All the scarves here were first woven, and then dyed, using a technique called Woven Shibori.Here are the NDP pics. More of Connie's work can be found on her website, her blog, and her Etsy.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Connie Rose, Textile Artist
Work by Connie Rose, textile artist, Eureka, California, Nelson's newest sister city.
All the scarves here were first woven, and then dyed, using a technique called Woven Shibori.
Here are the NDP pics. More of Connie's work can be found on her website, her blog, and her Etsy.
All the scarves here were first woven, and then dyed, using a technique called Woven Shibori.Here are the NDP pics. More of Connie's work can be found on her website, her blog, and her Etsy.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Queendom
For a long, long time I thought a queen was just Mrs King. (I mean, look at the hoohah when Masako produced, shock horror, a girl who cannot succeed the Empire over yonder.)
But living in New Zealand, and watching a proliferation of costume plays about QE and QV, I realize there were proper sovereigns in some cases. So.... what did they rule? Kingdoms? Why isn't there the word Queendom?
But living in New Zealand, and watching a proliferation of costume plays about QE and QV, I realize there were proper sovereigns in some cases. So.... what did they rule? Kingdoms? Why isn't there the word Queendom?
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Just as a matter of curiousity....
What do you have as your wallpaper? I've had these onions for a while now - I love it when I don't have to retouch or even crop a pic; makes me feel lucky.
Feisty Women
Way back when I was a secretary, I used to have this friend Chizuko, who was one of the two most willowy, elegant, beautiful, polite, artistic, fashionable woman I've ever known to this day. She was around 40 and single and lived in a nice apartment in a fancy part of Tokyo. And she was a great cook. I really liked her and tried to emulate some of her manners and work habits.
Back then, I was pretty good at networking, so I knew a lot of people in the company with whom I didn't have work contact, and she spotted this. And once in a great while, maybe three or four times a year, she'd ring me or email me and say, "Meg, I haven't had a really good fight in a while; who can I pick on? Give me a nasty, misogynistic, conservative boob!" And she'd really target some of these men and pick a fight.
Except she was so beautiful and elegant and polite, that even the seasoned nasties just gave in to her wishes. Then she'd come back to me and tell me, "Meg, that was a softie; give me a real hard fighting man."
Lordy. Now I feel like a pimp, all these years later.
Back then, I was pretty good at networking, so I knew a lot of people in the company with whom I didn't have work contact, and she spotted this. And once in a great while, maybe three or four times a year, she'd ring me or email me and say, "Meg, I haven't had a really good fight in a while; who can I pick on? Give me a nasty, misogynistic, conservative boob!" And she'd really target some of these men and pick a fight.
Except she was so beautiful and elegant and polite, that even the seasoned nasties just gave in to her wishes. Then she'd come back to me and tell me, "Meg, that was a softie; give me a real hard fighting man."
Lordy. Now I feel like a pimp, all these years later.
I Couldn't Help It
This Mr Patt, (not Pratt, as I mistook in the first instance - and it was unintentional because I did know a Linda Pratt in high school, a junior who started dating one in our group, Jim Hoffman, suspiciously close to our Senior Prom,) was ruining my weekend and sanity, so I couldn't help it, I googled him, and found his profile photo. Not sure how these two web sites differ or are positioned, here and here, but a man with a face like this cannot be a bad guy, I concluded. Unless he's using one of his Good Twin's pics.
He still thinks I got huffy and puffy because he looked into and commented on a private conversation, whereas I say he was missing the spirit in which the letter/my post was written; I wasn't writing a serious treatise (gosh, my spell-checker isn't working!!) about the ethical and professional responsibilities of an e-v-e-n-t organizer. I know I'm not stupid enough to post a genuinely personal letter on Blogger, but of course he doesn't.
Never mind; I offered truce, and I'm sure he won't be back because I'm not including words he likes to search. Case closed.
He still thinks I got huffy and puffy because he looked into and commented on a private conversation, whereas I say he was missing the spirit in which the letter/my post was written; I wasn't writing a serious treatise (gosh, my spell-checker isn't working!!) about the ethical and professional responsibilities of an e-v-e-n-t organizer. I know I'm not stupid enough to post a genuinely personal letter on Blogger, but of course he doesn't.
