Chicken Butt

Little Brother - Meeting Cory

I went to a book discussion/signing tonight. Cory Doctorow is touring with his new YA novel Little Brother. It is really good. I'm about four/fifths into it.

I almost didn't go because of the commute and fear that it would be mobbed. I've never gone to a reading before. I plan to go again. He was exactly the way I expected he would be. I've been reading Boing Boing for years and he is my favorite contributor. Usually if I find a post really interesting the byline is Cory. I've only read one of his books before this. I really liked Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom, but this is better.

A sign I'm loving a book is that when I put it down and go back to real life I have trouble remembering that the book isn't part of reality. I keep wanting to discuss events in the book as if the people around me are experiencing too. I think part of this is because this book pulls in bits and pieces of Cory's BB posts from the last few years. Maybe that's why I had an accurate picture in my head of him. Not just how he looks, but how he sounds, how he phrases things. It was weird to be browsing in a book store, look up and hey, isn't that Cory Doctorow? Even though I was expecting to see him, it was odd. I smiled and said hi. It must be odd to be recognized by so many strangers.

So the reading. He started out doing Q&A to let stragglers settle in. I didn't ask anything before the reading. I didn't show up with questions in my head. I just wanted to hear him talk about his work. It was funny to listen to the people who desperately wanted to impress him. I find that painful to witness. I see it at work functions too. Some people ask questions just to ask something, so the questions are generic and a bit pointless. Some people love to hear themselves talk and will ask a five-part question that requires so much backstory that the question takes as long to ask as to answer. The worst I ever saw was the last time I saw Colin Powell speak at work, those new senior executives are so full of themselves and eager to impress. I wanted to howl or crawl under the table.**

Where was I, the reading. He read a passage that I read today at lunch. Marcus and Ange's first date, pages 184 through 197. I spaced out a few times during the reading. I'm a visual processor. It's easier for me to read and absorb than listen and absorb. Often after time I can't remember if I've read something or seen it on TV. My mind does it's own visuals and soundtrack and as time goes by I often cannot remember the original source. Having read the section only hours before it was almost too familiar. But it was cool to hear him read it. I guess he does a podcast and had read this section a while ago. Again, more of a reader than a listener, so I was oblivious.

Then there was about 20 minutes of Q&A. This is when I started asking questions and was unable to stop. He had mentioned a company that he bought his LINUX laptops from fully loaded and with tech support. I had missed the name. It's Emperor Linux Linux is something I'm interested in, but not enough that I want to fart around with it. I like the idea, but my focus isn't on hardware/software right now. I want tools that do what I want. I get enough troubleshooting at work right now. Wow, I'm rambling tonight. I'm a bit hyper actually.

I also wanted to know what he thought was the youngest age his book was appropriate for. He said 12. My nephew is way too young, I knew that. I bought a copy for ksl's kids QNE and had him sign it. I wanted to support the store and I had already bought my book at a big chain. I love small book stores in principle, but in reality I get annoyed by the small selection. Especially if I don't match their target demographic.

Someone actually asked where he gets his ideas from. Seriously? What are you ten? But he answered and it was interesting. He confirmed what I thought. All the posts he writes for BB are little nuggets he writes that helps him remember interesting things. Like a nemonic, he said. Someone also asked for writing tips. Here is a paraphrase of what he said:*

1. Write everyday.
2. If you don't know what happens next, make it worse. Make the character try to fix things and fail.
3. Stop writing in the middle of a sentence. It will make it easier to pick it up the next day. Like the hint in knitting. (Okay, not sure I got that last part down right.)

I also asked if kids had taken up some of the more destructive jamming methods up in their own rebellions again authority. Instructables has been posting HOWTOs inspired by Little Brother. He said no, and that people make the mistake of thinking that reading or seeing rebellion or mischief causes kids to imitate. But that really it was kids will be kids. Okay, that is simplified from what he said. I wasn't taking notes and he went in a direction I wasn't anticipating. A little defensive maybe? He had an interesting quote from another YA writing, he thought it was Garth Nix, about adolescence being a series of one way gates. For example, one day they have never told a lie of consequence and the next day they have. No going back.

I would really like to have a conversation with Mr. Doctorow. I may have broken a rule of signing events by asking multiple questions. But I really wanted to know and I did wait for someone else to raise their hands before sticking mine up yet again. He did thank me for asking questions. Even if he was just being nice, it was nice. A woman asked me if I was a school or public librarian while waiting for the restroom. She assumed from my questions that I was a librarian. I told her I just read a lot. She is a librarian, so I guess I couldn't have been too out of line if she identified me as one of her own.

