Planes, trains, and boats

In the past weeks, Liz and I flew on 6 planes, strolled through 7 airports, rode 4 trains, cruised on 3 boats, and rode on countless buses. We stayed in 3 lodges, visited 3 ports, traversed numerous biomes, and wandered through 2 Canadian provinces and one big ass state.

And this doesn't even sum up our journey!

Alaska was our primary destination, and we started off with two days in Fairbanks at the Princess Lodge (we booked our tour through Princess). There we embarked to excursions on the Riverboat Discovery III and the El Dorado Mine (both tourist traps, complete with gift shops everywhere--including the boat). The boat ride was particularly fun (we even saw a genuine red nosed reindeer!), and we really loved the folks in Fairbanks.

Next we boarded the Alaska Railroad (special 2-story panoramic cars for us) and headed down to "Glitter Gulch", the gateway to the Denali National Park. We stayed in another Princess Lodge, this one looking more the part, but also featuring that motel charm. There we sampled the hot tubs, enjoyed great food, and waited out the somewhat dreary weather. That afternoon of overcast skies gave way to a gorgeous morning, which was a fortuitous start to a wonderful day (ignoring the 75 minute late start). Denali is the name of the park and the mountain (well some debate the mountain's name), but most see more of the former and less of the latter. Denali being such a huge snowball of a mountain creates its own weather and usually is veiled in clouds, but our first glimpse of the mountain was nearly complete, with just a hint of a cloud. This was 12 miles or so into our 60 mile (120 roundtrip) journey. Before that glimpse, we saw moose, and shortly thereafter we saw Grizzly Bears, caribou, marmots, and a fox. Later still we saw squirrels, more caribou, more bears, and Dall Sheep. All along our journey, we were surrounded by beautiful vistas, clear skies, and lots of biodiversity.

By now we'd already gotten to know the larger than life nature of Alaska, Alaskans, and their heroes. It seems everyone had climbed Denali, raced the Iditarod, or both! Even the kids joined in, as they're expected to do recess outside until it's colder than -20f! Imagine being hit by a dodgeball at -20! School stays open no matter the weather, but parents can keep their kids at home at -50f. In Alaska, Paul Bunyon would be a smurf.

All of this and we were only 1/3 of the way through our trip! Another rail encounter delivered us to another lodge, the Mt. McKinley Princess Lodge. We ate more great food, wandered through a swarm of mosquitos, and stared at the clouds wondering which one the mountain was hiding behind. We also drove by Wal-Mikes in Trapper Creek (think Wal-Mart meets Sanford and Son with an Alaskan flair) and saw another moose. Before long it was another time for train ride, this time all the way to the boat, but we caught a last glimpse of the mountain before our next trek.

This was our longest trip by rail, including some of the best views. We traveled along side some beautiful views of rivers, mountains, and swamps. We saw more Dall Sheep, quite a few out houses, and even Wasilla. We ended up our journey with a one lane/one rail tunnel to Whittier. Cars and trains take turns going through the 2.5 mile tunnel, and the two directions of traffic must wait as well--only in Alaska! Once we exited our tunnel, the big boat came in sight.

We've never cruised before, and I'm pretty sure Liz hasn't been on too many boats of any kind. After our cattle call boarding procedure we were introduced to Purell and lots of it. It seems you can't do anything on the boat without sanitizing before, after, or most likely both. Before long we found our room, met our steward, and tried on our life vests. Then we started exploring the ship. Our boat, the Diamond Princess, is a newer vessel, and a biggish (too big for the Panama Canal) one at that. Despite all this size it really seamed you couldn't go anywhere without either traversing the casino or the art gallery. Later we discovered you could also go anywhere you wanted if you were willing to wander across the pool laden deck, which was the preferred route, as it also housed the pizza, ice cream, buffet, and chocolate buffet.

We soon settled in, and the next two days were relaxing journeys through fjords gazing at glaciers and keeping an eye out for wildlife. I half expected to see whales and eagles, but certainly not as abundant as we saw. We also saw seals and porpoises. We even found the rare seagull that found the sea (as opposed to some Wal-Mart parking lot in Ohio or a landfill). As impressive as the sights were, the sounds were also noteworthy, especially the sounds of glaciers calving and crashing into the sea. In between the natural sights and sounds, we strolled into the casino, learned our lesson, and eat away our disappointment in one of the many four course (or more) meals.