Never mind; I offered truce, and I'm sure he won't be back because I'm not including words he likes to search. Case closed.
Repose
Yesterday was a strange day. I did 2 hours of art-related volunteer work, and all the while couldn't get my mind off of the small coke bottle the model had in my Friday morning figure drawing class. I had to have some. So when Ben wanted to get a few drops of petrol, we got two small bottles at the petrol station; two 600ml bottles for $5 (we really needed only one; we drink coke maybe once every 18-24 months) and probably less petrol for $30. And though we shared only one bottle, by about 5PM, I was bouncing off the walls, and needed a calming activity, so I culled old photos and cleaned up my hard drive.
I thought I did a fairly good job of it, and when I used to have only 30cgigs, it would have been a whopping percentage, but now that I have 120 gigs, it contributed gaining back only 1%. Oh well.
I see that when we started NDP, and when I first got my camera, I really tried hard to learn good photography, whatever that means. I also spent 4 hours a day looking at DPs and photo blogs. But nowadays nearly a month goes by when I don't take any pics, other than weaving-related ones. And I do tend to rely far more heavily on post-processing, and lately the thing is exaggerating contrast and saturation.
I also found a ton of boring tasks I started and never finished in the past, like the address list of banks and insurance companies and friends and family that need to be attached to our Wills, list of every exhibition and commission pieces, so I can choose appropriate ones when I write my weaving resume for different purposes. And by far the worst was my fiction writing folder - about a dozen unfinished stories, and what's worse, about three or four dozens missing because I thought I'd never finish them so I deleted the files. In some instances I have them in illegible scribbles, surprisingly many of then on my loom notebooks (the repetitive motion of weaving is very condusive to dream-like story telling), and one two sides of a very small envelope. I collected all the stories on paper in a plastic folder. So here's another job that needs doing, presumably for pleasure, but I'm not sure.
There was a very sentimental song by a Japanese singer-song-writer Sada Masashi; he sang about friends who get left/behind out when you buy a new addressbook and copy names and numbers. I haven't had an addressbook since I first worked at IBM in '85, when I started to carry printouts from a spread sheet; nowadays when we travel we either print out address labels before we leave, or carry the OUTLOOK contact lists.
Ben cleaned out his old CD and DVD disks yesterday. For both of us, it was a strange, medium-tech kind of trip down the memory lane.
Now, what to do with that second small bottle of coke...
I thought I did a fairly good job of it, and when I used to have only 30cgigs, it would have been a whopping percentage, but now that I have 120 gigs, it contributed gaining back only 1%. Oh well.
I see that when we started NDP, and when I first got my camera, I really tried hard to learn good photography, whatever that means. I also spent 4 hours a day looking at DPs and photo blogs. But nowadays nearly a month goes by when I don't take any pics, other than weaving-related ones. And I do tend to rely far more heavily on post-processing, and lately the thing is exaggerating contrast and saturation.
I also found a ton of boring tasks I started and never finished in the past, like the address list of banks and insurance companies and friends and family that need to be attached to our Wills, list of every exhibition and commission pieces, so I can choose appropriate ones when I write my weaving resume for different purposes. And by far the worst was my fiction writing folder - about a dozen unfinished stories, and what's worse, about three or four dozens missing because I thought I'd never finish them so I deleted the files. In some instances I have them in illegible scribbles, surprisingly many of then on my loom notebooks (the repetitive motion of weaving is very condusive to dream-like story telling), and one two sides of a very small envelope. I collected all the stories on paper in a plastic folder. So here's another job that needs doing, presumably for pleasure, but I'm not sure.
There was a very sentimental song by a Japanese singer-song-writer Sada Masashi; he sang about friends who get left/behind out when you buy a new addressbook and copy names and numbers. I haven't had an addressbook since I first worked at IBM in '85, when I started to carry printouts from a spread sheet; nowadays when we travel we either print out address labels before we leave, or carry the OUTLOOK contact lists.
Ben cleaned out his old CD and DVD disks yesterday. For both of us, it was a strange, medium-tech kind of trip down the memory lane.
Now, what to do with that second small bottle of coke...
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Are You Blogging Correctly?
