point), all IQ tests will show generally the same IQ numbers - generally 90 to 110 IQ - for everybody who falls in that range. In that range, the test scores are comparable across all the tests. (That's what "standardized" means.) But as you spread out above or below that high bulge of the bell curve, the standard deviations of the different tests cause the scores to vary widely. For example, a 145 on the California Test of Mental Maturity is actually a higher score than a 158 on the Stanford Binet. But both of those scores fall at approximately the same point on the bell curve. Beyond a certain point, you can't compare the IQ numbers. You can compare only the %iles. To say, "I scored 162 on the IQ test!" has no meaning unless you know what test, what year, whether time was factored in (getting 162 completing the test in a half hour is a higher score than 162 in an hour on the same test), and how the test was administered. However it does have meaning to say "I scored in the 99th %ile.

The numbers also don't take into consideration that some people simply freak out at the mere idea of taking a test, so the actual score may not be the true potential score.

The second problem, one that many Mensans are loath to admit, is that the standardized IQ tests measure only a small subset of "intelligence", mainly the ability to discern patterns and think logically. They don't measure creativity, wholistic thinking, synthesis, deeper analysis, an ability to establish priorities and to change beliefs based on new information, and so on, all the things that are really! impressive. I get very impatient with Mensans who seem to assume that because they scored 132 on the Binet, they have been automatically endowed with all the other attributes and abilities, too.

Having established the groundwork, the disclaimer, the "yeah, are these numbers really going to mean anything?", I will now answer Donna's question in full.

• Mensa requires a score in the top 2%ile. I am a Life member of Mensa.
• Intertel requires a score in the top 1%ile. I am member of Intertel.
• My IQ test scores put me in the 99.8%ile. That means that in a group of 1,000 people taking an IQ or aptitude test, I am likely to have one of the two highest scores.
• My actual scores on professionally administered IQ tests have been 145, 158, 168, and something over 170. Of course, without my telling you what tests when, those numbers have no meaning, except that I can tell you that the 145 is technically higher than the 158. Suffice to say that they are all pretty darn high on the bell curve.
• I got 800/798 on my college boards.
• I aced the LSAT.
• I scored the highest in Pennsylvania on the 1961 engineering aptitude test, the one that gets you all kinds of scholarship offers from engineering schools. My score wasn't beaten until just a few years ago, when some guy aced the one question I blew. He was all over the newspapers. I wasn't, because I was female. In 1961 I was considered an anomaly. (Note that MIT didn't accept females back then, let alone offer one a scholarship.)
  
• In the mid to late '60s, IBM used to give an IQ test to potential employees. I scored the highest they'd ever seen, of about 10,000 tests given. They told me that, but didn't tell me my score.

So yeah, I guess some people would call me a genius. I don't, haven't, and won't, except in a disparaging way, because although I'll admit I must be pretty good at discerning patterns and thinking logically, that may be ALL I'm any good at. Otherwise, you'd think I'd be more successful. There's a lot more to genius than those paltry skills. And whatever those other things may be, I obviously don't have them.

Just look at all the things I don't understand.
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2449 The weekend

Sunday, June 22, 2009

Abraham Lincoln: "My great concern is not whether you have failed, but whether you are content with your failure."

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Catching up:

Friday evening I went to a "dinema" in Beacon. That's dinner and cinema. Sorta like dinner theater, but with movie instead of play. They showed the movie between the entree and dessert.

There were 17 in our group, and the movie was a 1966 British farce (of the "Carry On" tradition) called "Don't lose Your Head". It was a parody of "The Scarlet Pimpernel".

I felt odd. Most movies I've seen over the past few years, I've been alone or with Mensans. And yeah, sometimes we laugh at things nobody else laughs at. About a third of the way into the movie, I was aware that I was not with Mensans. I, all by myself, laughed at stuff that no one else laughed at, and those were the things I laughed hardest at. I guess no one else got some of the jokes - subtle puns and historical references. Strange. I didn't expect that. They must have thought I was nuts. On the other hand, they laughed at the physical comedy, and I didn't.

I didn't get home until the wee hours, and then had to get going on Saturday to meet The Man in Fishkill. He'd got us an apartment. Kitchen, living room, dining room, bathroom downstairs, and another bathroom and a bedroom upstairs, on a balcony overlooking the living room. I was almost an hour late meeting him because the traffic was so bad.

