Catching Up

I've had a busy, interesting (and mildly worrying) few days; and am about to reach another significant milestone on my journey in the next few days, so this post is basically intended to bring a few things up to date.

On the plus side, I spent the weekend with my Mum and brother Russ; I feel a lot more relaxed when visiting them now, as something else isn't infecting the atmosphere with its odious presence. Amongst other things, I wanted to get Russ up-to-speed on the subject of podcasts and podcasting, because I'm after a suitable theme song for mine, and thought it would be a nice touch to give an ongoing plug to Russ's band The Chosen Few by using one of theirs. (To my mind, the best podcasts have a signature theme song which sets up the recognition circuits; when I hear a few bars of the Gentle Readers, I know I'm probably listening to Evil Genius Chronicles, for example). So, once we've settled on a suitable choice, I'll put my first podcast online.

Russ and I were surprised (and amused) to find that Vodafone considers his band's site to be worthy of content restriction (I dialled up over GPRS through Vodafone and access to the band's site was blocked). I really can't see why... still, if they're trying to cultivate a hard-living rock star reputation (and one look at their photos will assure you that they've all lived a pretty full life) then getting your site banned by a service provider strikes me as a good start! ;-)

On the minus, I kept falling asleep over the weekend. Given that I have a real problem with insomnia, part of me says that I should welcome *any* sleep, whenever I can get it; but daytime napping is very uncharacteristic for me. Which means I now have Mum on my case (like most Mums, she's not happy unless she's worrying about one of her brood). Oh joy. I hope this is a brief blip (although I still felt like I could happily fall asleep throughout yesterday) because I can't get the liver function test results I had last time out of my mind.

On the plus, I have an appointment next week for my first session of speech therapy! I can't express how excited I am about this. I've had a skinful of having to explain the discrepancy between my telephone voice and the details the other person at the other end has on their screen. Once this therapy starts, I will be trying to apply what I'm learning for as much of the day as I can, especially at work, so my long-suffering colleagues can look forward to some imminent auditory amusement at my expense... ;-)

Also on the plus, my domestic environment is coming together nicely. I live in a fantastic location, but I've had a bit of an ongoing problem with condensation (and some damp patches in the bathroom and my bedroom). The building's owners have started putting that right (no criticism should be attached to them for not sorting the problem out sooner; I kept forgetting to tell them there *was* a problem). I've ordered some fantastic recliners (which sadly won't arrive until early January) and today am taking delivery of a wicked piece of all-body aerobic exercise equipment. To explain; I've found that good aerobic exercise is a great way to help me to sleep, improve my general levels of energy and mood, and keep the waistline in check. Currently, I don't feel comfortable attending a gym; so I need to get my exercise in other ways. Apart from anything else, I'd like to drop a dress size (or two!); I certainly don't want the temptations of the new recliners to cause me to go *up* a size!

So, 2004 is drawing to a close with my situation feeling pretty sweet; it isn't perfect, but it's a whole lot better than it could be. (Sadly,"it isn't perfect" also seems to be the case with blogger.com just now; their servers are obviously pretty shagged, and I've been trying to publish this post for a while now. Reminds me of one of the reasons for my imminent migration to Radio as a platform and different servers.)

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"Finding your own voice"... ;-)

I really laughed out loud when I read Dave Slusher's post "Your Radio Voice", itself a response to a post on his own weblog by Robert Scoble, bemoaning his own perceived lack of a "radio voice" (which, having listened to Robert's appearances on e.g. .NETRocks! and ITConversations doesn't seem particularly valid, but that's just my personal opinion)... anyway, I had to laugh, because I will be doing some podcasting of my own, part of the rationale for which will be to track the change in my own voice; as I've written previously, my own voice (particularly on the telephone) causes me difficulties and I'm about to begin speech therapy to alleviate that, and I thought it would be fun to podcast in my voice as it evolves over the next few months. We'll see... I'm intending to record the first podcast this weekend, so it should see the light of day next week.

Having mentioned .NETRocks! (who've been, effectively, podcasting since way before the term was coined)... I must mention their new spin-off show, Mondays. I started listening to the first edition last Sunday, and made the mistake of doing so whilst driving to the store to pick up my week's groceries; I have not laughed so much in months. After the first twenty minutes I was nearly wetting myself, and had developed somewhat of the appearance of Alice Cooper by the time I reached the store, necessitating a spot of cosmetic repair (note to self; waterproof mascara was invented for a reason). I hesitate before recommending humour to others (because my own sense of humour is so individual that I'm aware my tastes aren't universally shared) but... try Mondays for yourself.

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Welcome to myPodder! ;-)

One of the best things about my job right now is that I'm working on some really interesting stuff; using existing technologies in ways that I certainly haven't before (and, to the best of my knowledge, in ways other people haven't used before); and the parallel frustration is that I can't write about even the most generic aspects of that work (due to my employer's perfectly reasonable "non-disclosure of IPR" policy) here! At the same time, I need to invest some time in professional self-development, specifically on new and upcoming technologies (e.g. SQL Server 2005, Longhorn, WinFS, Avalon) as well as technologies which may not be so new, but are relatively unknown to me. And finally, there are some elements around the whole blogging, podcasting and intelligent information management area which I really want to dig into; so, it occurs to me that I can hit multiple targets with a single shot by developing some software applications which solve the latter, are non-trivial enough to allow me to address the aspects of OLAP I'd love to write about here, yet are sufficiently restrained in scope to allow me the opportunity to develop them on multiple platforms in a finite timescale. And that's going to be the aim... of... myPodder! ;-)

I have absolutely no intention of developing this as a commercial application (or applications). This is really for fun, to plug some gaps in my own knowledge, to provide a platform against which I can demonstrate some specific elements of OLAP and intelligent information management, and to provide some functionality which I actually don't have access to at the moment. Rather like James with his GolfWeb and Timesheet projects, I've found in the past that the best way to get familiar with new technology and techniques is to do something with it, preferably something that's at least useful to yourself. So, I'll be posting here about my progress, and making the code available to anyone who's interested.

I'm aiming to develop at least four variants of myPodder:

1) "Old-style" technology (e.g. VBScript, COM, ASP, SQL Server 2000 and Analysis Services); primarily because this is where I tend to do my "quick and dirty" prototyping at the moment;

2) "Current-style" technology (e.g. C#, ASP.Net, maybe some web services) because I recognise some current personal skills gaps in those areas;

3) "Bleeding edge" / pre-release technologies (e.g. Whidbey, Yukon, Longhorn, WinFS, Avalon, Aero) because... well, because I want to! ;-) Bring me your most current untested, unstable and preview versions and watch me flounder; and

4) "Open source" technology (e.g. Linux, mySQL / PostgreSQL, Java)... because there's some specific open source software I need to familiarise myself with, and comparative tests against each of the above ought to help me in doing that.

