Like many other writers, at this time, the only thing stopping me from writing is the great void of time and experience through which we are living. Ah, well. Here is a link to a story about my friends the Odd Godfrey’s which aired on local Las Vegas TV a couple of days ago. You’ll get to know a bit more about Leslie and Andrew, and, I hope, enjoy the story!
This post is about some of the effects of Attention Deficit Disorder. A few sentences first to explain what that is.
First, it is not really a disorder, and no one blessed with the condition has any shortage of ability to pay attention. The main effect is that one is incapable of being bored. If one gets bored enough, one loses consciousness. That’s why often kids with the condition seem hyper. Movement creates interest, it’s as simple as that.
Second, one of the major effects on the blessed recipient is that the child misses out on a lot of social cues. For instance, they might miss the subtleties of how to kid, and actually insult friends without meaning to. Also, the child may well miss some deeply ingrained and important societal constructs. Remember these two things as you read this.*
Third, someone blessed with ADD can usually tell when they’re being lied to.
As you may have guessed, I am so blessed. I had teachers in elementary school who were very frustrated with me. One kept sending home nasty notes, to no avail. Occasionally I was asked why, since my test scores showed that I was smart, did I not do better in school. The first time, and only the first time, I told the truth: school was boring. Somehow, the faculty and administration were not impressed with my honesty on that point. But it is time to move to my main point.
My main point is that I missed a lot of subtle, unspoken socialization. I did have trouble in school resulting from not knowing the proper way to “praise insult” a friend. But there is one really big part of general American socialization that I completely missed out on. That is, the idea that some people are more equal than others. I have felt, and been grateful for, what is now being called White Privilege for almost my entire life. Sheesh, would I hate to be a minority. I even got to take advantage of a whole boatload of White Privilege without asking for it! I did not ask because, from school days to now, the people one asked for even more, extra-special privileges, are people who, basically, I tend to despise. Yes, folks, I hate seeing a succession of pasty, old, white dudes in charge of the country. (Okay, one of them is now orange, but it’s the same difference.) I’ve never liked the pasty old dudes in charge of, well, anything. Churches, clubs, government organizations, anything. The first group of such dudes, who, honestly, I admire in many respects, set up a system of hypocritical lies right in the founding documents of this country. Sure, all free white men are created equal, and endowed by their creator, etc. But nobody else is! The roots of racism lie in those men having to justify to themselves holding other groups (anyone not one of them, initially) in slavery, exile, inferior status, second-class citizenship. Over centuries, the definition of “whole person” got expanded by adding other ethnic groups (slowly, don’t want to rock any boats here) and, very reluctantly, to women, but the jury’s not totally back in yet on that one. Anyone else, well, fuck ’em and the horse they rode in on, dontcha know?
And I did not get that. I knew that “Coloreds,” as known in the 50s were denied certain rights, but I couldn’t see why. It was obvious that John Law was using Marijuana to keep a thumb on the Mexican migrants who picked produce outside of town, but I couldn’t see why. When, at nineteen, I first smoked the stuff myself, I really couldn’t see why, but that’s probably for another post. The net effect of ADD for me, then, was being able to see American society more for what it is than for what my teachers taught me that it was. It’s not bad in design. In fact, rather than White Privilege, we should extend American Privilege to anyone born here or naturalized, at the very least. Nothing wrong with young people getting help when they need it, after all. And some people are a lot happier governing than most of us would be, so I’m okay with them grooming their own. But, their own has to be an open group based on inclination and talent, not on being lucky enough to be born an Old Pasty White Dude.
And, for the record, I’m a genuine White Anglo-Saxon Protestant. William Powell was living in Philadelphia in 1729. In 1730 he married a girl from Ocean City. Twelve of their sons (!) fought in the revolution. In particular, one Phillip, who fought with a Connecticut regiment, and who received a nice letter of recommendation from his CO. My great-grandfather Andrew Powell fought for the Union with the 123rd Ohio Volunteer Infantry, and got himself shot in the ass in triplicate for his trouble. He limped for the rest of his life. He was father to my grandmother Bertha Powell, who gave birth to my mother, who, well, you know. So, I have old-time American Cred, and I’m sick and tired of the cretins who think immigrants are the ruination of America. If you think that, you’re deluding yourself. I know this because I can see our society without the subtle prejudices that most of us soak up without knowing we’re doing it. Thanks to the blessings of ADD.