Friday night and Saturday morning's traffic was worse than I've ever seen it in this area. It used to take me an hour to get to Beacon or Fishkill. Both of those trips took more than an hour and a half. I don't understand.

Anyway, The Man and I had dinner and then went to the Shakespeare festival at Boscobel:

The play was not the usual Shakespearean fare. It was "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, Abridged". It's a specialty of this troupe, performed by three actors and a prop mistress. They cover the highlights of many of the major plays, with lightning costume changes, and a complete disregard for the script, even combining a few things in the interest of time, if not clarity, and often involving the audience in the action. It's a riot.
The last play was Romeo and Juliet, and they covered the whole story in minutes, with wigs and skirts and swords flying. Then, they said they could do it faster, so they did. Then a third time even faster. Then they did a super fast version - backward! Even the dialog ("listen for the satanic messages").***

It was enjoyable, but we can't claim we went to a Shakespearean play....

Today we went out for lunch, and then to a movie. We saw "Up". The Man had mentioned two weeks ago that he wanted to see it, but couldn't find any kids to take him to it. (He was about ready to kidnap a kid in the mall to have an excuse to go.) I promised him I'd try to be a kid.

It was pretty good, actually. The Man was disappointed because it wasn't 3D in the theater in Fishkill (hey, we're the boonies!), but I'm not sure I could have handled it in 3D. I have a problem with edges (not height, really, just edges with drops), and at least five times during the movie I got that rubbery feeling in the back of my knees and had to close my eyes.

So, now I'm home.

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***Later edit - Oops. It was Hamlet that was last, that they did over, faster, and then backwards.
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2434 Pandemic

Friday, June 12, 2009

Al Capp: "[Abstract art is] a product of the untalented, sold by the unprincipled to the utterly bewildered."

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In a Mensa bulletin board, one person noted that the World Health Organization has raised the swine flu pandemic to the highest level. Another commented that it isn't more deadly than the regular seasonal flu, which results in about 30,000 deaths every year.

A third responded, "The significance of a pandemic is not whether it is deadly at first. It is if it mutates into a deadly form at a time when it is global in nature."

I don't understand that comment.

If it's global, and it mutates, it isn't going to all suddenly mutate in the same way everywhere all at once, is it? It'll mutate in one patient somewhere, and then the new strain will spread from there. The original form being global doesn't matter.

I'm amazed that it's a Mensan board, but not one person has yet smacked that third guy upside the head.

Or maybe I'm missing something.
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2423 Free Rice

Thursday, June 4, 2009

I have rediscovered the free rice site, at http://www.freerice.com/. You take a vocabulary or math or grammar or geography or artist/painting or whatever test, and every correct answer puts 10 grains of rice in a bowl, to be donated to somewhere in the world. You can read the details at the site. It's a challenge, and they tell you what the correct answer is, and then if you got it wrong they retest you on it later, so you really can learn a lot about whatever topic you choose. (I finally know where several tiny central European countries are.)

Ten grains of rice doesn't sound like much, but ten times a hundred thousand adds up.

I first discovered this site about a year and a half ago. I told some Mensans about it back then, and, naturally, some of them had to go home and count and weigh rice, and then grouse about how piddling small a dent in world hunger it was making, so they didn't go to the site. Stupid. Illogical. One bowl of rice is one meal for a child, which is a lot more than none.

Eighteen months ago the only test was vocabulary. I made it to level 55 of 60 in vocabulary this evening, and donated 1450 grains.

Now there are several categories (click on "Change subjects" on the right of the question block).

In grammar, the only ones I got wrong involved semi-colons, and I donated about 3,000 grains. Pre-algebra math was very easy. Lots of quick free rice. Identifying countries was harder, but I enjoyed it because I learned a lot, and donated about 800 grains. On the artists/paintings, I thought I was doing very well because even if I don't recognize the painting, I do recognize the style of the better-known artists, so I can guess well ... and then noticed I never made it out of level 1. Not much rice there, I'm afraid, but again, I learned a lot.

It's a way to play a bit, learn a bit, and do some good, and you don't even have to register or give them any info.
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