As for what myPodder is intended to actually *do*... hopefully the name (an obvious and respectful tip-of-the-hat towards iPodder without, I hope, upsetting anybody) ought to betray part of the intent of the project. Which is to assist me in my experience of podcasting and smart information management, as a consumer *and* as a producer of content in those areas. Some examples of areas I intend to cover include:

1) Optimising the round-trip process of my consumption of podcasts in at least two use cases, i.e. a) burning them to CD, listening to them in my car, and then purging the downloaded podcasts from my system (because I'll have CD versions) *and* tracking personal metadata (e.g. ratings and notes) about those podcasts; and b) using a "smart device" (e.g. Pocket PC, iPod or similar) as the transfer mechanism and interactive "rating and annotating" device. As for the source of these podcasts, I want to handle at least two distribution options, i.e. direct downloading of files via RSS enclosures and distribution of files through BitTorrent, with specific purging rules for the latter, e.g. "a podcast can only be purged when I have uploaded at least 200% of the file size I downloaded" as well as generic purging rules for all cases, e.g. "a podcast can only be purged once it has been listened to on CD, so that I know the CD copy is valid, and rated, so that I have captured and augmented the metadata that *I* will find useful";

2) Bringing some intelligence to the content of the streams I download, e.g. using the ratings and metadata I provide to automatically source and manage new content sources that I do not as yet subscribe to;

3) Analysing the sources and destinations of the content I consume and produce, e.g. spotting trends of peak activity and bandwidth consumption, enhancing and refining the metadata I collect to assist my consumption and provision of content;

4) Anything else I happen to want to try out!

If any of the above strikes you as opaque or just plain gibberish, well, join the club! Actually, I hope it will become clearer as this particular project unfolds. I'm really looking forward to it; I just need to make sure I keep enough focus on the day job as well... ;-)

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What's wrong with this picture?

One obvious outward aspect of transitioning is that my physical appearance is changing; some of that is medical (primarily, the impact of hormones on my body contours and facial features), some of it cosmetic (for example, I wear make-up to accentuate the feminine aspects of my features and minimise the masculine giveaways, and I have been growing my hair for the last year and am now engaged in the slow process of growing it into a more feminine style). Gratifying though it is to monitor my progress by looking at photographs, I don't like looking at images of myself from before my transition. I know what I looked like then; I don't need reminding of it. Even those images I have of myself since transition are less than satisfying; not because I'm vain (although I don't deny that I am!) but because I feel that none of them capture how I look now. The most recent ones I have were taken in June, before I'd started taking hormones, and the difference between then and now is quite striking. This leads to the question; what do I do with those images of the past?

Personally, I'm quite happy to erase them. They serve no beneficial purpose for me; I don't need to see myself in a picture to be able to remember the events and experiences captured in the picture. One example of the many ways in which Kim empathises with me is that she was going through her own extensive collection of digital photographs a few months ago, and said that, unless I wanted them for any reason, she was going to delete the ones she had of me, because they weren't representative of me as I am now. I think that was a profoundly understanding gesture; that she made the offer really touched me. For the record, I said that I didn't want them, so she should feel free to delete them.

Now, this is in somewhat of a contrast to my Mum. Mum has been so understanding and supportive of me, it almost seems churlish to say what I'm going to say. But, she is surrounded by photographs of her family... including many of me, as I was. Entering University; graduating from University. Serving in the Territorial Army. Giving away my sister on her wedding day; as a groom on my own wedding day. I have no earthly right to ask her to remove those pictures from display, and I would never do so; but I can't help it, I feel distinctly uncomfortable to be surrounded by them when I visit her.

So when I read a post by Julie Leung in her wonderful blog on the subject of sorting through photographic memories (particularly of her deceased brother) her words resonated particularly poignantly with me:

Then again, I rarely look at the photographs of my brother. I have a couple framed ones on display around the house, from the times we were kids together: the four of us standing in our driveway, holding gifts at Christmas, stark in black and white. But the pictures in my mind are more powerful than any a camera could capture. I don't even have colors or shapes for some of the memories; they are more emotion than precision.

And these images are the ones I will never delete.

[Via Julie Leung: Seedlings & Sprouts]

I guess part of me hopes that my loved ones, like me, will come to view "who I was" as a person distinct from "who I am"; and not feel the need to display images of "who I was". I can remember the emotions associated with those events from pictures of those events in which my own image is not present. Sadly, those pictures where I *am* present do nothing but remind me of the pain I felt for so many years; pain which no longer exists in my day-to-day life, but which rears its head when I'm confronted with those visual reminders of the past.

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Replication (or, SQL Server's "canary in a coal mine")

As I mentioned previously, one of the first areas I worked on when I joined Exony was to overhaul the use of replication in our reporting and analytics product. I can vividly recall the degree of mistrust my new colleagues felt back then towards SQL Server replication as a component of our product offering. I felt that their mistrust was unjustified; but I hadn't earned the right to just tell them so! :-) So, I took on the task of redesigning our replication strategy from the ground up, and I genuinely believe that my colleagues (particularly those engaged in directly installing and supporting our products) are now much more comfortable with the concepts of replication , much more confident in its role within our products, and much less inclined to immediately pick up the phone and call me if there's a "replication problem" in the lab or on a customer site. Arguably, replication now serves a secondary purpose for us; it's a fantastic environmental health check utility.

Say what? Well, replication is so dependant upon the wider environment within which the database servers sit, that many issues which might arise in that environment will manifest themselves most quickly and visibly within replication. A network link is interrupted? Watch the distribution agents fail. Someone changes the firewall settings? Or applies inappropriate Group Policy settings? See authentication fail. Bottom line; if the distributed environment within which replication operates varies even a little from optimal, then replication will probably let you know (via the propagation of red X's in Replication Monitor) that all is not well.

Back then, a "problem" with replication would have sent shivers down the spine. Now, when a problem manifests itself in replication, my colleagues know to check the environment first. In the vast majority of cases, replication is not the problem; it is merely highlighting a problem which exists elsewhere, long before other symptoms might have become visible.

I wouldn't go so far as to say that organisations should always deploy replication as a network environment monitoring tool! ;-) Even so, that functionality is inherent in any but the most trivial replication topology; might as well take advantage of it. Replication doesn't just fail without cause; if it experiences difficulties, then *something* is causing those difficulties. When miners used to take a canary with them into a coal-mine, they knew to leave the area if the canary fell off its perch; we know to suspect the network environment when Replication Monitor falls off its perch.

