Control Experiment

As I've delved more into learning how to code, my dreams have taken on a more intense sensory fabric. A couple of lucid dreams have weaved an occurrence. 

But mostly just intense: the other night a book was released, supposedly written by aliens that went into the future a few years from now, found out the U.S.A goes bankrupt, because of Medicare. This book becomes the rage and incites a civil war. I forget which side I fought for but at one point in my dream I was pushing a cannon strapped with bungy cords to a shopping cart.

Last night, I was hanging out in a primordial geographical mess. Canada used to be a mountain in Mexico, but was picked up and flattened up above the U.S.A. Some farmers and fisherman were pissed because of the ocean displacement. Ooh, there's a theme, eh? In the two dreams mentioned, U.S.A. and people pissed are common threads. But these are things I live around day-to-day, so of course they will be absorbed and become backdrops.

As I first started to learn HTML a few weeks back, I'd of course cram lessons and do exercises in the evening before bed. My dreams brought me to a bright red brain machine in which I had to solve puzzles to maneuver through it. But this is life right? We learn to program ourselves and make our way through a blue/green sphere and overcome problems in order to keep on moving around on it?

Time to go meditate, and program my brain to redirect around conditioned responses to stressors, such as anxiety or glum dumpiness.  Time to teach myself to further look at the problem as beautiful. That bright red brain machine was fucking gorgeous.

Post Production, Pressure and a Partisan Viewing Party

We've been idle on the short film front Wood Sugars-wise so we decided to do the 72 Hour National Film Challenge. The procedure was: Friday night we were assigned a genre, a prop, a character name and a line of dialogue. Then we had the weekend to write, shoot, edit, and send our DVD entry post marked by the end of the day Monday. You'll see the particulars of our assigned components soon enough, hopefully we'll be selected in the top 15 to be hosted on their website, in which case you'll get to vote for the best. If not, we'll release it somewhere. We're proud of it. It's our most action packed piece yet. 

I wish I could tell you some crazy filmic horror story that would put us on par with Hearts of Darkness: The Making of Apocalypse Now but it was a smooth production. Actually, I don't wish that. The stress of that would not be good for something I'm going to talk about here in a minute. But ideas were flowing well Friday night in our Wood Sugars pitch/writing meeting. When we sat down to write, words and beats flowed. And Saturday we found a beautifully weird patch of woods along the Chicago river accessible by a running trail to shoot an "outskirts" scene. The Original Mother's Bar was very nice to accommodate us with use of their bar before opening, and their offices. Cast and crew members were on time, quick to learn lines, and deliver. As a result, we all had a blast, and we were able to create something cohesive without any arguments or meltdowns. We all got a little sleep too. Much credit goes to Eliaz Rodriguez, who has really set out to develop himself as a freelance videographer, so his experience organizing other shoots and pumping out concise edits in a short amount of time has grown extraordinarily. And because of his reserve in staying up late to stitch the piece together and make everyone look good, I was able to show up, write a little bit, act a little bit, and do some minimal production stuff. To really dig in and play a part in a scene without the mental balance being tipped toward other production tidbits was quite cathartic. 

The most stressful scenario for me was when we shot a train track fight sequence, we had to hop the fence and shoot along the Metra. There were of course some signs saying "No Trespassing." When a passing Metra sounded its mega horn, Donny and I were fearful of us being called into "authorities" and I kept thinking "a fine for trespassing is not what my finances need right now." But we got it done without hassle. And it's a swell sequence.

After work on Monday a co-worker and I went to an event at this space in Chicago called 1871, which is this rad place on the 12th floor of the Merchandise Mart, basically a shared office space where small digital start ups can pay a small monthly membership and have a slick work space, and access to a community of other like-minded entrepreneurial folks. We've been to some lively events there before, but with the final presidential debate and the Bears game, it was a thin crowd. There was this machine there that calculates blood pressure, body mass index, etc. So I tried it, and it told me I have High blood pressure, 153/101. When I looked it up later, I saw that my score is pretty damn close to Stage Two Hypertension. I'm realizing that maybe I need to fucking watch it. My health that is. Who knows, the machine might have been fucked up, I did have about 5 glasses of wine beforehand. But, I wouldn't be surprised if it was dead on. I do stress easy. I'm a worry wort. I let little things get to me, sweat the small stuff. 

But what did I do right after? My co-worker and I thought it would be interesting to go to the bar English where the Young Republicans of Chicago get together to watch the debates, to check it out, for shits and giggles. A good idea for a man with high blood pressure? It wasn't as rowdy as I expected, although they were quick to clap for Romney and guffaw at Obama. It had the same fervor of a football game, and ho, behold, on a TV screen right next to one casting the debate, was the Bears/Lions game. A different form of two on two. If the debate footage was turned off and the viewers kept their same reactions, it would be fitting that perhaps they were just watching the football game. I do get the gut sensation that national partisan politics is just one big fucking sporting match-up. 