I was reading a little bit about the earthquake on Japanese websites, and was reminded that there was a big stabbing incident in Akihabara, Tokyo just before that. As far as shock goes, the stabbing would be far greater to the Japanese psyche than the quake, because we still believe Japan is a relatively safe place, even though our perception and statistics have been changing since around 1990 for a number of reasons, some explained, some inexplicable.
Anyhoo, there are a lot of sociologists and psychologists who are "commenting" in the on the motive and upbringing of the young chap, and how "our society could possibly produce such a crazy individual". We are diluded to think it takes a village to raise a kid, and when a kid goes bad, some people feel a strange, remote but heartfelt responsibility. Even though the fact is, in larger cities, there are heaps of people who don't know who lives next door to you. Ben and I never found out how many kids the lady next door had, though we were in the apartment for five years, for example.
The media, and the public, has also been concerned by the behavior of some of the passers-by. There were of course heaps of people trying to help the victums or the police, but there were apparently youngish kids who'd take phone-pics while the crime happened, or as the victums laid bleeding, excitedly rang mates and family, sent pics, and then walk away as if they just saw another scene from a film or in a manga.
Anyhoo, this one "learned" chap insists that more than violence on TV, more than video games, the fault is squarely with blogging! Blogging allows a person to create an alter ego and behave in another sphere as that character, thus alienating the individual from his/her own environment.
PUH-LEEEEZE!!!
So if you let your real personality/life spill over into the blogasphere, you're doing it wrong, mate. You need to take on a different personal and divorce yourself from your physical environment and humanity. Starting tomorrow, I'm going to be a willowy 20-something with a fade-in-the-background soft voice, wide-eyed and in dire need of a trust fund boy on a white Purius.
Anyhoo, there are a lot of sociologists and psychologists who are "commenting" in the on the motive and upbringing of the young chap, and how "our society could possibly produce such a crazy individual". We are diluded to think it takes a village to raise a kid, and when a kid goes bad, some people feel a strange, remote but heartfelt responsibility. Even though the fact is, in larger cities, there are heaps of people who don't know who lives next door to you. Ben and I never found out how many kids the lady next door had, though we were in the apartment for five years, for example.
The media, and the public, has also been concerned by the behavior of some of the passers-by. There were of course heaps of people trying to help the victums or the police, but there were apparently youngish kids who'd take phone-pics while the crime happened, or as the victums laid bleeding, excitedly rang mates and family, sent pics, and then walk away as if they just saw another scene from a film or in a manga.
Anyhoo, this one "learned" chap insists that more than violence on TV, more than video games, the fault is squarely with blogging! Blogging allows a person to create an alter ego and behave in another sphere as that character, thus alienating the individual from his/her own environment.
PUH-LEEEEZE!!!
So if you let your real personality/life spill over into the blogasphere, you're doing it wrong, mate. You need to take on a different personal and divorce yourself from your physical environment and humanity. Starting tomorrow, I'm going to be a willowy 20-something with a fade-in-the-background soft voice, wide-eyed and in dire need of a trust fund boy on a white Purius.
Male Idiots, Continued
We knows someone who is, let's say, about my age, (so, not a kid) who always, always, always has to go one up on you. OK, so English is not his first language, and I used to make allowance for the language difference, but that's not it.
If your house is cold, his house has to be colder. If you get frost in the garden x days a winter, his has to get it three times as much. And he's not funny, but if ignore his jokes, like I do most of the time, he thinks you didn't get them and repeats them. He's married to someone considerably younger than himself, and he just fits what we women say about THOSE types, and he's so proud to announce how domesticated his woman is. WRONG COUNTRY, MATE.
God, I'm SO sick of idiotic men this morning. Myron, Bill, save me; Ben's laughing, but he's sitting just a tiny bit farther away from me than usual.
If your house is cold, his house has to be colder. If you get frost in the garden x days a winter, his has to get it three times as much. And he's not funny, but if ignore his jokes, like I do most of the time, he thinks you didn't get them and repeats them. He's married to someone considerably younger than himself, and he just fits what we women say about THOSE types, and he's so proud to announce how domesticated his woman is. WRONG COUNTRY, MATE.
God, I'm SO sick of idiotic men this morning. Myron, Bill, save me; Ben's laughing, but he's sitting just a tiny bit farther away from me than usual.
Some Men are Such Idiots...
