Struggling

We still haven't managed to produce a convincing project for the competition that has to go to the printers on Friday morning. Damn and blast.

Heard from the organizers of the first competition: thrown out in the second discussion round. Ah well. I care more that our run of six at-least-an-honourable-mention's in a row has been broken, than that we didn't win this particular competition.

Strange dreams: last night I was walking around a silted-up Victorian-inner-city harbour, Manchester or the like, with a friend. She jumped into the murky, frond-infested waters and simply disappeared. Two others who were with us jumped in after her, but I couldn't swim so stayed on the quayside. She later IM'ed me (incorporating Second Life abilities into a dream based in real-life) to say that she had knocked out her front teeth and was ashamed to be seen like that, so had climbed out elsewhere.

Weather continues warmish (14°C or so) but rainy.

Despite all that, I am mostly calm and peaceful. I'll have more to say about this after I spend the entire weekend asleep.

That is all.

Something new

Or, why I'm not downtown doing the dolce vita.

The first errand was a visit to the doctor. I didn't say so before because I wanted neither to jinx myself by naming my secret fear, nor to appear a pathetic hypocondriac wimp if it turned out to be unimportant. The upshot is that it is indeed what I had feared, but that the prognosis is good and the treatment simple. (Zhoen, Lioness and Diana, you are welcome to contribute technical information to the discussion :-)

I've had a lump in my leg for a few weeks now, halfway up the inside of my calf. At first it looked like a bruise, the kind that overtired and distracted air travellers often get without noticing the bump that caused them, but the lump remained after the discolouration and swelling went down. Doc says that it's a classical venal thrombosis, should be dealt with but no need for surgery (which had been my fear). We have a follow-up appointment for Thursday morning.

[Updated for clarification: this is a superficial (surface) vein, it is not DVT.]

The treatment is simple: aspirin to thin the blood, a heparin ointment to prevent further clotting, a bandage wrapped around to apply pressure, and some penicillin for the incipient blood poisoning that is swelling the lymph glands in my upper thigh.

So now you know. No beer for the next few days. I'm not sure what to do (or not do) though: the typical cause of thrombosis is sitting too long too still, which certainly matches my work habits. What should I do during the next days? The doc considers me unfit for work and offered a sick note for my employer (i.e. myself), so clearly I shouldn't be climbing Mount Everest. But given that sitting at work caused the problem, is it right for me to sit around at home? A puzzle.

Report: Progress, lack of

Preparing madly (as in "insanely" not "with great haste and effort") for another week in London, to celebrate my fiftieth birthday this weekend. I have been avoiding thinking about this for weeks if not months now, because I find it just too depressing for words. How can I be a half-century old already with so little to show for it? Blah.

Flights booked, again through Zurich: trading money for time in well-established late-capitalist manner. Readers in or near London who might wish to meet for a drink (or a bookshop or whatever) are encouraged to send me a tickle by e-mail (top left).

I hesitate about the job in Münster still. Part of me says — with a certain amount of impatience — that the universe has given me the nudge that I wished for at Easter, and that I should bloody well grasp the chance to make some long-desired and overdue changes. I should therefore embrace this earnestly and with both hands, and move to Münster as soon as possible. Another part reminds me that it means leaving all my contacts, friends and customers, leaving the shops and cafés and restaurants where I am known; in short, leaving behind most of what makes my life comfortable. This part suggests that I should rather delay moving as long as possible, to wait and see whether the Münstermeister will really insist on my presence there.

To tell you the truth, I am getting somewhat tired of that second voice. It sounds like the backdrop to every decision I ever made (or fudged for so long that Life let me off the hook by making it for me). I think I should fire that voice and get some new advisors.

Fragments of a recent conversation in Second Life.

Me: I have noticed in myself that I often aim to miss, because success brings responsibility and the risk of making changes to accomodate it.
Me: I have been quite thoroughly irresponsible all my life, really.
She nods understanding.
Me: Here I am at age 50 without pension or health insurance, living alone and from month to month, no savings at all -- and the second-largest chunk of my time and energy goes on Second Life.
She strokes [my] forehead.
Me: He needs it.
She: Yes.
She: You have been sounding lonely lately.
Me nods.
Me: Yes, I have been lonely. I am coming to terms with leaving Stuttgart and all my friends and business partners and the stores where I am known.
She sighs.
Me: And frankly I don't want to do it.
She nods.
Me: But I sure as hell need the money. And the health insurance and pension that it would bring. The hourly rate isn't great, but there are enough hours that it would increase my income by over a third.
Me: There is no reason I could not save that third right off the top.
Me: I don't know whether to mourn this or welcome it.
Me: And I cannot talk about it with anyone in RL because they are all involved. G and U are furious and heartbroken at my leaving, they feel abandoned.
She nods.
Me: And I have realized that they are about 70% of my social life here.
Me: I will have an *enormous* amount of time to fill in Münster; either tango or SL or the gin bottle. and god help me if it's the latter.
She: I hope it's SL.
Me: Well, no, I don't fear that. I have no inclination to drink or drugs, none at all. Unless you count this as a drug
Me: or Internettery generally.
She: Misread that as "internuttery"
Me: ha!
She laughs.

Because it's been than kind of day

Courtesy of Pacian, the Nerd Test. My score, to inspire or amuse you:





Go ahead, take the test. You know you want to. (Pacian and Zhoen have already taken it and so are excused, everyone else: start clicking.)

Progress report #1

I walked for three hours in my new boots today, and so far I'd say that they are fine. There is of course a certain amount of adjusting to be done: I have the impression that I use my toes much more than when wearing normal street shoes, perhaps because of the upwards tilt at the very front of the shoe. The soles are nearly an inch thick, which makes a tremendous difference if one is used to relatively flat, thin soles as most men are, I stumbled four times going up or down stairs which is about three-and-a-half times more than in 2006.

In other news this morning's putative migraine has retreated slightly and is now just a sick headache, hence the walking. It occurs to me that the constant swallowing of vile, bile-like stuff may in fact be due to leakage from my sinuses which I have only just noticed. (There, aren't you glad you read that just before lunch?)

In other, other news a little note to the customer who phoned me to report an urgent! crisis! work-impeding! problem with the database: If this alleged crisis is not worth three minutes of your time to tell me in detail what went wrong where, nor even half a minute of your time to make a screenshot and send it to me via e-mail, then it is sure as Hell not worth me spoiling my weekend trying to find the problem. Call me again on Monday.