Wow, this has taken much longer to write than I planned. Past bedtime for me. I'm glad I went and I need to continue doing this kind of thing. I took down info from a poster at the bookshop to about a lecture at Fermi Lab on June 4. It looks interesting. I've never gone to any events there, but always meant to. Oh, and while most of the men at the reading tonight were too young or married, there was one handsome man who took the chair next to mine. I didn't notice whether he had a wedding ring though. I was busy trying to remember if I had put on anti-perspirant today (Alas, this was not the first time I questioned this today. I'm pretty sure the answer is no.) Then I could not find my signing number. I had number five and lost it. I spent several annoying minutes searching everything in my purse before giving up and getting another from the front desk. So, not only was fat and smelly, I was also annoying.*** Nice.

Oh, there was someone recording the whole thing and there was a guy taking pictures and another with his MacBook Pro possibly blogging or twittering it. He sat in front of me and his phone or some other gadget went off during Q&A and he didn't turn it off. I wasn't the only one in my row giving him the hairy eyeball. I'm glad I went right from work and therefore wasn't seriously tempted to wear my robot celebrity t-shirt that I found via BB. There were several people there with boing boing or Cory related gear on and he complemented each one, but it seemed a bit like wearing a concert t-shirt at the concert. But that's me over-analyzing the shit out of everything. If I wasn't so judgmental I'd more serene. Time for bed.

* Yes I did take notes. It helps me absorb information. So just take that Loser sign you are making on your forehead right now and cram it.

** I never posted the latest picture of Gen. Powell and me. I didn't like it, but at least this time my eyes were open.

*** I am allowed to call myself fat. You are not. I weigh 254 pounds. Don't tell me I'm not fat. I'm not being mean to myself. This is how I saw myself sitting next to the handsome man with a bit of gray in his hair and number one signing number. Sigh. Can't wait to meet the handsome charming man at my blacksmithing class where I will sweat like crazy working the forge and probably maim myself with hot iron.

Normal is good

Life is pretty undramatic when cancer isn't hanging over everything. No major events, no trauma, just life. I've gone to lunch with old friends, watched too much BBC TV on DVD, and tried not to shop too much. I started making some paper dogwood flowers from a Martha Stewart kit and got bored after two. I like how calm everything is. I just don't have a whole lot to write about.

Oh. My. God.

Yesterday at a big meeting of my organization I saw a woman wearing a blue and white seersucker puffy skirt. Yesterday. At work. At a big gathering of professional people. Seersucker. Puffy. Puffy skirt. I did at least a double-take and had to resist the urge to grab the nearest friend and point. I managed to avoid being an ass (at least in that moment) and survived my little flashback to the eighties.

I cannot stop doodling this image during phone meetings. I see it when I close my eyes

Benign

Results are in. Both biopsied nodules are benign. Hooray!

I'm surprised by my lack of joy at the news. I'm still angry that the radiologist would only biopsy the two largest. I'm pissed that the endocrinologist's staff told me yesterday at 3 pm that they had the results, but the doctor never called me until 6pm today. His staff told me around ten this morning that it was benign, but I needed to hear it from the doctor himself.

The follow-up plan is to get another ultrasound in six months. I'm still having trouble trusting that one of the tiny nodules isn't a mutated clump of cells that will slowly grow to malignancy.

Thank you to everyone for your positive vibes, prayers and good thoughts. I've had an amazing outpouring of love from friends since all this started.

Not Hashimoto's disease

I don't have the energy right now to start from scratch so I'll post part of the email I sent to the growing list of people I've promised to keep up to date about my thyroid situation. Here goes:

I don't have Hashimoto's disease. The test was negative for the anti-bodies.

Is this a good thing? If it had been Hashimoto's disease, then cancer could be pretty much ruled out.

Now I need to wait for the results of the biopsy. The test is Tuesday morning in Elmhurst, so I might have results by next Friday.

For the record, I hate the word goiter. It conjures images of sepia-toned ladies with bullfrog necks. That's what they are calling it though, a multi-nodular goiter. Gross.

Here is a brief summary so far:

• March 19 - Routine Physical - Dr. notices a lumpy thyroid. Orders an ultrasound.
• March 22 - Ultrasound at Delnor Hospital
• March 24 - Multiple nodules on each lobe of thyroid. Referred to Endocrinologist.
• March 31 - Initial consult with Dr. Z, adorable endocrinologist. He believes it is Hashimoto's disease. Orders blood test for antibodies and an Ultrasound Fine Needle Aspiration(FNA ) biopsy.
• April 3 - Results of antibody test shows it is not Hashimoto's disease.
• April 8 - Biopsy scheduled at Elmhurst Hospital

Thanks for all your kind words, thoughts and prayers. They are much appreciated.