The following days saw us arrive at Skagway, Juneau, and Ketchikan (all down south and far removed from the tundra we saw before). We previously arranged for activities in Juneau and Ketchikan, but Skagway was pretty much unplanned. We wandered through town, became bored of all of the jewelry stores (no matter how much the Princess infomercials hype the diamond deals, you're still in the US!), and wandered into a tour operator looking for adventure. We signed up for and got a Yukon Adventure. While Princess offered tours that go just enough into Canada to bring about the annoyance of passports and shit, they don't really go anywhere besides the edge of British Columbia (which isn't at all like Colombia btw). Notions of heading to the Yukon somehow seemed more entertaining, and the price was right.

After all the excitement of Skagway and our 100 mile trek into the Yukon, Juneau was a bit more subdued. Juneau, the capital (almost as big as Rhode Island and Delaware--combined!), is a small town (all that area and like 25,000 people), and it was a small town overrun by 7 big ass boats. Sadly it was foggy, so we didn't get to see much besides tourists, but we hear it can be pretty. We did get to see a one-eyed eagle, listen to Christian music, and almost give into the sight of a McDonalds and smell of Subway. Ketchikan was almost as uneventful, but the Coastal Wilderness Tour we booked brought us eagles, seals, and bears.

Soon time had flown so fast that it was all over, and we began to pack our bags, eat our last meals, and begin planning our next adventure. Many many more pics can be found here.

Emulation is the sincerest form of flattery

Well if that's the case, our Wii has really boosted the self esteem of old NES, Genesis, SNES, and even Saturn consoles that line landfills across the world. What the hell is Shane blabbering about this time? We'll get there.

You know how guys facing various facets of aging take on long forgotten aspects of their youth such as buying that sports car (or pimped out minivan) of his childhood dreams or reliving the memories of scoring four touchdowns in a game playing for Polk High School. For me, its more geeky. Since I've been banned from watching Jeopardy, I've taken on other pursuits. Yesterday I liberated our Wii, itself a flashback to a mispent youth. Now I can take on Bionic Commando, Pro Wrestling, and even Contra! That's right:

"Congratulations! You've destroyed the vile Red Falcon and saved the universe. Consider yourself a hero."

How's that for a pat on the back! Plus all those years where I remembered ↑ ↑ ↓ ↓ ← → ← → B A and was led to believe those brain cells had a greater purpose, well look who's typing now---byatch! It's great to be alive!

My Odd Hobby

Well, actually I have many odd hobbies, but one blog at a time. In my free time, which I tend to have an excess of, I often veg on the internet, and one of my favorite places to do so is the Wkipedia. What's a Wkipedia, well it's part wiki, a collaborative community knowledge repository where everyone can make contributions, and it's part encyclopedia (if you don't know what an encyclopedia is, you really have more important things to tend to than read my blogs). Anyway, it's an odd nerd ecosystem, where anyone can create or edit entries on anything. While there is a potential for really poor or rather biased entries, it doesn't end up much worse than Britannica or anything else (it's certainly more accurate than your average know-it-all, even me). What is real interesting is the scope of articles, especially the details available on some of the more tangential subjects, and how you can quickly go from one area of knowledge to another.

One such example was this Saturday, when Liz and I were watching Stay Alive, a rather forgettable story, sort of a Ring meats Playstation, with a touch of Dracula. Anyway, the description isn't so good, but the movie wasn't either (by our standards, it was better than many though), anyway, it featured a rather bastardized (and Americanized) rendition of the Elizabeth Báthory story or urban legend (is it an urban legend if it originated in rural society? is there a rural legend?). We looked up her entry, and read up on what people had to say. I won't bore you with he details, though in all honesty it's an interesting, though grizzly, bit of history, but I will mention our odd journey that followed.

We managed to confirm what Liz already knew (someone likes to read up on serial killers), and we found links to various references to her in pop culture. These included various books, games, and a lot of bands--especially death metal bands. Hmm, when all else fails, I can always laugh at death metal. We noticed that there were death metal bands mentioned, black metal bands mentioned, and blackened death metal bands. Hmm, I like blackened seafood, maybe I'd like blackened death metal? We had to read up on this new subgenre, and we were rewarded with a highly technical assessment of the genre, its roots, and practitioners of the 'art'. A link to the article on death grunts was our next jumping point, and that led us to doom metal, melodic doom metal, and gothic metal. Did you know doom metal has subgenres? traditional doom, epic doom, death doom, black doom, funeral doom, drone doom, stoner doom, sludge doom, and the all other doom category: avant garde doom. I find it interesting that enough people care about the differences between these subgenres and can distinguish each one. These articles are written about as well as those on the Declaration of Independence or William Shakespeare.

