| Broken brains and me |
[Nov. 15th, 2008|10:31 am] |
Some of you good people may have noticed that I haven't been quite myself these last two weeks. This post serves as an explanation.
WARNING: Some of what follows is pretty personal. If I wasn't OK with it being public it wouldn't be here, but if you're uncomfortable with that kind of thing (or perhaps just don't know me well enough to care) you may want to skip this post.
At the end of October, certain things about me were brought to my attention in a way I could not ignore. These were things that I kind-of knew all along, but not really. The biggest was that I'm not really very good at getting things done or following through on my grand ideas. I also have an abysmal short-term memory.
This impetus finally got me to do something I should have done years ago: see a psychiatrist and figure out if there's a medical problem that can be dealt with or if I'm just lazy and inattentive. I think, given the title of the post, that you can figure out which it was.
I have been diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder, which is both medically and psychologically treatable. There is, however, a lot of controversy and misinformation about ADD. I won't attempt to clear all of that up here (there are better resources for that than this blog), but I will describe my particular flavour and how it differs from the popular image.
Hyperactivity is very common, especially in children with ADD. So much so, in fact, that the symptom is right there in the new name, ADHD. Since my version lacks this entirely, I'm sticking to the term ADD.
So, on to what I do have. I am very distractible. In fact, while writing this post, I have spent at least half the amount of time since I started wikidiving (while getting the link above), replacing my mouse pad (because the mouse was a little bit jerky), repeatedly checking my IRC client (no activity) and choosing music (settling on Bach). This is what causes me the most trouble.
Combined with this, I have a frustratingly poor short-term memory. I can literally forget, while spending two seconds switching to another workspace to see if I have email, what I was working on. Combine this with the above, and you start to get a picture of my life.
The flip side is that ADD comes with the ability to "hyperfocus" on occasion. I sometimes (rarely) get stuck into something so completely that an entire day can go by without me noticing. The last time I did this, I was updating the code for my website. (It has yet to be deployed and it doesn't change much on the outside. It's much cleaner and more functional behind the scenes, though.) It's what lets me pick up a new programming language in a day or two, when it happens. Sadly, it doesn't happen as often as I'd like.
Over time, I have developed some tools to deal with a lot of this. I incessantly check that my pockets have the right things in them, which stops me forgetting my wallet, phone or keys. I set alarms and reminders on my phone and tend to leave for things early so that I'm not late.
I mentioned before that ADD is treatable. I'm just starting the process of figuring out the right medication, but I'm already seeing results. I'm currently on Concerta, which is basically 12-hour slow release Ritalin. It makes a huge difference, in that I'm able to concentrate on something for more than a minute or two at a time.
Methylphenidate hydrochloride, which is the active ingredient, has two major side effects that are hitting me. I knew both of these (and some of the other that I'm not seeing) going in.
The first isn't so much a side effect as a primary effect. Since the drug is a central nervous system stimulant, it affects sleep. I've had a little more than my usual trouble falling asleep since I started, but I've also been awake and alert before 06h00 every morning. While three data points isn't really conclusive, it's enough of a difference from my usual routine that I think it's significant. It's nice to be up and functional early, but it means I'm sleeping less. It hasn't been long enough to tell if this is a problem, but I'm cautious.
The other is appetite suppression. While this strikes me as something of a bonus, since I really could stand to lose a few kilos, it does mean I have to be better about eating a proper breakfast than I usually am. A morning meal is even more important when you're not going to be hungry for most of the rest of the day.
Aside from the drugs, there are a bunch of psychological treatments. These basically consists of structure and external tools to help keep track of things that most most people do automatically. Calendars and reminders are a big one, and Google is very helpful in this regard.
Probably the most successful tool I'm using at the moment is the humble daily todo list. Having tried various computer-based things in the past, I've settled (for work stuff, anyway) on a notepad and a pen. Part of the reason is that it sits on my desk between my keyboard and my tea, so is always visible. The other part is that the physical act of drawing a line through a task I have completed produces a surprisingly strong endorphin release.