By the Way, I’m pretty sure that an army of medical professionals and scientists knows more about epidemiology and diseases than a gaggle of pasty white dudes in the white house. Again I say, Sheesh!
- Worried about your child having ADD? Here’s a quick test. Give them unlimited access to Mountain Dew for an afternoon. If they have any form of ADD, they will have a calm and happy day. (Sugar does not make a child hyper, that is a total myth. If anything, it may make them sleepy.) If your child is a third-grade boy, and they do not have ADD, they will not be calmed by the caffeine. What you have is a third-grade boy.
I’ve been reposting Oddgodfrey (read Leslie Godfrey’s) posts since they took off almost three years ago to circumnavigate the planet. They’ve had some most excellent adventures, and no doubt about it. Well, do continue to follow them. They took off, just two in a 40-foot sailboat named Sonrisa, and went to the place where land is just a distant memory. (Remember when they posted their lattitude and longitude, and the result upon putting those into Google Maps was just a blue screen with a pin in it?) In the near future they will be visiting home in Las Vegas, but the exciting news is that OddGodfrey (Leslie) has created a children’s book, about a unicorn that goes to sea. It’s not entirely fictional. And they are looking for people to help them get the word out. Okay, here’s my first contribution, but I’m just me. You can help, too. Just cllick this link: https://www.oddgodfrey.com/oddlog/launchteamrecruits and read all about it.
Of course, if you don’t like adventure, exotic food, children’s books, or unicorns, you can ignore this post entirely. But please don’t.
I am a writer. I’m writing even as I write. Yes. But I can’t just put writing related stuff here once a week and call it good. Sure, I’ll put writing related stuff here, when it is the topic. But, not always. Not today. You know, absolutely anything feeds a writing career. You can stand aside at a party and make up stories for all the weird people you see (and everybody is weird.) You can read a manual on how to repair a weed whacker and get inspired. Okay? So, everything you read here is writing related, ipso facto. So.
Today I’m going to write about watching a presidency crash and burn. This is my second one, and the similarities are legion. The denials, the new evidence contradicting the denials, the further denials, and then, finally, the camel’s back breaks and, here’s a big difference, Dick Nixon (I voted for that asshole!) had the grace to retire before he was utterly destroyed. The incumbent this time, eeeeeeeehhh, probably won’t. He really is a Narcissistic Personality. Not just a guy with narcissistic tendencies. Hell, I have narcissistic tendencies, but a full blown psychiatric disorder. Don’t believe me? Then read this description from the DSM:
It’s in PDF format, so, no worries, you can read it. Download it, even. Read it and weep, because it describes President Trump perfectly. In fact, my PhD psychologist daughter told me that, prior to his being nominated for President, he was commonly used as a literal textbook example of a narcissistic personality.
Being NPD, Trump can no more resign than he can fly (though he may dispute the fact that he can’t fly, but you and I know he can’t.) He also, of course, can’t live to be 150, negotiate better than anyone, or bring peace in our time, but he likes to think he can, so he thinks he can. A person with NPD is, you can see, divorced from reality. Since he can see no difference between himself and the world, the world is, for him, limited to his own experience, which is limited, because everybody’s experience is limited. One thing that has shocked Trump is the fact that the President of the United States is actually one of the least powerful people on the planet. If he had the following he thinks he does, maybe he could have more influence over the world. As it is, he can influence only other individual world leaders, and then only enough to let him think that he’s won. Sad, huh? Since, in his experience, he has never lost anything, or at least never failed to cover his losses with bluster and bluff, he will never see a reason to retire with some remaining dignity and grace. (Some would argue that he’s never had any in the first place.) Which means that he’s going to be pulled out of the Oval Office by his ankles, should he be impeached (as seems likely) and convicted (which seems less so, but the way he’s going these days, I wouldn’t bet against it.)
Whatever happens, it is interesting to watch, just as it was in the fall of 1973. You know, the fall of an American President. Here comes that big hill . . .
Which makes the house, duh, l’hôtel de Sens. Since you’re curious, here’s a bit of the garden.