Anyway, it passes the time, and it will prepare me for my appearance on Jeopardy. "I'll take Swedish death metal bands for $1000 Alex".

My Last Hurah

During my brief stint in college, I was lucky enough to be on the University of Florida College Bowl team, and I got to travel to a couple fine cities, and many not so fine places. Even if our destination sucked, the journey was usually fun, and the people watching potential, always made things even more interesting. After graduating, I had to pass the baton onto a new era of combatants, and I left the glory days of road trips behind me.

Well that was the way things were until one summer, Jeff, the never ending student asked if I wanted to join the folks on a road trip--a masters tournament, which basically means one open to old hags like me (I may have been 23 at the time). Anyway, I jumped at the chance. We would be going along with Alex, the fella with the most remarkable memory I've ever seen and Mark, the only dude I knew who took estrogen pills--long story. Anyway, the tournament was in Washington, DC, and it also had a trash tournament, which probably was the main motivation for Alex and Jeff. We were taking a rental up there, and we would stay with Stacia, our old advisor, who fondly referred to us as 'pookies'. She was living in DC as a part of her career as a PC PR rep.

The trip started ominously enough, as the rental was a Mazda 626. I've rented dozens of cars over the years, and I've never so much as seen a Mazda on a rental car lot. The car wasn't the biggest means of transit for a Sasquatch like me, and four dudes in any car could get crowded. Oh, and it started to look like I would have to drive the whole way. What was worse was that we were gonna drive all night and get there in the morning, which was when the tournament began. Ugghhh.

After a couple hours on the road, we stopped for gas, and owing to the fact we were in Georgia, the guys came back from their trips to the restroom with 40s (such beverage choice is illegal in Florida, though I'm pretty sure driving with open 40s is illegal in Georgia as well). I resigned myself to having to drive the whole way. ugghh. The trip through Georgia was rather uneventful otherwise. South Carolina too, but we were looking forward to a stop at South of the Border. South of the Border is a uh ... well it's hard to describe. Basically it's the last exit in South Carolina (thus the name, well at least from a North Carolina perspective), and it is Mexican themed--very badly stereotyped, and rather racist. Pedro is the Mickey Mouse equivalent, and he's quite the beaner. They have restaurants, hotels, campgrounds, and Pedroland. Of course there are bad tourist trap style souvenir stands, gas stations, and stands. What was new and quite foreign to all of us was these big empty buildings with signs that said "Adult Video Games".

?!?!?!?! Adult Video Games? Interesting--bizarre, yet interesting. First off we wanted to know what exactly an adult video game is--our imaginations wandered. Secondly, why was such a brilliant idea so popular to create such vast establishments, yet so mysterious to us? Also, why were they all closed? We were rather perplexed, yet too shy to ask. We had to drive on--confused, tired, and wearily looking ahead to North Carolina and Virgina yet to go.

We eventually got to DC and the lovely campus of George Washington University, which really wasn't that lovely. The tourney was a disaster for me, as I was basically a wreck from having to drive the whole way without rest, and owing to the fact it was a masters tournament, it was rather dry and free of the usual chaos and unpredictability (and endless supply of Krispy Kreme and Surge) of regular tourneys. It was summer, so campus was dead, and I don't remember much else.

We hung out with Stacia, went to Georgetown (shamefully commericalized these days) and washed down a few margaritas. We waxed nostalgic about the good ole days before crashing. We headed home the next day, with some relief while Jeff drove. Thank god for that, as that 626 was the biggest piece of shit I ever drove. It would bounce the opposite direction of any pothole or bump. We figured out what the adult video games were--video poker, which was just banned, thus the closed establishments. Not as exciting as I imagined.