An important thing to realise (and I like to think I'm less guilty of this than many) is that a reason is not the same as an excuse. I now know why I'm so horrible at getting things done, but it doesn't absolve me of the responsibility to actually get things done. It does, however, give me the understanding necessary to build the support structures that will help me deal with it more effectively.
That's about all I have brainspace for at the moment, and this post is certainly long enough already. It hasn't been an easy couple of weeks, but it has been necessary and long overdue. The future is looking better than it has in quite some time, but the short term adjustment period is likely to be fairly rocky.
I shall leave you with an amusing analogy I keep attributing to the wrong person (it was about him, not by him): The ADD Stove. |
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| The Great Train Jol |
[Apr. 28th, 2008|06:06 pm] |
A week or so ago, a certain Jonathan decided it would be a good idea to take the train down the peninsula and have a day of fun and relaxation on the public holiday. Since I live about 150m from the Diep River station, I was the last person to hop on the train as it headed south and the jol1 was already in full swing. We enjoyed the relaxing trip down to Kalk Bay, although there was the occasional mild panic to figure out which station we were at to make sure we didn't overshoot.
We got to Kalk Bay at around 10 and went wandering down to the pier to look at the fishermen and watch the seals playing. When we got tired of that, we found a coffee shop/restaurant/eatery that purportedly sold sushi (although we were too early for that) and breakfast (although we were almost too late for that) and beer (which was warm). I held out and had a coffee first time around, but snagged a spare Windhoek with the second round when the waitress brought too many of those and not enough Heinekens. After some juggling of varying-denomination paper money, we had the bill paid and train fares sorted out. (Jonathan had bought a stack of tickets, we needed to repay him and he needed to dish out some change.)
After that, some of us headed down to the bookshops and antique dealers and browsed a bit while the rest went and did their own thing. We were starting to get peckish, so we arrived at the Brass Bell about 45 minutes early for our lunch reservation. Our table was ready anyway, so we had more beer and waited for the other half of the party to catch up before we did the food thing. There is an unwritten rule that when you go to Kalk Bay by train, lunch is fish and chips. Graham missed this somewhere, and had to send his burger back to be reheated.
After lunch, we got back on the train and went to Simonstown. We wandered around a bit and ended up at a place where they do awesome ice cream. I don't know about the ice cream, but they do really yummy pancakes. After chilling there for a while, we marched back up to the station and caught the train back home. My jol ended a bit prematurely when I got off before anyone else, but it was an awesome day nonetheless. We really should do this more often.
1. For readers abroad: The word jol, like the word kief, is a generic South African word. It refers to having a good time and is used in any context. "I am going on a jol (party)." "I am having a jol (good time)." "That spectacular wipeout at Super Tubes was a jol (rush)." -- Surfrikan Slang |
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| Very long day |
[Mar. 22nd, 2006|03:00 pm] |
Interesting day yesterday.
I woke up at 03h45 to shower and shave so I could be ready to go at 04h15. Further preparations involved making strong, sweet coffee, remembering to take a pillow and forgetting to take earplugs. I was collected at 04h15, got to the bus at 04h30 and directed it around to where the trailer was parked. Since the band's trailer fits a car and no car was going with us, we had to move everything to the trailer that came with the bus. This went fine, until we realised that the door on the bus' trailer was just a little too small for our big tympani. This was soon fixed by unscrewing part of the wooden frame around the trailer door, though. What will they do when I'm gone? *grin*
I slept all the way to Pietermaritzburg, where we picked up another set of musicians and that woke me up enough to make further sleep impractical. I lent my pillow to Little Drummer Boy who looked very uncomfortable and wandered up and down the bus in search of coherent conversation until we arrived at the first school. I put a minion in charge of taking my trombone to the hall where we'd be playing and supervised the unloading of the percussion, being the only person able to get the big tympani in or out (it has to be done at an odd angle). We got everything set up with the Lord High Percussionist avoiding any actual work, as usual.
The concert was pretty good, considering everyone was still groggy. One of our pieces starts with a french horn solo, except that we currently have no horn players. Also, the alto sax player who usually does the solo couldn't make it. So we had a new saxophonist who sight-read the whole thing. She messed it up in a couple of places, but recovered very gracefully and it sounded pretty good, only not what it was supposed to be. She was beating herself up about it over breakfast (which the school was nice enough to provide) and we comforted her somewhat by heaping great big piles of praise on her shoulders. It seemed to work, because she was more cheerful thereafter.