The garden and hôtel pictured are in the area of Paris known as Saint-Paul. You can call up a walking tour of the quarter on your phone and follow it around, which is what we were doing when we visited this garden, which is in fact a lovely park in a quiet neighborhood. The building is medieval, as you can see. Most of Paris was razed and redone during the 19th century at the behest of Napoleon III, but a few things, like this and Notre Dame, were spared. So it’s worth looking for.
While we were looking for it, and other parts of the quarter, we walked looking at our phones. Time after time a Parisian native would stop us and ask us if we needed help finding something. Of course, we didn’t, but this behavior was from people popularly thought of as snooty and unhelpful, on the good side. I’m here to tell you that such is not at all the case. Indulge me in another story if you will, this time involving motor fuel and cash.
Tami and I carry the same credit card, so when one of ours (nevermind) was lost on the bus from the airport to the Gare Montparnasse, we had to cancel it. This meant that we had no credit card with which to buy gasoline for our rental car. (We did set it up so that the card was valid for the rental car company, and nobody else, until the end of our rental period.) (Europecar. I recommend them.) We took a train to Angoulême, where we stayed for five days. Charente is a beautiful area (formerly a province, but long story,) and here’s the view out of our bedroom window to prove it.
From Angoulême we drove to Bordeaux, Saint Émilion, Cognac, Royan, and Chabonais over the course of several days. By that time we were low on gas. The station we found (there aren’t as many as we have here) was credit cards only at the pump. The kiosk where one can convert cash to a ticket with which to buy fuel was broken. Thing is, I had never really spoken French before, but when we decided to ask someone to use their card and I’d give them cash (our debit card still worked at least, but not on gas pumps) I looked around and saw only French people. It was raining hard, too. I asked the man at the next pump, “comprendez-vous Ainglais?” and got a “non.” Digging deep, deep into what I’ve learned from various sources (Duolingo is a great place to start) I then used my no doubt horrible French to ask him the favor. He was eager to help the poor American, and I gave him fifty Euros, after which he pumped fifty Euros and one cent worth of gas into our car. (Amazingly, that exactly filled the tank.) I gave him every compliment in French I could think of, and he smilingly said goodbye.
I ask you, is that rude and unhelpful? (Spoiler alert — no, it is exactly the opposite of rude and unhelpful.)
I’ve posted about this before, but whatever you do to other people is reflected back on to you. In France, we take pains to be polite. French polite. That means always say hello, please, thank you, and goodbye. To everybody. Sounds silly, right?
Not to the fine, friendly, helpful people of France it doesn’t. Votre santé, France!
Many people do not know this. Beagle lovers, never to be trusted on that basis alone, will argue the point. But, Beagles are evil. If you just stepped in a fresh pile of dog poop in your own hallway, you probably keep a Beagle. If no surface in your home is a safe place to cool a pie, you probably own a Beagle. Even a bit of Beagle background can corrupt even the normally fine and well-behaved Basset Hound. I know this from experience. Sure, Buffy the Basset Hound was evil, because she was also part Beagle. No pure Basset would ever be so disdainful of house rules and the masters’ wishes as dear old Buffy. Stubborn doesn’t cover it, either. We tried an invisible fence with a shock collar. She quivered, she peed, and she kept pushing until she was free of the evil fence. On the outside of it. That was the Beagle in her.
Tyrion LeChien, sure, he seems innocent enough. He loves his walks. So much so that he’ll slip out of his harness to keep walking if his owner, or even the other dog sharing the leash, hesitates too long. He slips his leash using evil magic; there is no other explanation. And he is always cute and loveable and innocent, even when he is leaving a puddle of pee the size of lake Mead on the floor, with a big old steamin’ hunk of souvenier from yesterday’s lunch in the middle of it. Evil. No other word for it.
And that’s Beagles. You gotta love ’em, because otherwise the SPCA would have you hanging by your pathetic thumbs. Because they’re evil. Look in the dictionary if you don’t believe me. Beagle=evil=Beagle. See? I would never lie to you!
Looking at that pic, I can see how camera technology has advanced in sixteen years. It’s fuzzy! But, I digress.
When I say cover your productive tush, I mean have a plan for when your hard drive crashes, your computer gets dropped into an outhouse, somebody steals your laptop, you know, all that stuff that you read about ruining writers’ projects. Because, you know, there are things you can do. And to prove it, I shall tell you what some of those things are.