We blog. It's our personal platform to say whatever. And we natter and blather with like-minded friends, even if we disagree from time to time. I do that on my weaving blog, too. So there was an incident, and I commented there thusly.
* * *
Organizing Events
In the mid to late 20th Century, I ran events and also staffed computer help desks, among many other things. A friend of mine just carried out a major event as part of a team, and she was crushed at some of the scathing remarks targeted at her. This is something I know about, so I wrote the following reminder for her, and thought I'd share it with you. (READ: sometimes I want to convince you that I used to be a bit saner.)
Do keep in mind that this has nothing to do with SSVE, you've all be so wonderful. But this is one of my few original truisms, and it works particularly well when you are heading a group of volunteers. So here goes:
Running Events & Responding to Complaints
Statisticians say something like 20% of the attendees will give you feedback, both good and bad, if you ask. This is a lie; people seldom take the trouble to give you good, meaningful feedback and we as organizers tend to remember only rude people. This is the same as people never ringing the computer help desk to report their computer is running fine, or email HR to thank them for being paid promptly.
Of the 20% who give feedback, about 20% have constructive ideas. These are the ones you want to pick up, and it's easier if you ask them directly what they mean, rather than you or The Committee interpreting or guessing. But by no means are you obligated to take up any of these good ideas; do it only if you/The Committee want/s to.
There are those who thrive on criticizing, and this is the social/therapeutic contribution of events that is seldom mentioned. You are providing them a place to voice their uneducated, inconsiderate, ill-conceived, inappropriate or disproportionate reactions, to make them feel important. This is their problems.
However, one of the tactics to avert unpleasantness is to ask for details of their feedback as if you believe their feedback matters, let them cite actionable/practical suggestions, and thank them profusely. Even if they are rehashing an issue that The Committee thoroughly discussed and ruled against, do not explain this. Sometimes it is possible to win people over in this manner, and they become your converts, (because you were wise enough to listen to them), but do not try this unless 1) you can be bothered, 2) there are no dire, real issues on hand, and 3) you sense they'll come back and reprimand you for not acting on their suggestions.
Or you can smile like an idiot and utter niceties and get on with the job.
Occasionally, crazy people have bright ideas, too. But very occasionally.
Think what people are going to remember in a few months. Unless your event is plagued by food poisoning or fire, they are going to remember the merits of the content of the main event.
But anything you touch tends to turn into gold anyway, (name), and the organization and the event will start to run itself after about two runs, unless The Committee decides to destroy it. Events is a team sport, so give way to other Committee Members where you can hold on to your sanity in spite of their bad decisions. By Event 3, you'll know how to quietly work in the background to prevent most disasters. If all else fails, quit The Committee, and become a paid member, and rant and rave. If you need a lesson in ranting in raving, my dear (name), ring me.
* * *
And them some bloke drops by, probably after Goolging "organizing events" or something, who wants to put his entire name and a few additional letters that mean nothing to me, out of the blue to try to teach a silly woman a lesson, yeah? He probably feels very good just about now, without knowing he just made a fool of himself on a cantankerous handweaving blog!!
David M. Patt, CAE said...
When I was CEO of Chicago Area Runners Association (CARA) we found that about 10% of the runners - a lot more in some events - completed event evaluation forms if they could do it at the event.
The comments - good and bad - were very helpful. All events should have a method of procuring feedback. Don't assume organizers know what the participants think is good or bad.
6/21/2008 1:22 AM
* * *
I really do get sick and tired of men who always want to go one up on others; they take themselves so seriously and have a few things up their backside and try to compensate for the size of their front appendage. May his inbox be inundated with Viagra adds. Come to think of it, he probably sits on several Committees. This particular morning I had no patience for this kind of male nonsense, so I hit back. I do exclude a large number of mates in my life from this group of stupid men; you KNOW who you are.
Meg in Nelson said...
Hello, David M Pratt CAE. I don't know how you arrived at this handweaving blog, perhaps by googling "organizing events" or some such.
This was a personal letter to a friend who was hurting from personal insults, someone who has been running different sorts of events to the said one for a long while rather successfully; and it followed up our lengthy conversation on the same day. It is not an objective observation or a thesis, and so I daresay you're missing the context, the spirit of our friendship, humor with which I tried to cheer her up, or the spirit of this blog, which is cantankerous at its best.