My Trip Home

Besides my unfortunate experience in Tennessee, I had a good trip home. I left early and made good time: I averaged 72 MPH, but that includes time spent getting gas (4 times), getting coffee (3 times, including two lengthy stops at Starbucks), stopping for pizza, a torrential downpour in Kentucky, and the time it took to get my speeding ticket. I rarely went under 80, and I spent more time in triple digits than below 70 (you can't listen to Rammstein and drive slow--go ahead try it; it's impossible). I spent too much time (and money) at Ikea, but it was a nice diversion, and I got some cool shit. I got to see lots of cars with either obviously redneck or obviously gay bumper stickers--quite a nice mix. I really enjoyed the big jacked up pickup truck with a giant rebel flag with the word "redneck" on it in giant script, like that isn't redundant. It's like a Mini with a gay pride sticker, which I saw a few of too. It really was a dull drive, a 13 hour dull drive.

Nora Louise Kuzma

Once upon a time, in my more rebellious days, I was on the UF academic team, and my nerdy homeboys (sadly not so many homegirls on the team, maybe another story for another day) let me down. We host an annual (well we always talked about making it semi-annual) high school tournament to raise moolah for our travels. We had some university funding, but we weren't exactly the football team, so we needed to supplement it if we wanted to live the pimp life. The tournament would be open to any public high school that didn't seem to be weird based on their name (no alternative schools, prison schools, schools for handicapped, or anything that seemed like added work--don't sue me, sue someone else). The rounds had 25 toss up questions and about 20 or so bonus questions. We promised something like 16-18 rounds, and at the end we sold the packs of questions for even more money. In years past some nitwits were lazy and used old questions over again to disastrous results (as I high school student I ruined that practice because my excellent memory spotted old questions and I answered way too many of them way too soon). So we needed to write 720-810 questions, and we each were given a .. of packs to write (making a big-ass question bank wasn't feasible at the time). I volunteered to write 90 , which was more than my share.

As time went on, the procrastination of others became outright laziness, and the excuses piled in. We were headed towards a disastrous scenario. I kinda inherited the shit duty of not only writing my 90 or so questions, but also the slack that needed to be addressed. I ended up writing 225 questions, and well there was a slight change in the quality of the questions. I always pushed the limits to begin with, and when you add stress, frustration, and lack of sleep, I ended up writing some gems for questions, which caused some issues.

Geography questions became name the country from liquor/beer produced there. Literature questions involved Tarrantino films--or worse. Science questions involved weapons. History questions involved lunatics, serial killers, celebrity sex scandals, and bizarre trivia. Math questions included a few too many drug references. Out of the blue I added some porn star trivia. There also were quite a few questions on cults, the occult, and anything that might provoke people. It was quite the hodge podge, and the funny thing is that the average score of my packs of questions was through the roof. The kids knew significantly more of my questions than anyone elses. I think every match had someone know Traci Lords birth name or enough of her porn film names to answer the question nice and quick.

I underestimated the parental grief, and since my packs were the only ones printed and done, they were like 5 of the first 6 packs read. At the end of the first night of competition, parents, including those from christian jr high schools (we don't invite private schools or junior highs, so they can smoke my pole), got pissed. I honestly think they were more pissed that their innocent kids knew all the shit they did. I had to see a dean and be counseled on my rebel behavior. The dean came out and said that they were extra hard on me because I was such an influential "alpha nerd". They quantified this status (which I can't argue with, as I was the alpha nerd) by saying I had a girlfriend, and others looked up to me because of that. It was all so sad but true, though I was shocked that they came out and said it.

In the end, I weathered the storm and became a legend. Kids would make copies of the packs of questions, and treasure them like a Mickey Mantle rookie card or something. Some would come up to be and speak to me with odd reverence (this was before I was ordained), and a few asked for autographs. It actually became sad. In the end, the whole affair marked an end of an era, and I no longer had free reign to write questions all on my own (I also never was screwed writing all the questions).

The Day I Wished I Didn't Believe in Santa

Word to the wise, when a museum claims to have the most shocking art in America, it might not be kidding.

A few years back, while I was still cruising the US with my nerd posse (the University of Florida academic team), we made a journey to New York (well Upper Montclair, New Jersey, but no good stories involve Upper Montclair). We had won the Southeast region for like the fifth year in a row or something, further asserting our dominance over the Florida, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, South Carolina region. We basically were assuming victory, so it was good that we won, otherwise Hari Kari would be in order, as it was New York or bust (well New York or our advisor who was counting on a trip to see her friend there would kill us).

