May 282005

1. “Star Wars: Episode III – Revenge of the Sith” and its accompanying uber-fans who have threatened violence on me because I dare to say that it was rubbish (granted, it’s not nearly as rubbish as Episodes I and II, but seriously. Never will a tortured cry of “Nooooooo!” from James Earl Jones be as effective as important ingredients like coherent writing or, you know, acting).

2. Cheap DVD players. And by extension the whole Region Encoding thing. I live in Great Britain. I’m from the United States. Shouldn’t be a problem on a number of levels, but one keeps coming up. The patent holder of DVD technology (the Motion Picture Association of America) has insisted that most DVDs be branded with a special encoding which allows them to only be played in certain areas. The US is Region 1. The UK is Region 2. This means that when I moved here I made sure to buy a Region Hackable DVD player. This means I can change the region to suit whatever DVD I might be watching. Unfortunately it’s a piece of crap. I’m actually on my second of this make and model. The first one crapped out about 7 months ago. Now this one is doing the same. They were cheap at 45 pounds or so, but I just can’t afford to buy another which leaves me incapable of watching any of my 100+ DVD’s! Argh!

3. Administrations. Namely the part of the University of Glasgow Administration which is responsible for closing the entire history floor of the library for the entire summer. As an added bonus, the closure will start on the exact day that M.Phil students are scheduled to officially start working on their dissertations. “But you can check out extra books before hand so you’ll have them all out.” HELLO!!! Everyone knows that you can’t predict what direction research will take from week to week much less over an entire project! I paid you $16,000 for a chance for a Master’s degree, God DAMNIT!!!.

I told you not to get me started.

Slainte.

“Everybody knows that the world is full of stupid people”
~The Refreshments – “Banditos”

Posted by ashrhodes
May 242005

This is what Chris insists I should call myself. Want an explanation? Fine. Be that way.

So the plantar fasciitis hasn’t really gotten much better. Considerably worse, to be perfectly honest. I now have very real problems walking the distances that I have to without the assistance of my cane. In fact, last night I tried to walk from Ashton Lane to my flat (a distance of about 2.5 km or 1.5 miles, a distance that I used to walk several times a day) without using my cane and was almost in tears by the end of it. The major contributor to this lack of progress is almost certainly work, especially since I stood for a total of almost 20 hours last weekend. I promise I am in fact trying to not walk too much during the week, but even the distance required to get from my flat on the 2nd floor (3rd floor in US) to the subway and from the subway to the library still puts me WAY over the “average American” number of paces taken per diem, namely 1,000 (at least according to Morgan Spurlock of “Super Size Me” fame).

SO, I am rarely seen outside my flat these days without my wee granny cane (I bought a cheap bamboo-esque one at a pharmacy in hopes that it’ll appear less threatening while at work than a great metal job . . . it was only later that I realized it was designed for a woman!). In an attempt to cheer me up, Chris has made the assertion that I just need a fur-trimmed fedora, a purple leasure suit, and a new vocabulary, and I could be the Pimpinest Medievalist in town . . . as if that’s difficult. I even have the swagger down already. Oh, and “Mr. Crizzle” is an ebonification of “cripple.” Clever, huh? That’s what five years in a PhD programme will do for you!

Slainte.

“Damn it feels good to be a gangsta.”
~Geto Boys – “Damn it Feels Good to be a Gangsta”

Posted by ashrhodes
May 162005

It truly has been. I don’t feel like re-reading the couple of entries below, so I’ll just tell you guys a quick synopsis of the past few weeks. I called Mom and Dad about a month ago and while on the phone with them they told me I needed to come home to see Papa once more. I made the plans and was scheduled to leave on Tuesday, May 3rd (throwing caution to the wind re; my schoolwork). Papa then had a stroke on the Thursday before I was meant to leave, so I moved my ticket up as far as I could which turned out to only be a day, but I figured that it was better than nothing. It wasn’t enough though. He died very early on Sunday, May 1st, 2005. The “Wake” was then held almost a week later on Saturday the 7th. It was lovely, there was a lot of family and friends . . . almost everyone that should have been there was. I was even asked by my grandmother to say the Prayer for the Dead to close the proceedings. It was intense.