The second was at a primary school, and they were kind enough to send a squad of minions to assist with the carrying of our instruments. By the time they arrived, however, most of the small stuff had gone and it was only the heavy drums left. They managed to get everything to the correct places mostly by having about six of them carry each item. Our saxophonist performed much better with her solo and the kids in the audience were of the bouncy and dance-as-much-as-the-limited-space-allows persuasion. Packing up was similarly assisted and achieved quickly, despite the continued absence of the Lord High Percussionist.
The trip back to Durban was long and mostly uneventful. At 14h15 we were on stage for the renaming of St. Andrews Street to Diakonia Avenue, to a smallish audience of mostly unwashed masses. The mayor came and said something political, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, pulled the covering off the new road sign, and wandered off. The last item we did was accompanied by some singers. The first try, one of the singers forgot her words and stumbled to a halt. We tried again with another singer, and she got it right. It wasn't our screwup, but it's not a very pleasant thing to happen to anyone on stage and I was rather offended that she hadn't bothered to learn the words properly, especially since there aren't very many of them in that song.
Lunch followed, with tickets only being handed out to people who carried an item of percussion (in an effort to get people to help) and there was a flurry of delicate flautists trying to grab the smallest. lightest object they could get their hands on. It sort of worked, but we were delayed by a locked gate that reduced a doorway to a width insufficient for the passage of our bigger drums so we had to wait until a key could be found. For once, the Lord High Percussionist was at the trailer (probably only to get his lunch ticket) but so was Little Drummer Boy's mother, so I had to hang around and help pack. After that, people went home and I said my goodbyes to the people who won't be at Thursday's concert. Instead of going home, however, we ended up waiting for the car that was supposed to be picking up two band members from a boarding school. Nobody could get hold of anyone to find out where the car was or even if it was coming, and much confusion and driving around ensued. Eventually the car arrived. It had been waiting in front of the wrong building at the other end of the road.
When I got home, I managed to catch a couple of hours of sleep before heading off to an NMR band rehearsal. Except, being a public holiday, there was no rehearsal. Instead, I sat in the NCO's mess with the three of the officers and the about-to-be-RSM talking military stuff until nearly 22h00. Fun stuff. |
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| Cousins and Interviews |
[Jan. 31st, 2006|06:17 pm] |
As people who read this blog no doubt know, I was in Cape Town recently for an interview with Amazon's SA dev centre. The nice people at Amazon were kind enough to fly me down and let me choose the flights. This worked out very nicely, as it meant they didn't have to handle any of the logistics and I could fly down on Saturday for a weekend with my cousins. As a bonus, the Saturday flight was quite a bit cheaper than anything on Monday morning, so we all won.
( Weekend with family. )
( The interview, for people interested in me but not my family. )
( More family stuff. ) |
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| tuXlab |
[Dec. 11th, 2005|10:57 am] |
Yesterday I attended the first tuXlab installation in KZN. This is something I've been wanting to do for a while, but they've all been happening in the Cape.
The story actually starts quite some time ago when the school in question asked the Gift of the Givers Foundation for some sponsorship for a computer room. GotG haven't had much experience in such matters, but they got hold of the Shuttleworth Foundation who assisted them with finding cheap hardware (reconditioned machines to be used as thin clients and a heavy terminal server that will live in the back) and procedures for installation and configuration.
I got there a little late (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) the_5th_weel's fault -- we appointed him official scapegoat for the day) but we were still in time for everything. We all had a look at the computer room, which already had all the PCs unpacked and on the tables but no cabling, switches, etc., and went down to the staff room for some tea and biscuits. It turned out that this was an opportunity for everyone to make speeches (which not many of us were expecting) but we dutifully listened with only slightly glazed eyes. After that, we all went upstairs and were divided into teams for the cabling and installation. There were three teams: the guys from LEAD, the guys from PLEG and some teachers from the school. Hilton and Jonathan from TSF and Yusuf from GotG helped out as well.