All-in-all the journey was relatively uneventful. We only spent one day in Manhattan, going to the Met, the Empire State Building, Grand Central Station, and the New York Public Library. As the day started to close, the haves and have nots split. I'm always looking for good cheap fun, even if I have the cash, so I went with the have nots (Jeckle and Hyde at $100 a pop just didn't do it for me). We had a decent dinner at some hole in the wall in the Greenwich Village and were gonna go to the Whitney Museum, which was free on Thursday nights (I guess someone didn't believe in "Must See TV"). The exhibit of the moment was the most shocking art in America. I can't recall what all was there because the one thing I do remember scarred neighboring synapses beyond repair.

Now for those of you who don't quite know me yet, nothing really is shocking to me. It's not that I don't enjoy seeing new things, but I guess I'm prepared for just about anything. That was until I walked into a room with a large set, surrounded by way too many TVs showing a video that was filmed on that set. I guess it was an odd sort of performance art, well odd if you view Santa getting ass-raped by people in reindeer costumes as odd. If that isn't odd, watching people roll around in shit might push you over the edge, and if watching folks defecate in one-anothers mouth may doesn't the trick, then you are the odd one. The TVs managed to show the whole affair from different angles over and over. It made watching Caligula feel like the Teletubbies. My teammate Alex, he himself hard to shock had to go outside and smoke a cigarette.

Now when I leave cookies and milk out for Santa and carrots out for his reindeer, I leave behind condoms, wet wipes, and some Oust for the smell.

Drinking Contest & Friends Threatening to Rape Friends

Once again, we're gonna reach into the archives for something to amuse folks and perhaps help them get to know me better:

In case you didn't figure it out, I'm not a former three-time midget tossing champ at the Clay County fair, nor was I really the runner up in the Fleming Island breakdancing competition (Caucasian division), and lastly I don't have, nor have I ever had, six fingers on each hand. I honestly have had dinner with a transvestite, and foreign authorities have accurately identified me as an international pimp extraordinaire. What follows is from a slightly earlier period in my life, my wild college days.

At the University of Florida, there is a tradition of excellence in the intercollegiate trivia circuit (there are actually three overlapping circuits with different formats and different factions supporting it), and being the nerd superstar I am, I needed to challenge myself for my place among the giants. Anyway, I tried out, and fortunately among the three formats (only two existed at the time), they were playing the mindless speed oriented shit, so I came correct and quickly got the props I deserved from the veterans and was accepted onto the team (technically student can show up, but some people are so annoying we use alternative means to let them know to never come back). Once on the team, I was able to partake in the real purpose of it all, to travel, drink, and be wild nerds on the loose. Here's once of those stories (I just realized I've introduced this blog three times, I'm impressed anyone is still following on):


So we're going on this trip to Nashville for a tournament at Vanderbilt University. Things started oddly, as my hyper dependant ex (who literally had issues being away from me for more than a couple hours-I'm not shitting you, it was fucked up) made a scene at the Student Union, as she didn't want me to leave. She was banging on the car, offering me a weekend full of endless sex if I stayed (and a life of hell from never breaking her of her dependency). Bros before hoes-plus, there was no shortage of sex, otherwise I couldn't put up with her at all. Actually I still can't figure out how even that was worth it, but anyway she made a scene, homeboys on the team were impressed I had a girlfriend, let alone a sex fiend (I was the only team member with a girlfriend).

The trip there was normal, well normal for a car full of oddly adjusted nerds with an absolutely insane amount of useless knowledge. There were actually a couple cars but who's counting. After a while we get there, and it's not too late. We won't be playing that night, which means we'll be partying. Fortunately we opted for something other than the usual Olive Garden and went to a Mexican place.

We get there, and it's rather crowded, but we do get a couple tables nearby each other. I was at the kiddy table with all the younger folks (I was in my 2nd or 3rd year of school at this point), which is cool because I was their hero. I was the anti-establishment alpha-nerd (boy I just remembered that story, it'll come before too long). I saw that Alex, the nerdiest of them all ordered a margarita, a big ass mo-fo margarita-my favorite. I can't let him show me up, "I'll have what he's having" I shouted. Before long the waitress comes over with two gigantic strong margaritas, one for Alex one for me (all the kids at my table were 17-19, so they were all bright eyed and jealous). Well not more than a second later, another waiter runs our five glasses for the other table. They were using the big margarita as a pitcher to scoop out of and into the glasses-pansies! Well somehow body English conveyed the notion that we were racing. I wasn't gonna lose to them, even if it was 5 on 1! Well, they weren't so smart, and they were still using straws. I just grabbed the big ole glass with both hands and chugged (it was a frozen margarita, so it hurt like you fucking could never ever imagine). Needless to say I won (barely as they adopted my "Olaf Technique" to finish things up). Upon my triumphant victory, I placed the glass down (well I may have been a little rough) and it shattered and cut the dickens out of my wrist (we concluded that freezing glass is really brittle). We kinda wore out our welcome, left a decent tip for their trouble (and the glass) and left.