* * *
Ben's adamant I not mention the backside or the appendage. Myron, Bill, I KNOW you have something meaningful to say to make me regain faith in your gender.
Oooh, I'm burning this morning. I hope he doesn't come back, because I know how to engage in a good battle, but I have not patients with idiots, and I try to pretend I'm a little bit more polite than I actually am over yonder.
* * *
Organizing Events
In the mid to late 20th Century, I ran events and also staffed computer help desks, among many other things. A friend of mine just carried out a major event as part of a team, and she was crushed at some of the scathing remarks targeted at her. This is something I know about, so I wrote the following reminder for her, and thought I'd share it with you. (READ: sometimes I want to convince you that I used to be a bit saner.)
Do keep in mind that this has nothing to do with SSVE, you've all be so wonderful. But this is one of my few original truisms, and it works particularly well when you are heading a group of volunteers. So here goes:
Running Events & Responding to Complaints
Statisticians say something like 20% of the attendees will give you feedback, both good and bad, if you ask. This is a lie; people seldom take the trouble to give you good, meaningful feedback and we as organizers tend to remember only rude people. This is the same as people never ringing the computer help desk to report their computer is running fine, or email HR to thank them for being paid promptly.
Of the 20% who give feedback, about 20% have constructive ideas. These are the ones you want to pick up, and it's easier if you ask them directly what they mean, rather than you or The Committee interpreting or guessing. But by no means are you obligated to take up any of these good ideas; do it only if you/The Committee want/s to.
There are those who thrive on criticizing, and this is the social/therapeutic contribution of events that is seldom mentioned. You are providing them a place to voice their uneducated, inconsiderate, ill-conceived, inappropriate or disproportionate reactions, to make them feel important. This is their problems.
However, one of the tactics to avert unpleasantness is to ask for details of their feedback as if you believe their feedback matters, let them cite actionable/practical suggestions, and thank them profusely. Even if they are rehashing an issue that The Committee thoroughly discussed and ruled against, do not explain this. Sometimes it is possible to win people over in this manner, and they become your converts, (because you were wise enough to listen to them), but do not try this unless 1) you can be bothered, 2) there are no dire, real issues on hand, and 3) you sense they'll come back and reprimand you for not acting on their suggestions.
Or you can smile like an idiot and utter niceties and get on with the job.
Occasionally, crazy people have bright ideas, too. But very occasionally.
Think what people are going to remember in a few months. Unless your event is plagued by food poisoning or fire, they are going to remember the merits of the content of the main event.
But anything you touch tends to turn into gold anyway, (name), and the organization and the event will start to run itself after about two runs, unless The Committee decides to destroy it. Events is a team sport, so give way to other Committee Members where you can hold on to your sanity in spite of their bad decisions. By Event 3, you'll know how to quietly work in the background to prevent most disasters. If all else fails, quit The Committee, and become a paid member, and rant and rave. If you need a lesson in ranting in raving, my dear (name), ring me.
* * *
And them some bloke drops by, probably after Goolging "organizing events" or something, who wants to put his entire name and a few additional letters that mean nothing to me, out of the blue to try to teach a silly woman a lesson, yeah? He probably feels very good just about now, without knowing he just made a fool of himself on a cantankerous handweaving blog!!
David M. Patt, CAE said...
When I was CEO of Chicago Area Runners Association (CARA) we found that about 10% of the runners - a lot more in some events - completed event evaluation forms if they could do it at the event.
The comments - good and bad - were very helpful. All events should have a method of procuring feedback. Don't assume organizers know what the participants think is good or bad.
6/21/2008 1:22 AM
* * *
I really do get sick and tired of men who always want to go one up on others; they take themselves so seriously and have a few things up their backside and try to compensate for the size of their front appendage. May his inbox be inundated with Viagra adds. Come to think of it, he probably sits on several Committees. This particular morning I had no patience for this kind of male nonsense, so I hit back. I do exclude a large number of mates in my life from this group of stupid men; you KNOW who you are.
Meg in Nelson said...
Hello, David M Pratt CAE. I don't know how you arrived at this handweaving blog, perhaps by googling "organizing events" or some such.