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Normal service may be interrupted... :-(

OK, the time has come to begin migrating from Blogger; but I've decided to use Radio rather than dasBlog (as I had originally intended) because... well, because! ;-) However, I'm trying to migrate in a way which minimises a) inconvenience to you, my valued readers, b) any loss of existing content (posts and comments, for example) and c) stress on me. And there's already some stress; because I've discovered that migrating from Blogger isn't the simple exercise I'd been led to believe. But I like a challenge, so I'm plugging away.

So that the move is as painless as possible for you, and so you only have to change things a maximum of once, can I please ask the following:

1) If you read this blog in a browser (i.e. by browsing directly to http://yakushitsu.blogspot.com) can you please use http://yakushitsu.co.uk from now on. At the moment, it's a simple redirect to the current page; but if you make the change now, then when I migrate the blog to Radio on another server you won't get left behind;

2) If you're using an aggregator that's pointing to the original Atom feed (i.e. http://yakushitsu.blogspot.com/atom.xml), can you *please* use the FeedBurner feed (i.e. http://feeds.feedburner.com/AnalysisservicesAndSelf) instead; for precisely the same reason, i.e. it currently points to the Atom feed, but I can redirect it at the appropriate time without you having to do anything;

3) If you're using a web-based aggregator (e.g. Bloglines) that's pointing to either the old URL or the old feed, please can you modify the subscription to point to he new URL and / or feed.

Sorry to be a pain; but I'm encountering the limitations of Blogger and it's time to move forward.

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Sacred cow #1: "You need good vertical market knowledge to write good vertical market software"

I confess, I've always thought this was true. Until today, that is.

When I used to teach (particularly, when I used to teach data warehousing and OLAP) I always opined that understanding the business was key to deploying those technologies well. It seemed self-evident; if you don't understand the business problem, how can you possibly hope to design, build and deploy a software solution to solve the problem? Or, stating the case optimistically, if you don't understand the business opportunity, how can you possibly hope to design, build and deploy software to exploit that opportunity?

You know, I think I was wrong; at least, I hadn't grasped the fundamental pitfall of that position. Which is (I think) that the more immersed in "how things are done" you are, the less able you are to think "how things *could* be done", "why some things that are being done should no longer be done" and "what isn't being done that *should* be done?"

A case in point from today; talking with a colleague on the subject of some technology I'm developing, which he claims to not completely understand (not yet, at least, but he will!) I've designed it one way, because (from the technology point of view) it's the "right" way. He, however, says that the majority of people who would use that technology in our customers might have difficulty exploiting it; if only users could do it another way (which he then proceeded to explain) the majority of them would find it much easier to exploit. The beautiful part is, with virtually no additional effort I can include the alternate approach. Net result; we enable both power users and occasional users to get what they need, in a way that suits them both.

The thing is, if I had had more in-depth knowledge of how our customers currently work, I would probably have arrived at the second approach first; and maybe not have arrived at the first approach at all. But the interaction of two people (one a technology specialist, who hasn't yet developed a deep appreciation of the business nuances of our customers in this particular vertical market, the other a technologist who understands those business nuances intimately but is a relative newcomer to this particular technology) created arguably a better solution; certainly, a more complete solution.

So I'm wondering if this particular episode is an isolated exception, or maybe (as I suspect) indicative of a more subtle truth; that not only can two minds be better than one, but that by trying to be a generalist (as I used to) you actually run the risk of missing things that two specialists *who share a common vocabulary, and who aren't afraid to ask questions of the other that stem from a lack of knowledge, not a lack of intelligence* will uncover.

Opinions?

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Comments: use them, or lose them

I know there are at least a few readers of this blog. How do I know that? Well, apart from the usage stats I get from FeedBurner (and which tell me that there definitely *are* some subscribers via that route out there) and the surprisingly large number of emails I've been getting as a result of my posts here, you all have the option of commenting on each post. And some of you have done; and I really appreciate it. But not many of you. Which strikes me as something of a shame; apart from anything else, in the absence of feedback, I can't really tell if this exercise is serving any purpose other than helping me remember what's been happening. So, how can I encourage a spot of audience participation?

Here are a few possible explanations I can think of to explain the relative lack of comments; some of them have actually been expressed to me (in person or in email) while others I've used my fertile imagination to conjure up; followed by my response.

* "I don't want people to think that I'm reading your blog because I'm a closet XXXXXX" - this blog is not *just* about transgender stuff. Gender dysphoria is not infectious; you can't "catch it" by reading about it. (You can't "catch it", period; which goes some way to explaining why I laughed like a drain when I read this story.) Comment anonymously if you're that bothered about it.

* "My typing / spelling / use of language isn't very good" - who cares? *I* certainly don't.

* "If I put a comment up, you'll only remove it again" - no, I won't (with one exception; words that are hurtful, spiteful or dangerous to someone other than me). If I was worried about what people might say about me, I wouldn't have started this blog in the first place.

* "I didn't know if you'd want to discuss YYYYY in public" - it's a faily safe bet that if I've blogged about YYYYY , I'm not afraid to talk about YYYYY in public. And if I *haven't* blogged about YYYYY, I can still choose not to. So really, you're on safe ground either way.

So, please... don't be shy! Also, entertain the possibility that you might learn something equally as interesting (maybe even *more* interesting) from a comment; so if *you* comment, it might help to encourage others to comment, and then you may experience the serendipity of finding out something cool from *their* comment...

Because there is a counter-argument; which is that you shouldn't *have* the opportunity to comment, here, on my blog. The argument goes like this; since it's so easy to start up your own blog, at no cost other than internet access charges and the investment of a little of your own time, if you really want to comment on something *I* write, then you can just as easily do so on your own blog. Paolo makes some excellent points about this in this post. Reading that has made me think about whether I should leave comments enabled on this blog or not. I'm undecided; what do *you* think? Here's a scary thought; you could leave a comment and let me know! ;-)

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Bye-bye Hotmail

Well, that's the final nail in the coffin for my Hotmail account. As of today, it appears that I cannot access my free account from Outlook (or Outhouse Excess, sorry, Outlook Express)... but if I want to upgrade, a snip at a mere £14.99 a year, I can once again do what I used to do for free. Hmmm... tempting... but... no. Not when I have Gmail; *especially* not when Gmail added POP and SMTP access to my account as of yesterday; and is still free. Great move, Microsoft.

I shall keep my Hotmail account for Passport-related communications, but as of now, that's all.

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Playing to your strengths...?