Well from there, we went to a convenience store to get some 40s (not for sale in Florida, such bullshit). We all go in, make our choices, and go to the counter where this odd white trash lady was working (she looked worse than the worst substitute school bus driver I ever seen, like the one on South Park). Somehow the topic of men was brought up, and she wanted to share her sage wisdom: "Men! Ha, you don't need any of that bullshit. A woman needs two things-two things: a vibrator and a dog." Most of us left, but Alex remained to peak his curiosity (this may be a one in a million chance for an anthropology major like him to study white trash in the wild). We sat in the parking lot, chugged our 40s, and eventually we all left for the hotel.

The hotel was your normal Holiday Inn affair, but it had added the perk of a jacuzzi tub. Kevin immediately took over that, and the rest of us were locked out of the bathroom. Little Dan showed his ingenuity by using the sink as a makeshift urinal (I've never done that or saw it done), and Mark and I became restless. He and I went down to the hotel bar which happened to be redneck themed. Well, I don't know exactly what happened, but we drank a lot and we sang karaoke. After that we staggered back to the hotel room without a key. Allegedly I kicked the door down-can't recall that, and I had a bed all to myself (Little Dan slept on the floor). Kevin and Mark shared a bed, which seemed innocent enough. It wasn't.

After laying in bed a bit, I started to hear Mark talking real loud about how Kevin better watch his back, as he (Mark) was gonna get him some if Kevin doesn't watch out. It kept escalating (and poor little Kevin just curled into a ball), as Mark would be like, "I'm gonna make you and honest woman tonight" and "Mmmm, hmmm uhhh huhhh gonna get me some". What's scary is that Dan and Kevin were convinced this was no act, rather the subconscious rantings of a delusional drunk (Mark claims to remember nothing of it-Kevin is still wandering Europe from his scars).

The next day we played hungover and did well as usual. I can't recall if we won it all that week or not.

Is it possible that a bad relationship can make you stupider?

Is it possible that a bad relationship can make you stupider?
The past few months I've noticed that my mental abilities have made unusual leaps forward, especially in light of the general decline they were mired in before. I'm a pretty intelligent guy and I have an unusually good memory, but recently I've been operating at a level I haven't known in years.

In high school and in college I participated on trivia teams, traveling the country flaunting my useless knowledge and getting drunk. Many nights of NTN trivia in bars back in college pretty much went the same way. After college things started to get a bit rusty, both in terms of memory and intelligence, but nothing major. One way or another, it seemed to get worse in recent years, corresponding with my last unsuccessful relationship. I couldn't speak German (not even to two cute young drunk German Au Pairs), I couldn't solve puzzles like I used to, and I didn't even pass a Jeopardy pre-screening (previously I scored a very nice passing score on the official test, though I wasn't selected to be on TV). I kinda gave up on some of what I used to be capable of. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't senile or anything, just closer to average.

Well, in recent months I've had a renaissance. I'm now magically able to speak and write German as well as I could in years. I watched Jeopardy a couple times recently with a friend, and I can answer all but a couple questions, usually real quick. What's odd is the stuff I'm remembering is not even the usual shit, its like stuff I'm pulling out of my ass. Brownian motion, Bernoulli effect, WTF? It's not just this relatively useless stuff either. I'm remembering all sorts of old memories, people, places, feelings, etc I'm working at a high level, thinking pretty well (well I still can go overboard and overdo things), and I'm able to read and learn at my old rate.

I can't think of anything else that's changed in my life, and I cannot figure out why things would have changed. I'm not trying to blame anyone or anything, rather just noticing things. I suppose some of the positive developments in my life may have brought this out--if so, thanks friends, you guys (more often than not gals) have really brightened my life. Anyway, it's good to be my old self.