Just as we were getting started, we noticed some of the machines wouldn't start up. (Second hand machines, remember?) A couple of us decided we'd take all the broken boxen downstairs and try make a few working ones out of the bits, so I got out of pulling and crimping cables which isn't really my strong point. Several of the "broken" boxen we were brought only needed to have bios settings for no-longer-present hard drives removed and to be configured to boot off the network. Most of the others had dead power supplies and several had dodgy processor fans as well. I don't remember how many machines we processed (I think it was close to 25), but eventually we had 10 dead (motherboard issues) and 4 that only needed PSUs. (An aside: While we were messing with hardware, we were brought two school PCs that weren't working. It turned out that they weren't working because floppy connectors had been jammed into the hd IDE connectors...)
Eventually we ran out of boxen to fix and went upstairs again just in time to be summoned for lunch. We were given a selection of fairly good curries and several varieties of bubbly beverage and after that a bunch of people left. Most of the LEAD guys were still upstairs making sure all the PCs were booting off the network and everything was happy, and it turned out that the people from PLEG weren't very good at cabling. We started investigating machines that wouldn't come up (one with a broken NIC, the rest badly made cables) and had a brief moment of panic when the server fell over. Further investigation showed that the server's power cable was one of those dual-power jobbies that had had the second kettle connector cut off. Leaving bare 230V AC wires and an earth. Unprotected. Flapping in the breeze.
I immediately shut down the server and found a new power cable. The UPS hadn't yat arrived (I'm not sure if they actually realised they'd need one) but I don't like the idea of bare copper plugged into mains voltage, especially on the same cable as a server's power. Some quick work with my leatherman rendered the offending cable unusable (Never leave dangerous items where they might be used unknowingly) and the server was back up. But the network wasn't. Eventually we discovered that someone had unplugged the server's cat5 from the switch. (the_5th_weel's fault again -- isn't it fun having an official scapegoat?) Plugging it back in made everything work again.
Eventually, we recrimped the last cable at about 17h00. While we were finishing up the last few machines (we only had enough tools/space to do one at a time) we chatted with Yusuf about how things had gone and improvements for the next time we do this. I think we made a fairly good impression -- staying late to make sure every LAN point worked, even the ones without PCs yet, after everyone else had wandered off probably had something to do with that.
Hopefully next time will go a little smoother. Most of our problems were based on people who were inexperienced and not really trained in what they were supposed to be doing. Also, Hilton seemed to have forgotten that none of us had actually done an installation like this before, so he didn't pick up some of the problems until they were too late. All in all, it went about as well as could be expected and in the end everything *did* work. |
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| I'm going to be in a movie! |
[Oct. 30th, 2005|06:56 pm] |
So, there's a BBC thing about Krakatoa being filmed in Durban and they want a 19th century brass band. A friend of mine who is also a trombonist was running around looking for people who qualified to do it. The pay is R500 for a day of filming, starting at 05h00 tomorrow morning.
We had to go for costume fittings yesterday at a dodgy little place in Point Road. (For readers who don't know Durban, Point Road is one of the dodgier areas. There are lots of bad jokes about it.) Three of us went: myself, a tuba player I shall call Twobar (because that's how he pronounces "tuba") and a clarinet/sax player who is currently learning the trumpet. I'll call him Clarence, which was suggested by a random Scandinavian on IRC.
We eventually found the place by wandering through the building and asking everyone we met. There were a bunch of really harried people running up and down and some relaxed people sitting on couches. After we tracked down the fitting people, we were each given a bag with a "large" military band uniform in it and told to try it on somewhere. While we were doing this, someone else told us to please take a seat and come in one at a time. As we left to sit down, the first person told us to try the uniforms on. Eventually they made up their minds and had us all get dressed in another room.
The "large" uniforms weren't. None of us could button the trousers. Clarence couldn't even get them up past his thighs. The tunic things were a little better, and I managed to get mine buttoned simply by exhaling and then not breathing any more. One of the fitting ladies walked around with a knife and split the back seam of the trousers to allow the to button in the front, with the idea that they could take our measurements and add some extra fabric in the back. Mine needed 19cm at the waist. They also undid the buttons on the tunic and marked where they should be moved to. Much more comfortable. The rest of the uniform included a belt (last notch for me), white gloves, boots, a hat and various dangly bits.