I hate the word goiter

I saw the Endocrinologist on Monday. I liked him; he took time to explain what he thought and listened to my concerns. He thinks I have Hashimoto’s disease. If I do, it is statistically unlikely I have thyroid cancer. It’s an auto-immune disease, so to verify Hashimoto’s they test for auto-antibodies. I had blood drawn Monday afternoon to check for those. I am scheduled to go in next Tuesday April, 8 to have biopsies done on the nodules.

Jennifer had thyroid cancer last year, she said that biopsies are not fun and I’ll be sore, but they aren’t too bad. She recommends I take any pain drugs they offer. The doctor says my neck will be bruised. So that’s something to look forward too.

I’m doing okay overall. I’m back in a wait-and-see mode. Hashimoto’s disease has its own fun things, but from what I’ve read so far it mainly involves checking my thyroid function a lot and if my thyroid fails I get to go on hormones for the rest of my life. I skipped over Hashimoto’s when researching before my appointment because it is usually hereditary, causes hypothyroidism, and causes enlarged thyroid. No one in my family has thyroid disease that I know of (my mom was adopted, so there is some unknown). My thyroid hormone levels are practically perfect and what I appear to have is a multi-nodular goiter, not an enlarged thyroid.

If I don’t hear from the Doctor tomorrow morning I’m going to call. They should have the blood test results by then.

Not lopsided then

Nine nodules. All over the damn gland. I see an endocrinologist on Monday. The lab report is full of words I never saw before Monday. I've done some research. There are some things that point to benign and others that point to malignant. More tests will be run. Statistically what I have is a multi-nodular goiter. I'm really trying to take comfort in that. I sort of lost my mind this week. My hands are still shaky. I can't concentrate except when I'm reading about thyroid diseases and I went MIA from work. They say that if you had to pick a cancer, thyroid is a good bet. I've talked with two friends that had thyroid cancer. They were very reassuring and scared the crap out of me at the same time. I'm still waiting wake up from this nightmare. I'm trying not to be a drama queen. Especially because a goiter is a ridiculous, embarrassing, undramatic ailment. (Please, please let it be a goiter!)

What hump?

It is not snowing today. It is certainly not snowing so hard I can't see across the street. Nor will five inches accumulate today. I know this because it is March and I've had enough snow this year. Period.

I have an ultrasound of my thyroid scheduled for tomorrow, Saturday at 1pm. I'm doing a decent job of focusing on other things. I haven't even told many people face to face. I'm trying to avoid my typical drama queen role. I'm scared, but there is nothing I can do. I won't know anything until sometime next week. Even then I could know nothing more except that they want to do more tests.

Physical

I am scared. I went for my physical and all was well until she was checking my thyroid. “Hmm,” is not a good sound from a doctor any time they are examining anatomy. She said I could be shaped that way or it could be a nodule. Since she noticed she wants to see what’s there. I want to do more research, but more general info is just going to make the panic worse. I know nothing to differentiate and all the symptoms sound like mine, even though three hours ago I had no symptoms.

I can’t even call the hospital to schedule the test until tomorrow. The paperwork has to be done first.

I’ve talked to a few friends and that helps. Of course I jump to cancer in my mind. When I say it out loud or type it I get scolded for going there. Honestly, where else would I go? I didn’t really go there until I read something about nodules producing excess levels of TSH (or T4 or T3) but that cancer didn’t increase the levels. My levels are all dandy. My shrink checked my levels in February. I brought a copy for my doctor. Wikipedia: blessing or curse?

So, I’m working hard to convince myself that my thyroid is merely lopsided. Otherwise I’ll start thinking about the irony of finally getting my shit together and getting cancer. I’ll start writing the screenplay of a lousy Hallmark movie in my head. Think asymmetrical people.

Note: Posting on WIT too.

I need a bucket!

I’d like to cut back on swearing out loud, especially at work. A muffled blurt of “Shit!” is something I’d like to avoid; unfortunately, it’s more likely to be the F word. Swearing is such a quick release, but childish. I considered switching to French swearing, but I only know merde. I could start saying random nouns in French, then I can say, “pardon my French.” Sorry, that is my father’s humor peeking through. Plus, I only learned a little French while working with a man in Paris, we instant messaged in French for fun sometimes. I can’t speak it and even my typed French is rusty.

In the Discworld novel, The Truth, villains Mr. Pin and Mr. Tulip say “___ing” but I don’t think I could get the pause right before the -ing. I’m not sure it would be a satisfying replacement for a good curse. I used Firefly cursing for a little bit, but it didn’t flow naturally and felt really self-conscience.