So, it's 2.41am on a Wednesday (i.e. work day) morning... and I've been awake since 11.50pm. Since I'm guessing I dropped off to sleep around 9.30pm... you do the sums. ;-) I'm not too bothered, though, because this has been a very productive and enjoyable few days, work-wise (at least, from my perspective) and if this is part of the price I have to pay for that, then so be it.

If I had to characterise the times when I feel happiest at work, it is when I am being "creatively productive", by which I mean that I am breaking new ground (for me, for my employer, ideally both) in terms of what I am producing with the technologies I specialise in. Typically, this is when I'm working on new product development, e.g. prototyping new products or proving new technologies. "Non-creatively productive" (or cranking out what my boss sometimes refers to as "monkey work", i.e. detail-oriented but not particularly intellectually stimulating work) is fine from time to time, but increasingly I don't have the concentrated focus to do such work for long periods (i.e. weeks at a time). This has particularly been the case over the last few months; when I would have to classify a fair proportion of my time as having been "non-creatively non-productive".

As a conscientious employee, that really bothers me. For an employer, I rather imagine I can be somewhat of a trial; by turns innovative, productive and frustratingly ineffective. Put it this way; I'm glad *I* don't have to manage me! ;-)

However, recognising the realities of a situation at least allows you to focus on turning that situation to your advantage; so we decided that (at least for now) I would step away from direct development responsibilities and focus almost exclusively on prototyping and new product development. I say "almost" exclusively, because I'm still on hand to offer design guidance, performance optimisation advice and to act as a "sounding board" for my colleagues.

I think (I certainly hope!) that this is proving beneficial to my employers, because I certainly feel it's working for me. Sadly, I'm not at liberty to divulge specific details in a public forum like this (my colleague James made the point in this post that while blogging we must be mindful of our responsibilities; specifically, in this case, not inadvertently giving away Intellectual Property Rights). The educator in me wants to share the benefit of what I'm doing freely with the community; the employee in me recognises that my employer would probably rather I didn't give away what they pay me to produce! Which is fair enough.

Anyway, I'm having quite a ball at the moment; on the one hand, using my specialist technologies in ways that I haven't before now (and, it would appear, in ways that others haven't) and on the other, dusting off skills I haven't used in a long while (e.g. hacking together a "quick and dirty" user interface in Active Server Pages) because I don't want to distract the people who normally tackle UI issues. To be honest, it's so much fun that it seems overkill that I'm actually getting paid to do this! (Note: that's *not* an offer to cut my wages!) It's "show and tell" in a week or so, so I'm looking forward to letting my colleagues take a peek at what I've been doing.

On a non-work note, my friend and colleague TJ fitted a new CD radio in my car Lottie last week, and I cannot adequately express how much difference this has made to my commute. Freed from the dreck that is (in my opinion) UK commercial radio, I can listen to music (*my* definition of music) and also use the time to listen to podcasts which I've downloaded and burnt to CD-Rom. If there's one technology innovation that's made a step change in my habits this year, it's podcasting. Even though I don't have an iPod - although I rather covet an iPod Mini; in pink, naturally! ;-) But I think I'll wait for a wireless iPod, ideally with iPodder (or similar) embedded.

Hey ho, 3.58am, might as well do some work!

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D'oh!

"Why do I read what I read?" Quite why that philosphical question popped into my head this morning as I sat, clutching a mug of coffee, waiting for my laptop to chug into life, I've no idea. But in it popped. So I took a quick look at the blogs and RSS feeds I check, at the usenet newsgroups I watch, at the categories on my browser favourites, and wondered if there was a theme lurking there. Well, maybe; but before I got too far, I realised that the biggest category seems to be what I would call "commentators", i.e. writers who see the world in a different way to the majority, and who capture what they see in clear, entertaining and challenging prose. I don't have to agree with them (I have a brain, and I like to use it) in order to enjoy their writing. So after a cursory inspection of who was on that list (e.g. in no particular order William Gibson, Wil Wheaton, Naomi Klein for starters) I wondered "who's *not* on that list?", i.e. whose writing do I really enjoy and admire, but for whom I don't regularly scour? And the first name that popped into my head was Douglas Coupland. And then came the "D'oh!" moment...

So, I could have seen Coupland live on the 10th or 14th of October... but I only find out that fact today, the 13th of November. Typical!

I first encountered his writing when I read the opening chapter of "Microserfs" in some weekend magazine or other (can't remember which). Ostensibly the story of a disparate group of techies who leave Microsoft to found their own software company, the episode that caught my attention was of one of the programmers who locks himself in his office and requests that food be passed to him under the door; so, things like processed cheese slices become a staple of his diet. A few years before I read that, a friend of mine had suggested that the ideal job for me would be one where I sat in an office and had problems passed to me under the door, which I would solve and pass back under the door, without actually needing to meet people. This same friend convinced a pile of *his* friends (who hadn't, at that point, met me) that he worked with someone (me) who'd devised the plan by which NASA docked with and repaired the Hubble space telescope. When I met this circle of people some time after, I had some difficulty convincing them that I'd had absolutely nothing to do with Hubble... But I digress. (Actually, it occurs to me that some of my current workmates might think that such an arrangement might still suit me; and them.)

Anyway, some time later I kept seeing Coupland name-checked as a key creative influence; when I read an interview with Thom Yorke of Radiohead in which he cited "Generation X" as a seminal inspiration for much of the band's early work, I felt it was time to read that book (and others). Funny, sad, insightful, thought-provoking... in my opinion, Coupland is a brilliant observer of the world around him. I was genuinely affected by "Girlfriend in a Coma" in a way that few books have ever achieved.

So, finding that he writes a blog would be the icing on the cake that sank when I learned that I'd missed the opportunity to see him perform live. As yet, I haven't found that he writes a blog; but if anyone can inform me otherwise, I'll be most grateful!

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A note of caution

I don't think I take the medical aspects of my transition lightly; I want to live a long and happy life once the process is complete, so I'm not prepared to take any risks with my health which might prevent that. Even so, if I needed a wake-up call or timely reminder that this is not a trivial process, I had it yesterday.

I had my third appointment at the Gender Identity Clinic at Charing Cross Hospital yesterday (the first was in March, and the second in June). At the second appointment, I was prescribed hormones (specifically, ethinyloestradiol) at an initial dosage of 50 micrograms daily for eight weeks, which would rise to 100 micrograms daily and finally to 150 micrograms daily (both rises subject to the results of comprehensive blood tests to be taken every eight weeks). After the initial eight weeks, I duly moved up to 100 micrograms daily, and the second eight-week cycle finished on Tuesday; I had the corresponding blood tests last Friday.