First, Back Up Everything!
There are a couple of ways to do backups. I use both of them. The first, older way is simply to buy an external hard disk and plug it into your computer. Then, no matter what OS you use, you will find a handy-dandy backup routine already built in! Wowzers! I use Windows, and I’ve had excellent luck simply letting Windows decide what to back up. But, it’s up to you, you can decide what you do or don’t want backed up. If you do these backups regularly (Windows lets you do it on a continuous basis in the background) you will always have a copy of the latest saved version of every one of your files. So, after the dog eats your work, you buy a new laptop, plug in the external drive, and recover it all.
What is a backup, you say?
A backup is just a copy of a computer file (or a lot of them.) That’s it. It’s usually possible to use the backup copy directly, without even “recovering” it, but if you do that, you’re defeating the purpose of having an extra copy. So, first thing to do to recover from a disaster is to always make backups as you go along.
The second way to make a backup is to use “Cloud Storage.” You probably don’t know that “the cloud” is just a term techies made up to indicate that the exact location of the data isn’t necessarily known, but it’s out there. (Technically, it may not even all be in one place, but it looks like it is.) Quite a few places will give you a certain amount of “cloud storage” for free. A big novel, I’m talking a humongous work, something to make War and Peace look like a pamphlet, is still an amazingly small computer file. Many, if not all, of these free cloud storage services will automatically back up your stuff to the cloud, and, again, you can tell the service what to back up. If you subscribe to Office 365, you get a terabyte of storage included. A terabyte is enough to store most of the Library of Congress’s contents on. No kidding. You only get at the most something like 50 gigabytes (probably a lot less) for free, but it will still be more than you’ll ever need to keep your projects on. If you use Windows with OneDrive (that’s what they call their cloud storage) you just keep everything in a folder by that name on your local drive, and whatever is in there is automatically backed up when you connect to the Internet. Since I do subscribe to Office 365, I don’t have much experience with other cloud backup schemes, but I’m told that they are similar. Use whatever service you like (Amazon, Google, Apple, Microsoft, etc.) but use one of them and use it all the time!
Save Your Work All the Time!
Yes, I said All the Time! I use Word. (In the old days, I was a WordPerfect user, but once everything went GUI (look it up) I switched because it is simple and easy. And, Word works on Mac and PC, and is free on handheld devices, so what the heck, huh?) Word includes the ability, if you use OneDrive at least, to continuously backup your document (book, silly) as you type. By using Word and OneDrive (and I’m sure there are other ways to accomplish the same thing) I always have a backup copy of my project, no matter what happens. Worst case scenario is that I lose a few lines of text. Seriously, that’s the worst that could happen. Barring that, Word can be set up save the document you are in at intervals as short as one minute. Could you afford to lose a minute’s work? Probably. Keep your project on a cloud drive, save as often as you can, and boy, howdy, you can’t lose your precious files if you want to.
(Okay, you could delete them.)
There you go: back-up your work, either to an external hard drive or to the cloud, and save your work as often as possible. You can take a few minutes just once to set all of that up, then you’ll never have to think about it again. Until disaster strikes, when you’ll be congratulating yourself for being smart enough to have done that.
Good writing, fellow scribes!
I have approved 81 comments so far. Well, that’s the total. If I approve one from a commenter, future ones from the same source don’t need approval. Thing is, I get more than 81 comments in a week. Not sure what the scam is, but it’s got to be a scam. Any comments that anyone but myself sees, though, is approved and safe. But I am curious as to what scam is being attempted. If anyone knows, could you drop me a comment below with that info? I’d appreciate it!
Written in response to some specific incidents. If you write with a computer (any electronic device) you should read this.
You may be reading this on a smartphone. You may be reading this on some sort of tablet (there are lots of them these days.) You may even be reading it on a desktop computer, which is what I produce this site with. No matter which device you use, you are, in fact, using a computer (yes, even if it’s an Apple product.) I am inspired to write this post because of several instances later where I’ve either advised, or had to, do a hard reboot on a device. (Most recently this desktop on which I write.)