This was a personal letter to a friend who was hurting from personal insults, someone who has been running different sorts of events to the said one for a long while rather successfully; and it followed up our lengthy conversation on the same day. It is not an objective observation or a thesis, and so I daresay you're missing the context, the spirit of our friendship, humor with which I tried to cheer her up, or the spirit of this blog, which is cantankerous at its best.
* * *
Ben's adamant I not mention the backside or the appendage. Myron, Bill, I KNOW you have something meaningful to say to make me regain faith in your gender.
Oooh, I'm burning this morning. I hope he doesn't come back, because I know how to engage in a good battle, but I have not patients with idiots, and I try to pretend I'm a little bit more polite than I actually am over yonder.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
True Story
There was a man, in Sendai City, Japan, who was crushed by his books and magazines and died at the recent earthquake. We really must tidy this place, because Nelson in on a fault line.
Disaster Fatigue
I don't mean to laugh at people in my home country affected by the latest earthquake, but I have to tell you, I am very fatigued by bad news, lately about natural disasters in Asia.
My sister has been glued to the TV and texting me every new bad discovery they make, and I know I shouldn't, but I have been responding to her with jokes.
The Chinese earthquake was far more disastrous in terms of human/structural damage, and Myanmar the political difficulties, but I say, this latest in Northern Japan appears a lot worse than they had thought initially because the center/origin was so shallow. Apparently a whole mountain got flattened. But I honestly don't feel like Googling and looking for more photos of disasters. Maybe this afternoon.
OK, I liked. Found a tiny pic of a crater where a mountain used to be. Sorry, that's the only pic I found so far.
My sister has been glued to the TV and texting me every new bad discovery they make, and I know I shouldn't, but I have been responding to her with jokes.
The Chinese earthquake was far more disastrous in terms of human/structural damage, and Myanmar the political difficulties, but I say, this latest in Northern Japan appears a lot worse than they had thought initially because the center/origin was so shallow. Apparently a whole mountain got flattened. But I honestly don't feel like Googling and looking for more photos of disasters. Maybe this afternoon.
OK, I liked. Found a tiny pic of a crater where a mountain used to be. Sorry, that's the only pic I found so far.
Monday, June 16, 2008
We've never had cockroaches in this house, but...
There is a rat somewhere near our hot water heater, inside the wall, since yesterday. Until just now we weren't sure what kind of a critter it was, but we heard him now. He was running up and down the wall last night, and every time I turned on the light I could hear him go away through the roof, but he'd come back in about half an hour. We've had the light on all day pointing towards the water heater, and he's gotten braver. Or more stupid.
We always have plenty of rat/mouse poison under the roof and all around the water heater, and we'd find between zero to four mice each winter; lately more towards zero. I don't want to catch him; I want him to go somewhere else and die. Everybody has been telling us to get a cat, but I am NOT a cat person.
God, I hope he wasn't mating in there. YUCK!!!
We always have plenty of rat/mouse poison under the roof and all around the water heater, and we'd find between zero to four mice each winter; lately more towards zero. I don't want to catch him; I want him to go somewhere else and die. Everybody has been telling us to get a cat, but I am NOT a cat person.
God, I hope he wasn't mating in there. YUCK!!!
Sunday, June 15, 2008
I Need Help!
This is a clip from the Australian documentary "4". Pekka Kuusisto is supposedly playing a Swedish folk song; is the song called "Who's Going to Heat Up the Sauna"? Does anyone know if this is included in his "Folk Trip" CD, or any other of his in which this song is included? Thanks a million for your help.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Oh, Heck...
As long as I've been crossing all over, I've done this thing if you are interested...
This possibly explains why I've been away from this one a bit, but I am definitely having a kind of identity crisis I wasn't expecting, and I'm posting things on the wrong thing, if posting at all. I was absent from that one for nearly a month, too.
So, I hope all is well with you good people. I've got some strange pics I'll show you in a few days, too. Well, not that strange, but I'm being strange in them.
This possibly explains why I've been away from this one a bit, but I am definitely having a kind of identity crisis I wasn't expecting, and I'm posting things on the wrong thing, if posting at all. I was absent from that one for nearly a month, too.
So, I hope all is well with you good people. I've got some strange pics I'll show you in a few days, too. Well, not that strange, but I'm being strange in them.
Ditto...
Oh, what a difference a day makes. As soon as I learned the sound is more in my head, I've been hardly aware of it. It's there from time to time, but it's like a ghost in my closet or a monster under my bed; I can now tell which are the real noises and which are mine.