So yesterday's appointment was fine; I suspect I fall into the category of a relatively easy case for them, since I've been holding down a challenging full-time job in the year since beginning my transition, and don't view Gender Reassignment Surgery as some kind of "magic bullet" that will lead to instant social recognition and acceptance of me as a woman. (Think about it; Gender Reassignment Surgery is essentially genital reconstruction; very few of the people I know have ever seen my existing genitalia, and even fewer are going to see the upgraded version, so the act of changing them alone is not enough; Joe Punter in the street forms an impression of my gender from everything *other* than my genitalia.) My biggest daily challenge is my voice (mentioned elsewhere) and I have as yet had no permanent facial hair removal; as of yesterday, I'm in the position to start voice therapy and laser / electrolysis.

Anyway... at the end of the appointment, the consultant said that he was happy for me to increase my hormone dosage to the maximum level (subject to my latest blood tests having proved satisfactory). So I phoned my GP to check; but he is concerned that one of my liver function test results is raised, and wants me to remain on the current dose for the next two month cycle, to see what the next round of blood tests show.

Now, physically I'm in pretty good shape. I don't smoke (never have), don't drink alcohol (and haven't for some years), don't use non-prescription drugs (and never have) and eat a reasonably healthy diet. Yet even with that near-ideal playing field, my body is obviously having to work quite hard to absorb the hormonal changes which are being imposed on it. As a result, the pace of change (which, understandably I hope, I would like to be as complete and timely as possible) has to be pegged back, at least for a couple of months. This is frustrating, but also reassuring. Frustrating, because part of me feels that my progress is being held back somewhat; and reassuring for precisely the same reason. I'm not prepared to risk my health by being reckless. Until the blood tests show that it's safe to increase the dosage, I'll stay at the current level. I won't risk damaging my body (possibly permanently, possibly fatally).

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11/9 remembered (well, I *am* British, and I don't recall too much of significance about 9 November 2001)

So, this week, George W. Bush was re-elected. No, I'm not going to comment one way or the other on that subject (if you want in-depth political discourse, this isn't the place). Which is not to say that I don't hold political views, because I most certainly do; it's just that they're *my* views, and (unless asked to talk about them) I don't see that they're of any interest or relevance to anyone else, so I try to keep them to myself. That said... one of the most pivotal moments in W's first term were the events of 11 September 2001 (and the consequences thereof). Rather than speak of those issues, I'm going to write what happened to me on that day, and how the events that followed indirectly shaped my life now, although I really didn't recognise the significance of those events until very recently.

That day dawned like any other. I was flying up to Glasgow to stay with my great friends David and Janet and their two young sons for a few days. The motivation for the visit was that I was teaching a course in the centre of Glasgow on the Thursday and Friday that week (2071, for those current and ex-MCTs who are reading!) and it provided an ideal opportunity to combine business and pleasure to stay with them for a few days, rather than board in some nameless hotel. I was booked on a late-morning flight from London Stansted to Glasgow Prestwick (at the time, I was living in Cambridge, and Stansted is only a short rail journey from there, while Prestwick is a short drive from David and Janet's home). Arriving at the airport, I found that my flight had been cancelled; I was rebooked on one leaving that evening at around 6pm, and put on standby for one at around 1pm. No great problem; inconvenient, but I called Janet, told her the situation, and said that I would call again as soon as I knew for sure which flight I would be arriving on (she was going to collect me from the airport).

I made it on the standby flight, so I took off from Stansted on a day which seemed unremarkable; and landed at Prestwick about an hour later... to pictures on the TV screens in the arrivals hall which I could scarcely comprehend. Without the sound, the smoking ruins of one of the two towers and a raging fire in the one that remained standing was an image too surreal to comprehend. An immediate concern, though, was that my luggage failed to materialise, which was an experience shared with everyone else who'd taken the flight on standby (evidently the luggage handling at Stansted hadn't joined all the dots). Ordinarily, I wouldn't have been too stressed about things (lost luggage happens) but today of all days, I had a feeling that luggage which wasn't exactly where it should be was in danger of being summarily destroyed because of the potential terrorist threat it might represent.

After a period of whingeing at the ground services staff at Prestwick, I saw that Janet had arrived, and we left the airport, myself in possession of my carry-on bag containing my laptop and other stuff I would not dream of checking in, and bearing a promise that my luggage would be returned "at some point". (As it happens, my suitcase arrived, in a taxi, later that evening, so "respect!" to the collective efforts of RyanAir, ServisAir and the staff of both airports on what was already a challenging day). Not surprisingly, I spent most of the remainder of that day and the bulk of the next glued to CNN, BBC News 24 and the like as events continued to unfold.

(By way of a short interlude...) Something that I've been repeatedly told is that I'm a "brave" or "courageous" person for taking the path of gender reassignment that I'm taking (with all of the pain, difficulties and prejudice that comes as part of the package) and for being quite open about it. I absolutely and categorically reject any such assertion, whenever it's made; and here's why. To me, a person is brave, courageous or the like when they undertake a course of action, at great risk to themselves, when they could as easily choose not to, knowing that they could choose not to; but do so anyway. That's not my situation; I'm doing what I'm doing because I *don't* have a choice (at least, the only choice is between doing this and having the chance of a happy life or not doing it and having the absolute certainty of death by my own hand, so I hardly think that counts as a "choice"). Without the element of choice, how can someone be called brave? I don't believe they can. Bravery and courage was playing out on that TV screen; the fire crews, police and bystanders who went into the second tower, knowing full well that if it collapsed as the first one had already done, they weren't coming out; that's bravery, courage and a nobility of spirit and selflessness that I can hardly comprehend, let alone hope to emulate. So, please, don't ever annoy me or insult them by calling me "brave" or "courageous". Among the most poignant reminders I keep of that day are this, this and this, from the "User Friendly" online cartoon.

Anyway... I taught the course in Glasgow, while keeping up with events elsewhere. One item of news which alarmed me was the discovery that RyanAir, in common with many other carriers, was not allowing *any* carry-on luggage on their flights as a result of recent events. Well, I could understand the thinking behind that, but I was adamant I was not going to check my laptop on the return flight; sorry, but I couldn't afford to replace it if my luggage went missing again. So, instead of taking the return flight, I arranged to travel back by train, on the Saturday. (I had nothing booked for the following week; besides, it meant I could enjoy another night of Glaswegian hospitality.)