There may be too much SciFi/Fantasy influence in my head right now. There are only a few people in my face-to-face world who are as geeky as I. Between devouring all the Terry Pratchet I can get my hands on and Doctor Who the humorous references I see around me would sound like foreign language to anyone I talk with. Honestly, that’s not much deviation from the usual; I know I’d get the fish-eye if I said what I was thinking.

Notice I have no illusions that I could stop swearing altogether. No way could that happen. I'd explode from unreleased pressure like the fat man who ate a wafer thin mint.

The past is past

At lunch I saw a table full of people from my old job: the President, Vice-President and Sales Manager. Just over eleven years ago these people fired me because I complained about the scarily incompetent manager of my department. After a day of closed door conversations I was fired for incompetence. It was shocking and unfair and very good things happened because of it. I've been at my current company for eleven years now. If they had no fired me I might still be working for that incestuous little business.

I had to smile to see them. They look the same and much older at the same time. The Sales Manager looked pasty and sick. I had a crush on him for a while, wonder if he is still a volunteer fireman. I didn't recognize any of the others at the table. I spent so many years ranting about the unfairness of the way they fired me and feeling bitter. Today I don't care much. I wonder if they are still dysfunctional in that special multi-generation family business way. Does the customer service manager still sleep with the factory manager? Does the president's wife still come in to help out during the busy season and piss everyone off? Do the brothers (Prez and Vice-Prez) still share that huge office in the center of the building?

I used to envision returning there one day to show them just how wrong they were to let me go and how successful I'd been away from them. Today I just wondered if I looked at all familiar to them as I passed their table with laughter in my eyes.

Russel T. Davies is a Genius

It's quite possible I'm watching too much British television. I've been re-watching Doctor Who again, commentary, extras, the whole tamale. While I adore Doctors nine and ten and honestly can't pick a favorite, I think I may be in love with Russel T. Davies, writer and Exec Producer. He is brilliant like Aaron Sorkin, but geekier and Welsh. I've started using "Hooray" in conversation. Davies and his co-exec producers use it all the time in the commentaries and it has stuck in my brain. The thing is, I can't get any sort of fantasy from Davies because he is gay. It's not like that is anymore of a deterrent than living in the UK or being a famous television writer. It's not like I have a better shot with Eccelston or Tennant because they are straight (probably straight). It's just that adoring someone's mind isn't enough. A good fantasy requires a possibility, however minuscule, that if the person met you they just might find you attractive (and, because it is after all a fantasy, utterly irresistible). Gaa. Too much time spent in my head.

This weekend I will watch the first three DVDs of MI-5 series two. I'm finding all sorts of Anglo phrases and speech patterns in my self-dialog. I really do like the word flat instead of condo to describe my home. Condo feels so awkward and hard. Home is weird. House is incorrect. Apartment is also incorrect, but often slips out. Flat sounds right to me. I don't want to start getting all Anglophile though. I already have a MINI with a boot and bonnet. I must not get pretentious or silly. Maybe I should switch over to Buffy again, or Gilmore Girls. I could always try to rekindle my obsession with Vin Diesel or Andrew Lauer. (You probably know Lauer as Charlie from Caroline in the City, but I obsessed over him as Charlie in the short-live series, Going to Extremes.) Okay, enough exposing my crazy.

Is it spring yet?

Oh, baby, you'll freeze out there

It may only be 5 degrees F outside, but the sun shone for most of the day and at 5:05 PM the sun was still visible. I'm happy to see tangible proof that the days are getting longer again. Predictably I'm tired of winter and ready for spring. Every year I get stir-crazy in mid-February and start looking up last-minute cruise deals online. I almost planned one for this week in the fall but I didn't get a passport and I thought I'd rather spend the money on electrolysis. Laying on the table last night it did not seem like a fair trade.

Next time my electrolysis lady, Sharon, plans to turn the voltage up a bit. She had to go in multiple times to the same follicle many times. First stick isn't fun, but three or four into the same shaft fucking hurts! I was very sore and questioning whether it was worth it for about two hours after treatment. By bedtime it was fine. This morning you could barely see where she had worked. I think the semi-serious short term pain will be worth it never to shave my pits again. The process involves a lot of trust though. I won't have any idea how permanent the treatments are for at least six months.

Nothing new is happening in my life right now besides electrolysis. My sister's 36th birthday was Saturday. I bought her a Starbucks gift card per her request and made her a mix CD. I put 36 pennies on the jewel cover. One for each year of her life starting with 1972. I would have put a 2008 penny on there too as the "one to grow on" but could not find one. It looked pretty because I cleaned them first with vinegar and salt, then polished them with baking soda. I meant to take a picture of the case but I forgot. I used glue dots from scrapbooking to fasten them on. It worked pretty well.