The audiologist (Gill in pink) loaned me this machine, which I understand is called a while noise machine. It has about 8 variety of water-related sounds, one of prairie evening sound with a chorus of crickets, and a train sound. Last night I thought I could have fallen asleep without it, but Beloved loves gadgets so we tried it. We didn't like the water sounds, and the crickets were too noisy so we settled on the train sound. Funny thing is, we grew up going everywhere on trains, so, A) it was unnatural to hear the train sound and not feel the motion; we even jiggled our limbs to create a bit of faux-train vibration, which made us laugh so hard we were wide awake; and B) if you're used to trains, you know that with every tiny curve or incline/decline, the sound changes, and there was none of that, which bothered me at 3AM. And, now that I'm not worried or bothered by the forklift, my regular anxieties started to come back a bit. There is just no pleasing some customers, ha ha ha!!
Still, it was a new experience, and while I don't know if I'll use it all the time, it's nice to have it as a backup when the ghost of forklift comes out from under my bed; I much prefer it to chemical inducements.
Golly, I remembered just as I was typing; when I was a baby and didn't sleep, Dad would take me on a train ride, I'm told! Talk about a full circle.
* * *
After two consecutive days of ailment posts over yonder, I got told off a bit, and rightly so, because I'm fairly pretentious and arty farty over there. That's me; I'm a complicated gal.
The audiologist (Gill in pink) loaned me this machine, which I understand is called a while noise machine. It has about 8 variety of water-related sounds, one of prairie evening sound with a chorus of crickets, and a train sound. Last night I thought I could have fallen asleep without it, but Beloved loves gadgets so we tried it. We didn't like the water sounds, and the crickets were too noisy so we settled on the train sound. Funny thing is, we grew up going everywhere on trains, so, A) it was unnatural to hear the train sound and not feel the motion; we even jiggled our limbs to create a bit of faux-train vibration, which made us laugh so hard we were wide awake; and B) if you're used to trains, you know that with every tiny curve or incline/decline, the sound changes, and there was none of that, which bothered me at 3AM. And, now that I'm not worried or bothered by the forklift, my regular anxieties started to come back a bit. There is just no pleasing some customers, ha ha ha!!
Still, it was a new experience, and while I don't know if I'll use it all the time, it's nice to have it as a backup when the ghost of forklift comes out from under my bed; I much prefer it to chemical inducements.
Golly, I remembered just as I was typing; when I was a baby and didn't sleep, Dad would take me on a train ride, I'm told! Talk about a full circle.
* * *
After two consecutive days of ailment posts over yonder, I got told off a bit, and rightly so, because I'm fairly pretentious and arty farty over there. That's me; I'm a complicated gal.
It's in My Head
I posted this on my weaving blog, and then thought, "It is so a NAW post," so I'll copy it here. I'm really having a bit of an identity crisis just now and can't seem to keep my various different selves separate!
* * *
For a nearly a decade now, I'd lose sleep some nights because I thought the port was too noisy. Port of Nelson is known to operate forklifts and cranes overnight when they load/unload large ships; it's a common complaint. Except Trish, whose parents live overlooking the port, said my house is facing the wrong way so I shouldn't be hearing the port. Then a staff at my gym told me she used to live a few houses away from our place, but her husband couldn't sleep because of the noise from a saw mill a few km away, so for the last two years I blamed the saw mill. Except when we drive by the place on weekends, they are shut closed, and I wondered if they actually worked overnight some times. Then last Christmas Day, I could not shut down the noise and figured it couldn't be the saw mill. As well, in the last few years, when we were in the country where silence should have been deafening, (and it's easy to find places like that in New Zealand), I felt as if I brought the forklift on holiday with us.
About a month ago, I was complaining about this to Nancy, and she thought I might have tinnitus. I had never heard of it until then, but once I learned of this -itus, everywhere I looked people are talking/writing about it. So I signed up for a hearing test and had it done this morning, and found out I do indeed have tinnitus, and this is something that's largely inside my head, caused by age-related hair loss.