Early Saturday afternoon, I boarded the train in Glasgow. It took the cross-country route to Edinbugh, and then formed a fast service to London, stopping at major cities (and Stevenage, of all places) on the way. From Glasgow, I had a table of four seats to myself, so I turned on my MP3 player and sat back to enjoy the journey. I recall tucking into some delicious filled rolls and cakes prepared for me by David before we left his home; my "pieces", as I was informed they are known in local dialect. ;-)

I didn't really pay much attention when three women got onto the train at Edinburgh and took their seats at the table where I was dozing. They chatted away to each other, I let whatever music was on my MP3 player pass the time (I don't recall exactly what was there, but it's a racing certainty that Tool were in the mix). The journey continued; and at Newcastle, a horde of Newcastle United football fans got in; there wasn't even standing room, for a while. They were in, er, "festive" mood, for their team had just beaten Manchester United 4 - 3 (which, let's face it, would put *any* football fan in a festive mood, not just fans of the victorious team!) At some point, my playlist must have finished, because in response to some particularly funny comment from one of the fans, I burst out laughing. He looked around and asked "how did you hear that, over your music?" (I still had my headphones on). I replied that the volume was low; he laughed, I laughed, and on the train rattled.

At this point, one of the women at the table asked me if I'd like a smoked salmon sandwich which was part of the lunch they'd brought onto the train. Well, having polished off my pieces quite awhile since, I gratefully said "yes", and tucked in. It seemed appropriate to join them in conversation, so I did. (As a rule, particularly back then, I'm not the kind of person who engages strangers in idle conversation to pass the time.) They also offered me a glass of wine, but I declined (I'd given up alcohol quite a while before, primarily because I couldn't see the point of trying to deal with Depression on one hand with some pretty powerful anti-depressants, while on the other slurping down a powerful central nervous system depressant; I still don't, and even though I no longer take anti-depressants, I still don't drink alcohol). I gave my standard explanation of not drinking because I was already "high on life" (which was a bit of a joke, back then; I was anything *but* high on life) but it got a laugh, so we chatted on.

As the train approached Stevenage (where I was going to get out and catch a local train back to Cambridge) I took my leave of my companions, collected up my bags, and made for the door. As I waited for the train to pull in, one of the women (I'll refer to her as 'G', even though that's not her initial) came up to me and asked if she could have my email address; in case she "wanted to write". I didn't have a problem with that, so I gave her one of my business cards, said goodbye a second time, and got off the train.

I didn't think much about that journey the next day; I had domestic stuff (shopping, laundry and the like) to take care of. That evening, though, I received an email from G; she'd enjoyed our conversation on the train (as had I) and hoped we could continue to converse by email. I had no problem with that, so we pinged a few emails backwards and forwards over the next couple of days. G lived and worked in London; asked if I ever had occasion to visit London (which I did); and asked if I'd like to meet up for a meal sometime? As it happened, I intended to be in London the next Saturday, so we arranged to meet at the restaurant atop the Tate Modern gallery (a place I'd not been since it opened, but had wanted to).

We met; we had (I think) a great evening. After the meal, as it was a pleasant evening, we decided to walk from the South Bank up to Notting Hill Gate, near her home, and convenient for a tube station to connect me with a train back to Cambridge. It's quite a walk; but again, we had a great time. On some level, I suspect we were connecting. We parted at the tube station, and I'd already told her that I was due to be in Leeds for three days the next week, probably without easy access to an email connection, and we went our ways.

Now, I had a problem. What was happening here? I've already explained elsewhere in this blog about what I am, and what I'm now doing about it; back then, I was still trying to deal with Gender Dysphoria without going down the path of social or surgical transition. Certainly, I took great care not to give away on the outside what I struggled with inside, and I don't think anyone who knew me back then ever guessed, right up to the point when I (or someone else) told them. As a woman (on the inside) what was I doing becoming attracted to a woman? Indeed, how could I have been married for more than ten years (which I had been, although I was by then divorced) with this going on inside? More to the point, why hadn't I realised what I was until I was nealy thirty?

I think the key to all this is that I had been labouring under a misconception that is probably shared by many, if not most; that a person's gender identity defines their sexual preference. Actually, I suspect that many (or most) assume that a person's physical sex ought to define their gender identity, and that their sexual preference also follows automatically; i.e. if you're physically male, identify as a male, and sexually prefer females, you're "normal" (and, by implication, if you're physically female, identify as female, and sexually prefer males); anything else, and you're at best "different", or (depending on your opinions, prejudices, upbringing, religious beliefs etc.) "deviant". Believe as you will; the fact of the matter is that I was physically male and had always sexually preferred females; I have never had the slightest stirrings towards men. If I had, I wouldn't be the least ashamed to say so, or accept it, but I didn't. And since I'd assumed that a male-to-female transgendered person would automatically sexually prefer males, that's why it wasn't until quite late in my life that I made the connection. In my current opinion, physical sexuality, gender identity and sexual preference are not either / or absolutes; nor are they always strictly aligned (male-male-female, or female-female-male). Once I'd grasped that, then the realisation that I could be male-female-female made sense. And that's where I was in 2001; I *knew* my gender identity was female, I *knew* my sexual preference was female; but I'd concluded that I wouldn't be able to survive the process which might complete the picture as female-female-female. (Patently, I've now changed my mind about the last part!)

All that said, my issue was this; even if I could find a way to live to a ripe old age as male-female-female, was it fair to another person to enter a personal relationship with them while keeping that dimension hidden from them? I had already seen the pain and sadness that ensued (on both sides) when a marriage that began under one set of assumptions (that I was male-male-female) ended under a different reality (that I was male-female-female). Did I have the right to subject yet another person to that? I didn't think so. Did I have the "courage" (that word again) to reveal all this to another person, specifically, G? No, I didn't have that "courage". (A year or so later, I *would* find that "courage"; but that was in an as-yet-unsuspected future).

No, while I was in Leeds I thought long and hard about what was happening, and resolved that I had no right to put another person's emotions through the wringer in such a way. If I couldn't be upfront with someone about who and what I was, I had no right to begin a relationship with them; and since I could not imagine being able to be upfront in that way with someone, I was effectively denying myself the possibility of any further close personal relationships. I thought I would be able to live like that; I was to find out, later, that I was (not for the first time) in error.

So, I wrote an email to G in which I tried to let her down as gently as I could, taking all of the blame onto myself. I hope she believed that it was not her fault (it wasn't). She replied, once, saying she understood that I was not in a position to develop our friendship further, and we never wrote, spoke or met thereafter.

So what on Earth has all this got to do with George W. Bush winning "four more years"? :-) To me, the chain of events and consequences is now clear:

* If the attacks had not taken place, I would have taken the scheduled flight back to Stansted on the Friday, i.e. I would not have been on that train, in that seat, on that day;

* If I had not been on that train, in that seat, on that day, I would not have met G;

* If I had not met G, who is to say if (or when) I would have had to face the dilemma I have written about here, with the consequences which flowed therefrom;

* If I had not had to face those later consequences (which I may write about on another day, in another post) my life after January 2002 would undoubtedly have taken a *very* different path; and not, I suspect, a long one.