So, with luck I'll have a costume that fits me tomorrow. I'm sure I'll spend a lot of time waiting for stuff to happen, so I'll bring a couple of books. I'm not sure R500 is worth leaving at 04h00, but I'm sure it'll be fun. Also, I get to be one of those guys in the small print in the credits that nobody ever reads. I wonder if I'll have to do my own stunts... |
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| Hospitals |
[Apr. 25th, 2005|05:24 pm] |
This morning I ended up spending a couple of hours at a local hospital. The story begins at about 03h00 with me blissfully asleep. Our domestic worker (whom I shall call Maid Marion) woke my parents complaining of severe pain. They took her to a nearby low-cost private hospital -- not as good as Netcare, but affordable and much better than the government hospitals. The doctor treated her for pain, diagnosed probable kidney stones, and suggested that we book an ultrasound examination when they opened. Maid Marion was left in outpatients where she could be treated for pain as necessary.
At about 08h00 my mother phoned and booked the ultrasound, but someone had to go and pay for it (cash) before it could be done. Since the hospital's on my way to the university, I took the forms and the cash. The place I was told to go to pay was wrong, but I was directed upstairs to the radiology department. Once everything was sorted out there, I went to find Maid Marion and organise for her to be taken to the ultrasound. No doctors or nurses seemed to be available, so I was given a porter to take her up.
The hospital is currently renovating its lifts, so only one is available. This means that we had to wait rather a long time before we eventually managed to get in. The lift can hold one trolley, the lift operator and about five or six others. After a (thankfully) brief trip, we got back up to radiology and I waited in the queue while Maid Marion lay on her trolley in a side corridor out of the way. Maneuvering her into the ultrasound room was interesting (for Chinese values of -- the porter had gone back downstairs) but eventually I managed it.
The ultrasound results were in Doctorese, and therefore probably wouldn't have made much sense to me even if I could decipher the handwriting. Finding the porter again and taking Maid Marion back downstairs was another interesting experience. By this time it was getting towards 10h00 and I had to go. I left Maid Marion with the ultrasound results and instructions for the doctor to phone my mother (who is a nurse) when he sees the results and took the long walk back to the car. No nearby parking when I arrived.
The thing that irritates me about the whole situation is not the running around and waiting at the hospital, but the fact that it's necessary. Unfortunately the medical profession in this country (and most others, I would imagine) is overworked and usually underpaid.
About lunch time I got an sms from my mother. It turns out that the problem isn't kidney stones -- Maid Marion has a non-malignant fibroid tumour which requires surgery. Not much fun. On the bright side, it could have been a whole lot worse. She's still alive and it's treatable. |
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| Bar Miztvahs and Cape Town |
[Apr. 10th, 2005|10:48 pm] |
So, as some of you know, I've spent the weekend (and part of Friday and half of Monday) in Cape Town (which is where I'm writing this). The main reason for coming down was my cousin's Bar Mitzvah. This, for technical reasons that I don't really understand, took place on Sunday, rather than the usual Saturday.
Friday afternoon was spent flying down, being mobbed by a bunch of excited cousins (well, second cousins -- their mother is my cousin) and sorting out sleeping arrangements. I ended up sharing a room with the youngest, a nine-year-old who I shall refer to as Dennis (as in The Menace, although he's not all that bad). Friday night was a big dinner with all sorts of family (many of whom I've never seen before -- I have millions of Capetonian relatives who crawl out of the woodwork on occasions such as this). Great food, good company and a bottle of Johnny Black (which I didn't drink all on my lonesome -- I shared it with the other forty or so guests).
That brings us to Saturday. The morning was spent looking after the religious side of things, and the afternoon relaxing with cousins. Lots of time reading, playing computer games, and trying to fix two PCs -- both unsuccessful, due mainly to a lack of operating system CDs. Saturday night supper was quiet, informal, and everyone just grabbed leftovers from the fridge.