It's like this. Inside our inner ear, which is often depicted like a swirly seashell, is a thin tube filled with fluid, and there are tiny hairs growing on the inside of this tube. These hairs vibrate and tell the brain what we are hearing. (Ummm... can't remember what the ear drum does relative to the hairs, but the drum probably causes vibration of the fluid in the tube??) We loose the tiny hairs naturally as we grow older, and when gaps appear on the inside of the tube, sometimes the brain compensates by making up noises. It's like phantom pain of a severed limb. Here's a picture, but without any hair.
This is caused by physiological change, but can to a certain extent be reduced or ignored. The audiologist (Gill in pink) recommended that I play music or have the radio on at a low volume, but what I like the best is silence, which doesn't work very well. She laughed because for the last few months, on the odd mornings when I didn't hear the forklift, I got worried and listened for it, and almost felt relieved to find the annoying thing. Tinnitus goes hand in hand with depression, insomnia, anxiety, etc., so I've had the whole package.
I borrowed this machine that's supposed to create low-volume noises, just enough to make the forklift not dominate my nights, but she told me not to wear ear plugs, because they make me concentrate more of the darned thing. And from her reading, there has been no definitive food-noise link substantiated, but individual patients have found foods which trigger the noise. Said giving up caffeine seems to help a lot of people, so I could try that for three weeks if I so wished.
The good news is, we don't have to move house. The bad news is, I'm loosing hair in places I didn't even know I owned. And there is no hair-loss treatment for the inner ear.
Oh, and as to my hearing itself, nothing wrong with it; actually very good for my age group. Which means when Ben mumbles, which he does a lot, it's his problem, not mine.
* * *
For a nearly a decade now, I'd lose sleep some nights because I thought the port was too noisy. Port of Nelson is known to operate forklifts and cranes overnight when they load/unload large ships; it's a common complaint. Except Trish, whose parents live overlooking the port, said my house is facing the wrong way so I shouldn't be hearing the port. Then a staff at my gym told me she used to live a few houses away from our place, but her husband couldn't sleep because of the noise from a saw mill a few km away, so for the last two years I blamed the saw mill. Except when we drive by the place on weekends, they are shut closed, and I wondered if they actually worked overnight some times. Then last Christmas Day, I could not shut down the noise and figured it couldn't be the saw mill. As well, in the last few years, when we were in the country where silence should have been deafening, (and it's easy to find places like that in New Zealand), I felt as if I brought the forklift on holiday with us.
About a month ago, I was complaining about this to Nancy, and she thought I might have tinnitus. I had never heard of it until then, but once I learned of this -itus, everywhere I looked people are talking/writing about it. So I signed up for a hearing test and had it done this morning, and found out I do indeed have tinnitus, and this is something that's largely inside my head, caused by age-related hair loss.
It's like this. Inside our inner ear, which is often depicted like a swirly seashell, is a thin tube filled with fluid, and there are tiny hairs growing on the inside of this tube. These hairs vibrate and tell the brain what we are hearing. (Ummm... can't remember what the ear drum does relative to the hairs, but the drum probably causes vibration of the fluid in the tube??) We loose the tiny hairs naturally as we grow older, and when gaps appear on the inside of the tube, sometimes the brain compensates by making up noises. It's like phantom pain of a severed limb. Here's a picture, but without any hair.
This is caused by physiological change, but can to a certain extent be reduced or ignored. The audiologist (Gill in pink) recommended that I play music or have the radio on at a low volume, but what I like the best is silence, which doesn't work very well. She laughed because for the last few months, on the odd mornings when I didn't hear the forklift, I got worried and listened for it, and almost felt relieved to find the annoying thing. Tinnitus goes hand in hand with depression, insomnia, anxiety, etc., so I've had the whole package.
I borrowed this machine that's supposed to create low-volume noises, just enough to make the forklift not dominate my nights, but she told me not to wear ear plugs, because they make me concentrate more of the darned thing. And from her reading, there has been no definitive food-noise link substantiated, but individual patients have found foods which trigger the noise. Said giving up caffeine seems to help a lot of people, so I could try that for three weeks if I so wished.
The good news is, we don't have to move house. The bad news is, I'm loosing hair in places I didn't even know I owned. And there is no hair-loss treatment for the inner ear.
Oh, and as to my hearing itself, nothing wrong with it; actually very good for my age group. Which means when Ben mumbles, which he does a lot, it's his problem, not mine.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