Apologies for yet another long post!

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In loving memory

I had occasion in an earlier post to mark (but not mourn) the death of someone. I'd like to mark (and mourn) the passing of a different individual, who only lived with us for a short time, but who touched the lives of all with whom he came into contact, and who has left a tangible void in those lives since he died. And that, to me, is the true measure of the quality of an individual's life; the gap they leave with their passing.

Sooty was a stray who came to us when a tiny kitten, because the person who found him (wandering in the road outside the nearby petrol station) knew that we were animal lovers who would shortly be providing a home for another kitten, and therefore might be able to look after him for the night. Which, of course we did; only, he was to stay rather longer than one night... Anyway, I cradled him and fed him from a bottle; he was so hungry he chewed through the teat. Once he was satisfied, we settled him for the night in a carrying box next to Billy. Up to this point, Billy would fly into a rage whenever he saw a cat (he probably only wanted to play with them) but his reaction was amazing; he rested his head on the box, and just lay there watching over Sooty, all night.

The next day, Kim took Sooty to the Vet for a check-up (where he was given a clean bill of health) and we attempted to find out if he belonged to anyone, without success; but already, any thought of taking him to a cat shelter for rehoming had gone. A couple of weeks later, Willow joined us; he was one of a litter of four, born to a feral cat who had given birth in a quiet corner of the garden next door. He probably came to us a little bit too early, but the kittens had started to wander from their mother, and were in danger of being run over, so the owner of the house next door asked us to take him in.

Sooty and Willow were unrelated; but, almost identical in age, they took to each other as brothers, and were almost inseparable. They slept together in the carrying box for the first few weeks, and quickly learned where to take care of "sanitary business"; barring a couple of accidents, they were (like most cats) naturally clean about where they went. Playful and inquisitive, the funniest times were watching their interactions with Billy and Lucy. Lucy was not really interested in them; if they became too boisterous around her, she would simply get up and walk away. Billy, though was fascinated by them, and would play with them and stalk them for hours. Neither kitten was intimidated by Billy; and quite a few times in those early weeks, Billy discovered that a spit and a swipe from Sooty was more than enough to put him in his place!

Once they were old enough, we used to put the cats out to sleep at night. They had cosy beds in the garden shed, to which they had easy access through an open window, and were happy to laze around the house during the day and have fun and games outside at night. As they got bigger, they also discovered which windows in the house were left open at night, through which they could get in, if they wished.

Over the months, they, like most individuals, fell into patterns of behaviour and developed favourite places. One of Sooty's was right in front of the gas fire in the sitting room. In truth, both cats and dogs favoured that location, but somehow Sooty always managed to get closest to the fire.

Sadly, a few months ago, Kim found Sooty lying at the garden gate, dead. It was not clear exactly what had happened, but we suspect that he had been trying to get in through an open window on the upstairs landing, slipped, and fell awkwardly to the ground. Billy, Lucy and Willow knew that something was wrong; Billy and Willow, in particular, were dreadfully upset. Kim arranged for Sooty to be cremated, and brought his ashes home in a little casket which is placed by the side of the gas fire, in his favourite place. If that seems unnecessarily sentimental (or even inappropriate) then that is your opinion; all I will say is that Sooty was as much a part of our family as if he had two legs, and he is as loved in death as he was in life; and missed by all of us.

Possibly the most remarkable thing is the behaviour of the others to the casket; when they come to lie down by the fire, Billy and Willow particularly, they will sniff the casket as if saying hello to their little brother or friend who rests within. Am I guilty of anthropomorphising their actions? Maybe; but I don't think so. They may be "just" domestic animals, but they have distinct personalities; and they, like us, miss little Sooty, who only lived for a little over a year, but who left indelible memories behind.

Rest in peace, little one.

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A welcome blast from the past

So, a post in Euan Garden's recently-dormant blog points to his new blog; which includes some gossip about the HP Superdome computer; 64 x 64-bit processors, 1TB RAM, 2,500 x 12.8GB (according to Euan) or 18GB (according to Robert Scoble; why can't techies ever agree? ;-))... I want one. Now! (Not sure I'd want the electricity bill for running the beast though; apparently the air-conditioning system alone ran to a quarter of a million dollars.) Elsewhere in Euan's new blog, though, he mentions Bill Hill, and that brought back some welcome memories of San Diego in 2000...

Back then, I was still spending a significant portion of my time training bods on database design and administration, data warehouse design and distributed application design as a Microsoft Certified Trainer (MCT). That year, Microsoft held two MCT-specific conferences (Technology Week 2 and 3) in the US; in New Orleans in February, and San Diego in September, and I was able to attend both. (I believe the original Technology Week was in Redmond, during the beta phase for Windows 2000, possibly while it was still known as NT5.) Anyway...

Among the sessions that stand out in my memory from San Diego was Bill Hill's. It was a keynote on the Wednesday or Thursday (i.e. in the main conference hall, before the day's breakout sessions). On strides Bill, in his kilt, hairy legs and knobbly knees, beard flying, and gives a stellar talk about the magic of reading and the human element which ought to underpin tehnology development. Brilliant, entertaining stuff. He mentioned Microsoft Reader, from that day (and still) one of my favourite and most-used applications, and how the design of that application was driven by the need to understand how (and why) humans read, and why the PC screen isn't necessarily the easiest place to read.

The video of that talk was on the inevitable post-conference DVD, which I still have (somewhere); I don't know if it was ever posted on the internet. Either way, for an entertaining and educational interlude, track down any talk given by Bill, and enjoy! (I wish there was a way to list directly all videos by a specific person on Channel 9; maybe there is, and I just haven't found it yet.)

Thinking about outstanding presenters at conferences, another who springs to mind is Wayne Hodgins, who gave a keynote in New Orleans (drop right to the bottom of this page and you can download a zip of the beautiful powerpoint slides he used). Which does nothing to convey he sheer energy this guy projected on stage; but ought to spark a few ideas. Actually, the entire Learnativity.com site is packed full of useful insights from someone who sees his role as thinking about technology at least five years before it's ready for mainstream adoption.

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Speech Recognition Robots

One of the blogs I read and enjoy is Tod Maffin's "I Love Radio .org"; he's a freelance radio journalist / producer, with an interest in podcasts and podcasting, and in my opinion posts some really entertaining content. He has a post entitled "Talking to Speech Recognition Robots", which includes a downloadable 5 minute MP3 podcast containing an episode in which he tries (unsuccessfully!) to communicate with such a system. Quite apart from the amusement factor at his evident frustration, this particular piece interests me on two fronts; one professional, the other strictly personal.