Sunday was the big day. The Bar Mitzvah was great, my cousin Luciano (as in Pavarotti, he sang that well) did his thing with great aplomb while chanting his little mantra in his head: "presents, money, playstation, ipod, presents, etc." Apparently it helped his get over all the nerves. Then was breakfast at Suikerbossie, a nice little restaurant somewhere in Cape Town which had arranged kosher food for the occasion. I don't think I have ever eaten that much before lunch time.
After the breakfast I went home with another bunch of cousins (this time it's the father who's my real cousin) -- Dexter (of the Lab) age six and Little Dennis (yes, he shares a name with the nine-year-old) age three. Big Dennis came along as well. The afternoon passed languidly with me being soundly thrashed at Mortal Kombat. Then Little Dennis decided he wanted someone to read to him. Of course, every time we finished a book he went to fetch another one. The fact that I continued all afternoon (three books later) until more food arrived has given me a firm slot in his "favourite people" list.
Sunday night (busy day) I went to the cousins' school play, which was a rendition of Fiddler on the Roof starring (amongst others) Luciano (in a minor role) and his two brothers (playing Motel and the Rabbi). Wonderful performances all round, and a very slick production. Then back home while the three older kids went to the afterparty, and here to write this post.
Tomorrow the cousins all go back to school and I head back to Durban. My mother and my sister are spending the morning shopping. Sister dearest didn't realise when she came to study at UCT that Cape Town actually gets cold. All her winter gear is to suit Durban.
But now, I'm exhausted and so is Dennis. He won't go to bed before I do, so I'd best hit the sack. |
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| Three days in the bush with a bunch of kids |
[Jan. 22nd, 2005|07:08 pm] |
As some of you may know, I do part time work as a security guard. This led to me spending the past three days at a bush camp kind of place with a school tour. Thirty twelve year olds, two teachers and some instructors that work at the camp. Hard work, usually, but lots of fun. The story's quite long, so I've dropped it behind a cut.
( Tell me about the trip! ) |
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| Cars, CD players and two-way radios |
[Dec. 29th, 2004|04:26 pm] |
Some of you (those within earshot, probably) may be very disturbed to know that I have to sing in the car again. This is due to the fact that someone decided my car radio and CD changer would make a nice christmas present. Of course, they didn't bother to ask me -- they just helped themselves sometime on the night of the 24th/25th. They also left the inside light on which I didn't notice until I'd driven home and the car had spent a night in the garage. Thus, a flat battery was added to my woes. Between that and a broken radiator hose on my dad's car, we were more or les demobilised for a couple of days.
More on the radiator hose story: We fixed it (by cutting off the broken bit and reconnecting the now slightly shorter hose) and drove to the airport to sort out tickets for my parents' holiday to the UK (their first holiday on their own for many, many years). At the airport, the other side of the hose decided to break. Of course, this left the hose too short to simply be trimmed and reattached so we had to improvise with a spare piece of hose (left over from the last time something in the engine broke) and a piece of plastic tubing. This process took about an hour and a half, mostly because the connector for the bottom end of the hose was almost inaccessible. It still leaked, but it got us home and we only had to stop and refill the radiator once along the way.
Back to my car. I went to have the window they broke replaced yesterday. Fortunately it was one of the little triangular ones at the back and not one of the big ones which are an order of magnitude more expensive. It set me back R220 (about $18 for those unused to South African currency). Not a lot in the greater scheme of things, but that's about 10 days worth of petrol. So, now it's back to singing when I'm in the car unless I can raise anyone on the 145.650MHz repeater on the little Motorolla handheld I've borrowed.
I don't think I've mentioned here that I'm an amateur radio operator. ZR5JRT at present, but I'll probably be getting my ZS license soon so my callsign will change. Anyways, the money I was going to spend on my own rig (so that I don't have to walk around with one that doesn't belong to me) will probably end up being spent on a new car cd player. That is, of course, if the university ever gets around to paying me my December bonus. I filled in the forms for December's deadline so I'll probably get the money in about March. (Those of you who think I'm exaggerating, I'm not. Our beaurocracy is that bad.) |
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