So that’s that. It wasn’t fun but I’m so very very thankful that I was there. Not just for myself but for my family as well, since we all needed each other to lean on. Backing up though, there’s a lot of other stuff that happened. For one thing, I’ve been having problems with my left foot for a while. It has hurt so long that I almost thought that’s how things were supposed to be. I went to see an orthopedic surgeon just for fun though, and it turns out I have something called plantar fasciitis. Basically there’s a tendon running from your heel to the ball of your foot which makes sure everything works right. Well, as you age it becomes less elastic and more prone to injury. Between my weight, the walking I do in Glasgow, and the fact that I stand for a living, I have injured it badly (the website even gives a list of causes, including: “Repetitive activities that stress the ligament, such as jobs or activities that require prolonged walking or standing on hard or irregular surfaces or from sports such as running” . . . ever notice the cobblestones in front of Jinty’s?). Not so much to require surgery (not at the point I hadn’t anyway) but bad. I ended up getting fitted for special shoe inserts and went about my day.

My next crisis came a few days later when I was trying to get the dogs outside so I could leave. My parents’/my/my cousin Taylor’s dog is named Tahoe and is quite old at this point. He’s also blind thanks to congenital cataracts (pure-bred Golden Retriever). So, he doesn’t like going out and when I tried to soothe him, he snapped at my left hand. I couldn’t just try and bribe him with a treat at that point, so we had a bit of a . . . tussle. He got my right hand pretty bad in the process, though I eventually got him out. I didn’t think much of it, but the swelling just wouldn’t go down and it remained very very sore for a while. I eventually went to see the family doctor, thinking it was broken (you would be paranoid too if your brother had gone a year with a broken wrist and not known it). Turns out it wasn’t but it was VERY infected. Apparently dog (especially old dog) bites are really really bad. “We can set a bone. We can stitch a tear. But if the infection goes untreated you could lose the entire hand.” Direct quote. Dr. Shotton said I was only a couple of days shy of a secondary infection which could have gotten into the tendons of my hand, which at the least would have involved a permanent loss of motor functions in my right hand and could have ended with amputation. He was serious. It was intense.

Then this past Saturday I was lying in bed reading. I got up and did a bit of a hop but came down on my left foot rather than my right. I didn’t exactly hear anything pop, but I definitely felt a twinge. I went to take a step and literally fell down. I had strained my foot again (I hadn’t been taking my anti-inflamatories because of the antibiotics that Shotton had given me for my hand), and for the rest of the day didn’t go anywhere without the assistance of a cane. Amy thought it was bloody hilarious. If it had been anyone but me, I probably would have agreed!

So now I sit in my parents’ once-again-neat-guest-room. It used to be Amy’s room and is pretty nice. I’m all packed for my return voyage tomorrow. Not excited. Not even a little bit. I hate to fly. But I guess it must be done, so here I go. At least I have my traditional “Never under estimate the power of stupid people in large groups” travel t-shirt. Let me tell you, the security people at airports love that shirt. I wonder why?

Slainte.

“Sometimes reputations outlive their applications
And sometimes fires don’t go out
When you’re done playing with them.”
~Coyote Shivers – “Sugarhigh”

Posted by ashrhodes
May 052005

At about 3am Pacific Standard Time on May 1st, 2005 CE, Melvin Eugene Elward died from complications arising from, among other things, a stroke he had suffered on Thursday the 28th of April as well as the re-occuring cancer which he had been fighting for several years. I am told he felt little or no pain and died a peaceful death. A family-only memorial will be held within the week and, following his own wishes, “Papa’s” ashes will subsequently be scattered somewhere in the mountains of Colorado.

That’s as formal as I could get. I miss you, Papa. The fact that I wasn’t able to say goodbye properly pains me to no end, but I have faith that you knew how much I love and respect you.

Those of you who never got to meet him, Mel Elward was an amazing man. Left to fend largely for himself from early childhood, his first job was sweeping a barbershop floor when other kids were just waking up in their beds. When he was 17 he lied about his age to go fight in World War II in the Pacific. When he returned he got a degree in Engineering and eventually started his own subcontractor company, Elward Inc. He married my grandmother and became my “third granddad” long before I was born. Papa was always the one who didn’t so much push me for excellence . . . he just expected it from me. He was one of the kindest, most hale, and most hardy men I ever knew. When I was growing up I never saw a single morning which he didn’t start with a workout which, even when I was at my healthiest, I could match. And let me tell you, there wasn’t a single man out there who could ride his bicycle backwards better than my Papa. I tell you honestly that I feel honoured to have known the man.

Goodbye, Papa. I love you.

Posted by ashrhodes