The desktop story is that I clicked on a mail that looked like it was from the USPS. Delivery problems, it said. Okay, that happens. But instead of an email I got a loud message about how someone has used my ip address without my knowledge to access a site with dangerous malware on it, and now my computer is “locked up” because of that. Now, first of all, nobody can ever know whether you or a hacker used your ip address without your knowledge. What are they, mind readers? Second, the technical term is not “locked up.” What happens is that your computer is locked, and you are “locked out.” And thirdly, they wouldn’t put a phone number in the warning page. There were updates pending, so what the heck, I ignored the warnings from the loud page and restarted. My computer updated, but the loud page didn’t go away. So I did a “hard reboot,” aka a “cold reboot,” and everything is fine. Fancy that. Now, if you’ve never been an IT person, you might not even know what a “cold reboot” is. I mean, you turn your device off and on all the time, I’m sure. But you still have times when the thing seems slow, messed up, won’t run your favorite app, won’t even make a call sometimes. I speak from experience. A hard, or cold reboot will cure all of these ailments in any computer.
What is a hard, cold reboot? If you have a desktop without a battery you can easily demonstrate one. Just reach around behind the big box wherein the mystery that is your computer resides. Pull out the power cord, carefully so as not to damage it, and then wait thirty seconds, and then plug the cord back in. Poof! A computer has billions of teeny circuits that, taken together, represent everything the computer can do. Each teeny circuit (I’m talking electron microscope teeny here) is either on or off. When the computer is first turned on, it sets each teeny circuit to “off.” That makes a clean working area for what follows, which will first be your operating system, then whatever apps you decide to run. Starting clean like that means that your programs will all run optimally, you know, as near to perfectly as possible. You should do it once in a while even if you don’t have trouble, as a way to prevent trouble from cropping up.
But what if you have a battery in your device. My desktop, for example, is in fact a Microsoft Surface Pro 4 plugged into a docking station. It acts just like a desktop; I’m using a large format monitor, plus a real keyboard (bliss) and a mouse. Easy-peasy to use, but tricky to cold reboot. For many tablets, the trick to hard (cold) reboot is to hold down the power button until the device turns on again. Huh? Well, it’s on when you start. Press the power button and ignore the screen messages. After a bit your device will turn off. If you keep holding the power button down, the device will turn on again shortly. If it doesn’t start back up in thirty seconds, let go of the power button, then press it again. In fact, if you accidentally let go of the power button after the device is off, that’s okay too. Just press the power button (for a few seconds, usually) until your device restarts.
I’ve had Motorola phones that cold rebooted just like that. My Samsung requires me to hold down both the power button and the volume down button at the same time. Something similar works with every tablet and smartphone with a battery. With phones, especially, it’s a good idea to do that cold reboot every couple of days. I do it before I go out driving for Lyft or Uber, as their driver apps are veritable resource hogs. (I mean that they use up a lot of memory, processing time, network bandwidth, and battery. It’s the memory that causes problems, so a cold reboot makes sure the app has all that it needs.)
There you go: my public service announcement for the quarter, uh, half, uh, year? Whatever. Cold boot your device every so often. You’ll be glad you did.
The picture was taken last year during my 50th High School Class Reunion. Time flies when you’re doing whatever it is you’re doing, doesn’t it? I didn’t know it at the time, but I was receiving an education superior to the norm. But I still doubt that this teacher could map genes while I wait. I’m not that patient.
Anyway, this may be the first time you’ve been able to read one of my posts in a long time. A few people have, somehow, but I’m not sure how they got in here. It seems that somehow I deleted the index.php file in the root directory of this site. A rather dumb thing to do, as it simply results in a “forbidden” message when you try to connect. Even if you’re me, as it turns out. I’ve been having to log in before getting here. Took me months to figure that out. There are several web sites in the same root directory, so instead of the start page for a web site, index.php is a script that sends a request to the appropriate subdirectory. I actually wrote that script, and it even works, so there’s a rare thing for you right there.
Anyhow, feel free to go back through the posts to catch up. You can search “writing” if you want to see my Wednesday posts, or just scroll back through time like a stoner stuck in reverse. Your choice. Then, from this point on, you will be able to keep up with my posts by simply visiting this site once again (it’s the default landing point at stevefey.com.) Or, subscribe, if you wish. Who knows? You might like it!