On the first front, many of Exony's customers use some form of automated call handling system; for example, based on touch-tone recognition, speech recognition, or Caller Line Identification (CLI). Some use the kind of speech recogniion robots Tod wails about. The business case for using these technologies can be overwhelming, from the perspective of the *organisation*; but how often do the poor users who have to do battle with these systems feel less than enthused by their experience? It really *is* in the organisation's best interest to deploy such technologies in a way that users can (and will) use; because the alternative (where users typically do something erroneous to try to make the automated system connect them to a human) is typically not what he organisation wants. Neither, really, is it in the user's best interests, because the likelihood is, they could transact their business more quickly and effectively if only the automated systems were clear, reliable and appropriate. (Disclaimer: there are probably as many examples of organisations which deploy such technology with great success as there are instances of heroic failures!)

On the second front, I hate using the telephone these days. I always did, primarily because I am a) an auditory communicator (which means that the primary sense through which I experience, process and respond to the world is through hearing and sound) and b) a "high- or no-bandwidth communicator" (which means I either take in information, content and events very quickly, or periodically can't take them in at all). When I'm in high-bandwidth mode, most people seem to use too many words to say too little and (without other stimuli such as body language to augment the conversation) I get very frustrated, very quickly. In no-bandwidth mode (basically, when I am in or recovering from one of my occasional but quite debilitating episodes of Depression) I can hardly process at all; certainly not speak in response. Hence, the telephone has always been a bit of a dead loss for me. (I know, women are supposed to love chatting on the phone; not this one.)

Currently, the phone represents a real problem for me. My speaking voice is, naturally, quite deep. I will be undergoing professional speech therapy to correct this, as well as to learn more female patterns of speech and inflection. Until then, my voice is a bit of a giveaway; the telephone seems to exaggerate this to the n'th degree. Rarely, if ever, do I "pass" on the phone. Ordinarily, this wouldn't be a problem (I'm not ashamed of who or what I am, and anyway this is a transitory phase) but I encounter problems with organisations I have to do personal business with on an almost daily basis. I speak to them (telephone company, bank, insurance company, roadside assistance organisation in recent weeks) and we get to the part where they have my details on screen, and then comes the pause; then, "what relationship are you to the account / policy holder?" "I *am* the account / policy holder". "But it says 'Miss' here..." "Yes, that's correct." "But you're a... you're a..." at which point I either pedantically stand my ground, or else I have to explain my personal situation... again. Put a note on their records so the next time I have to call them they can see an explanation? Do me a favour. The worst part of this is that an excuse sometimes given by the companies for this behaviour on the part of their employees is to ensure data protection; *my* data, let's not forget. Excuse me, but maybe there's some data I'd like to keep private, too; like, not having to explain out loud, maybe in a public place, the reason for my apparently discordant voice. It's more than merely annoying; it could put me in personal danger. Wake up, people, this is 2004, I don't have two heads, I'm not a criminal and I'm not a threat to national security.

From which rant you might gather that I, for one, would *love* to deal with (reliable) speech recognition robots when I have to use the telephone! :-)

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Awake, but excited

Following on from my last post, last night / this morning was / is another occasion when I fell asleep around 10.30pm (tired), awoke at 2.00am, and got up around 2.30am with a resigned sigh. There's a bit of a pattern forming; one night I sleep fine, the next I'll get three to four hours, then the cycle repeats. I've been through this kind of cycle before, and it's just about bearable. Today, though, I'm not too bothered, because tomorrow I can have a lie-in (I don't work on Fridays, instead I make up a day during the weekend); also, today I'm resuming the weekly "chalk talks" that I used to give, and which I referred to in a previous post. And I'm really looking forward to it! :-)

As before, the idea is to cover a specific topic area from SQL Server 2000, Transact-SQL, Analysis Services, OLAP and the like, primarily chosen to plug skills gaps or areas of potential misunderstanding which crop up in our ongoing development and support work. I found them a really effective way to get key information across in a way that made the best use of everybody's time (including my own). We'll see if my victims (er, "audience") still agree!

So, today's talk, entitled "Locks, Blocks and Two Smoking Deadlocks" is a quick review on locking in SQL Server 2000; the various lock types, how SQL Server 2000 manages them, and how they support various activities within a multi-user environment. I'll briefly cover blocking as well, and explain my assertion that locking and blocking are essentially good; but also bad in some circumstances (usually because of a lack of supporting resources that SQL Server can use). As for deadlocks, well, they're bad, period.

After the theory, I'm going to look at some actual examples that cropped up recently while testing some development code, and how something that manifested itself as a locking problem provided an opportunity to improve the speed of a key process by a factor of more than twenty. As before, I'll document the key points (and record the audio, my own ad-hoc podcast!), but this time I'll be posting the notes in this blog (minus any company confidential information or IPR, which will have to remain for internal distribution only), where hopefully they might prove useful to others, and where I'm free to have my assertions shot down in flames if they can be justifiably shown to be incorrect. There's a gauntlet thrown down! :-)

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Nights Like These

I hate insomnia; it's an absolute curse. I tell myself that I've learned to live with it, to not get wound up when it happens, to take the view that if I can't sleep tonight then I'll work through it, accept that I'll be good for nothing tomorrow afternoon (well, *this* afternoon, since it's 2.05 am local time as I write this), that worrying about it only makes it worse, yada yada yada... and all that is probably true, and I probably believe it most of the time... but right now, it sucks, and I resent it.

This makes four nights in seven that I have had three hours (or less) sleep. And I know (and adhere to) all the good advice about sleep management. The annoying thing is that I'm tired, really tired, but not sleepy. The worrying thing is that in the past, my sleep patterns have been a rock-solid barometer of my mental state, particularly as far as depression was concerned. Like I need to go through all *that* again, not! The worst episode of serial insomnia I can recall was six successive nights of three hours or less (two of them were no sleep at all). Truly, I was climbing the walls in desperation.

I came across a link on popgadget to MetroNaps which I had not heard of before. Just how desperate do you have to be to see an option on the Contact page titled "I'm interested in buying a MetroNaps™ pod. Email me a link to the digital brochure" and think, "I should do that"? (I didn't, but I thought about it.)

If I only needed three hours sleep a night, then I'd probably be grateful for all the extra hours in which to do stuff (or to deliberately *not* do stuff); but I need more than that. Really, anything less than seven hours a night and I'm toast. I'm toast *now*.

Rant over. ;-)

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