There was a Black man in the corner by the pool table watching it all. He wore a full Cubs uniform, in fact I think he might some guy who does that often, that's his thing, wearing a Cubs uniform around town, I feel like I've met him at a bar before. He clapped after Obama's closing remarks. And I wanted to join him. But I didn't have the courage, not at a place like the gathering of Chicago's Young Republicans. So I winked at him, like thinking I was letting him in a little secret, that I was an Obama supporter too infiltrating this little meetup, but I don't think he saw my wink. I think he just saw me look over at him, like I was a little partisan dick shooting him a glance to stop his enthusiasm for the current administration. 

I finished my beer and left, thinking about how I might put into motion the lowering of my blood pressure.

I've begun eating oatmeal every morning, and am starting to do deep breathing exercises throughout the day. And I've stopped drinking coffee after lunch. My 5 or so cups a day might be what's egging the high score on. I've switched to tea. Update: I feel a little calmer. But I also feel more depressed.

Why I'd Be a Bad Candidate for An Acid Trip Right About Now

If some one were to hand me a box wrapped with left over X-mas wrapping paper with a few tabs of acid on the inside, it would be a terrible idea for me to partake in the contents.


Last night I had a dream my bath tub was infested with bugs. Long, wiggly, snarling, hybrids of ear whigs, tube worms, and leeches. I would see these everywhere if I took a tab. 


Yesterday I helped solve a technical issue with a client. The client was of course stressed, passing on the whole man who kicks dog syndrome of hand me down agitation. So of course not wanting to lose a client I took the whole situation seriously, to the point of paranoia. Now that the issue was resolved yesterday, the paranoia lingers that the error will re-present itself, laughing in my face. I can't seem to stop thinking about it, thus compelling me to keep checking in and probably bugging the shit out them. 


Today I went to a Mexican grocery to get stuff to make my sick girlfriend soup. Hordes of kids ran up and down the aisles. I couldn't make a step with out feeling myself spun around with their sprint made wind. At the check out the clerks were munching on apples and I couldn't understand what they were saying to me. I felt dizzy when I left. In fact, I'm feeling some congestion fill up my cheek bones with a visit from the winter depression witch doctor. Oh boy, it's true, I have felt pretty damn jolly this winter season up until this point. I need to lay out on a beach drinking canned beer with limes crammed in, soaking up the 10,000 IU of natural radiating vitamin D. My Wood Sugars counterparts are in Hawaii with their family right now. My girlfriend and I are planning an exotic trip to Milwaukee in the spring, so they can feel the pay back of jealousy. 


Clearing my head would be a good thing, and granted an acid trip would do an intense job of it. But I think instead I will compete with myself on the Wii, blaring classical music on vinyl, while sitting on the lazy boy recliner, pressing my lower back up against my heated massage pad. 


For the record no one is pounding on my door bearing gifts of LSD. And if they were, then this post would actually wind up being a misguided farewell letter blaming the end of my coherence on hybrid bugs ruining the place where I take long, hot showers.


Whenever I feel stressed, I find it reassuring to stop for a moment and remember that I am not a presidential candidate. Since everyone these days is apparently an expert on politics and character, a presidential bid is just asking to have your guts kneaded by bony hands. 

Animal Anxiety

I was thinking about this idea over lunch - earlier this morning while getting dressed I accidentally bumped my box fan on my cat. He of course was fine, only a minor brushing of an object which glided off of his fluffy fur. But the look of terror in his eyes at the moment was intense, as of course cats are prone to over react to stimuli. I tend to feel anxiety here and there but I'm always able to talk myself down through cognitive recognition of the actual smallness of some stressors. But take for instance last week, some work was being done on our building and the noise was giving my cat extreme "big eyes." Unfortunately we are not able to properly communicate to him what is going on. I can only imagine the anxiety pumping through his blood - pure primal flight. So while thinking of this over lunch I imagined for minute what if someone injected me with a concoction of animal stress hormones. I wonder how different they are from cortisol and other adrenal gland secretions our human bodies create. I felt absolutely terrified for a moment, and then was able to talk myself down and dissolve the wickedness of my imagination, which seems to be most vivid when conjuring up the worst. Now to imagine blue skies and puffy clouds. That doesn't seem to be as sharp in my mind's eye. Wolves and sharks? For some reason sharper in mental resolution.